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diff --git a/7172-h/7172-h.htm b/7172-h/7172-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..c182cc1 --- /dev/null +++ b/7172-h/7172-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,12134 @@ +<?xml version="1.0" encoding="iso-8859-1"?> + +<!DOCTYPE html + PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd" > + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" lang="en"> + <head> + <title> + Early Plays, by Henrik Ibsen + </title> + <style type="text/css" xml:space="preserve"> + + body { margin:5%; background:#faebd0; text-align:justify} + P { text-indent: 1em; margin-top: .75em; margin-bottom: .75em; } + H1,H2,H3,H4,H5,H6 { text-align: center; margin-left: 15%; margin-right: 15%; } + hr { width: 50%; text-align: center;} + .foot { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; text-indent: -3em; font-size: 90%; } + blockquote {font-size: 97%; font-style: italic; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;} + .mynote {background-color: #DDE; color: #000; padding: .5em; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 95%;} + .toc { margin-left: 10%; margin-bottom: .75em;} + .toc2 { margin-left: 20%;} + div.fig { display:block; margin:0 auto; text-align:center; } + div.middle { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; } + .figleft {float: left; margin-left: 0%; margin-right: 1%;} + .figright {float: right; margin-right: 0%; margin-left: 1%;} + .pagenum {display:inline; font-size: 70%; font-style:normal; + margin: 0; padding: 0; position: absolute; right: 1%; + text-align: right;} + pre { font-family: New Times Roman; font-size: 100%;} + +</style> + </head> + <body> + + +<pre> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Early Plays, by Henrik Ibsen + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Early Plays + Catiline, The Warrior's Barrow, Olaf Liljekrans + +Author: Henrik Ibsen + + +Release Date: December, 2004 [EBook #7172] +This file was first posted on March 20, 2003 +Last Updated: May 4, 2013 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK EARLY PLAYS *** + + + + +Text file produced by David Starner, Michael Kaelbling, and the +Online Distributed Proofreading Team + +HTML file produced by David Widger + + + + +</pre> + + <div style="height: 8em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h1> + EARLY PLAYS + </h1> + <h3> + From "SCANDINAVIAN CLASSICS", VOLUME XVII. + </h3> + <h3> + CATILINE, THE WARRIOR'S BARROW, OLAF LILJEKRANS + </h3> + <h2> + By Henrik Ibsen + </h2> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <h4> + Translated From The Norwegian By Anders Orbeck, A. M. <br /> <br /> <i>Assistant + Professor of English in the University of Montana</i> + </h4> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <h3> + To <br /> <br /> O. W. Firkins <br /> <br /> Teacher and Friend<br /> and + Inspirer of<br /> these Translations. + </h3> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <p> + <b>CONTENTS</b> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_INTR"> INTRODUCTION </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0002"> <b>CATILINE</b> </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_PREF"> PREFACE TO THE SECOND EDITION </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0004"> DRAMATIS PERSONÆ </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0005"> SETTING </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0006"> FIRST ACT </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0007"> SECOND ACT </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0008"> THIRD ACT </a> + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0009"> <b>THE WARRIOR'S BARROW</b> </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0010"> SCENE I </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0011"> SCENE II </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0012"> SCENE III </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0013"> SCENE IV </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0014"> SCENE V </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0015"> SCENE VI </a> + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#olaf"> <b>OLAF LILJEKRANS</b> </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0016"> FIRST ACT </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0017"> SCENE I </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0018"> SCENE II </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0019"> SCENE III </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0020"> SCENE IV </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0021"> SCENE V </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0022"> SCENE VI </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0023"> SCENE VII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0024"> SCENE VIII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0025"> SCENE IX </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0026"> SCENE X </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0027"> SCENE XI </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0028"> SCENE XII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0029"> SCENE XIII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0030"> SCENE XIV </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0031"> SECOND ACT </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0032"> SCENE II </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0033"> SCENE III </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0034"> SCENE IV </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0035"> SCENE V </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0036"> SCENE VI </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0037"> SCENE VII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0038"> SCENE VIII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0039"> SCENE IX </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0040"> SCENE X </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0041"> SCENE XI </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0042"> THIRD ACT </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0043"> SCENE II </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0044"> SCENE III </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0045"> SCENE IV </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0046"> SCENE V </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0047"> SCENE VI </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0048"> SCENE VII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0049"> SCENE VIII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0050"> SCENE IX </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0051"> SCENE X </a> + </p> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <p> + <b>LIST OF FOUNDATION PUBLICATIONS</b> + </p> + <p> + <br /> <br /> This series of SCANDINAVIAN CLASSICS was published by the + <br /> American-Scandinavian Foundation in the belief that greater <br /> + familiarity with the chief literary monuments of the North will <br /> help + Americans to a better understanding of Scandinavians, and <br /> thus serve + to stimulate their sympathetic co-operation to good <br /> ends. <br /> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_INTR" id="link2H_INTR"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + INTRODUCTION + </h2> + <p> + One of the most remarkable facts about Ibsen is the orderly development of + his genius. He himself repeatedly maintained that his dramas were not mere + isolated accidents. In the foreword to the readers in the popular edition + of 1898 he urges the public to read his dramas in the same order in which + he had written them, deplores the fact that his earlier works are less + known and less understood than his later works, and insists that his + writings taken as a whole constitute an organic unity. The three of his + plays offered here for the first time in English translation will afford + those not familiar with the original Norwegian some light on the early + stages of his development. + </p> + <p> + <i>Catiline</i>, the earliest of Ibsen's plays, was written in 1849, while + Ibsen was an apothecary's apprentice in Grimstad. It appeared in + Christiania in the following spring under the pseudonym Brynjolf Bjarme. + The revolutionary atmosphere of 1848-49, the reading of the story of + Catiline in Sallust and Cicero in preparation for the university + examinations, the hostility which existed between the apprentice and his + immediate social environment, the fate which the play met at the hands of + the theatrical management and the publishers, his own struggles at the + time,—are all set forth clearly enough in the preface to the second + edition. The play was written in the blank verse of Oehlenschlaeger's + romantic dramas. Ibsen's portrayal of the Roman politician is not in + accord with tradition; Catiline is not an out-and-out reprobate, but an + unfortunate and highly sensitive individual in whom idealism and + licentiousness struggle for mastery. Vasenius, in his study of the poet (<i>Ibsens + Dramatiska Diktning in dess Första Skede</i>, Helsingfors, 1879), insists + that Ibsen thus intuitively hit upon the real Catiline revealed by later + nineteenth century research. The poet seems not to have heard of Duma's <i>Catiline</i>, + which appeared about the same time, nor of earlier plays on the subject by + Ben Jonson and others. The struggle in Ibsen's play is centered in the + soul of Catiline; not once do his political opponents appear on the scene. + Only one critic raised his voice in behalf of the play at the time of its + appearance, and only a few copies of the original edition survive. Ibsen + issued in 1875 a revised edition in celebration of his twenty-fifth + anniversary as an author. Since then a third edition has been issued in + 1891, and a fourth in 1913. + </p> + <p> + <i>The Warrior's Barrow</i>, Ibsen's second play, was finished in 1850 + shortly after the publication of <i>Catiline</i>. Ibsen entered upon his + literary career with a gusto he seems soon to have lost; he wrote to his + friend Ole Schulerud in January, 1850, that he was working on a play about + Olaf Trygvesson, an historical novel, and a longer poem. He had begun <i>The + Warrior's Barrow</i> while he was still at Grimstad, but this early + version, called <i>The Normans</i>, he revised on reaching Christiania. In + style and manner and even in subject-matter the play echoes + Oehlenschlaeger. Ibsen's vikings are, however, of a fiercer type than + Oehlenschlaeger's, and this treatment of viking character was one of the + things the critics, bred to Oehlenschlaeger's romantic conception of more + civilized vikings, found fault with in Ibsen's play. The sketch fared + better than <i>Catiline</i>: it was thrice presented on the stage in + Christiania and was on the whole favorably reviewed. When Ibsen became + associated with the Bergen theater he undertook another revision of the + play, and in this version the play was presented on the stage in 1854 and + 1856. The final version was published in the <i>Bergenske Blad</i> in + 1854, but no copy of this issue has survived; the play remained + inaccessible to the public until 1902, when it was included in a + supplementary volume (Volume X) to Ibsen's collected works. The earlier + version remained in manuscript form until it was printed in 1917 in <i>Scandinavian + Studies and Notes</i> (Vol. IV, pp. 309-337). + </p> + <p> + <i>Olaf Liljekrans</i>, which was presented on the Bergen stage in 1857, + marks the end of Ibsen's early romantic interest. The original idea for + this play, which he had begun in 1850, he found in the folk-tale "The + Grouse in Justedal," about a girl who alone had survived the Black Death + in an isolated village. Ibsen had with many others become interested in + popular folk-tales and ballads. It was from Faye's <i>Norwegian Folk-Tales</i> + (1844) that he took the story of "The Grouse in Justedal." His interest + was so great that he even turned collector. Twice during this period he + petitioned for and received small university grants to enable him to + travel and "collect songs and legends still current among the people." Of + the seventy or eighty "hitherto unpublished legends" which he collected on + the first of these trips only a few have ever appeared in print; the + results of his second trip are unknown. Ibsen had great faith in the + availability of this medieval material for dramatic purposes; he even + wrote an essay, "The Heroic Ballad and Its Significance for Artistic + Poetry," urging its superior claims in contrast to that of the saga + material, to which he was himself shortly to turn. The original play based + on "The Grouse in Justedal" was left unfinished. After the completion of + <i>Lady Inger of Östråt</i> and <i>The Feast at Solhoug</i> he came back + to it, and taking a suggestion from the ballad in Landstad's collection + (1852-3) he recast the whole play, substituted the ballad meter for the + iambic pentameters, and called the new version <i>Olaf Liljekrans</i>. <i>Olaf + Liljekrans</i> indicates clearly a decline in Ibsen's interest in pure + romance. It is much more satirical than <i>The Feast at Solhoug</i>, and + marks a step in the direction of those superb masterpieces of satire and + romance, <i>Brand</i> and <i>Peer Gynt</i>. The play was twice presented + on the stage in Bergen with considerable success, but the critics treated + it harshly. + </p> + <p> + The relationship of the revised versions to the original versions of + Ibsen's early plays is interesting, and might, if satisfactorily + elucidated, throw considerable light on the development of his genius. It + is evident that he was in this early period experimenting in metrical + forms. He employed blank verse in <i>Catiline</i>, in the original version + of <i>The Grouse in Justedal</i>, and even as late as 1853 in the revision + of <i>The Warrior's Barrow</i>. There can be no question but that he was + here following the Ochlenschlaeger tradition. Unrhymed pentameter, + however, did not seem to satisfy him. He could with difficulty keep from + falling into rhyme in <i>Catiline</i>, and in the early version of <i>The + Warrior's Barrow</i> he used rhymed pentameters. After the revision of + this play he threw aside blank verse altogether. "Iambic pentameter," he + says in the essay on the heroic ballad, "is by no means the most suitable + form for the treatment of ancient Scandinavian material; this form of + verse is altogether foreign to our national meters, and it is surely + through a national form that the national material can find its fullest + expression." The folk-tale and the ballad gave him the suggestion he + needed. In <i>The Feast at Solhoug</i> and the final version of <i>Olaf + Liljekrans</i> he employed the ballad meter, and this form became the + basis for the verse in all his later metrical plays. + </p> + <p> + Six years intervened between <i>The Grouse in Justedal</i> and <i>Olaf + Liljekrans</i>, and the revision in this case amounted almost to the + writing of a new play. Fredrik Paasche in his study (<i>Olaf Liljekrans</i>, + Christiania, 1909) discusses the relation of <i>Olaf Liljekrans</i> to the + earlier form of the play. Three years intervened between the first and + final versions of <i>The Warrior's Barrow</i>. Professor A. M. Sturtevant + maintains (<i>Journal of English and Germanic Philology</i>, XII, 407 ff.) + that although "the influence of Ochlenschlaeger upon both versions of <i>The + Warrior's Barrow</i> is unmistakable," yet "the two versions differ so + widely from each other ... that it may be assumed that ... Ibsen had begun + to free himself from the thraldom of Ochlenschlaeger's romantic conception + of the viking character." He points out the influence of Welhaven and + Heiberg on the second version, elaborates upon the superior + character-delineation, and shows in considerable detail the "inner + necessity ... which brings about the change of heart in Gandalf and his + warriors." + </p> + <p> + The revision of <i>Catiline</i> came twenty-five years after the original + version, and consisted largely of linguistic changes. Ibsen seems never to + have completely disowned this play; it has been included in all the + complete editions, whereas <i>The Warrior's Barrow</i> and <i>Olaf + Liljekrans</i> appear only in the first complete edition, and were even + then relegated to a supplementary volume. In suggesting the revision of <i>Catiline</i>, + Ibsen proposed "to make no change in the thought and ideas, but only in + the language in which these are expressed; for the verses are, as Brandes + has somewhere remarked, bad,—one reason being that the book was + printed from my first rough uncorrected draft." He had at that time not + developed his careful craftsmanship, and sought in the revision merely to + put the drama into the form which he had originally had in mind, but which + at that time he had been unable to achieve. The changes that were actually + made are summarized by D. A. Seip (Ibsen, <i>Samlede Digter Verker</i>, + 1918, VII, 114) who quotes Halvdan Koht and Julius Elias (Ibsen, <i>Efterladte + Skrifter</i>, III): "The two editions 'agree in the sequence of tenses, + with a few exceptions also in the sequence of speeches, and on the whole + even in the sequence of lines. The changes involve principally the poetic + expression itself; after the second act they become more and more + extensive, and the last two acts have been augmented with 100 lines.' ... + Not infrequently there appear words and expressions which are suggestive + of Ibsen's later works." + </p> + <p> + These plays now appear for the first time in English translation. A. + Johnstone published in <i>Translations from the Norse, by a B. S. S.</i> + (Gloucester, about 1876), an English rendering of the first act of <i>Catiline</i> + and a synopsis of the last two acts. William Archer explains at length his + omission of <i>Catiline</i> from his edition of Ibsen. "A great part of + the interest lies in the very crudities of its style, which it would be a + thankless task to reproduce in translation. Moreover, the poet impaired + even its biographical value by largely rewriting it before publication. He + did not make it, or attempt to make it, a better play, but he in some + measure corrected its juvenility of expression. Which version, then, + should a translator choose? To go back to the original would seem a + deliberate disregard of the poet's wishes; while, on the other hand, the + retouched version is clearly of far inferior interest. It seems advisable, + therefore, to leave the play alone, as far as this edition is concerned." + <i>Olaf Liljekrans</i> and <i>The Warrior's Barrow</i> were acted in + English in London in 1911 and 1912 respectively, but the English + renderings used in these presentations have never appeared in print. + </p> + <p> + The text of <i>Catiline</i> in the present translation is that of the + revised version as given in the edition of 1906-07; the text of the other + two plays is that of the edition of 1898-1902. The meters of the original + have been carefully reproduced. The great difficulty of rendering the + ballad and lyrical meters of Ibsen into adequate English verse has made + some stylistic changes necessary, such as the substitution of masculine + for feminine rhymes, and the occasional alteration of the sense in slight + measure. + </p> + <p> + I take this opportunity to acknowledge my gratitude to Professor O. W. + Firkins, now of <i>The Weekly Review</i>, who suggested the translating of + these plays and who offered from time to time invaluable criticisms; to + Professor Howard M. Jones, of the University of Texas, Professor S. B. + Hustvedt, of the University of Minnesota, and Professor W. W. Lawrence, of + Columbia University, who read all or parts of these translations and made + many helpful suggestions; and to Professor G. P. Krapp, of Columbia + University, and my wife, who were of assistance in various ways. + </p> + <h3> + ANDERS ORBECK. + </h3> + <p> + <i>New York, January 3, 1921.</i> + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0002" id="link2H_4_0002"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CATILINE + </h2> + <h3> + A Drama in Three Acts + </h3> + <h3> + 1850 + </h3> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_PREF" id="link2H_PREF"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + PREFACE TO THE SECOND EDITION + </h2> + <p> + The drama <i>Catiline</i>, with which I entered upon my literary career, + was written during the winter of 1848-49, that is in my twenty-first year. + </p> + <p> + I was at the time in Grimstad, under the necessity of earning with my + hands the wherewithal of life and the means for instruction preparatory to + my taking the entrance examinations to the university. The age was one of + great stress. The February revolution, the uprisings in Hungary and + elsewhere, the Slesvig war,—all this had a great effect upon and + hastened my development, however immature it may have remained for some + time after. I wrote ringing poems of encouragement to the Magyars, urging + them for the sake of liberty and humanity to hold out in the righteous + struggle against the "tyrants"; I wrote a long series of sonnets to King + Oscar, containing particularly, as far as I can remember, an appeal to set + aside all petty considerations and to march forthwith at the head of his + army to the aid of our brothers on the outermost borders of Slesvig. + Inasmuch as I now, in contrast to those times, doubt that my winged + appeals would in any material degree have helped the cause of the Magyars + or the Scandinavians, I consider it fortunate that they remained within + the more private sphere of the manuscript. I could not, however, on more + formal occasions keep from expressing myself in the impassioned spirit of + my poetic effusions, which meanwhile brought me nothing—from friends + or non-friends—but a questionable reward; the former greeted me as + peculiarly fitted for the unintentionally droll, and the latter thought it + in the highest degree strange that a young person in my subordinate + position could undertake to inquire into affairs concerning which not even + they themselves dared to entertain an opinion. I owe it to truth to add + that my conduct at various times did not justify any great hope that + society might count on an increase in me of civic virtue, inasmuch as I + also, with epigrams and caricatures, fell out with many who had deserved + better of me and whose friendship I in reality prized. Altogether,—while + a great struggle raged on the outside, I found myself on a war-footing + with the little society where I lived cramped by conditions and + circumstances of life. + </p> + <p> + Such was the situation when amid the preparations for my examinations I + read through Sallust's <i>Catiline</i> together with Cicero's Catilinarian + orations. I swallowed these documents, and a few months later my drama was + complete. As will be seen from my book, I did not share at that time the + conception of the two ancient Roman writers respecting the character and + conduct of Catiline, and I am even now prone to believe that there must + after all have been something great and consequential in a man whom + Cicero, the assiduous counsel of the majority, did not find it expedient + to engage until affairs had taken such a turn that there was no longer any + danger involved in the attack. It should also be remembered that there are + few individuals in history whose renown has been more completely in the + hands of enemies than that of Catiline. + </p> + <p> + My drama was written during the hours of the night. The leisure hours for + my study I practically had to steal from my employer, a good and + respectable man, occupied however heart and soul with his business, and + from those stolen study hours I again stole moments for writing verse. + There was consequently scarcely anything else to resort to but the night. + I believe this is the unconscious reason that almost the entire action of + the piece transpires at night. + </p> + <p> + Naturally a fact so incomprehensible to my associates as that I busied + myself with the writing of plays had to be kept secret; but a twenty-year + old poet can hardly continue thus without anybody being privy to it, and I + confided therefore to two friends of my own age what I was secretly + engaged upon. + </p> + <p> + The three of us pinned great expectations on <i>Catiline</i> when it had + been completed. First and foremost it was now to be copied in order to be + submitted under an assumed name to the theater in Christiania, and + furthermore it was of course to be published. One of my faithful and + trusting friends undertook to prepare a handsome and legible copy of my + uncorrected draft, a task which he performed with such a degree of + conscientiousness that he did not omit even a single one of the + innumerable dashes which I in the heat of composition had liberally + interspersed throughout wherever the exact phrase did not for the moment + occur to me. The second of my friends, whose name I here mention since he + is no longer among the living, Ole C. Schulerud, at that time a student, + later a lawyer, went to Christiania with the transcript. I still remember + one of his letters in which he informed me that <i>Catiline</i> had now + been submitted to the theater; that it would soon be given a performance,—about + that there could naturally be no doubt inasmuch as the management + consisted of very discriminating men; and that there could be as little + doubt that the booksellers of the town would one and all gladly pay a + round fee for the first edition, the main point being, he thought, only to + discover the one who would make the highest bid. + </p> + <p> + After a long and tense period of waiting there began to appear in the + meantime a few difficulties. My friend had the piece returned from the + management with a particularly polite but equally peremptory rejection. He + now took the manuscript from bookseller to bookseller; but all to a man + expressed themselves to the same effect as the theatrical management. The + highest bidder demanded so and so much to publish the piece without any + fee. + </p> + <p> + All this, however, was far from lessening my friend's belief in victory. + He wrote to the contrary that it was best even so; I should come forward + myself as the publisher of my drama; the necessary funds he would advance + me; the profits we should divide in consideration of his undertaking the + business end of the deal, except the proof-reading, which he regarded as + superfluous in view of the handsome and legible manuscript the printers + had to follow. In a later letter he declared that, considering these + promising prospects for the future, he contemplated abandoning his studies + in order to consecrate himself completely to the publishing of my works; + two or three plays a year, he thought, I should with ease be able to + write, and according to a calculation of probabilities he had made he had + discovered that with our surplus we should at no distant time be able to + undertake the journey so often agreed upon or discussed, through Europe + and the Orient. + </p> + <p> + My journey was for the time being limited to Christiania. I arrived there + in the beginning of the spring of 1850 and just previous to my arrival <i>Catiline</i> + had appeared in the bookstalls. The drama created a stir and awakened + considerable interest among the students, but the critics dwelt largely on + the faulty verses and thought the book in other respects immature. A more + appreciative judgment was uttered from but one single quarter, but this + expression came from a man whose appreciation has always been dear to me + and weighty and whom I herewith offer my renewed gratitude. Not very many + copies of the limited edition were sold; my friend had a good share of + them in his custody, and I remember that one evening when our domestic + arrangements heaped up for us insurmountable difficulties, this pile of + printed matter was fortunately disposed of as waste paper to a huckster. + During the days immediately following we lacked none of the prime + necessities of life. + </p> + <p> + During my sojourn at home last summer and particularly since my return + here there loomed up before me more clearly and more sharply than ever + before the kaleidoscopic scenes of my literary life. Among other things I + also brought out <i>Catiline</i>. The contents of the book as regards + details I had almost forgotten; but by reading it through anew I found + that it nevertheless contained a great deal which I could still + acknowledge, particularly if it be remembered that it is my first + undertaking. Much, around which my later writings center, the + contradiction between ability and desire, between will and possibility, + the intermingled tragedy and comedy in humanity and in the individual,—appeared + already here in vague foreshadowings, and I conceived therefore the plan + of preparing a new edition, a kind of jubilee-edition,—a plan to + which my publisher with his usual readiness gave his approval. + </p> + <p> + But it was naturally not enough simply to reprint without further ado the + old original edition, for this is, as already pointed out, nothing but a + copy of my imperfect and uncorrected concept or of the very first rough + draft. In the rereading of it I remembered clearly what I originally had + had in mind, and I saw moreover that the form practically nowhere gave a + satisfactory rendering of what I had wished. + </p> + <p> + I determined therefore to revise this drama of my youth in a way in which + I believe even at that time I should have been able to do it had the time + been at my disposal and the circumstances more favorable for me. The + ideas, the conceptions, and the development of the whole, I have not on + the other hand altered. The book has remained the original; only now it + appears in a complete form. + </p> + <p> + With this in mind I pray that my friends in Scandinavia and elsewhere will + receive it; I pray that they will receive it as a greeting from me at the + close of a period which to me has been full of changes and rich in + contradictions. Much of what I twenty-five years ago dreamed has been + realized, even though not in the manner nor as soon as I then hoped. Yet I + believe now that it was best for me thus; I do not wish that any of that + which lies between should have been untried, and if I look back upon what + I have lived through I do so with thanks for everything and thanks to all. + </p> + <h3> + HENRIK IBSEN. + </h3> + <p> + <i>Dresden, February, 1875.</i> + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0004" id="link2H_4_0004"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + DRAMATIS PERSONÆ + </h2> + <p> + LUCIUS CATILINE A noble Roman. + </p> + <p> + AURELIA His wife. + </p> + <p> + FURIA A vestal. + </p> + <p> + CURIUS A youth related to Catiline. + </p> + <p> + MANLIUS An old warrior. + </p> + <p> + LENTULUS Young and noble Roman. + </p> + <h3> + GABINIUS " " " " + </h3> + <h3> + STATILIUS " " " " + </h3> + <h3> + COEPARIUS " " " " + </h3> + <h3> + CETHEGUS " " " " + </h3> + <p> + AMBIORIX Ambassador of the Allobroges. + </p> + <h3> + OLLOVICO " " " " + </h3> + <p> + An old MAN. + </p> + <p> + PRIESTESSES and SERVANTS in the Temple of Vesta. + </p> + <p> + GLADIATORS and WARRIORS. + </p> + <p> + ESCORT of the Allobroges. + </p> + <p> + Sulla's GHOST. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0005" id="link2H_4_0005"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + SETTING + </h2> + <p> + The first and second acts are laid in and near Rome, the third act in + Etruria. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0006" id="link2H_4_0006"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + FIRST ACT + </h2> + <p> + [The Flaminian Way outside of Rome. Off the road a wooded hillside. In the + background loom the walls and the heights of the city. It is evening.] + </p> + <p> + [CATILINE stands on the hill among the bushes, leaning against a tree.] + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + CATILINE. I must! I must! A voice deep in my soul + Urges me on,—and I will heed its call. + Courage I have and strength for something better, + Something far nobler than this present life,— + A series of unbridled dissipations—! + No, no; they do not satisfy the yearning soul. + + CATILINE. I rave and rave,—long only to forget. + 'Tis past now,—all is past! Life has no aim. + + CATILINE. [After a pause.] + And what became of all my youthful dreams? + Like flitting summer clouds they disappeared, + Left naught behind but sorrow and remorse;— + Each daring hope in turn fate robbed me of. + + [He strikes his forehead.] + + CATILINE. Despise yourself! Catiline, scorn yourself! + You feel exalted powers in your soul;— + And yet what is the goal of all your struggle? + The surfeiting of sensual desires. + + CATILINE. [More calmly.] + But there are times, such as the present hour, + When secret longings kindle in my breast. + Ah, when I gaze on yonder city, Rome, + The proud, the rich,—and when I see that ruin + And wretchedness to which it now is sunk + Loom up before me like the flaming sun,— + Then loudly calls a voice within my soul: + Up, Catiline;—awake and be a man! + + CATILINE. [Abruptly.] Ah, these are but delusions of the night, + Mere dreaming phantoms born of solitude. + At the slightest sound from grim reality,— + They flee into the silent depths within. + + [The ambassadors of the Allobroges, AMBIORIX and OLLOVICO, with + their Escort, come down the highway without noticing CATILINE.] + + AMBIORIX. Behold our journey's end! The walls of Rome! + To heaven aspires the lofty Capitol. + + OLLOVICO. So that is Rome? Italy's overlord, + Germany's soon,—and Gaul's as well, perchance. + + AMBIORIX. Ah, yes, alas;—so it may prove betimes; + The sovereign power of Rome is merciless; + It crushes all it conquers, down to earth. + Now shall we see what lot we may expect: + If here be help against the wrongs at home, + And peace and justice for our native land. + + OLLOVICO. It will be granted us. + + AMBIORIX. So let us hope; + For we know nothing yet with certainty. + + OLLOVICO. You fear somewhat, it seems? + + AMBIORIX. And with good reason. + Jealous was ever Rome of her great power. + And bear in mind, this proud and haughty realm + Is not by chieftains ruled, as is our land. + At home the wise man or the warrior reigns,— + The first in wisdom and in war the foremost; + Him choose we as the leader of our people, + As arbiter and ruler of our tribe. + But here— + + CATILINE. [Calls down to them.] + —Here might and selfishness hold sway;— + Intrigue and craft are here the keys to power. + + OLLOVICO. Woe to us, brethren, woe! He spies upon us. + + AMBIORIX. [To CATILINE.] + Is such the practice of the high-born Roman? + A woman's trick we hold it in our nation. + + CATILINE. [comes down on the road.] + Ah, have no fear;—spying is not my business; + By chance it was I heard your conversation.— + Come you from Allobrogia far away? + Justice you think to find in Rome? Ah, never! + Turn home again! Here tyranny holds sway, + And rank injustice lords it more than ever. + Republic to be sure it is in name; + And yet all men are slaves who cringe and cower, + Vassals involved in debt, who must acclaim + A venal senate—ruled by greed and power. + Gone is the social consciousness of old, + The magnanimity of former ages;— + Security and life are favors sold, + Which must be bargained for with hire and wages. + Not righteousness, but power here holds sway; + The noble man is lost among the gilded— + + AMBIORIX. But say,—who then are you to tear away + The pillars of the hope on which we builded? + + CATILINE. A man who burns in freedom's holy zeal; + An enemy of all unrighteous power; + Friend of the helpless trodden under heel,— + Eager to hurl the mighty from their tower. + + AMBIORIX. The noble race of Rome—? Ah, Roman, speak— + Since we are strangers here you would deceive us? + Is Rome no more the guardian of the weak, + The dread of tyrants,—ready to relieve us? + + CATILINE. [Points towards the city and speaks.] + Behold the mighty Capitol that towers + On yonder heights in haughty majesty. + See, in the glow of evening how it lowers, + Tinged with the last rays of the western sky.— + So too Rome's evening glow is fast declining, + Her freedom now is thraldom, dark as night.— + Yet in her sky a sun will soon be shining, + Before which darkness quick will take its flight. + + [He goes.] + +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <p> + [A colonnade in Rome.] + </p> + <p> + [LENTULUS, STATILIUS, COEPARIUS, and CETHEGUS enter, in eager + conversation.] + </p> + <p> + COEPARIUS. Yes, you are right; things go from bad to worse; And what the + end will be I do not know. + </p> + <p> + CETHEGUS. Bah! I am not concerned about the end. The fleeting moment I + enjoy; each cup Of pleasure as it comes I empty,—letting All else go + on to ruin as it will. + </p> + <p> + LENTULUS. Happy is he who can. I am not blessed With your indifference, + that can outface The day when nothing shall be left us more, Nothing with + which to pay the final score. + </p> + <p> + STATILIUS. And not the faintest glimpse of better things! Yet it is true: + a mode of life like ours— + </p> + <p> + CETHEGUS. Enough of that! + </p> + <p> + LENTULUS. Today because of debt The last of my inheritance was seized. + </p> + <p> + CETHEGUS. Enough of sorrow and complaint! Come, friends! We'll drown them + in a merry drinking bout! + </p> + <p> + COEPARIUS. Yes, let us drink. Come, come, my merry comrades! + </p> + <p> + LENTULUS. A moment, friends; I see old Manlius yonder,— Seeking us + out, I think, as is his wont. + </p> + <p> + MANLIUS. [Enters impetuously.] Confound the shabby dogs, the paltry + scoundrels! Justice and fairness they no longer know! + </p> + <p> + LENTULUS. Come, what has happened? Wherefore so embittered? + </p> + <p> + STATILIUS. Have usurers been plaguing you as well? + </p> + <p> + MANLIUS. Something quite different. As you all know, I served with honor + among Sulla's troops; A bit of meadow land was my reward. And when the war + was at an end, I lived Thereon; it furnished me my daily bread. Now is it + taken from me! Laws decree— State property shall to the state revert + For equal distribution. Theft, I say,— It is rank robbery and + nothing else! Their greed is all they seek to satisfy. + </p> + <p> + COEPARIUS. Thus with our rights they sport to please themselves. The + mighty always dare do what they will. + </p> + <p> + CETHEGUS. [Gaily.] Hard luck for Manlius! Yet, a worse mishap Has come to + me, as I shall now relate. Listen,—you know my pretty mistress, + Livia,— The little wretch has broken faith with me, Just now when I + had squandered for her sake The slender wealth that still remained to me. + </p> + <p> + STATILIUS. Extravagance—the cause of your undoing. + </p> + <p> + CETHEGUS. Well, as you please; but I will not forego My own desires; + these, while the day is fair, To their full measure I will satisfy. + </p> + <p> + MANLIUS. And I who fought so bravely for the glory And might which now the + vaunting tyrants boast! I shall—! If but the brave old band were + here, My comrades of the battlefield! But no; The greater part of them, + alas, is dead; The rest live scattering in many lands.— + </p> + <p> + MANLIUS. Oh, what are you, the younger blood, to them? You bend and cringe + before authority; You dare not break the chains that bind you fast; You + suffer patiently this life of bondage! + </p> + <p> + LENTULUS. By all the Gods,—although indeed he taunts us, Yet, + Romans, is there truth in what he says. + </p> + <p> + CETHEGUS. Oh, well,—what of it? He is right, we grant, But where + shall we begin? Ay, there's the rub. + </p> + <p> + LENTULUS. Yes, it is true. Too long have we endured This great oppression. + Now—now is the time To break the bonds asunder that injustice And + vain ambition have about us forged. + </p> + <p> + STATILIUS. Ah, Lentulus, I understand. Yet hold; For such a thing we need + a mighty leader,— With pluck and vision. Where can he be found? + </p> + <p> + LENTULUS. I know a man who has the power to lead us. + </p> + <p> + MANLIUS. Ah, you mean Catiline? + </p> + <p> + LENTULUS. The very man. + </p> + <p> + CETHEGUS. Yes, Catiline perchance is just the man. + </p> + <p> + MANLIUS. I know him well. I was his father's friend; Many a battle side by + side we fought. Often his young son went with him to war. Even his early + years were wild and headstrong; Yet he gave open proof of rare endowments,— + His mind was noble, dauntless was his courage. + </p> + <p> + LENTULUS. We'll find him, as I think, most prompt and willing. I met him + late this evening much depressed; He meditates in secret some bold plan;— + Some desperate scheme he long has had in mind. + </p> + <p> + STATILIUS. No doubt; the consulate he long has sought. + </p> + <p> + LENTULUS. His efforts are in vain; his enemies Have madly raged against + him in the senate;— He was himself among them; full of wrath He left + the council—brooding on revenge. + </p> + <p> + STATILIUS. Then will he surely welcome our proposal. + </p> + <p> + LENTULUS. I hope so. Yet must we in secret weigh Our enterprise. The time + is opportune. + </p> + <p> + [They go.] + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <p> + [In the Temple of Vesta in Rome. On an altar in the background burns a + lamp with the sacred fire.] + </p> + <p> + [CATILINE, followed by CURIUS, comes stealing in between the pillars.] + </p> + <p> + CURIUS. What, Catiline,—you mean to bring me here? In Vesta's + temple! + </p> + <p> + CATILINE. [Laughing.] Well, yes; so you see! + </p> + <p> + CURIUS. Ye gods,—what folly! On this very day Has Cicero denounced + you in the council; And yet you dare— + </p> + <p> + CATILINE. Oh, let that be forgotten! + </p> + <p> + CURIUS. You are in danger, and forget it thus— By rushing blindly + into some new peril. + </p> + <p> + CATILINE. [Gaily.] Well, change is my delight. I never knew Ere now a + vestal's love,—forbidden fruit;— Wherefore I came to try my + fortune here. + </p> + <p> + CURIUS. What,—here, you say? Impossible! A jest! + </p> + <p> + CATILINE. A jest? Why, yes,—as all my loving is. And yet I was in + earnest when I spoke. During the recent games I chanced to see The + priestesses in long and pompous train. By accident I cast my roving eye On + one of them,—and with a hasty glance She met my gaze. It pierced me + to the soul. Ah, the expression in those midnight eyes I never saw before + in any woman. + </p> + <p> + CURIUS. Yes, yes, I know. But speak—what followed then? + </p> + <p> + CATILINE. A way into the temple I have found, And more than once I've seen + and spoken to her. Oh, what a difference between this woman And my + Aurelia! + </p> + <p> + CURIUS. And you love them both At once? No,—that I cannot + understand. + </p> + <p> + CATILINE. Yes, strange, indeed; I scarcely understand myself. And yet—I + love them both, as you have said. But oh, how vastly different is this + love! The one is kind: Aurelia often lulls With soothing words my soul to + peace and rest;— But Furia—. Come, away; some one approaches. + </p> + <p> + [They hide themselves among the pillars.] + </p> + <p> + FURIA. [Enters from the opposite side.] Oh, hated walls,—witnesses + of my anguish. Home of the torment I must suffer still! My hopes and + cherished aspirations languish Within my bosom,—now with feverish + chill Pervaded, now with all the heat of passion, More hot and burning + than yon vestal fire. + </p> + <p> + FURIA. Ah, what a fate! And what was my transgression That chained me to + this temple-prison dire,— That robbed my life of every youthful + pleasure,— In life's warm spring each innocent delight? + </p> + <p> + FURIA. Yet tears I shall not shed in undue measure; Hatred and vengeance + shall my heart excite. + </p> + <p> + CATILINE. [Comes forward.] Not even for me, my Furia, do you cherish + Another feeling,—one more mild than this? + </p> + <p> + FURIA. Ye gods! you, reckless man,—you here again? Do you not fear + to come—? + </p> + <p> + CATILINE. I know no fear. 'Twas always my delight to mock at danger. + </p> + <p> + FURIA. Oh, splendid! Such is also my delight;— This peaceful temple + here I hate the more, Because I live in everlasting calm, And danger never + lurks within its walls. + </p> + <p> + FURIA. Oh, this monotonous, inactive life, A life faint as the flicker of + the lamp—! How cramped a field it is for all my sum Of fervid + longings and far-reaching plans! Oh, to be crushed between these narrow + walls;— Life here grows stagnant; every hope is quenched; The day + creeps slowly on in drowsiness,— And not one single thought is + turned to deeds. + </p> + <p> + CATILINE. O Furia, strange, in truth, is your complaint! It seems an echo + out of my own soul,— As if with flaming script you sought to paint + My every longing towards a worthy goal. Rancour and hate in my soul + likewise flourish; My heart—as yours—hate tempers into steel; + I too was robbed of hopes I used to nourish; An aim in life I now no + longer feel. + </p> + <p> + CATILINE. In silence still I mask my grief, my want; And none can guess + what smoulders in my breast. They scoff and sneer at me,—these + paltry things; They can not grasp how high my bosom beats For right and + freedom, all the noble thoughts That ever stirred within a Roman mind. + </p> + <p> + FURIA. I knew it! Ah, your soul, and yours alone, Is born for me,—thus + clearly speaks a voice That never fails and never plays me false. Then + come! Oh, come—and let us heed the call. + </p> + <p> + CATILINE. What do you mean, my sweet enthusiast? + </p> + <p> + FURIA. Come,—let us leave this place, flee far away, And seek a new + and better fatherland. Here is the spirit's lofty pride repressed; Here + baseness smothers each auspicious spark Ere it can break into a burning + flame. Come, let us fly;—lo, to the free-born mind The world's wide + compass is a fatherland! + </p> + <p> + CATILINE. Oh, irresistibly you lure me on— + </p> + <p> + FURIA. Come, let us use the present moment then! High o'er the hills, + beyond the sea's expanse,— Far, far from Rome we first will stay our + journey. Thousands of friends will follow you outright; In foreign lands + we shall a home design; There shall we rule; 'twill there be brought to + light That no hearts ever beat as yours and mine. + </p> + <p> + CATILINE. Oh, wonderful!—But flee? Why must we flee? Here too our + love for freedom can be nourished; Here also is a field for thought and + action, As vast as any that your soul desires. + </p> + <p> + FURIA. Here, do you say? Here, in this paltry Rome, Where naught exists + but thraldom and oppression? Ah, Lucius, are you likewise one of those Who + can Rome's past recall without confession Of shame? Who ruled here then? + Who rule to-day? Then an heroic race—and now a rabble, The slaves of + other slaves— + </p> + <p> + CATILINE. Mock me you may;— Yet know,—to save Rome's freedom + from this babble, To see yet once again her vanished splendor, Gladly I + should, like Curtius, throw myself Into the abyss— + </p> + <p> + FURIA. I trust you, you alone; Your eyes glow bright; I know you speak the + truth. Yet go; the priestesses will soon appear; Their wont it is to meet + here at this hour. + </p> + <p> + CATILINE. I go; but only to return again. A magic power binds me to your + side;— So proud a woman have I never seen. + </p> + <p> + FURIA. [With a wild smile.] Then pledge me this; and swear that you will + keep Whatever you may promise. Will you, Lucius? + </p> + <p> + CATILINE. I will do aught my Furia may require; Command me,—tell me + what am I to promise. + </p> + <p> + FURIA. Then listen. Though I dwell a captive here, I know there lives a + man somewhere in Rome Whom I have sworn deep enmity to death— And + hatred even beyond the gloomy grave. + </p> + <p> + CATILINE. And then—? + </p> + <p> + FURIA. Then swear, my enemy shall be Your enemy till death. Will you, my + Lucius? + </p> + <p> + CATILINE. I swear it here by all the mighty gods! I swear it by my + father's honored name And by my mother's memory—! But, Furia,— + What troubles you? Your eyes are wildly flaming,— And white as + marble, deathlike, are your cheeks. + </p> + <p> + FURIA. I do not know myself. A fiery stream Flows through my veins. Swear + to the end your oath! + </p> + <p> + CATILINE. Oh, mighty powers, pour out upon this head Your boundless fury, + let your lightning wrath Annihilate me, if I break my oath; Aye, like a + demon I shall follow him! + </p> + <p> + FURIA. Enough! I trust you. Ah, my heart is eased. In your hand now indeed + rests my revenge. + </p> + <p> + CATILINE. It shall be carried out. But tell me this,— Who is your + foe? And what was his transgression? + </p> + <p> + FURIA. Close by the Tiber, far from the city's tumult, My cradle stood; it + was a quiet home! A sister much beloved lived with me there, A chosen + vestal from her childhood days.— Then came a coward to our distant + valley;— He saw the fair, young priestess of the future— + </p> + <p> + CATILINE. [Surprised.] A priestess? Tell me—! Speak—! + </p> + <p> + FURIA. He ravished her. She sought a grave beneath the Tiber's stream. + </p> + <p> + CATILINE. [Uneasy.] You know him? + </p> + <p> + FURIA. I have never seen the man. When first I heard the tidings, all was + past. His name is all I know. + </p> + <p> + CATILINE. Then speak it out! + </p> + <p> + FURIA. Now is it famed. His name is Catiline. + </p> + <p> + CATILINE. [Taken aback.] What do you say? Oh, horrors! Furia, speak—! + </p> + <p> + FURIA. Calm yourself! What perturbs you? You grow pale. My Lucius,—is + this man perhaps your friend? + </p> + <p> + CATILINE. My friend? Ah, Furia, no;—no longer now. For I have + cursed,—and sworn eternal hate Against myself. + </p> + <p> + FURIA. You—you are Catiline? + </p> + <p> + CATILINE. Yes, I am he. + </p> + <p> + FURIA. My Sylvia you disgraced? Nemesis then indeed has heard my prayer;— + Vengeance you have invoked on your own head! Woe on you, man of violence! + Woe! + </p> + <p> + CATILINE. How blank The stare is in your eye. Like Sylvia's shade You seem + to me in this dim candle light. + </p> + <p> + [He rushes out; the lamp with the sacred fire goes out.] + </p> + <p> + FURIA. [After a pause.] Yes, now I understand it. From my eyes The veil is + fallen,—in the dark I see. Hatred it was that settled in my breast, + When first I spied him in the market-place. A strange emotion; like a + crimson flame! Ah, he shall know what such a hate as mine, Constantly + brewing, never satisfied, Can fashion out in ruin and revenge! + </p> + <p> + A VESTAL. [Enters.] Go, Furia, go; your watch is at an end; Therefore I + came—. Yet, sacred goddess, here— Woe unto you! The vestal + fire is dead! + </p> + <p> + FURIA. [Bewildered.] Dead, did you say? So bright it never burned;— + 'Twill never, never die! + </p> + <p> + THE VESTAL. Great heavens,—what is this? + </p> + <p> + FURIA. The fires of hate are not thus lightly quenched! Behold, love + bursts forth of a sudden,—dies Within the hour; but hate— + </p> + <p> + THE VESTAL. By all the gods,— This is sheer madness! + </p> + <p> + [Calls out.] + </p> + <p> + THE VESTAL. Come! Oh, help! Come, help! + </p> + <p> + [VESTALS and temple SERVANTS rush in.] + </p> + <p> + SOME. What is amiss? + </p> + <p> + OTHERS. The vestal fire is dead! + </p> + <p> + FURIA. But hate burns on; revenge still blazes high! + </p> + <p> + THE VESTALS. Away with her to trial and punishment! + </p> + <p> + [They carry her out between them.] + </p> + <p> + CURIUS. [Comes forward.] To prison now they take her. Thence to death.— + No, no, by all the gods, this shall not be! Must she, most glorious of + womankind, Thus perish in disgrace, entombed alive?— Oh, never have + I felt so strangely moved. Is this then love? Yes, love it is indeed.— + Then shall I set her free!—But Catiline? With hate and vengeance + will she follow him. Has he maligners not enough already? Dare I still + others to their number add? He was to me as were an elder brother; And + gratitude now bids me that I shield him.— But what of love? Ah, what + does it command? And should he quake, the fearless Catiline, Before the + intrigues of a woman? No;— Then to the rescue work this very hour! + Wait, Furia;—I shall drag you from your grave To life again,—though + at the risk of death! + </p> + <p> + [He goes away quickly.] + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <p> + [A room in CATILINE's house.] + </p> + <p> + CATILINE. [Enters impetuous and uneasy.] "Nemesis then indeed has heard my + prayer, Vengeance you have invoked on your own head!" Such were the words + from the enchantress' lips. Remarkable! Perchance it was a sign,— A + warning of what time will bring to me. + </p> + <p> + CATILINE. Now therefore I have pledged myself on oath The blood avenger of + my own misdeed. Ah, Furia,—still I seem to see your eye, Wildly + aflame like that of death's own goddess! Your words still echo hollow in + my ears;— The oath I shall remember all my life. + </p> + <p> + [During the following AURELIA enters and approaches him unnoticed.] + </p> + <p> + CATILINE. Yet, it is folly now to go on brooding Upon this nonsense; it is + nothing else. Far better things there are to think upon; A greater work + awaits my energies. The restless age is urgent with its plea; Toward this + I must direct my thought in season; Of hope and doubt I am a stormy sea— + </p> + <p> + AURELIA. [Seizes his hand.] And may not your Aurelia know the reason? May + she not know what moves within your breast, What stirs therein and rages + with such madness? May she not cheer and soothe your soul to rest, And + banish from your brow its cloud of sadness? + </p> + <p> + CATILINE. [Tenderly.] O, my Aurelia,—O, how kind and tender—. + Yet why should I embitter all your life? Why should I share with you my + many sorrows? For my sake you have borne enough of anguish. Henceforth + upon my own head I shall bear What ill-designing fate allotted me,— + The curse that lies in such a soul as mine, Full of great spiritual + energies, Of fervent longings for a life of deeds, Yet dwarfed in all its + work by sordid cares.— Must you, too, sharing in my wretched life, + Bitter with blasted hopes, then with me perish? + </p> + <p> + AURELIA. To comfort is the role of every wife, Though dreams of greatness + she may never cherish. When the man, struggling for his lofty dream, Reaps + nothing but adversity and sorrow,— Her words to him then sweet and + tender seem, And give him strength sufficient for the morrow; And then he + sees that even the quiet life Has pleasures which the most tumultuous + lacks. + </p> + <p> + CATILINE. Yes, you are right; I know it all too well. And yet I cannot + tear myself away. A ceaseless yearning surges in my breast,— Which + only life's great tumult now can quiet. + </p> + <p> + AURELIA. Though your Aurelia be not all to you,— Though she can + never still your restless soul,— Your heart yet open to a gentle + word, A word of comfort from your loving wife. Though she may never slake + your fiery thirst, Nor follow in their flight your noble thoughts,— + Know this, that she can share your every sorrow, Has strength and + fortitude to ease your burden. + </p> + <p> + CATILINE. Then listen, dear Aurelia; you shall hear What has of late + depressed so deep my spirits. You know, I long have sought the consulate— + Without avail. You know the whole affair— How to increase the votes + for my election, I have expended— + </p> + <p> + AURELIA. Catiline, no more; You torture me— + </p> + <p> + CATILINE. Do you too blame my course? What better means therefor had I to + choose?— In vain I lavished all that I possessed; My one reward was + mockery and shame. Now in the senate has my adversary, The crafty Cicero, + trampled me to earth. His speech was a portrayal of my life, So glaring + that I, even I, must gasp. In every look I read dismay and fear; With + loathing people speak of Catiline; To races yet unborn my name will be A + symbol of a low and dreadful union Of sensuality and wretchedness, Of + scorn and ridicule for what is noble.— And there will be no deed to + purge this name And crush to earth the lies that have been told! Each will + believe whatever rumor tells— + </p> + <p> + AURELIA. But I, dear husband, trust no such reports. Let the whole world + condemn you if it will; And let it heap disgrace upon your head;— I + know you hide within your inmost soul A seed that still can blossom and + bear fruit. Only it cannot burst forth here in Rome; Poisonous weeds would + quickly prove the stronger. Let us forsake this degradation's home;— + What binds you here? Why should we dwell here longer? + </p> + <p> + CATILINE. I should forsake the field,—and go away? I should my + greatest dreams in life surrender? The drowning man still clutches firm + and fast The broken spars—though hope is frail and slender; And + should the wreck be swallowed in the deep, And the last hope of rescue + fail forever,— Still clings he to the lone remaining spar, And sinks + with it in one last vain endeavor. + </p> + <p> + AURELIA. But should a kindly seacoast smile on him, With groves all green + along the rolling billows, Hope then awakens in his heart again,— He + struggles inward, toward the silvery willows. There reigns a quiet peace; + 'tis beautiful; There roll the waves, in silence, without number; His + heated brow sweet evening breezes cool, As weary-limbed he rests himself + in slumber; Each sorrow-laden cloud they drive away; A restful calm his + weary mind assuages;— There he finds shelter and prolongs his stay + And soon forgets the sorry by-gone ages. The distant echo of the world's + unrest Alone can reach his dwelling unfrequented. It does not break the + calm within his breast;— It makes his soul more happy and contented; + It calls to mind the by-gone time of strife, Its shattered hopes and its + unbridled pleasures; He finds twice beautiful this quiet life— And + would not change it for the greatest treasures. + </p> + <p> + CATILINE. You speak the truth; and in this very hour From strife and + tumult I could go with you. But can you name me some such quiet spot, + Where we can live in shelter and in peace? + </p> + <p> + AURELIA. [Joyful.] You will go, Catiline? What happiness,— Oh, + richer than my bosom can contain! Let it be so, then! Come! This very + night We'll go away— + </p> + <p> + CATILINE. But whither shall we go? Name me the spot where I may dare to + rest My head in homely peace! + </p> + <p> + AURELIA. How can you ask? Have you forgot our villa in the country, + Wherein I passed my childhood days, where since, Enraptured during love's + first happy dawn, We two spent many a blithesome summer day? Where was the + grass indeed so green as there? Where else the groves so shady and + sweet-smelling? The snow-white villa from its wooded lair Peeps forth and + bids us there to make our dwelling. There let us flee and dedicate our + life To rural duties and to sweet contentment;— You will find + comfort in a loving wife, And through her kisses banish all resentment. + </p> + <p> + [Smiling.] + </p> + <p> + AURELIA. And when with all the flowers of the land You come to me, your + sovereign, in my bowers, Then shall I crown you with the laurel band, And + cry, All hail to you, my king of flowers!— But why do you grow pale? + Wildly you press My hand,—and strangely now your eyes are glowing— + </p> + <p> + CATILINE. Aurelia, alas, past is your happiness;— There we can + never, never think of going. There we can never go! + </p> + <p> + AURELIA. You frighten me! Yet, surely,—you are jesting, Catiline? + </p> + <p> + CATILINE. I jest! Would only that it were a jest! Each word you speak, + like the avenging dart Of Nemesis, pierces my heavy heart, Which fate will + never grant a moment's rest. + </p> + <p> + AURELIA. O gods! speak, speak! What do you mean? + </p> + <p> + CATILINE. See here! Here is your villa,—here your future joys! + </p> + <p> + [He draws out a purse filled with gold and throws it on the table.] + </p> + <p> + AURELIA. Oh, you have sold—? + </p> + <p> + CATILINE. Yes,—all I sold today;— And to what end? In order to + corrupt— + </p> + <p> + AURELIA. O Catiline, no more! Let us not think On this affair; sorrow is + all it brings. + </p> + <p> + CATILINE. Your quiet-patience wounds me tenfold more Than would a cry of + anguish from your lips! + </p> + <p> + [An old SOLDIER enters and approaches CATILINE.] + </p> + <p> + THE SOLDIER. Forgive me, master, that thus unannounced I enter your abode + at this late hour. Ah, be not wroth— + </p> + <p> + CATILINE. What is your errand here? + </p> + <p> + THE SOLDIER. My errand here is but a humble prayer, Which you will hear. I + am a needy man, One who has sacrificed his strength for Rome. Now I am + feeble, can no longer serve; Unused my weapons rust away at home. The hope + of my old age was in a son, Who labored hard and was my one support. Alas,—in + prison now he's held for debt. And not a ray of hope—. Oh, help me, + master! + </p> + <p> + [Kneeling.] + </p> + <p> + THE SOLDIER. If but a penny! I have gone on foot From house to house; each + door is long since closed. I know not what to do— + </p> + <p> + CATILINE. The paltry knaves! A picture this is of the many's want. Thus + they reward the old brave company. No longer gratitude is found in Rome! + Time was I might have wished in righteous wrath To punish them with sword + and crimson flames; But tender words have just been spoken here; My soul + is moved; I do not wish to punish;— To ease misfortune likewise is a + deed.— Take this, old warrior;—clear with this your debt. + </p> + <p> + [He hands him the purse with the gold.] + </p> + <p> + THE SOLDIER. [Rising.] O gracious lord,—dare I believe your words? + </p> + <p> + CATILINE. Yes; but be quick, old man; go free your son. + </p> + <p> + [The SOLDIER goes hurriedly out.] + </p> + <p> + CATILINE. A better use,—not so, Aurelia dear?— Than bribery + and purchasing of votes? Noble it is to crush the tyrant's might; Yet + quiet solace too has its reward. + </p> + <p> + AURELIA. [Throws herself in his arms.] Oh, rich and noble is your spirit + still. Yes,—now I know my Catiline again. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <p> + [An underground tomb with a freshly walled-in passage high on the rear + wall. A lamp burns faintly.] + </p> + <p> + [FURIA, in long black robes, is standing in the tomb as if listening.] + </p> + <p> + FURIA. A hollow sound. 'Tis thunder rolls above. I hear its rumble even in + the tomb. Yet is the tomb itself so still—so still! Am I forever + damned to drowsy rest? Never again am I to wander forth By winding paths, + as ever was my wish? + </p> + <p> + FURIA. [After a pause.] A strange, strange life it was;—as strange a + fate. Meteor-like all came—and disappeared. He met me. A mysterious + magic force, An inner harmony, together drew us. I was his Nemesis;—and + he my victim;— Yet punishment soon followed the avenger. + </p> + <p> + FURIA. [Another pause.] Now daylight rules the earth.—Am I perchance + To slip—unknowing—from the realm of light? 'Tis well, if so it + be,—if this delay Within the tomb be nothing but a flight Upon the + wings of lightning into Hades,— If I be nearing even now the Styx! + There roll the leaden billows on the shore; There silently old Charon + plies his boat. Soon am I there! Then shall I seat myself Beside the + ferry,—question every spirit, Each fleeting shadow from the land of + life, As light of foot he nears the river of death,— Shall ask each + one in turn how Catiline Fares now among the mortals of the earth,— + Shall ask each one how he has kept his oath. I shall illumine with blue + sulphur light Each spectral countenance and hollow eye,— To + ascertain if it be Catiline. And when he comes, then shall I follow him;— + Together we shall make the journey hence, Together enter Pluto's silent + hall. I too a shadow shall his shade pursue;— Where Catiline is, + must Furia also be! + </p> + <p> + FURIA. [After a pause, more faintly.] The air is growing close and clammy + here,— And every breath in turn more difficult.— Thus am I + drawing near the gloomy swamps, Where creep the rivers of the underworld. + </p> + <p> + FURIA. [She listens; a dull noise is heard.] A muffled sound? 'Tis like + the stroke of oars. It is the ferryman of shades who comes To take me + hence. No, here—here will I wait! + </p> + <p> + [The stones in the freshly walled-in passage are broken asunder. CURIUS + comes into view on the outside; he beckons to her.] + </p> + <p> + FURIA. Ah, greetings, Charon! Are you ready now To lead me hence, a guest + among the spirits? Here will I wait! + </p> + <p> + CURIUS. [Whispering.] I come to set you free! + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /><br /> <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0007" id="link2H_4_0007"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + SECOND ACT + </h2> + <p> + [A room in CATILINE's house with a colonnade in the rear; a lamp lights up + the room.] + </p> + <p> + [CATILINE paces the floor back and forth; LENTULUS and CETHEGUS are with + him.] + </p> + <p> + CATILINE. No, no! I say, you do not understand Yourselves what you demand + of me. Should I Turn traitor and incite a civil war,— Besmear my + hand with Roman blood? No, no! I'll never do it! Let the entire state + Condemn me if— + </p> + <p> + LENTULUS. You will not, Catiline? + </p> + <p> + CATILINE. No. + </p> + <p> + LENTULUS. Tell me,—have you nothing to avenge? No insult? No one + here you fain would strike? + </p> + <p> + CATILINE. Let him who will avenge; I shall not stir. Yet silent scorn is + likewise a revenge;— And that alone shall be enough. + </p> + <p> + CETHEGUS. Aha,— Our visit was, I see, inopportune. Yet doubtless + will the morrow bring you back To other thoughts. + </p> + <p> + CATILINE. But why the morrow? + </p> + <p> + CETHEGUS. There are mysterious rumors in the air. A vestal recently was + led to death— + </p> + <p> + CATILINE. [Surprised.] A vestal,—say you? Ah, what do you mean? + </p> + <p> + LENTULUS. Why, yes, a vestal. Many people murmur— + </p> + <p> + CATILINE. What do they murmur? + </p> + <p> + CETHEGUS. That in this dark affair You are not altogether innocent. + </p> + <p> + CATILINE. This they believe of me? + </p> + <p> + LENTULUS. Such is the rumor; Of course,—to us, to all your good old + friends, Such talk is trifling and of no account;— The world, + however, judges more severely. + </p> + <p> + CATILINE. [Deep in thought.] And is she dead? + </p> + <p> + CETHEGUS. Undoubtedly she is. An hour's confinement in the convict tomb Is + quite enough— + </p> + <p> + LENTULUS. That is not our affair. It was not therefore that we spoke of + her. But hear me, Catiline! Bethink yourself. You sought the consulate; + and all your welfare Hung on that single fragile thread of hope. Now is it + sundered; everything is lost. + </p> + <p> + CATILINE. [Still deep in thought.] "Vengeance you have invoked on your own + head!" + </p> + <p> + CETHEGUS. Shake off these useless thoughts; they profit naught; Act like a + man; still can this fight be won; A bold resolve now—; you have + friends enough; Speak but the word, and we shall follow you.— You + are not tempted? Answer! + </p> + <p> + CATILINE. No, I say! And why are you so eager to conspire? Be honest! Are + you driven by thirst for freedom? Is it in order to renew Rome's splendor + That you would ruin all? + </p> + <p> + LENTULUS. Indeed, 'tis not; Yet surely is the hope of personal greatness + Sufficient motive for our enterprise! + </p> + <p> + CETHEGUS. And means enough to taste the joys of life Are not, in truth, to + be so lightly scorned. That is my motive;—I am not ambitious. + </p> + <p> + CATILINE. I knew it. Only mean and paltry motives, The hope of private + vantage, urge you on. No, no, my friends; I aimed at nobler things! True, + I have sought with bribes and promises To seize ere now the consulate, and + yet My plan was greater and comprised much more Than means like these + would point to. Civic freedom, The welfare of the state,—these were + my aims. Men have misjudged, appearances belied me; My fate has willed it + so. It must so be! + </p> + <p> + CETHEGUS. True; but the thought of all your many friends Whom you can save + from ruin and disgrace—? You know, we shall ere long be driven to + take The beggars' staff because of our wild living. + </p> + <p> + CATILINE. Then stop in season; that is my resolve. + </p> + <p> + LENTULUS. What, Catiline,—now you intend to change Your mode of + life? Ha, ha! you surely jest? + </p> + <p> + CATILINE. I am in earnest,—by the mighty gods! + </p> + <p> + CETHEGUS. Then there is nothing we can do with him. Come, Lentulus, the + others we'll inform What answer he has given. We shall find The merry + company with Bibulus. + </p> + <p> + CATILINE. With Bibulus? How many a merry night We have caroused at + Bibulus' table! Now is the tempest of my wild life ended; Ere dawns the + day I shall have left the city. + </p> + <p> + LENTULUS. What is all this? + </p> + <p> + CETHEGUS. You mean to go away? + </p> + <p> + CATILINE. This very night my wife and I together Shall bid farewell to + Rome forevermore. In quiet Gaul we two shall found a home;— The land + I cultivate shall nourish us. + </p> + <p> + CETHEGUS. You will forsake the city, Catiline? + </p> + <p> + CATILINE. I will; I must! Disgrace here weighs me down. Courage I have to + bear my poverty, But in each Roman face to read disdain And frank contempt—! + No, no; that is too much! In Gaul I'll live in quiet solitude; There shall + I soon forget my former self, Dull all my longings for the greater things, + And as the vaguest dream recall the past. + </p> + <p> + LENTULUS. Then fare you well; may fortune follow you! + </p> + <p> + CETHEGUS. Remember us with kindness, Catiline, As we shall you remember! + To our brothers We will relate this new and strange resolve. + </p> + <p> + CATILINE. Then give them all a brother's hearty greeting! + </p> + <p> + [LENTULUS and CETHEGUS leave.] + </p> + <p> + [AURELIA has entered from the side, hut-stops frightened at the sight of + those who are leaving; when they are gone she approaches CATILINE.] + </p> + <p> + AURELIA. [Gently reprimanding.] Again these stormy comrades in your house? + O Catiline—! + </p> + <p> + CATILINE. This was their final visit. I bade them all farewell. Now every + bond Forevermore is broken that bound me fast And fettered me to Rome. + </p> + <p> + AURELIA. I've gathered up Our bit of property. Not much perhaps;— + Yet, Catiline, enough for our contentment. + </p> + <p> + CATILINE. [Engrossed in thought.] More than enough for me who squandered + all. + </p> + <p> + AURELIA. Oh, brood no more on things we can not change;— Forget what— + </p> + <p> + CATILINE. Happy he who could forget,— Who could the memory tear from + out his soul, The many hopes, the goal of all desires. Ah, time is needed + ere I reach that state; But I shall struggle— + </p> + <p> + AURELIA. I shall help you strive; You shall be comforted for all your + loss. Yet we must leave as soon as possible. Here life calls to you with a + tempter's voice. Is it not so,—we go this very night? + </p> + <p> + CATILINE. Yes, yes,—we leave this very night, Aurelia! + </p> + <p> + AURELIA. The little money left I've gathered up; And for the journey it + will be enough. + </p> + <p> + CATILINE. Good! I shall sell my sword and buy a spade. What value + henceforth is a sword to me? + </p> + <p> + AURELIA. You clear the land, and I shall till the soil. Around our home + will grow in floral splendor A hedge of roses, sweet forget-me-nots, The + silent tokens of a chastened soul, When as some youthful comrade you can + greet Each memory recurrent of the past. + </p> + <p> + CATILINE. That time, Aurelia? Ah, beloved, I fear— That hour lies in + a distant future's keeping. + </p> + <p> + CATILINE. [In a milder tone.] But go, dear wife, and, while you may, + repose. Soon after midnight we shall start our journey. The city then is + lapped in deepest slumber, And none shall guess our hidden destination. + The first glow in the morning sky shall find us Far—far away; there + in the laurel grove We'll rest ourselves upon the velvet grass. + </p> + <p> + AURELIA. A new life opens up before us both— Richer in happiness + than this that's ended. Now will I go. An hour's quiet rest Will give me + strength—. Good-night, my Catiline! + </p> + <p> + [She embraces him and goes out.] + </p> + <p> + CATILINE. [Gazes after her.] Now is she gone! And I—what a relief! + Now can I cast away this wearisome Hypocrisy, this show of cheerfulness, + Which least of all is found within my heart. She is my better spirit. She + would grieve Were she to sense my doubt. I must dissemble. Yet shall I + consecrate this silent hour To contemplation of my wasted life.— + This lamp,—ah, it disturbs my very thoughts;— Dark it must be + here,—dark as is my soul! + </p> + <p> + [He puts out the light; the moon shines through the pillars in the rear.] + </p> + <p> + CATILINE. Too light,—yes, still too light! And yet, no matter;— + The pallid moonlight here does well befit The twilight and the gloom that + shroud my soul,— Have ever shrouded all my earthly ways. + </p> + <p> + CATILINE. Hm, Catiline, then is this day your last; Tomorrow morning you + will be no longer The Catiline you hitherto have been. Distant in barren + Gaul my life shall run Its course, unknown as is a forest stream.— + Now am I wakened from those many visions Of power, of greatness, of a life + of deeds;— They vanished like the dew; in my dark soul They + struggled long and died,—unseen of men. + </p> + <p> + CATILINE. Ah, it is not this dull and drowsy life, Far from all mundane + tumult, that affrights me. If only for a moment I could shine, And blaze + in splendor like a shooting star,— If only by a glorious deed I + could Immortalize the name of Catiline With everlasting glory and renown,— + Then gladly should I, in the hour of triumph, Forsake all things,—flee + to a foreign strand;— I'd plunge the dagger in my exiled heart, Die + free and happy; for I should have lived! + </p> + <p> + CATILINE. But oh,—to die without first having lived. Can that be + possible? Shall I so die? + </p> + <p> + [With uplifted hands.] + </p> + <p> + CATILINE. A hint, oh angry powers,—that it is My fate to disappear + from life forgotten, Without a trace! + </p> + <p> + FURIA. [Outside behind the pillars.] It is not, Catiline! + </p> + <p> + CATILINE. [Taken aback.] Who speaks? What warning voice is this I hear? A + spirit voice from out the underworld! + </p> + <p> + FURIA. [Comes forward in the moonlight.] I am your shadow. + </p> + <p> + CATILINE. [Terrified.] What,—the vestal's ghost! + </p> + <p> + FURIA. Deep must your soul have sunk if you recoil From me! + </p> + <p> + CATILINE. Speak! Have you risen from the grave With hatred and with + vengeance to pursue me? + </p> + <p> + FURIA. Pursue you,—did you say? I am your shadow. I must be with you + wheresoe'er you go. + </p> + <p> + [She comes nearer.] + </p> + <p> + CATILINE. She lives! O gods,—then it is she,—no other, No + disembodied ghost. + </p> + <p> + FURIA. Or ghost or not,— It matters little; I must follow you. + </p> + <p> + CATILINE. With mortal hate! + </p> + <p> + FURIA. Hate ceases in the grave, As love and all the passions do that + flourish Within an earthly soul. One thing alone In life and death remains + unchangeable. + </p> + <p> + CATILINE. And what? Say forth! + </p> + <p> + FURIA. Your fate, my Catiline! + </p> + <p> + CATILINE. Only the gods of wisdom know my fate,— No human being. + </p> + <p> + FURIA. Yet I know your fate. I am your shadow;—strange, mysterious + ties Bind us together. + </p> + <p> + CATILINE. Bonds of hatred. + </p> + <p> + FURIA. No! Rose ever spirit from the dankest grave For hate and vengeance? + Listen, Catiline! The rivers of the underworld have quenched Each earthly + flame that raged within my breast. As you behold me here, I am no longer + The stormy Furia,—wild and passionate,— Whom once you loved— + </p> + <p> + CATILINE. You do not hate me then? + </p> + <p> + FURIA. Ah, now no more. When in the tomb I stood,— And faltered on + the path that separates This life from death, at any moment ready To greet + the underworld,—lo, seized me then An eerie shuddering; I know not + what—; I felt in me a mystic transformation;— Away flowed + hate, revenge, my very soul; Each memory vanished and each earthly + longing;— Only the name of "Catiline" remains Written in fiery + letters on my heart. + </p> + <p> + CATILINE. Ah, wonderful! No matter who you are,— A human form, a + shadow from the dead,— There lies withal a dreadful fascination In + your dark eyes, in every word you speak. + </p> + <p> + FURIA. Your mind is strong as mine; yet you give up, Disheartened and + irresolute, each hope Of triumph and dominion. You forsake The + battlefield, where all your inmost plans Could grow and blossom forth into + achievement. + </p> + <p> + CATILINE. I must! Inexorable fate decrees it! + </p> + <p> + FURIA. Your fate? Why were you given a hero's strength,— If not to + struggle with what you call fate? + </p> + <p> + CATILINE. Oh, I have fought enough! Was not my life A constant battle? + What are my rewards? Disgrace and scorn—! + </p> + <p> + FURIA. Ah, you are fallen low! You struggle towards a high and daring + goal, Are eager to attain it; yet you fear Each trifling hindrance. + </p> + <p> + CATILINE. Fear is not the reason. The goal I sought is unattainable;— + The whole was but a fleeting dream of youth. + </p> + <p> + FURIA. Now you deceive yourself, my Catiline! You hover still about that + single project;— Your soul is noble,—worthy of a ruler,— + And you have friends—. Ah, wherefore hesitate? + </p> + <p> + CATILINE. [Meditating.] I shall—? What do you mean—? With + civil blood—? + </p> + <p> + FURIA. Are you a man,—yet lack a woman's courage? Have you forgot + that nimble dame of Rome, Who sought the throne straight over a father's + corpse? I feel myself a Tullia now; but you—? Scorn and despise + yourself, O Catiline! + </p> + <p> + CATILINE. Must I despise myself because my soul No longer harbors selfish + aspirations? + </p> + <p> + FURIA. You stand here at a cross-road in your life; Yonder a dull, + inactive course awaits you,— A half-way something, neither sleep nor + death;— Before you, on the other hand, you see A sovereign's throne. + Then choose, my Catiline! + </p> + <p> + CATILINE. You tempt me and allure me to destruction. + </p> + <p> + FURIA. Cast but the die,—and in your hand is placed Forevermore the + welfare of proud Rome. Glory and might your silent fate conceals, And yet + you falter,—dare not lift a hand! You journey yonder to the forests, + where Each longing that you cherished will be quenched. Ah, tell me, + Catiline, is there no trace Of thirst for glory left within your heart? + And must this princely soul, for triumphs born, Vanish unknown in yonder + nameless desert? Hence, then! But know that thus you lose forever What + here you could by daring deeds attain. + </p> + <p> + CATILINE. Go on, go on! + </p> + <p> + FURIA. With trembling and with fear The future generations will recall + Your fate. Your life was all a daring game;— Yet in the lustre of + atonement it would shine, Known to all men, if with a mighty hand You + fought your way straight through this surging throng,— If the dark + night of thraldom through your rule Gave way before a new-born day of + freedom,— If at some time you— + </p> + <p> + CATILINE. Hold! Ah, you have touched The string that quivers deepest in my + soul. Your every word sounds like a ringing echo Of what my heart has + whispered day and night. + </p> + <p> + FURIA. Now, Catiline, I know you once again! + </p> + <p> + CATILINE. I shall not go! You have recalled to life My youthful zeal, my + manhood's full-grown longings. Yes, I shall be a light to fallen Rome,— + Daze them with fear like some erratic star! You haughty wretches,—you + shall soon discover You have not humbled me, though for a time I weakened + in the heat of battle! + </p> + <p> + FURIA. Listen! Whatever be the will of fate,—whatever The mighty + gods decree, we must obey. Just so! My hate is gone;—fate thus + decreed, And so it had to be! Give me your hand In solemn compact!—Ah, + you hesitate? You will not? + </p> + <p> + CATILINE. Will—? I gaze upon your eyes: They flash,—like + lightning in the gloom of night. Now did you smile! Just so I've often + pictured Nemesis— + </p> + <p> + FURIA. What? Herself you wish to see,— Then look within. Have you + forgot your oath? + </p> + <p> + CATILINE. No, I remember;—yet you seem to me A Nemesis— + </p> + <p> + FURIA. I am an image born From your own soul. + </p> + <p> + CATILINE. [Meditating.] What is all this you say? I sense but vaguely what + I fail to grasp; I glimpse mysterious, strangely clouded visions,— + But can not understand. I grope in darkness! + </p> + <p> + FURIA. It must be dark here. Darkness is our realm;— In darkness is + our rule. Give me your hand In solemn pledge! + </p> + <p> + CATILINE. [Wildly.] O lovely Nemesis,— My shadow,—image of my + very soul,— Here is my hand in everlasting compact. + </p> + <p> + [He seizes her hand violently; she looks at him with a stern smile.] + </p> + <p> + FURIA. Now we can never part! + </p> + <p> + CATILINE. Ah, like a stream Of fire your touch went coursing through my + veins! 'Tis blood no more that flows, but fiery flames;— My breast + now cabins and confines my heart; My sight grows dull. Soon shall a + flaming sea Illumine with its light the Roman state! + </p> + <p> + [He draws his sword and brandishes it.] + </p> + <p> + CATILINE. My sword! My sword! Do you see how it flashes? Soon will it + redden in their tepid blood!— What change is this in me? My brow + burns hot; A multitude of visions flit before me.— Vengeance it is,—triumph + for all those dreams Of greatness, regal power, and lasting fame. My + watch-word shall be: livid flames and death! The capitol! Now first I am + myself! + </p> + <p> + [He rushes out; FURIA follows him.] + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <p> + [The inside of a dimly illumined tavern.] + </p> + <p> + [STATILIUS, GABINIUS, COEPARIUS, and other young ROMANS enter.] + </p> + <p> + STATILIUS. Here, comrades, we can while away the night; Here we are safe; + no one will overhear us. + </p> + <p> + GABINIUS. Ah, yes; now let us drink, carouse, enjoy! Who knows how long it + will be granted us? + </p> + <p> + STATILIUS. No, let us first await whatever tidings Lentulus and Cethegus + have for us. + </p> + <p> + GABINIUS. Bah, let them bring whatever news they will! Meanwhile the wine + is here; come, let us taste. Quick, brothers, quick,—let's have a + merry song! + </p> + <p> + [SERVANTS bring in wine and glasses.] + </p> + <p> + THE ASSEMBLED FRIENDS. (Sing.) + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Bacchus, all praise to thee! + Joyful we raise to thee + Brimful the beaker! + Hail to thee, hail! + Wine, red and glowing, + Merrily flowing, + Drink of the wine-god,— + This be our song. + + Gracious and friendly + Smiles father Liber; + Drunkenness waits us; + Clear is the wine. + Come, do not tarry! + Wine will make merry, + Joyful and airy, + Body and soul. + + Thou above all the + Glittering bubbles, + Sparkling Falernian, + Glorious drink! + Courage and power, + These are your dower. + Gladsome the gift you + Bring to the soul. + + Bacchus, all praise to thee! + Joyful we raise to thee + Brimful the beaker! + Hail to thee, hail! + Wine, red and glowing, + Merrily flowing, + Drink of the wine-god,— + This be our song. +</pre> + <p> + [LENTULUS and CETHEGUS enter.] + </p> + <p> + LENTULUS. Cease all your song and merriment! + </p> + <p> + STATILIUS. What now? Is Catiline not in your company? + </p> + <p> + GABINIUS. Surely he was quite willing? + </p> + <p> + COEPARIUS. Come, say forth! What was his answer? + </p> + <p> + CETHEGUS. Ah, quite otherwise Than we expected was his answer. + </p> + <p> + GABINIUS. Well? + </p> + <p> + LENTULUS. Well, all of our proposals he declined;— He would not even + hearken to our counsels. + </p> + <p> + STATILIUS. Is this the truth? + </p> + <p> + COEPARIUS. And wherefore would he not? + </p> + <p> + LENTULUS. In short, he will not. He forsakes his friends,— Abandons + us,—and leaves the city. + </p> + <p> + STATILIUS. What? He leaves, you say? + </p> + <p> + CETHEGUS. 'Tis true;—he goes away This very night. Yet,—blamed + he can not be; His ground was valid— + </p> + <p> + LENTULUS. Fear was his excuse! In danger he forsakes us faithlessly. + </p> + <p> + GABINIUS. That is the friendship of our Catiline! + </p> + <p> + COEPARIUS. Never was Catiline faithless or afraid! + </p> + <p> + LENTULUS. And yet he leaves us now. + </p> + <p> + STATILIUS. Our hopes go with him. Where's now the man to take the + leadership? + </p> + <p> + COEPARIUS. He'll not be found; our plan we must forego. + </p> + <p> + LENTULUS. Not yet, not yet, my friends! First you shall hear What I will + say. Now what have we resolved? That we should win at last by force of + arms What an unrighteous destiny denied. Tyrants oppress us;—yet we + wish to rule. We suffer want;—yet wealth is our desire. + </p> + <p> + MANY VOICES. Yes, wealth and power! Wealth and power we want! + </p> + <p> + LENTULUS. Yes, yes; we chose a comrade as our chief, On whom there was no + doubt we could rely. Our trust he fails and turns his back to danger. Ah, + brothers,—be not daunted. He shall learn We can succeed without him. + What we need Is some one man, fearless and resolute, To take the lead— + </p> + <p> + SOME. Well, name us such a man! + </p> + <p> + LENTULUS. And should I name him, and should he comeforth,— Will you + then straightway choose him as your leader? + </p> + <p> + SOME. Yes, we will choose him! + </p> + <p> + OTHERS. Yes, we will, we will! + </p> + <p> + STATILIUS. Then name him, friend! + </p> + <p> + LENTULUS. Suppose it were myself? + </p> + <p> + GABINIUS. Yourself? + </p> + <p> + COEPARIUS. You, Lentulus—! + </p> + <p> + SEVERAL. [In doubt.] You wish to lead us? + </p> + <p> + LENTULUS. I do. + </p> + <p> + CETHEGUS. But can you? Such a task requires The strength and courage of a + Catiline. + </p> + <p> + LENTULUS. I do not lack the courage, nor the strength. Each to his task! + Or will you now turn back, Now when the moment seems most opportune? 'Tis + now or never! All things prophesy Success for us— + </p> + <p> + STATILIUS. Good;—we will follow you! + </p> + <p> + OTHERS. We'll follow you! + </p> + <p> + GABINIUS. Well, now that Catiline Forsakes our cause, you are no doubt the + man To lead us in our enterprise. + </p> + <p> + LENTULUS. Then hear What plan of action I have outlined. First— + </p> + <p> + [CATILINE enters hastily.] + </p> + <p> + CATILINE. Here, comrades, here I am! + </p> + <p> + ALL. Catiline! + </p> + <p> + LENTULUS. He? Oh, damned— + </p> + <p> + CATILINE. Speak out,—what do you ask of me? Yet stay; I know already + what it is. I'll lead you on. Say—will you follow me? + </p> + <p> + ALL (EXCEPT LENTULUS). Yes, Catiline,—we follow if you lead! + </p> + <p> + STATILIUS. They have deceived us— + </p> + <p> + GABINIUS. —and belied your name! + </p> + <p> + COEPARIUS. They said you did intend to leave the city And wash your hands + completely of our cause. + </p> + <p> + CATILINE. Yes, so I did. Yet now no more; henceforth Only for this great + purpose do I live. + </p> + <p> + LENTULUS. What is this mighty purpose you proclaim? + </p> + <p> + CATILINE. My purpose here is higher than you think— Perhaps than any + thinks. Ah, hear me, friends! First will I win to us each citizen Who + prizes liberty and values most The public honor and his country's weal. + The spirit of ancient Rome is yet alive;— The last faint spark is + not yet wholly dead. Now into brilliant flames it shall be fanned, More + glorious than ever flames before! Alas, too long the stifling gloom of + thraldom, Dark as the night, lay blanketed on Rome. Behold,—this + realm—though proud and powerful It seems—totters upon the edge + of doom. Therefore the stoutest hand must seize the helm. Rome must be + cleansed,—cleansed to the very roots; The sluggish we must waken + from their slumber,— And crush to earth the power of these wretches + Who sow their poison in the mind and stifle The slightest promise of a + better life. Look you,—'tis civic freedom I would further,— + The civic spirit that in former times Was regnant here. Friends, I shall + conjure back The golden age, when Romans gladly gave Their lives to guard + the honor of the nation, And all their riches for the public weal! + </p> + <p> + LENTULUS. Ah, Catiline, you rave! Nothing of this Had we in mind. + </p> + <p> + GABINIUS. What will it profit us To conjure up again those ancient days + With all their dull simplicity? + </p> + <p> + SOME. No, no! Might we demand— + </p> + <p> + OTHERS. —and means enough to live A gay and carefree life! + </p> + <p> + MANY VOICES. That is our aim! + </p> + <p> + COEPARIUS. Is it for others' happiness and freedom We stake our lives upon + a throw of dice? + </p> + <p> + THE WHOLE GROUP. We want the spoils of victory! + </p> + <p> + CATILINE. Paltry race! Are you the offspring of those ancient fathers? To + heap dishonor on your country's name,— In such a way you would + preserve its lustre! + </p> + <p> + LENTULUS. And you dare taunt us,—you who long since were A + terrifying token— + </p> + <p> + CATILINE. True, I was; I was a terror to the good; and yet, So paltry as + you are was never I. + </p> + <p> + LENTULUS. Restrain your tongue; we brook no ridicule. + </p> + <p> + MANY. No, no,—we will not— + </p> + <p> + CATILINE. [Calmly.] So? You timid brood,— You dare to think of doing + something,—you? + </p> + <p> + LENTULUS. Ah, down with him! + </p> + <p> + MANY VOICES. Yes, down with Catiline! + </p> + <p> + [They draw their daggers and rush in on him; CATILINE calmly removes the + cloak from his breast and regards them with a cold, scornful smile; they + lower their daggers.] + </p> + <p> + CATILINE. Thrust! Thrust! You dare not? Oh, my friends, my friends,— + I should respect you, if you plunged your daggers In this uncovered bosom, + as you threaten. Is there no spark of courage in your souls? + </p> + <p> + SOME. He means our weal! + </p> + <p> + OTHERS. His taunts we have deserved. + </p> + <p> + CATILINE. You have, indeed.—Yet, see,—the hour is come When + you can wash away the blot of shame. All that is of the past we will + forget;— A new existence is in store for us. + </p> + <p> + CATILINE. [With bitterness.] Fool that I am! To stake success on you! + Burns any zeal within this craven mob? + </p> + <p> + CATILINE. [Carried away.] Time was my dreams were glorious; great visions + Rushed through my mind or swept before my gaze. I dreamed that, winged + like Icarus of old, I flew aloft beneath the vault of heaven; I dreamed + the gods endued my hands with strength Of giants, offered me the lightning + flash. And this hand seized the lightning in its flight And hurled it at + the city far beneath. And when the crimson flames lapped all, and rose As + Rome fell crumbling in a heap of ruins,— Then called I with a loud + and mighty voice, And conjured Cato's comrades from the grave; Thousands + of spirits heard my call and came,— Took life again—raised + Rome from out her ashes. + </p> + <p> + [He breaks off.] + </p> + <p> + CATILINE. These were but dreams! Gods do not conjure up The by-gone past + into the light of day,— And parted spirits never leave the grave. + </p> + <p> + CATILINE. [Wildly.] Is now this hand unable to restore The ancient Rome, + our Rome it shall destroy. Where marble colonnades now towering stand, + Pillars of smoke through crackling flames shall whirl; Then shall the + Capitol crumble from its heights, And palaces and temples sink to ruin! + </p> + <p> + CATILINE. Swear, comrades, that you dedicate your lives To this great + purpose! I shall take the lead. Say,—will you follow me? + </p> + <p> + STATILIUS. We'll follow you! + </p> + <p> + [Several seem to be in doubt, and speak in whispers to one another. + CATILINE regards them with a scornful smile.] + </p> + <p> + LENTULUS. [In an undertone.] 'Tis best we follow him. In sunken ruins + We're likeliest to realize our goal. + </p> + <p> + ALL. [Shouting.] Yes, Catiline; we'll all—all follow you! + </p> + <p> + CATILINE. Swear to me by the gods of our great sires That you will heed my + every nod! + </p> + <p> + THE WHOLE GROUP. [With uplifted hands.] Yes, yes; We swear in all things + blindly to obey! + </p> + <p> + CATILINE. Then singly steal your way, by different paths, Into my house. + Weapons you there will find. I shall come later; you shall then discover + What plan of action I propose. Now go! + </p> + <p> + [They all go out.] + </p> + <p> + LENTULUS. [Detains CATILINE.] A word! Know you the Allobrogian tribes Have + to the Senate sent ambassadors With grievances and charges? + </p> + <p> + CATILINE. Yes, I know. They came today into the city. + </p> + <p> + LENTULUS. Good. What if we should attune them to our plans? With them all + Gaul will rise up in revolt; And stir up strife against our enemies. + </p> + <p> + CATILINE. [Reluctant.] Ah, we should seek barbarian allies? + </p> + <p> + LENTULUS. But such a league is a necessity. With our own strength alone + the fight is lost; Help from without— + </p> + <p> + CATILINE. [With a bitter smile.] Ah, Rome is fallen low! Her walls no + longer harbor men with strength Enough to overthrow a tottering ruin! + </p> + <p> + [They go out.] + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <p> + [A garden to the rear of CATILINE's house, which is visible through the + trees. To the left a side-building.] + </p> + <p> + [CURIUS, CETHEGUS, and OTHER CONSPIRATORS enter cautiously from the right + in whispered conversation.] + </p> + <p> + CURIUS. But is it really true what you relate? + </p> + <p> + CETHEGUS. Yes, every word is true. A moment since It was decided. + </p> + <p> + CURIUS. He takes charge of all? + </p> + <p> + CETHEGUS. Of everything. Just speak with him yourself. + </p> + <p> + [All, except CURIUS, enter the house.] + </p> + <p> + CURIUS. An eerie night! How all my thoughts are tossed About in circles! + Did I dream perchance? Ah, real or fancied,—now I am awake,— + Whichever way I turn I see her form. + </p> + <p> + [CATILINE enters from the right.] + </p> + <p> + CATILINE. [Goes toward him.] You here, my Curius? I have missed you much.— + My visit with the vestal took a turn Quite unexpected— + </p> + <p> + CURIUS. [Confused.] So? Yes, you are right! + </p> + <p> + CATILINE. I shall no longer think of this affair. It was a visit fraught + with fate for me. + </p> + <p> + CATILINE. [Meditating.] The furies, we are told, return at times From the + dark underworld to follow us Through life forever.—Ah, if it were + so! + </p> + <p> + CURIUS. [Uneasy.] What? Have you seen her—? + </p> + <p> + CATILINE. She was here tonight.— Yet let this be forgotten. Curius, + listen,— A weighty undertaking is on foot— + </p> + <p> + CURIUS. I know it all. Cethegus told me here— + </p> + <p> + CATILINE. Who knows what issue for this work the gods Have set? Perchance + it is my destiny To perish now, crushed by malignant forces,— And + never reach my goal. Well, be it so! But you, dear Curius, you whom I have + loved Since childhood,—you shall not be drawn within This fateful + maelstrom. Promise me,—remain Within the city if I elsewhere choose + To open my attack,—which is quite likely; Nor aid us till success + has crowned our work. + </p> + <p> + CURIUS. [Moved.] Oh, what a friend and father! All this care—! + </p> + <p> + CATILINE. You promise this? Then here we say farewell; Wait but a moment; + I shall soon return. + </p> + <p> + [He goes into the house.] + </p> + <p> + CURIUS. [Gazing after him.] He loves me still. Of naught is he + distrustful. + </p> + <p> + [LENTULUS and OTHER CONSPIRATORS enter from the right.] + </p> + <p> + LENTULUS. Ah, Curius, did not Catiline just now Pass through the garden? + </p> + <p> + CURIUS. Yes, he is within. + </p> + <p> + [They go into the house.] + </p> + <p> + CURIUS. [Paces about uneasy.] How shall I curb this longing in my soul? + There is a restless turmoil in my blood. Ah, Furia,—what a strange, + mysterious woman! Where are you? When shall I see your face again? + </p> + <p> + CURIUS. Where has she fled? Ah, shadow-like she slipped Away, when I had + freed her from the grave. And those mysterious, prophetic words,— + And more, her eyes, gleaming at once and dimmed—! What if it were + but madness? Has the grave With all its terror darkened—? + </p> + <p> + FURIA. [Behind him among the trees.] No, pale youth! + </p> + <p> + CURIUS. [With a cry.] My Furia! You—? + </p> + <p> + FURIA. [Comes nearer.] Here dwells Catiline. Where he is,—there must + Furia also be. + </p> + <p> + CURIUS. Oh, come with me, beloved. I shall lead You into safety. Think—if + some one saw you! + </p> + <p> + FURIA. The dead need have no fear. Have you forgotten— You took my + corpse and brought it from the grave? + </p> + <p> + CURIUS. Again those terrifying words! Oh, hear me;— Come to your + senses,—come with me away! + </p> + <p> + [He tries to seize her hand.] + </p> + <p> + FURIA. [Thrusts him wildly back.] You reckless fool,—do you not + shrink with fear Before this child of death, but risen up A fleeting + moment from the underworld? + </p> + <p> + CURIUS. Before you now I fear. And yet this fear, This strange, mysterious + dread, is my delight. + </p> + <p> + FURIA. What would you me? In vain is all your pleading. I'm of the grave, + and yonder is my home;— With dawn's approach I must again be + speeding Back to the vale of shadows whence I come. You doubt me,—do + not think that I have sat Among the pallid shades in Pluto's hall? I tell + you, I was even now below,— Beyond the river and the gloomy marshes. + </p> + <p> + CURIUS. Then lead me there! + </p> + <p> + FURIA. You? + </p> + <p> + CURIUS. I shall gladly follow, Though you should lead me through the jaws + of death! + </p> + <p> + FURIA. It cannot be! On earth we two must part;— Yonder the dead and + living dare not meet.— + </p> + <p> + FURIA. Why do you rob me of my fleeting moments? I've but the hours of + night in which to work; My task is of the night; I am its herald. But + where is Catiline? + </p> + <p> + CURIUS. Ah, him you seek? + </p> + <p> + FURIA. Yes, him I seek. + </p> + <p> + CURIUS. Then him you still pursue? + </p> + <p> + FURIA. Why rose I from the spirit underworld Tonight, if not because of + Catiline? + </p> + <p> + CURIUS. Alas, this fury that has seized your soul—! Yet you are + lovely even in your madness. Oh, Furia, think no more of Catiline! Come, + flee with me! Command me,—I shall serve you! + </p> + <p> + [He prostrates himself before her.] + </p> + <p> + CURIUS. A prostrate slave I here entreat of you One single look. Oh, hear + me, Furia, hear me! I love but you! A sweet and lethal fire Consumes my + soul, and you—ah, you alone— Can ease my suffering.— + </p> + <p> + FURIA. [Looks towards the house.] Yonder there's a light— And many + men. What now is going on Within the house of Catiline? + </p> + <p> + CURIUS. [Jumps up.] Again This name! Around him hover all your thoughts. + Oh, I could hate him—! + </p> + <p> + FURIA. Has he then resolved To launch at last the daring enterprise He + long has cherished? + </p> + <p> + CURIUS. Then you know—? + </p> + <p> + FURIA. Yes, all. + </p> + <p> + CURIUS. Ah, then you doubtless know, too, he himself Is foremost in this + daring enterprise? Yet, I adjure you, beg you, think no more Of Catiline! + </p> + <p> + FURIA. Answer me this alone; 'Tis all I ask of you. Do you go with him? + </p> + <p> + CURIUS. He is to me a tender father— + </p> + <p> + FURIA. [Smiling.] He? My Catiline? + </p> + <p> + CURIUS. Ah! + </p> + <p> + FURIA. He,—round whom my thoughts Course without rest? + </p> + <p> + CURIUS. My brain is in a tumult— I hate this man—! Oh, I could + murder him! + </p> + <p> + FURIA. Did you not lately swear you were prepared To do my bidding? + </p> + <p> + CURIUS. Ask me what you will; In everything I serve you and obey! I only + beg,—forget this Catiline. + </p> + <p> + FURIA. I shall forget him first—when he has stepped Into his grave. + </p> + <p> + CURIUS. [Draws back.] Ah, you demand that I—? + </p> + <p> + FURIA. You need not use the steel; you can betray His enterprise— + </p> + <p> + CURIUS. Murder and treachery At once! Remember, Furia, he is still My + foster-father and— + </p> + <p> + FURIA. —My aim in life! Ah, timid fool,—so you dare speak of + love,— Who lack the fortitude to strike him down That stands across + your path? Away from me! + </p> + <p> + [She turns her back on him.] + </p> + <p> + CURIUS. [Holding her back.] No;—do not leave me! I am in all things + willing! A shudder chills me as I look on you; And yet I cannot break this + net asunder Wherein you trapped my soul. + </p> + <p> + FURIA. Then you are willing? + </p> + <p> + CURIUS. Why do you mock me with such questioning? If I am willing? Have I + any will? Your gaze is like the serpent's when 'tis fixed With magic power + upon the bird, that circles Wildly about in terror-stricken awe, Drawn + ever nearer to the dreadful fangs. + </p> + <p> + FURIA. Then to your task! + </p> + <p> + CURIUS. And when I've sacrificed My friendship to my love for you,—what + then? + </p> + <p> + FURIA. I shall forget that Catiline existed. Then will my task be ended. + Ask no more! + </p> + <p> + CURIUS. For this reward I should—? + </p> + <p> + FURIA. You hesitate? Is then your hope so faint that you forget What gifts + a grateful woman can bestow, When first the time—? + </p> + <p> + CURIUS. By all the powers of night,— I'll not delay! He only stands + between us. Then let him perish! Quenched is every spark Of feeling for + him; every bond is sundered!— Who are you, lovely vision of the + night? Near you I'm turned to marble, burned to ashes. My longing chills + me,—terror fires the soul; My love is blended hate and sorcery. Who + am I now? I know myself no more; One thing I know; I am not he I was, Ere + you I saw. I'll plunge into the deep To follow you! Doomed—doomed is + Catiline! I'll to the Capitol. This very night The senate is assembled. + Then farewell! A written note betrays his enterprise. + </p> + <p> + [He goes out hastily.] + </p> + <p> + FURIA. [To herself.] The heavens grow dark; soon will the lightning play. + The end is fast approaching, Catiline;— With measured steps you + journey to your grave! + </p> + <p> + [The Allobrogian ambassadors, AMBIORIX and OLLOVICO, come out of the house + without noticing FURIA, who stands half concealed in the shade between the + trees.] + </p> + <p> + AMBIORIX. So then it is decided! Venturesome It was to enter into such a + compact. + </p> + <p> + OLLOVICO. True; Yet their refusal of each righteous claim Opens no other + way to liberty. The prize of victory,—should our friends succeed,— + Outweighs indeed the perils of the conflict That now awaits us. + </p> + <p> + AMBIORIX. Brother, so it is! + </p> + <p> + OLLOVICO. Emancipation from the rule of Rome,— Freedom long lost is + surely worth a struggle. + </p> + <p> + AMBIORIX. Now we must hasten homeward with all speed, Kindling through + Gaul the flames of insurrection. It will be easy to persuade the tribes To + 'rise up in revolt; they'll follow us And join the partisans of Catiline. + </p> + <p> + OLLOVICO. Hard will the fight be; mighty still is Rome. + </p> + <p> + AMBIORIX. It must be risked. Come, Ollovico, come! + </p> + <p> + FURIA. [Calls warningly to them.] Woe unto you! + </p> + <p> + AMBIORIX. [Startled.] By all the gods! + </p> + <p> + OLLOVICO. [Terrified.] Ah, hear! A voice cries warning to us in the dark! + </p> + <p> + FURIA. Woe to your people! + </p> + <p> + OLLOVICO. Yonder stands she, brother,— The pale and ill-foreboding + shadow. See! + </p> + <p> + FURIA. Woe unto all who follow Catiline! + </p> + <p> + AMBIORIX. Home, home! Away! We'll break all promises! + </p> + <p> + OLLOVICO. A voice has warned us, and we shall obey. + </p> + <p> + [They go out hurriedly to the right.] + </p> + <p> + [CATILINE comes out of the house in the background.] + </p> + <p> + CATILINE. Ah, desperate hope—to think of crushing Rome With such a + host of cowards and poltroons! What spurs them on? With frankness they + confess— Their only motive is their want and greed. Is it then worth + the trouble for such aims To shed men's blood? And what have I to win? + What can I gain? + </p> + <p> + FURIA. [Invisible among the trees.] Revenge, my Catiline! + </p> + <p> + CATILINE. [Startled.] Who speaks! Who wakes the spirit of revenge From + slumber? Came this voice then from the deep Within my soul? Revenge? Yes, + that's the word,— My watch-word and my battle-cry. Revenge! Revenge + for all the hopes and all the dreams Which ever a vindictive fate + destroyed! Revenge for all my years of wasted life! + </p> + <p> + [The CONSPIRATORS come armed out of the house.] + </p> + <p> + LENTULUS. Still rest the shades of darkness on the city. Now is it time to + break away. + </p> + <p> + SEVERAL. [Whispering.] Away! + </p> + <p> + [AURELIA comes out of the side-building without noticing the + CONSPIRATORS.] + </p> + <p> + AURELIA. Beloved,—are you here? + </p> + <p> + CATILINE. [With a cry.] Aurelia! + </p> + <p> + AURELIA. Say,— Have you been waiting for me? + </p> + <p> + [She becomes aware of the Conspirators and rushes to him.] + </p> + <p> + AURELIA. Gracious gods! + </p> + <p> + CATILINE. [Thrusts her aside.] Woman, away from me! + </p> + <p> + AURELIA. Speak, Catiline! These many men in arms—? And you as well—? + Oh, you will go— + </p> + <p> + CATILINE. [Wildly.] Yes, by the spirits of night,— A merry journey! + See—this flashing sword! It thirsts for blood! I go—to quench + its thirst. + </p> + <p> + AURELIA. My hope,—my dream! Ah, blissful was my dream! Thus am I + wakened from my dreaming— + </p> + <p> + CATILINE. Silence! Stay here,—or follow! But my heart is cold To + tears and lamentations.—Friends, behold How bright the full moon in + the west declines! When next that full moon in its orient shines, An + avalanche of fire shall sweep the state And all its golden glory + terminate. A thousand years from now, when it shall light Mere crumbling + ruins in the desert night,— One pillar in the dust of yonder dome + Shall tell the weary wanderer: Here stood Rome! + </p> + <p> + [He rushes out to the right; all follow him.] + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /><br /> <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0008" id="link2H_4_0008"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + THIRD ACT + </h2> + <p> + [CATILINE's camp in a wooded field in Etruria. To the right is seen + CATILINE's tent and close by it an old oak tree. A camp fire is burning + outside the tent; similar fires are to be seen among the trees in the + background. It is night. At intervals the moon breaks through the clouds.] + </p> + <p> + [STATILIUS lies stretched out asleep by the camp fire. MANLIUS paces back + and forth in front of the tent.] + </p> + <p> + MANLIUS. Such is the way of young and buoyant souls. They slumber on as + peaceful and secure As though embosomed in their mothers' arms, Instead of + in a forest wilderness. They rest as though they dream some merry game + Were held in store for them when they awake, Instead of battle,—the + last one, perchance, That will be theirs to fight. + </p> + <p> + STATILIUS. [Awakes and rises.] Still standing guard? You must be weary? + I'll relieve you now. + </p> + <p> + MANLIUS. Go rest yourself instead. Youth needs his sleep; His untamed + passions tax his native strength. 'Tis otherwise when once the hair turns + gray, When in our veins the blood flows lazily, And age weighs heavily + upon our shoulders. + </p> + <p> + STATILIUS. Yes, you are right. Thus I too shall in time, An old and + hardened warrior— + </p> + <p> + MANLIUS. Are you sure The fates decreed you such a destiny? + </p> + <p> + STATILIUS. And pray, why not? Why all these apprehensions? Has some + misfortune chanced? + </p> + <p> + MANLIUS. You think no doubt That we have naught to fear, foolhardy youth? + </p> + <p> + STATILIUS. Our troops are strongly reenforced— + </p> + <p> + MANLIUS. Indeed,— With fugitive slaves and gladiators— + </p> + <p> + STATILIUS. Well,— Grant that they are; together they may prove No + little aid, and all the tribes of Gaul Will send us help— + </p> + <p> + MANLIUS. —Which has not yet arrived. + </p> + <p> + STATILIUS. You doubt that the Allobroges will keep Their promised word? + </p> + <p> + MANLIUS. I know these people well From days gone by. However, let that + pass. The day that dawns will doubtless bring to light What destinies the + gods have set for us. + </p> + <p> + MANLIUS. But go the rounds, my friend, and ascertain If all the guards + perform their proper tasks. For we must fend against a night attack; We + know not where the enemy makes his stand. + </p> + <p> + [STATILIUS goes into the forest.] + </p> + <p> + MANLIUS. [Alone by the camp fire.] The clouds begin to gather thick and + fast; It is a dark and storm-presaging night;— A misty fog hangs + heavy on my breast, As though foreboding mishap to us all. Where is it + now, that easy carefree spirit With which in former times I went to war? + Ah, can it be the weight of years alone That now I feel? Strange—strange, + indeed,—last night Even the young seemed sorely out of heart. + </p> + <p> + MANLIUS. [After a pause.] The gods shall know revenge was not the aim For + which I joined and followed Catiline. My wrath flared up within me for a + space When first I felt I had been wronged, insulted;— The old blood + is not yet entirely cold; Now and again it courses warmly through my + veins. But the humiliation is forgotten. I followed Catiline for his own + sake; And I shall watch o'er him with zealous care. Here stands he all + alone amidst these hosts Of paltry knaves and dissolute companions. They + cannot comprehend him,—he in turn Is far too proud to wish to fathom + them. + </p> + <p> + [He throws some branches on the fire and remains standing in silence. + CATILINE comes out of the tent.] + </p> + <p> + CATILINE. [To himself.] Midnight approaches. Everything is hushed;— + Only to my poor eyes sleep fails to come. Cold is the night wind; 'twill + refresh my soul And give me strength anew—. I sorely need it! + </p> + <p> + [He becomes aware of MANLIUS.] + </p> + <p> + CATILINE. 'Tis you, old Manlius? And do you stand guard Alone on such a + night? + </p> + <p> + MANLIUS. Oft have I stood Guard over you in childhood's early days. Say, + do you not recall? + </p> + <p> + CATILINE. Those days are gone; With them, my peace; wherever now I go, I'm + haunted by a multitude of visions. All things find shelter in my bosom, + Manlius;— Save peace alone. That—that is far away. + </p> + <p> + MANLIUS. Cast off these gloomy thoughts and take your rest! Remember that + the morrow may require Your utmost strength for our deliverance. + </p> + <p> + CATILINE. I cannot rest. If I but close my eyes One fleeting moment in + forgetful slumber, I'm tossed about in strange, fantastic dreams. Here on + my couch I lay now, half asleep, When these same visions reappeared again, + More strange than ever,—more mysterious And puzzling—. Ah, if + I could only know What this forebodes! But no— + </p> + <p> + MANLIUS. Confide your dream To me. Perhaps I can expound its meaning. + </p> + <p> + CATILINE. [After a pause.] If I slept or if I waked, scarcely can I say; + Visions fast pursued each other in a mad array. Soon a deepening twilight + settles over everything; And a night swoops down upon me on her + wide-spread wing, Terrible and dark, unpierced, save by the lightning's + flare; I am in a grave-like dungeon, filled with clammy air. Lofty is the + ceiling and with thunderclouds o'ercast; Multitudes of shadow forms go + racing wildly past, Whirl around in roaring eddies, as the ocean wave + Draws the raging storm and breaks against a rocky cave. Yet amid this + frenzied tumult children often come, Decked in flowers, singing of a + half-forgotten home. Soon the darkness round them changes to a vivid + glare,— Dimly in the center I descry a lonely pair; Ah, two women,—stern + the one and gloomy as the night,— And the other gentle, like the + evening in its flight. How familiar to my eyes the two lone figures + seemed! With her smiling countenance the one upon me beamed; Like the + zigzag lightning flashed the other's piercing eye; Terror seized my soul,—yet + on I gazed in ecstasy. Proudly upright stands the one, the other leans in + weariness On the solitary table, where they play a game of chess. Pawns + they barter, or they move them now from place to place;— Then the + game is lost and won,—she fades away in space,— She who + radiantly smiled, ah, she who lost the game; Instantly the bands of + children vanish whence they came. Tumult rises; darkness deepens; but from + out the night Two eyes fix upon me, in a victor's gloating right; Then my + brain reels; I see nothing but those baleful eyes. But what else I dreamed + of in that frenzied slumber lies Far within me hidden, buried deep beyond + recall. Could I but remember. Gone forever is it all. + </p> + <p> + MANLIUS. Remarkable, indeed, my Catiline, Is this your dream. + </p> + <p> + CATILINE. [Meditating.] If I could but remember— But no; my memory + fails me— + </p> + <p> + MANLIUS. Brood no longer Upon these thoughts. For what are dreams, indeed, + But pale chimeras only, darkling visions, On nothing founded, and by + naught explained? + </p> + <p> + CATILINE. Yes, you are right; I will no longer brood;— Already I am + calm. But go your way; You need some rest. The meanwhile I shall walk In + privacy and meditate my plans. + </p> + <p> + [MANLIUS goes into the forest.] + </p> + <p> + CATILINE. [Paces for some time back and forth by the camp fire, which is + about to go out; then he stops and speaks thoughtfully.] If I could only—. + Ah, it is unmanly To brood and be distressed by thoughts like these. And + yet,—here in the stillness of the night, This lonely solitude, again + I see Rising before me life-like all I dreamed. + </p> + <p> + [A SHADOW, attired like an old warrior in armor and toga, stems to rise + from the earth among the trees a short distance from him.] + </p> + <p> + CATILINE. [Recoils before THE SHADOW.] Great powers of heaven—! + </p> + <p> + THE SHADOW. Greetings, Catiline! + </p> + <p> + CATILINE. What will you have? Who are you, pallid shade? + </p> + <p> + THE SHADOW. One moment! It is here my right to question,— And you + shall answer. Do you no longer know This voice from ages long since passed + away? + </p> + <p> + CATILINE. Methinks I do; yet certain I am not—. But speak, whom seek + you at this midnight hour? + </p> + <p> + THE SHADOW. 'Tis you I seek. Know that this hour alone Is granted me as + respite here on earth. + </p> + <p> + CATILINE. By all the gods! Who are you? Speak! + </p> + <p> + THE SHADOW. Be calm! Hither I come to call you to account. Why do you envy + me the peace of death? Why do you drive me from my earthy dwelling? Why do + you mar my rest with memories, That I must seek you, whisper menaces, To + guard the honor I so dearly bought? + </p> + <p> + CATILINE. Alas! this voice—! Somehow I seem to know— + </p> + <p> + THE SHADOW. What is there left of my imperial power? A shadow like myself; + yes, scarcely that. Both sank into the grave—and came to naught. + 'Twas dearly bought; dear, dear was it attained. For it I sacrificed all + peace in life, And waived all claims to peace beyond the grave. And now + you come and want to wrest from me With daring hands what little I have + left. Are there not paths enough to noble deeds? Why must you choose the + one that I have chosen? I gave up everything in life to power; My name—so + dreamed I—should forever stand, Not beaming like a star with + friendly lustre,— No, like a flash against the midnight sky! I did + not covet fame, the goal of hundreds, For magnanimity and noble deeds; Nor + admiration;—far too many share That fate already: so will many more + Until the end of time. Of blood and horror I wished to build me my renown + and fame. With silent dread, as on some meteor That now appears in mystery + and is gone Again,—men should gaze back upon my life, And look + askance on me, whom no one ever, Before or since then, dared to emulate. + Yes, thus I dreamed and dreamed,—and was deceived. Why did I not + surmise, when you stood near me, The secret thoughts then growing in your + soul. Yet, Catiline, beware; know that I see Beyond the veil that hides + from you the future. Written among the stars—I read your fate! + </p> + <p> + CATILINE. You read my fate? Expound it then to me! + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +THE SHADOW. No, first beyond death's gloomy gate + Shall fade away the mists that hide + The gruesome and the nobly great, + Borne ever on by time and tide. + This from thy book of fate alone + A liberated soul may tell thee: + Perish thou shalt by deed thine own, + And yet a stranger's hand shall fell thee. +</pre> + <p> + [THE SHADOW glides away as in a mist.] + </p> + <p> + CATILINE. [After a pause.] Ah, he has vanished. Was it but a dream? No, + no; even here he stood; the moonbeams played Upon his sallow visage. Yes, + I knew him! It was the man of blood, the old dictator, Who sallied from + his grave to frighten me. He feared lest he should lose the victor's + crown,— Not the reward of honor, but the terror Whereby his memory + lives. Are bloodless shades Spurred onward also by the thought of glory? + </p> + <p> + [Paces to and fro uneasily.] + </p> + <p> + CATILINE. All things storm in upon me. Now Aurelia In gentle admonition + speaks,—and now In me reëchoes Furia's warning cry. Nay, more than + that;—out of the grave appear The pallid shadows of a by-gone age. + They threaten me. I should now stop and pause? I should turn back? No. I + shall venture on Unfaltering;—the victory soon is mine! + </p> + <p> + [CURIUS comes through the forest in great agitation.] + </p> + <p> + CURIUS. O Catiline—! + </p> + <p> + CATILINE. [Surprised.] What, you,—you here, my friend! + </p> + <p> + CURIUS. I had to— + </p> + <p> + CATILINE. Wherefore staid you not in town? + </p> + <p> + CURIUS. Fear prompted me; I had to seek you here. + </p> + <p> + CATILINE. You rush for my sake blindly into danger. You thoughtless lad! + Yet, come into my arms! + </p> + <p> + [Moves to embrace him.] + </p> + <p> + CURIUS. [Draws back.] No! Do not touch me! Do not even come near me! + </p> + <p> + CATILINE. What ails you, my dear Curius? + </p> + <p> + CURIUS. Up! Break camp! Flee, if you can, even this very hour! On every + highway come the enemy troops; Your camp is being surrounded. + </p> + <p> + CATILINE. Calm yourself; You rave. Speak, has the journey shaken you—? + </p> + <p> + CURIUS. Oh no; but save yourself while there is time! You are betrayed— + </p> + <p> + [Prostrates himself before him.] + </p> + <p> + CATILINE. [Starts back.] Betrayed! What are you saying? + </p> + <p> + CURIUS. Betrayed by one in friendly guise! + </p> + <p> + CATILINE. You err; These stormy friends are loyal even as you. + </p> + <p> + CURIUS. Then woe to you for all their loyalty! + </p> + <p> + CATILINE. Compose yourself! It is your love for me, Your interest in my + safety, that has wakened Imaginary dangers in your mind. + </p> + <p> + CURIUS. Oh, do you know these words do murder me? But flee! I do entreat + you earnestly— + </p> + <p> + CATILINE. Be calm and speak your mind. Why should I flee? The enemy knows + not where I make my stand. + </p> + <p> + CURIUS. Indeed he does,—he knows your every plan! + </p> + <p> + CATILINE. What, are you mad? He knows—? Impossible! + </p> + <p> + CURIUS. Oh, were it so! But use the hour remaining; Still you may save + yourself perhaps in flight! + </p> + <p> + CATILINE. Betrayed? No,—ten times no; impossible! + </p> + <p> + CURIUS. [Seizes his dagger and holds it out to him.] Catiline, plunge this + dagger in my bosom;— Straight through the heart! 'Twas I betrayed + your plans! + </p> + <p> + CATILINE. You? What madness! + </p> + <p> + CURIUS. Yes, it was in madness! Ask not the reason; scarce I know myself; + I say,—I have revealed your every counsel. + </p> + <p> + CATILINE. [In bitter grief.] Now have you killed my faith in sacred + friendship! + </p> + <p> + CURIUS. Oh, send the dagger home, and torture me No longer with + forbearance—! + </p> + <p> + CATILINE. [Kindly.] Live, my Curius! Arise! You erred;—but I forgive + you all. + </p> + <p> + CURIUS. [Overcome.] O Catiline, my heart is crushed with grief—! But + hasten; flee! There is no time to tarry. Soon will the Roman troops invade + your camp; They're under way; on every side they come. + </p> + <p> + CATILINE. Our comrades in the city—? + </p> + <p> + CURIUS. They are captured;— Some were imprisoned, most of them were + killed! + </p> + <p> + CATILINE. [To himself.] What fate—what fate! + </p> + <p> + CURIUS. [Again holds out the dagger to him.] Then plunge it in my heart! + </p> + <p> + CATILINE. [Looks at him calmly.] No, you were but a tool. You acted well— + </p> + <p> + CURIUS. Oh, let me die and expiate my sin! + </p> + <p> + CATILINE. I have forgiven you. + </p> + <p> + CATILINE. [As he goes.] But one thing now Is there to choose! + </p> + <p> + CURIUS. [Jumps up.] Yes, flight! + </p> + <p> + CATILINE. Heroic death! + </p> + <p> + [He goes away through the forest.] + </p> + <p> + CURIUS. 'Tis all in vain! Ruin awaits him here. This mildness is a tenfold + punishment! I'll follow him; one thing I shall be granted:— To + perish fighting by the hero's side! + </p> + <p> + [He rushes out. LENTULUS and TWO GLADIATORS come stealing among the + trees.] + </p> + <p> + LENTULUS. [Softly.] Some one was speaking— + </p> + <p> + ONE OF THE GLADIATORS. Aye, but now all's quiet. + </p> + <p> + THE OTHER GLADIATOR. Perchance it was the sentinel relieved Of duty. + </p> + <p> + LENTULUS. That may be. This is the place; Here shall you wait. Are both + your weapons sharp, Ground for their purpose? + </p> + <p> + THE FIRST GLADIATOR. Bright as is the lightning! + </p> + <p> + THE SECOND GLADIATOR. Mine, too, cuts well. In the last Roman games Two + gladiators died beneath this sword. + </p> + <p> + LENTULUS. Then stand you ready in this thicket here. And when a man, whom + I shall designate, Goes toward the tent, then shall you rush out quick And + strike him from behind. + </p> + <p> + THE FIRST GLADIATOR. It shall be done! + </p> + <p> + [Both GLADIATORS conceal themselves; LENTULUS goes spying around.] + </p> + <p> + LENTULUS. [To himself.] It is a daring game I here attempt;— Yet + must it be performed this very night, If done at all.—If Catiline + should fall, No one can lead them on except myself; I'll purchase them + with golden promises, And march without delay upon the city, Where still + the senate, struck with panic fear, Neglects to arm itself against the + danger. + </p> + <p> + [He goes in among the trees.] + </p> + <p> + THE FIRST GLADIATOR. [Softly to the other.] Who is this stranger we must + fall upon? + </p> + <p> + THE SECOND GLADIATOR. What matters it to us who he may be? Lentulus pays + our hire; the blame is his: He must himself defend the act we do. + </p> + <p> + LENTULUS. [Returns quickly.] Stand ready now; the man we wait is coming! + </p> + <p> + [LENTULUS and the GLADIATORS lie in wait among the bushes.] + </p> + <p> + [Soon after, CATILINE comes through the forest and goes toward the tent.] + </p> + <p> + LENTULUS. [Whispering.] Out! Fall upon him! Strike him from behind! + </p> + <p> + [All three rush on CATILINE.] + </p> + <p> + CATILINE. [Draws his sword and defends himself.] Ah, scoundrels,—do + you dare to—? + </p> + <p> + LENTULUS. [To the GLADIATORS.] Cut him down! + </p> + <p> + CATILINE. [Recognizes him.] You, Lentulus, would murder Catiline? + </p> + <p> + THE FIRST GLADIATOR. [Terrified.] He it is! + </p> + <p> + THE SECOND GLADIATOR. [Draws back.] Catiline! I'll never use The sword on + him. Come flee! + </p> + <p> + [Both GLADIATORS make their escape.] + </p> + <p> + LENTULUS. Then die by mine! + </p> + <p> + [They fight; CATILINE strikes the sword from the hand of Lentulus; the + latter tries to escape, but CATILINE holds him fast.] + </p> + <p> + CATILINE. Murderer! Traitor! + </p> + <p> + LENTULUS. [Entreating.] Mercy, Catiline! + </p> + <p> + CATILINE. I spell your plans upon your countenance. You wished to murder + me, and put yourself Into the chieftain's place. Was it not so? + </p> + <p> + LENTULUS. Yes, Catiline, it was even so! + </p> + <p> + CATILINE. [Looks at him with repressed scorn.] What then? If 'tis the + power you want,—so let it be! + </p> + <p> + LENTULUS. Explain,—what do you mean? + </p> + <p> + CATILINE. I shall resign; And you may lead the army— + </p> + <p> + LENTULUS. [Surprised.] You resign? + </p> + <p> + CATILINE. I shall. But be prepared for all events; Know this—our + undertaking is revealed: The senate is informed of every plan; Its troops + hem us about— + </p> + <p> + LENTULUS. What do you say? + </p> + <p> + CATILINE. Now shall I call a council of our friends; Do you come too,—announce + your leadership; I shall resign. + </p> + <p> + LENTULUS. [Detains him.] One moment, Catiline! + </p> + <p> + CATILINE. Your time is precious; ere the dawn of day You may expect an + onslaught— + </p> + <p> + LENTULUS. [Anxiously.] Hear me, friend! Surely you jest? It is impossible— + </p> + <p> + CATILINE. Our project, I have told you, is betrayed. Show now your + firmness and sagacity! + </p> + <p> + LENTULUS. Betrayed? Then woe to us! + </p> + <p> + CATILINE. [Smiles scornfully.] You paltry coward! You tremble <i>now</i>;—yet + <i>you</i> would murder <i>me</i>; You think a man like you is called to + rule? + </p> + <p> + LENTULUS. Forgive me, Catiline! + </p> + <p> + CATILINE. Make your escape By hurried flight, if still it can be done. + </p> + <p> + LENTULUS. Ah, you permit me then—? + </p> + <p> + CATILINE. And did you think It was my purpose to forsake this post In such + an hour as this? You little know me. + </p> + <p> + LENTULUS. O, Catiline—! + </p> + <p> + CATILINE. [Coldly.] Waste not your moments here! Seek your own safety;—I + know how to die. + </p> + <p> + [He turns away from him.] + </p> + <p> + LENTULUS. [To himself.] I thank you for these tidings, Catiline;— I + shall make use of them to serve my end. 'Twill stand me in good stead now + that I know This region well; I'll seek the hostile army And guide it + hitherward by secret paths, To your destruction and to my salvation.— + The serpent that you trample in the dust So arrogantly still retains its + sting! + </p> + <p> + [He goes.] + </p> + <p> + CATILINE. [After a pause.] This is the trust I built my hopes upon! Thus + one by one they leave me. Oh ye gods! Treason and cowardice alone stir up + The sullen currents of their slavish souls. Oh, what a fool am I with all + my hopes! I would destroy yon viper's nest, that Rome,— Which is + long since a heap of sunken ruins. + </p> + <p> + [The sound of arms is heard approaching; he listens.] + </p> + <p> + CATILINE. They come, they come! Still are there valiant men Among them. + Ah, the joyous clang of steel! The merry clash of shields against each + other! Anew the fire kindles in my breast; The reckoning is near,—the + mighty hour That settles every doubt. I hail the day! + </p> + <p> + [MANLIUS, STATILIUS, GABINIUS, and many OTHER CONSPIRATORS come through + the forest.] + </p> + <p> + MANLIUS. Here, Catiline, come your friends and comrades true; In camp I + spread the alarm, as you commanded— + </p> + <p> + CATILINE. And have you told them—? + </p> + <p> + MANLIUS. Yes,—they know our plight. + </p> + <p> + STATILIUS. We know it well, and we shall follow you With sword in hand to + fight for life and death. + </p> + <p> + CATILINE. I thank you all, my comrades brave in arms! But do not think, my + friends, that life or death Is ours to choose;—our only choice is + this: Death in heroic battle with the foe, Or death by torture when like + savage beasts We shall be hounded down relentlessly. Ah, which do you + prefer? To risk in flight A wretched life prolonged in misery, Or like + your proud and worthy sires of old To perish nobly on the battlefield? + </p> + <p> + GABINIUS. We choose to fight and die! + </p> + <p> + MANY VOICES. Lead us to death! + </p> + <p> + CATILINE. Then let us be off! Through death we shall achieve The glorious + life of immortality. Our fall, our name, through distant generations Shall + be proclaimed with lofty pride— + </p> + <p> + FURIA. [Calls out behind him among the trees.] —O terror! + </p> + <p> + SOME VOICES. Behold,—a woman—! + </p> + <p> + CATILINE. [Startled.] Furia! You—you here? What brought you here? + </p> + <p> + FURIA. Ah, I must lead you on To your great goal. + </p> + <p> + CATILINE. Where is my goal, then? Speak! + </p> + <p> + FURIA. Each mortal seeks his goal in his own way. And you seek yours + through ever hopeless strife; The struggle yields defeat and certain + death. + </p> + <p> + CATILINE. Yet also honor and immortal fame! Go, woman! Great and noble is + this hour! My heart is closed against your raucous cries. + </p> + <p> + [AURELIA appears in the door of the tent.] + </p> + <p> + AURELIA. My Catiline—! + </p> + <p> + [She stops, terrified at the sight of the throng.] + </p> + <p> + CATILINE. [Painfully.] Aurelia,—oh, Aurelia! + </p> + <p> + AURELIA. What is the trouble? All this stir in camp— What is on foot + here? + </p> + <p> + CATILINE. You I could forget! What will your fate be now—? + </p> + <p> + FURIA. [Whispers scornfully, unnoticed by AURELIA.] Ah, Catiline, Already + wavering in your high resolve? Is this your death defiance? + </p> + <p> + CATILINE. [Flaring up.] No, by the gods! + </p> + <p> + AURELIA. [Comes nearer.] Oh, speak, beloved! Keep me in doubt no longer— + </p> + <p> + FURIA. [In an undertone behind him.] Flee with your wife—the while + your comrades die! + </p> + <p> + MANLIUS. Tarry no longer; lead us out to battle— + </p> + <p> + CATILINE. Oh, what a choice! And yet,—here is no choice;— I + must go on,—I dare not stop midway. + </p> + <p> + CATILINE. [Calls out.] Then follow me to battle on the plain! + </p> + <p> + AURELIA. [Throws herself in his arms.] Catiline,—do not leave me,—take + me with you! + </p> + <p> + CATILINE. No, stay, Aurelia! + </p> + <p> + FURIA. [As before.] Take her, Catiline! Worthy your death will be, as was + your life, When you are vanquished—in a woman's arms! + </p> + <p> + CATILINE. [Thrusts AURELIA aside.] Away, you who would rob me of my fame! + Death shall o'ertake me in the midst of men. I have a life to atone, a + name to clear— + </p> + <p> + FURIA. Just so; just so, my gallant Catiline! + </p> + <p> + CATILINE. All things I will uproot from out my soul That bind me to my + life of empty dreams! All that is of the past shall henceforth be As if + 'twere not— + </p> + <p> + AURELIA. Oh, cast me not away! By all the love I bear you, Catiline,— + I beg you, I adjure,—let us not part! + </p> + <p> + CATILINE. My heart is dead, my sight is blind to love. From life's great + mockery I turn my eyes; And gaze but on the dim, yet mighty star Of fame + that is to be! + </p> + <p> + AURELIA. O gods of mercy! + </p> + <p> + [She leans faint against the tree outside the tent.] + </p> + <p> + CATILINE. [To the Warriors.] And now away! + </p> + <p> + MANLIUS. The din of arms I hear! + </p> + <p> + SEVERAL VOICES. They come, they come. + </p> + <p> + CATILINE. Good! We will heed their warning. Long was our night of shame; + our dawn is near—. To battle in the crimson sky of morning! By Roman + sword, with Roman fortitude, The last of Romans perish in their blood! + </p> + <p> + [They rush out through the forest; a great alarm, rent with battle-cries, + is heard from within the camp.] + </p> + <p> + FURIA. He is gone forever. My great task in life is done. Cold and rigid + we shall find him in the morning sun. + </p> + <p> + AURELIA. [Aside.] In his passion-glutted bosom then should love no longer + dwell? Was it nothing but a dream? His angry words I heard full well. + </p> + <p> + FURIA. Hark, the weapons clash; already at the brink of death he stands; + Soon a noiseless shadow he will hasten toward the spirit lands. + </p> + <p> + AURELIA. [Startled.] Who are you, prophetic voice, that yonder comes to + me, Like the night-owl's cry of warning from some far-off tree! Are you + from the clammy underworld of spirits come Hence to lead my Catiline into + your gloomy home? + </p> + <p> + FURIA. Home is ay the journey's goal, and all his wanderings lay Through + the reeking swamps of life— + </p> + <p> + AURELIA. But only for a day. Free and noble was his heart, his spirit + strong and true, Till around it serpent-like a poisoned seedling grew. + </p> + <p> + FURIA. So the plane-tree, too, keeps fresh and green its leafy dress, Till + its trunk is smothered in a clinging vine's caress. + </p> + <p> + AURELIA. Now did you betray your source. For time and time again Echoed + from the lips of Catiline this one refrain. You the serpent are, who + poisoned all my joy in life, Steeled his heart against my kindness through + your deadly strife. From those waking night-dreams well I know your + infamy, Like a threat I see you stand between my love and me. With my + husband at my side I cherished in my breast Longings for a tranquil life, + a home of peace and rest. Ah, a garden-bed I planted in his weary heart; + As its fairest ornament our love I hedged apart. Flower and all have you + uprooted with malignant hand; In the dust it lies where thriving it did + lately stand. + </p> + <p> + FURIA. Foolish weakling; you would guide the steps of Catiline? Do you not + perceive his heart was never wholly thine? Think you that in such a soil + your flower can survive? In the sunny springtime only violets can thrive, + While the henbane grows in strength beneath a clouded grey; And his soul + was long ago a clouded autumn day. All is lost to you. Soon dies the spark + within his breast; As a victim of revenge he shall go to his rest. + </p> + <p> + AURELIA. [With increasing vehemence.] Thus he shall not perish; no, by all + the gods of day! To his weary heart my tears will somehow force a way. If + I find him pale and gory on the battlefield, I shall throw my arms about + him and his bosom shield, Breathe upon his speechless lips the love within + my soul, Ease the pain within him and his suffering mind console. Herald + of revenge, your victim from you I shall wrest, Bind him to the land of + sunshine, to a home of rest; If his eyes be dimmed already, stilled his + beating heart, Linked together arm in arm we shall this life depart. Grant + me, gods of mercy, in return for what I gave, By the side of him I love, + the stillness of the grave. + </p> + <p> + [She goes.] + </p> + <p> + FURIA. [Gazes after her.] Seek him, deluded soul;—I have no fear; I + hold the victory safe within my hands. + </p> + <p> + FURIA. The roar of battle grows; its rumble blends With death-cries and + the crash of broken shields. Is he perchance now dying? Still alive? Oh, + blessed is this hour! The sinking moon Secludes herself in massive + thunderclouds. One moment more it will be night anew Ere comes the day;—and + with the coming day All will be over. In the dark he dies, As in the dark + he lived. O blessed hour! + </p> + <p> + [She listens.] + </p> + <p> + FURIA. Now sweeps the wind by, like an autumn gust, And lapses slowly in + the far-off distance. The ponderous armies slowly sweep the plain. Like + angry ocean billows on they roll, Unyielding, trampling down the fallen + dead. Out yonder I hear whines and moans and sighs,— The final + lullaby,—wherewith they lull Themselves to rest and all their pallid + brothers. Now speaks the night-owl forth to welcome them Into the kingdom + of the gloomy shadows. + </p> + <p> + FURIA. [After a pause.] How still it is. Now is he mine at last,— + Aye, mine alone, and mine forevermore. Now we can journey toward the river + Lethe— And far beyond where never dawns the day. Yet first I'll seek + his bleeding body yonder, And freely glut my eyes upon those features, + Hated and yet so fair, ere they be marred By rising sunshine and by + watchful vultures. + </p> + <p> + [She starts to go, but is suddenly startled at something.] + </p> + <p> + FURIA. What is that gliding o'er the meadow yonder? Is it the misty vapors + of the moor That form a picture in the morning chill? Now it draws near.—The + shade of Catiline! His spectre—! I can see his misty eye, His broken + shield, his sword bereft of blade. Ah, he is surely dead; one thing alone,— + Remarkable,—his wound I do not see. + </p> + <p> + [CATILINE comes through the forest, pale and weary, with drooping head and + troubled countenance.] + </p> + <p> + CATILINE. [To himself.] "Perish thou shalt by deed thine own, And yet a + stranger's hand shall fell thee." Such was his prophecy. Now am I fallen— + Though struck by no one. Who will solve the riddle? + </p> + <p> + FURIA. I greet you after battle, Catiline! + </p> + <p> + CATILINE. Ah, who are you? + </p> + <p> + FURIA. I am a shadow's shadow. + </p> + <p> + CATILINE. You, Furia,—you it is! You welcome me? + </p> + <p> + FURIA. Welcome at last into our common home! Now we can go—two + shades—to Charon's bark. Yet first—accept the wreath of + victory. + </p> + <p> + [She picks some flowers, which she weaves into a wreath during the + following.] + </p> + <p> + CATILINE. What make you there? + </p> + <p> + FURIA. Your brow I shall adorn. But wherefore come you hither all alone? A + chieftain's ghost ten thousand dead should follow. Then where are all your + comrades, Catiline? + </p> + <p> + CATILINE. They slumber, Furia! + </p> + <p> + FURIA. Ah, they slumber still? + </p> + <p> + CATILINE. They slumber still,—and they will slumber long. They + slumber all. Steal softly through the forest, Peer out across the plain,—disturb + them not! There will you find them in extended ranks. They fell asleep + lulled by the clang of steel; They fell asleep,—and wakened not, as + I did, When in the distant hills the echoes died. A shadow now you called + me. True, I am A shadow of myself. But do not think Their slumber yonder + is so undisturbed And void of dreams. Oh, do not think so! + </p> + <p> + FURIA. Speak! What may your comrades dream? + </p> + <p> + CATILINE. Ah, you shall hear.— I led the battle with despairing + heart, And sought my death beneath the play of swords. To right and left I + saw my comrades fall; Statilius first,—then one by one the rest; My + Curius fell trying to shield my breast; All perished there beneath Rome's + flaming sword,— The sword that me alone passed by untouched. Yes, + Catiline was spared by the sword of Rome. Half-stunned I stood there with + my broken shield, Aware of nothing as the waves of battle Swept o'er me. I + recovered first my senses When all grew still again, and I looked up And + saw the struggle seething—far behind me! How long I stood there? + Only this I know,— I stood alone among my fallen comrades. But there + was life within those misty eyes; The corners of their mouths betrayed a + smile; And they addressed their smile and gaze to me, Who stood alone + erect among the dead,— Who had for ages fought for them and Rome,— + Who stood there lonely and disgraced, untouched By Roman sword. Then + perished Catiline. + </p> + <p> + FURIA. False have you read your fallen comrades' dreams; False have you + judged the reason of your fall. Their smiles and glances were but + invitations To sleep with them— + </p> + <p> + CATILINE. Yes, if I only could! + </p> + <p> + FURIA. Have courage,—spectre of a former hero; Your hour of rest is + near. Come, bend your head;— I shall adorn you with the victor's + crown. + </p> + <p> + [She offers the wreath to him.] + </p> + <p> + CATILINE. Bah,—what is that? A poppy-wreath—! + </p> + <p> + FURIA. [With wild glee.] Well, yes; Are not such poppies pretty? They will + glow Around your forehead like a fringe of blood. + </p> + <p> + CATILINE. No, cast the wreath away! I hate this crimson. + </p> + <p> + FURIA. [Laughs aloud.] Ah, you prefer the pale and feeble shades? Good! I + shall bring the garland of green rushes That Sylvia carried in her + dripping locks, The day she came afloat upon the Tiber? + </p> + <p> + CATILINE. Alas, what visions—! + </p> + <p> + FURIA. Shall I bring you rather The thorny brambles from the market-place, + With crimson-spots, the stain of civic blood, That flowed at your behest, + my Catiline? + </p> + <p> + CATILINE. Enough! + </p> + <p> + FURIA. Or would you like a crown of leaves From the old winter oak near + mother's home, That withered when a young dishonored woman With piercing + cries distraught leaped in the river? + </p> + <p> + CATILINE. Pour out at once your measures of revenge Upon my head— + </p> + <p> + FURIA. I am your very eye,— Your very memory, your very doom. + </p> + <p> + CATILINE. But wherefore now? + </p> + <p> + FURIA. His goal at length attained, The traveller spent looks back from + whence he came. + </p> + <p> + CATILINE. Have I then reached my goal? Is this the goal? I am no longer + living,—nor yet buried. Where lies the goal? + </p> + <p> + FURIA. In sight,—if you but will. + </p> + <p> + CATILINE. A will I have no longer; my will perished When all the things I + willed once, came to naught. + </p> + <p> + CATILINE. [Waves his arms.] Away,—away from me, ye sallow shades! + What claim you here of me, ye men and women? I cannot give you—! Oh, + this multitude—! + </p> + <p> + FURIA. To earth your spirit still is closely bound! These + thousand-threaded nets asunder tear! Come, let me press this wreath upon + your locks,— 'Tis gifted with a strong and soothing virtue; It kills + the memory, lulls the soul to rest! + </p> + <p> + CATILINE. [Huskily.] It kills the memory? Dare I trust your word? Then + press your poison-wreath upon my forehead. + </p> + <p> + FURIA. [Puts the wreath on his head.] Now it is yours! Thus decked you + shall appear Before the prince of darkness, Catiline! + </p> + <p> + CATILINE. Away! away! I yearn to go below;— I long to pass into the + spirit lands. Let us together go! What holds me here? What stays my steps? + Behind me here I feel Upon the morning sky a misty star;— It holds + me in the land of living men; It draws me as the moon attracts the sea. + </p> + <p> + FURIA. Away! Away! + </p> + <p> + CATILINE. It beckons and it twinkles. I cannot follow you until this light + Is quenched entirely, or by clouds obscured,— I see it clearly now; + 'tis not a star; It is a human heart, throbbing and warm; It binds me + here; it fascinates and draws me As draws the evening star the eye of + children. + </p> + <p> + FURIA. Then stop this beating heart! + </p> + <p> + CATILINE. What do you mean? + </p> + <p> + FURIA. The dagger in your belt—. A single thrust,— The star + will vanish and the heart will die That stand between us like an enemy. + </p> + <p> + CATILINE. Ah, I should—? Sharp and shining is the dagger— + </p> + <p> + CATILINE. [With a cry.] Aurelia! O Aurelia, where—where are you? + Were you but here—! No, no,—I will not see you! And yet + methinks all would be well again, And peace would come, if I could lay my + head Upon your bosom and repent—repent! + </p> + <p> + FURIA. And what would you repent? + </p> + <p> + CATILINE. Oh, everything! That I have been, that I have ever lived. + </p> + <p> + FURIA. 'Tis now too late—too late! Whence now you stand No path + leads back again.—Go try it, fool! Now am I going home. Place you + your head Upon her breast and see if there you find The blessed peace your + weary soul desires. + </p> + <p> + FURIA. [With increasing wildness.] Soon will the thousand dead rise up + again; Dishonored women will their numbers join; And all,—aye, they + will all demand of you The life, the blood, the honor you destroyed. In + terror you will flee into the night,— Will roam about the earth on + every strand, Like old Actean, hounded by his dogs,— A shadow + hounded by a thousand shades! + </p> + <p> + CATILINE. I see it, Furia. Here I have no peace. I am an exile in the + world of light! I'll go with you into the spirit realms;— The bond + that binds me I will tear asunder. + </p> + <p> + FURIA. Why grope you with the dagger? + </p> + <p> + CATILINE. She shall die. + </p> + <p> + [The lightning strikes and the thunder rolls.] + </p> + <p> + FURIA. The mighty powers rejoice at your resolve!— See, Catiline,—see, + yonder comes your wife. + </p> + <p> + [AURELIA comes through the forest in an anxious search.] + </p> + <p> + AURELIA. Where shall I find him? Where—where can he be! I've + searched in vain among the dead— + </p> + <p> + [Discovers him.] + </p> + <p> + AURELIA. Great heavens,— My Catiline! + </p> + <p> + [She rushes toward him.] + </p> + <p> + CATILINE. [Bewildered.] Speak not that name again! + </p> + <p> + AURELIA. You are alive? + </p> + <p> + [Is about to throw herself in his arms.] + </p> + <p> + CATILINE. [Thrusting her aside.] Away! I'm not alive. + </p> + <p> + AURELIA. Oh, hear me, dearest—! + </p> + <p> + CATILINE. No, I will not hear! I hate you. I see through your cunning + wiles. You wish to chain me to a living death. Cease staring at me! Ah, + your eyes torment me,— They pierce like daggers through my very + soul! Ah, yes, the dagger! Die! Come, close your eyes— + </p> + <p> + [He draws the dagger and seizes her by the hand.] + </p> + <p> + AURELIA. Keep guard, oh gracious gods, o'er him and me! + </p> + <p> + CATILINE. Quick, close your eyes; close them, I say;—in them I see + the starlight and the morning sky—. Now shall I quench the heavenly + star of dawn! + </p> + <p> + [The thunder rolls again.] + </p> + <p> + CATILINE. Your heart; your blood! Now speak the gods of life Their last + farewell to you and Catiline! + </p> + <p> + [He lifts the dagger toward her bosom; she escapes into the tent; he + pursues her.] + </p> + <p> + FURIA. [Listens.] She stretches out her hand imploringly. She pleads with + him for life. He hears her not. He strikes her down! She reels in her own + blood! + </p> + <p> + [CATILINE comes slowly out of the tent with the dagger in his hand.] + </p> + <p> + CATILINE. Now am I free. Soon I shall cease to be. Now sinks my soul in + vague oblivion. My eyes are growing dim, my hearing faint, As if through + rushing waters. Ah, do you know What I have slain with this my little + dagger? Not her alone,—but all the hearts on earth,— All + living things, all things that grow and bloom;— The starlight have I + dimmed, the crescent moon, The flaming sun. Ah, see,—it fails to + rise; 'Twill never rise again; the sun is dead. Now is the whole wide + realm of earth transformed Into a huge and clammy sepulchre, Its vault of + leaden grey;—beneath this vault Stand you and I, bereft of light and + darkness, Of death and life,—two restless exiled shadows. + </p> + <p> + FURIA. Now stand we, Catiline, before our goal! + </p> + <p> + CATILINE. No, one step more—before I reach my goal. Relieve me of my + burden! Do you not see, I bend beneath the corpse of Catiline? A dagger + through the corpse of Catiline! + </p> + <p> + [He shows her the dagger.] + </p> + <p> + CATILINE. Come, Furia, set me free! Come, take this dagger;— On it + the star of morning I impaled;— Take it—and plunge it + straightway through the corpse; Then it will loose its hold, and I am + free. + </p> + <p> + FURIA. [Takes the dagger.] Your will be done, whom I have loved in hate! + Shake off your dust and come with me to rest. + </p> + <p> + [She buries the dagger deep in his heart; he sinks down at the foot of the + tree.] + </p> + <p> + CATILINE. [After a moment comes to consciousness again, passes his hand + across his forehead, and speaks faintly.] Now, mysterious voice, your + prophecy I understand! I shall perish by my own, yet by a stranger's hand. + Nemesis has wrought her end. Shroud me, gloom of night! Raise your + billows, murky Styx, roll on in all your might! Ferry me across in safety; + speed the vessel on Toward the silent prince's realm, the land of shadows + wan. Two roads there are running yonder; I shall journey dumb Toward the + left— + </p> + <p> + AURELIA. [From the tent, pale and faltering, her bosom bloody.] —no, + toward the right! Oh, toward Elysium! + </p> + <p> + CATILINE. [Startled.] How this bright and lurid picture fills my soul with + dread! She herself it is! Aurelia, speak,—are you not dead? + </p> + <p> + AURELIA. [Kneels before him.] No, I live that I may still your agonizing + cry,— Live that I may lean my bosom on your breast and die. + </p> + <p> + CATILINE. Oh, you live! + </p> + <p> + AURELIA. I did but swoon; though my two eyes grew blurred, Dimly yet I + followed you and heard your every word. And my love a spouse's strength + again unto me gave;— Breast to breast, my Catiline, we go into the + grave! + </p> + <p> + CATILINE. Oh, how gladly would I go! Yet all in vain you sigh. We must + part. Revenge compels me with a hollow cry. You can hasten, free and + blithesome, forth to peace and light; I must cross the river Lethe down + into the night. + </p> + <p> + [The day dawns in the background.] + </p> + <p> + AURELIA. [Points toward the increasing light.] No, the terrors and the + gloom of death love scatters far. See, the storm-clouds vanish; faintly + gleams the morning star. + </p> + <p> + AURELIA. [With uplifted arms.] Light is victor! Grand and full of + freshness dawns the day! Follow me, then! Death already speeds me on his + way. + </p> + <p> + [She sinks down over him.] + </p> + <p> + CATILINE. [Presses her to himself and speaks with his last strength.] Oh, + how sweet! Now I remember my forgotten dream, How the darkness was + dispersed before a radiant beam, How the song of children ushered in the + new-born day. Ah, my eye grows dim, my strength is fading fast away; But + my mind is clearer now than ever it has been: All the wanderings of my + life loom plainly up within. Yes, my life a tempest was beneath the + lightning blaze; But my death is like the morning's rosy-tinted haze. + </p> + <p> + [Bends over her.] + </p> + <p> + CATILINE. You have driven the gloom away; peace dwells within my breast. I + shall seek with you the dwelling place of light and rest! + </p> + <p> + CATILINE. [He tears the dagger quickly out of his breast and speaks with + dying voice.] The gods of dawn are smiling in atonement from above; All + the powers of darkness you have conquered with your love! + </p> + <p> + [During the last scene FURIA has withdrawn farther and farther into the + background and disappears at last among the trees. CATILINE's head sinks + down on AURELIA's breast; they die.] + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0009" id="link2H_4_0009"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + THE WARRIOR'S BARROW + </h2> + <h3> + [Kaempehojen] + </h3> + <h3> + A Dramatic Poem in One Act + </h3> + <h3> + 1854 + </h3> + <p> + <b>DRAMATIS PERSONÆ</b> + </p> + <p> + RODERIK An old recluse. + </p> + <p> + BLANKA His foster-daughter. + </p> + <p> + GANDALF A sea-king from Norway. + </p> + <p> + ASGAUT An old viking. + </p> + <p> + HROLLOUG " " " + </p> + <p> + JOSTEJN " " " + </p> + <p> + Several VIKINGS + </p> + <p> + HEMMING A young scald in Gandalf's service. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <h4>SETTING</h4> + <p> + The action takes place on a small island off the coast of Sicily shortly + before the introduction of Christianity into Norway. + </p> + <p> + An open place surrounded by trees near the shore. To the left in the + background the ruins of an old temple. In the center of the scene a huge + barrow upon which is a monument decked with flower wreaths. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0010" id="link2H_4_0010"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + SCENE I + </h2> + <p> + [At the right of the stage sits RODERIK writing. To the left BLANKA in a + half reclining position.] + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +BLANKA. Lo! the sky in dying glory + Surges like a sea ablaze,— + It is all so still before me, + Still as in a sylvan maze. + Summer evening's mellow power + Settles round us like a dove, + Hovers like a swan above + Ocean wave and forest flower. + In the orange thicket slumber + Gods and goddesses of yore, + Stone reminders in great number + Of a world that is no more. + Virtue, valor, trust are gone, + Rich in memory alone; + Could there be a more complete + Picture of the South effete? +</pre> + <p> + [Rises.] + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +BLANKA. But my father has related + Stories of a distant land, + Of a life, fresh, unabated, + Neither carved nor wrought by hand! + Here the spirit has forever + Vanished into stone and wave,— + There it breathes as free as ever, + Like a warrior strong and brave! + When the evening's crystallizing + Vapors settle on my breast, + Lo! I see before me rising + Norway's snow-illumined crest! + Here is life decayed and dying, + Sunk in torpor, still, forlorn,— + There go avalanches flying, + Life anew in death is born! + If I had the white swan's coat— +</pre> + <p> + RODERIK. [After a pause writing.] "Then, it is said, will Ragnarök have + stilled The wilder powers, brought forth a chastened life; All-Father, + Balder, and the gentle Freya Will rule again the race of man in peace!"— + </p> + <p> + [After having watched her for a moment.] + </p> + <p> + RODERIK. But, Blanka, now you dream away again; You stare through space + completely lost in thought,— What is it that you seek? + </p> + <p> + BLANKA. [Draws near.] Forgive me, father! I merely followed for a space + the swan, That sailed on snowy wings across the sea. + </p> + <p> + RODERIK. And if I had not stopped you in your flight, My young and pretty + little swan! who knows How far you might have flown away from me,— + Perchance to Thule? + </p> + <p> + BLANKA. And indeed why not? To Thule flies the swan in early spring, If + only to return again each fall. + </p> + <p> + [Seats herself at his feet.] + </p> + <p> + BLANKA. Yet I—I am no swan,—no, call me rather A captured + falcon, sitting tame and true, A golden ring about his foot. + </p> + <p> + RODERIK. Well,—and the ring? + </p> + <p> + BLANKA. The ring? That is my love for you, dear father! With that you have + your youthful falcon bound, I cannot fly,—not even though I wished + to. + </p> + <p> + [Rises.] + </p> + <p> + BLANKA. But when I see the swan sail o'er the wave, Light as a cloud + before the summer wind, Then I remember all that you have told Of the + heroic life in distant Thule; Then, as it seems, the bird is like a bark + With dragon head and wings of burnished gold; I see the youthful hero in + the prow, A copper helmet on his yellow locks, With eyes of blue, a manly, + heaving breast, His sword held firmly in his mighty hand. I follow him + upon his rapid course, And all my dreams run riot round his bark, And + frolic sportively like merry dolphins In fancy's deep and cooling sea! + </p> + <p> + RODERIK. O you,— You are an ardent dreamer, my good child,— I + almost fear your thoughts too often dwell Upon the people in the rugged + North. + </p> + <p> + BLANKA. And, father, whose the fault, if it were so? + </p> + <p> + RODERIK. You mean that I—? + </p> + <p> + BLANKA. Yes, what else could I mean; You live yourself but in the memory + Of early days among these mighty Norsemen; Do not deny that often as you + speak Of warlike forays, combats, fights, Your cheek begins to flush, your + eye to glow; It seems to me that you grow young again. + </p> + <p> + RODERIK. Yes, yes, but I have reason so to do; For I have lived among them + in the North, And every bit that memory calls to mind Is like a page to me + from my own saga. But you, however, fostered in the South, Who never saw + the silver-tinted mountains, Who never heard the trumpet's echoing song,— + Ah, how could you be moved by what I tell? + </p> + <p> + BLANKA. Oh, must a human being see and hear All things but with his outer + senses then? Has not the inner soul, too, eye and ear, With which it can + both see and hearken well? 'Tis true it is with eyes of flesh I see The + richly glowing color of the rose; But with the spirit's eye I see within A + lovely elf, a fairy butterfly, Who archly hides behind the crimson leaves, + And singeth of a secret power from heaven That gave the flower brightness + and perfume. + </p> + <p> + RODERIK. True, true, my child! + </p> + <p> + BLANKA. I almost do believe That just because I do not really see, The + whole looms up more beautiful in thought; That, father, is the way with + you at least! The ancient sagas and heroic lays,— These you + remember, speak of with delight, And scratch in runic script upon your + parchment; But if I ask about your youthful life In Norway's distant + realm, your eyes grow dark, Your lips are silent, and it seems at times + Your bosom houses gloomy memories. + </p> + <p> + RODERIK. [Rises.] Come, speak no more, good child, about the past. Who is + there then whose youthful memories Are altogether free from self-reproach; + You know, the Norsemen are a savage lot. + </p> + <p> + BLANKA. But are the warriors of the South less fierce? Have you forgot + that night, now ten years past, The time the strangers landed on the + coast, And plundered—? + </p> + <p> + RODERIK. [Visibly ill at ease.] Say no more now,—let us hence; The + sundown soon will be upon us;—come! + </p> + <p> + BLANKA. [As they go.] Give me your hand! + </p> + <p> + [Stops.] + </p> + <p> + BLANKA. No, wait! + </p> + <p> + RODERIK. What is the matter? + </p> + <p> + BLANKA. I have today for the first time forgot— + </p> + <p> + RODERIK. And what have you forgot? + </p> + <p> + BLANKA. [Points to the barrow.] Behold the wreath! + </p> + <p> + RODERIK. It is— + </p> + <p> + BLANKA. The withered one of yesterday; I have forgot today to make the + change; Yet, let me take you to the cabin first, Then shall I venture out + in search of flowers; The violet never is so sweet and rare As when the + dew has bathed its silver lining; The budding rose is never quite so fair + As when 'tis plucked in child-like sleep reclining! + </p> + <p> + [They go out at the back to the right.] + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0011" id="link2H_4_0011"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + SCENE II + </h2> + <h3> + [GANDALF and the VIKINGS enter from the right.] + </h3> + <p> + ASGAUT. Now we shall soon be there. + </p> + <p> + GANDALF. Point out the place! + </p> + <p> + ASGAUT. No, wait till we have gone beyond the wood. There was still + standing on the rocky cliff Against the sea a remnant of the wall,— + I dare say it is standing there to-day. + </p> + <p> + JOSTEJN. But tell us, king, what can it profit us To tramp about here on + the isle like fools? + </p> + <p> + HROLLOUG. Yes, tell us what shall— + </p> + <p> + GANDALF. You shall hold your tongues! And blindly follow where your king + commands! + </p> + <p> + GANDALF. [To ASGAUT.] It seems to me, however, you cleaned house Too well + when you were last here on the isle; You might have left a little, I + should think, For me and my revenge! + </p> + <p> + HROLLOUG. You are the king, And loyalty we pledged you at the thing, But + when we followed you upon the war path, It was to win our share of fame + and glory. + </p> + <p> + JOSTEJN. And golden treasures, Hrolloug, golden treasures. + </p> + <p> + SEVERAL. That, Gandalf, is the law, and heed it well! + </p> + <p> + GANDALF. I know the law perhaps as well as you; But is there not since + days of old a law And covenant with us that when a kinsman Falls slain + before the enemy and his corpse Unburied lies a prey unto the raven, Blood + vengeance must be had? + </p> + <p> + SOME. Yes, so it is! + </p> + <p> + GANDALF. Then stand you ready with your sword and shield,— You have + a king to avenge and I a father! + </p> + <p> + [Commotion among the VIKINGS.] + </p> + <p> + JOSTEJN. A king? + </p> + <p> + HROLLOUG. A father? + </p> + <p> + GANDALF. Wait,—I shall relate How all this stands. You know, my + father was A mighty viking. Twelve years gone it is Since he the last time + sallied forth one spring With Asgaut there and all his old time warriors. + Two years he roamed about from strand to strand, Visiting Bratland, + Valland, even Blaaland; At length he went and harried Sicily, And there + heard stories of a wealthy chief, Who lived upon this island in a castle + With sturdy walls built on a rocky base, And in it there were costly + treasures hid. At night he took his men and went ashore, And razed the + castle walls with fire and sword. Himself went foremost like an angry + bear, And in the fury of the fight saw not How all his warriors fell about + him dead; And when the morning sun rose in the east, There lay the castle + smouldering in ruin. Asgaut alone survived with one or two,— My + father and the hundred others there Had ridden to Valhalla through the + flames. + </p> + <p> + ASGAUT. I hoisted every sail upon the bark, And turned the prow straight + homeward to the North; There sought I all in vain for Gandalf king; The + youthful eagle, I was told, had flown Across the sea to Iceland or the + Faroes. I hastened after him but found no trace,- Yet everywhere I went + his name was known; For though his bark sped cloud-like in the storm, Yet + flew his fame on even swifter wings. At last this spring I found him, as + you know; It was in Italy; I told him then What things had happened, how + his father died, And Gandalf swore by all Valhalla's gods Blood-vengeance + he would take with fire and sword. + </p> + <p> + JOSTEJN. It is an ancient law and should be honored! But had I been in + your place, Gandalf king, I should have lingered on in Italy,— For + there was gold to win. + </p> + <p> + HROLLOUG. And honor too. + </p> + <p> + GANDALF. That is your loyalty to your dead king. + </p> + <p> + JOSTEJN. Come, come now; no offence; I merely meant The dead could wait + perhaps. + </p> + <p> + ASGAUT. [With suppressed rage.] You paltry race! + </p> + <p> + JOSTEJN. But now that we are here— + </p> + <p> + HROLLOUG. Yes; let us raise Unto the king a worthy monument! + </p> + <p> + SOME. Yes, yes! + </p> + <p> + OTHERS. With bloodshed and with fire! + </p> + <p> + ASGAUT. Now that I like! + </p> + <p> + GANDALF. And now away to spy around the island; For even tonight + blood-vengeance shall be mine; If not, I must myself fall. + </p> + <p> + ASGAUT. So he swore. + </p> + <p> + GANDALF. I swore it solemnly by all the gods! And once again I swear it— + </p> + <p> + HEMMING. [With a harp on his shoulder has during the preceding emerged + from among the WARRIORS and cries out imploringly.] Swear not, Gandalf! + </p> + <p> + GANDALF. What troubles you? + </p> + <p> + HEMMING. Swear not here in this wood! Here in the South our gods can never + hear; Out on your bark, up North among the hills, There they still hearken + to you, but not here! + </p> + <p> + ASGAUT. Have you too breathed the poison of the South? + </p> + <p> + HEMMING. In Italy I heard the pious monks Tell lovely stories of the holy + Christ, And what they told still lingers in my mind Through night and day + and will no more be gone. + </p> + <p> + GANDALF. I had you brought with me because in youth You showed great + promise of poetic gifts. You were to see my bold and warlike deeds, So + that when I, King Gandalf, old and gray, Sat with my warriors round the + oaken table, The king's young scald might while away Long winter evenings + with heroic lays, And sing at last a saga of my deeds; The hero's fame + voiced in the poet's song Outlives the monument upon his grave. But now, + be off, and if you choose go cast Your harp aside and don the monkish + cowl. Aha! King Gandalf has a mighty scald! + </p> + <p> + [The VIKINGS go into the forest to the left; HEMMING follows them.] + </p> + <p> + ASGAUT. It is a mouldy time we live in now; Our faith and customs from the + olden days Are everywhere upon the downward path. Lucky it is that I am + growing old; My eyes shall never see the North decay. But you, King + Gandalf, you are young and strong; And wheresoe'er you roam in distant + lands, Remember that it is a royal task To guard the people and defend the + gods! + </p> + <p> + [He follows the rest.] + </p> + <p> + GANDALF. [After a pause.] Hm, he has no great confidence in me. 'Tis well + he went! Whenever he is near, It is as if a burden weighed me down. The + grim old viking with his rugged face,— He looks like Asathor, who + with his belt Of strength and Mjölnir stood within the grove, Carved out + in marble, near my father's home. My father's home! Who knows, alas! how + things Around the ancient landmarks now may look!— Mountains and + fields are doubtless still the same; The people—? Have they still + the same old heart? No, there is fallen mildew o'er the age, And it is + that which saps the Northern life And eats away like poison what is best. + Well, I will homeward,—save what still is left To save before it + falls to utter ruin. + </p> + <p> + GANDALF. [After a pause during which he looks around.] How lovely in these + Southern groves it is; My pine groves can not boast such sweet perfume. + </p> + <p> + [He perceives the mound.] + </p> + <p> + GANDALF. What now? A warrior's grave? No doubt it hides A countryman from + those more stirring days. A warrior's barrow in the South!—'Tis only + just; It was the South gave us our mortal wound. How lovely it is here! It + brings to mind One winter night when as a lad I sat Upon my father's knee + before the hearth, The while he told me stories of the gods, Of Odin, + Balder, and the mighty Thor; And when I mentioned Freya's grove to him, He + pictured it exactly like this grove,— But when I asked him something + more of Freya, What she herself was like, the old man laughed And answered + as he placed me on my feet, "A woman will in due time tell you that!" + </p> + <p> + GANDALF. [Listening.] Hush! Footsteps in the forest! Quiet, Gandalf,- They + bring the first fruits of your blood-revenge! + </p> + <p> + [He steps aside so that he is half concealed among the bushes to the + right.] + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0012" id="link2H_4_0012"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + SCENE III + </h2> + <p> + [GANDALF. BLANKA with oak leaves in her hair and a basket of flowers + enters from the left.] + </p> + <p> + BLANKA. [Seated at the left busily weaving a flower wreath.] Fountains may + murmur in the sunny vales, Resplendent billows roll beneath the shore; Nor + fountain's murmur, nor the billow's song Has half the magic of those + flowers there, That stand in clusters round the barrow's edge And nod at + one another lovingly; They draw me hither during night and day,— And + it is here I long to come and dream. The wreath is done. The hero's + monument, So hard and cold, shall under it be hid. Yes, it is beautiful! + </p> + <p> + [Pointing to the mound.] + </p> + <p> + BLANKA. A vanished life, Of giant strength, lies mouldering in the ground,— + And the memorial which should speak to men,— A cold unyielding stone + like yonder one! But then comes art, and with a friendly hand She gathers + flowers from the breast of nature And hides the ugly, unresponsive stone + With snow-white lilies, sweet forget-me-nots. + </p> + <p> + [She ascends the barrow, hangs the wreath over the monument, and speaks + after a pause.] + </p> + <p> + BLANKA. Again my dreams go sailing to the North Like birds of passage o'er + the ocean waves; I feel an urging where I long to go, And willingly I heed + the secret power, Which has its royal seat within the soul. I stand in + Norway, am a hero's bride, And from the mountain peak watch eagle-like. + O'er shining waves the vessel heaves in sight.— Oh, like the gull + fly to your fatherland! I am a Southern child, I cannot wait; I tear the + oaken wreath out of my hair,— Take this, my hero! 'Tis the second + message I greet you with,—my yearning was the first. + </p> + <p> + [She throws the wreath. GANDALF steps forth and seizes it.] + </p> + <p> + BLANKA. What's this? There stands a— + </p> + <p> + [She rubs her eyes and stares amazed at him.] + </p> + <p> + No, it is no dream. Who are you, stranger? What is it you seek Here on the + shore? + </p> + <p> + GANDALF. Step first from off the mound,— Then we can talk at ease. + </p> + <p> + BLANKA. [Comes down.] Well, here I am! + </p> + <p> + BLANKA. [Aside as she looks him over.] The chain mail o'er his breast, the + copper helmet,— Exactly as my father has related. + </p> + <p> + BLANKA. [Aloud.] Take off your helmet! + </p> + <p> + GANDALF. Why? + </p> + <p> + BLANKA. Well, take it off! + </p> + <p> + BLANKA. [Aside.] Two sparkling eyes, locks like a field of grain,— + Exactly as I saw him in my dream. + </p> + <p> + GANDALF. Who are you, woman? + </p> + <p> + BLANKA. I? A poor, poor child! + </p> + <p> + GANDALF. Yet certainly the fairest on the isle. + </p> + <p> + BLANKA. The fairest? That indeed is possible, For here there's no one + else. + </p> + <p> + GANDALF. What,—no one else? + </p> + <p> + BLANKA. Unless my father be,—but he is old And has a silver beard, + as long as this; No, after all I think I win the prize. + </p> + <p> + GANDALF. You have a merry spirit. + </p> + <p> + BLANKA. Not always now! + </p> + <p> + GANDALF. But tell me, pray, how this is possible; You say you live alone + here with your father, Yet I have heard men say most certainly The island + here is thickly populated? + </p> + <p> + BLANKA. It was so once, three years ago or more; But,—well, it is a + sad and mournful tale— Yet you shall hear it if you wish. + </p> + <p> + GANDALF. Yes, certainly! + </p> + <p> + BLANKA. You see, three years ago— + </p> + <p> + [Seats herself.] + </p> + <p> + BLANKA. Come, seat yourself! + </p> + <p> + GANDALF. [Steps back a pace.] No, sit you down, I'll stand. + </p> + <p> + BLANKA. Three years ago there came, God knows from whence, A warlike band + of robbers to the isle; They plundered madly as they went about, And + murdered everything they found alive. A few escaped as best they could by + flight And sought protection in my father's castle, Which stood upon the + cliff right near the sea. + </p> + <p> + GANDALF. Your father's, did you say? + </p> + <p> + BLANKA. My father's, yes.— It was a cloudy evening when they burst + Upon the castle gate, tore through the wall, Rushed in the court, and + murdered right and left. I fled into the darkness terrified, And sought a + place of refuge in the forest. I saw our home go whirling up in flames, I + heard the clang of shields, the cries of death.— Then everything + grew still; for all were dead.— The savage band proceeded to the + shore And sailed away.—I sat upon the cliff The morning after, near + the smouldering ruins. I was the only one whom they had spared. + </p> + <p> + GANDALF. But you just told me that your father lives. + </p> + <p> + BLANKA. My foster-father; wait, and you shall hear! I sat upon the cliff + oppressed and sad, And listened to the awful stillness round; There issued + forth a faint and feeble cry, As from beneath the rocky cleft beneath my + feet; I listened full of fear, then went below, And found a stranger, pale + with loss of blood. I ventured nearer, frightened as I was, Bound up his + wounds and tended him,— + </p> + <p> + GANDALF. And he? + </p> + <p> + BLANKA. Told me as he recovered from his wounds, That he had come aboard a + merchantman, Had reached the island on the very day The castle was + destroyed,—took refuge there And fought the robber band with all his + might Until he fell, faint with the loss of blood, Into the rocky cleft + wherein I found him. And ever since we two have lived together; He built + for us a cabin in the wood, I grew to love him more than any one. But you + must see him,—come! + </p> + <p> + GANDALF. No, wait,—not now! We meet in ample time, I have no doubt. + </p> + <p> + BLANKA. Well, all right, as you please; but rest assured He would be glad + to greet you 'neath his roof; For you must know that hospitality Is found + not only in the North. + </p> + <p> + GANDALF. The North? You know then— + </p> + <p> + BLANKA. Whence you come, you mean? Oh, yes! My father has so often told of + you That I the moment that I saw you— + </p> + <p> + GANDALF. Yet you Were not afraid! + </p> + <p> + BLANKA. Afraid? And why afraid? + </p> + <p> + GANDALF. Has he not told you then,—of course if not— + </p> + <p> + BLANKA. Told me that you were fearless heroes? Yes! But pray, why should + that frighten me? I know you seek your fame on distant shores, In manly + combat with all doughty warriors; But I have neither sword nor coat of + mail, Then why should I fear— + </p> + <p> + GANDALF. No, of course, of course! But still, those strangers who + destroyed the castle? + </p> + <p> + BLANKA. And what of them? + </p> + <p> + GANDALF. Only,—has not your father Told you from whence they came? + </p> + <p> + BLANKA. Never! How could he! Strangers they were alike to him and us. But + if you wish I'll ask him right away. + </p> + <p> + GANDALF. [Quickly.] No, let it be. + </p> + <p> + BLANKA. Ah, now I understand! You wish to know where you can seek them + now, And take blood-vengeance, as you call it. + </p> + <p> + GANDALF. Ah, Blood-vengeance! Thanks! The word I had forgot; You bring me + back— + </p> + <p> + BLANKA. But do you know, it is An ugly practice. + </p> + <p> + GANDALF. [Going toward the background.] Farewell! + </p> + <p> + BLANKA. O, you are going? + </p> + <p> + GANDALF. We meet in time. + </p> + <p> + [Stops.] + </p> + <p> + GANDALF. Tell me this one thing more: What warrior is it rests beneath the + mound? + </p> + <p> + BLANKA. I do not know. + </p> + <p> + GANDALF. You do not know, and still You scatter flowers on the hero's + grave. + </p> + <p> + BLANKA. My father led me here one morning early And pointed out to me the + fresh-made mound, Which I had never seen upon the strand. He bade me say + my morning prayers out here, And in my supplications to remember Those who + had harried us with sword and fire. + </p> + <p> + GANDALF. And you? + </p> + <p> + BLANKA. Each morning from that day to this I sent a prayer to heaven for + their salvation; And every evening flowers afresh I wove Into a garland + for the grave. + </p> + <p> + GANDALF. Yes, strange! How can you pray thus for your enemy? + </p> + <p> + BLANKA. My faith commands me. + </p> + <p> + GANDALF. [Vehemently.] Such a faith is craven; It is the faith which saps + the hero's strength; 'Twas therefore that the great, heroic life Died + feebly in the South! + </p> + <p> + BLANKA. But now suppose My craven faith, as you see fit to call it, Could + be transplanted to your virgin soil,— I know full well, there would + spring forth a mass Of flowers so luxuriant as to hide The naked mountain. + </p> + <p> + GANDALF. Let the mountain stand In nakedness until the end of time! + </p> + <p> + BLANKA. O! Take me with you! + </p> + <p> + GANDALF. What do you mean? I sail for home— + </p> + <p> + BLANKA. Well, I shall sail with you; For I have often traveled in my + dreams To far-off Norway, where you live mid snow And ice and sombre woods + of towering pines. There should come mirth and laughter in the hall, If I + could have my say, I promise you; For I am merry;—have you any + scald? + </p> + <p> + GANDALF. I had one, but the sultry Southern air Has loosened all the + strings upon his harp,— They sing no longer— + </p> + <p> + BLANKA. Good! Then shall I be Your scald. + </p> + <p> + GANDALF. And you?—You could go with us there, And leave your father + and your home? + </p> + <p> + BLANKA. [Laughing.] Aha! You think I meant it seriously? + </p> + <p> + GANDALF. Was it Only a jest? + </p> + <p> + BLANKA. Alas! a foolish dream I often used to dream before we met,— + Which often I no doubt shall dream again, When you— + </p> + <p> + [Suddenly breaking off.] + </p> + <p> + BLANKA. You stare so fixedly. + </p> + <p> + GANDALF. Do I? + </p> + <p> + BLANKA. Why, yes! What are you thinking of? + </p> + <p> + GANDALF. I? Nothing! + </p> + <p> + BLANKA. Nothing? + </p> + <p> + GANDALF. That is, I scarcely know myself; And yet I do—and you shall + hear it now: I thought of you and how you would transplant Your flowers in + the North, when suddenly My own faith came as if by chance to mind. One + word therein I never understood Before; now have you taught me what it + means. + </p> + <p> + BLANKA. And that is what? + </p> + <p> + GANDALF. Valfader, it is said, Receives but half the warriors slain in + battle; The other half to Freya goes by right. That I could never fully + comprehend; But—now I understand,—I am myself A fallen + warrior, and to Freya goes The better part of me. + </p> + <p> + BLANKA. [Amazed.] What does this mean? + </p> + <p> + GANDALF. Well, in a word, then know— + </p> + <p> + BLANKA. [Quickly.] No, say it not! I dare not tarry longer here to-night,— + My father waits, and I must go; farewell! + </p> + <p> + GANDALF. O, you are going? + </p> + <p> + BLANKA. [Takes the wreath of oak leaves which he has let fall and throws + it around his helmet.] You can keep it now. Lo, what I hitherto bestowed + on you In dreams, I grant you now awake. + </p> + <p> + GANDALF. Farewell! + </p> + <p> + [He goes quickly out to the right.] + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0013" id="link2H_4_0013"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + SCENE IV + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +BLANKA. [Alone.] + He is gone! Ah, perfect stillness + Rules upon the barren strand. + Perfect stillness, grave-like stillness + Rules my heart with heavy hand. + Came he then to vanish only + Through the mist, a ray of light? + Soon he flies, a sea-gull lonely, + Far away into the night! + What is left me of this lover? + But a flower in the dark: + In my loneliness to hover + Like a petrel round his bark! +</pre> + <p> + [The war trumpet of the Vikings is heard from the left.] + </p> + <p> + BLANKA. Ah! What was that! A trumpet from the wood! + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0014" id="link2H_4_0014"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + SCENE V + </h2> + <h3> + [BLANKA, GANDALF from the right.] + </h3> + <p> + GANDALF. [Aside.] It is too late! + </p> + <p> + BLANKA. O, there he is again! What do you want? + </p> + <p> + GANDALF. Quick,—quick, away from here! + </p> + <p> + BLANKA. What do you mean? + </p> + <p> + GANDALF. Away! There's danger here! + </p> + <p> + BLANKA. What danger? + </p> + <p> + GANDALF. Death! + </p> + <p> + BLANKA. I do not understand you. + </p> + <p> + GANDALF. I thought to hide it from you,—hence I went To call my + people to the ship again And sail away; you never should have known,— + The trumpet warns me that it is too late,— That they are coming. + </p> + <p> + BLANKA. Who are coming? + </p> + <p> + GANDALF. Then know,— The strangers who once harried on the isle Were + vikings like myself. + </p> + <p> + BLANKA. From Norway? + </p> + <p> + GANDALF. Yes. My father, who was chief among them, fell,— Hence must + he be avenged. + </p> + <p> + BLANKA. Avenged? + </p> + <p> + GANDALF. Such is The custom. + </p> + <p> + BLANKA. Ah, I see now! + </p> + <p> + GANDALF. Here they come! Stand close behind me! + </p> + <p> + BLANKA. Man of blood,—away! + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0015" id="link2H_4_0015"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + SCENE VI + </h2> + <h3> + [The Preceding.] + </h3> + <p> + [ASGAUT, HEMMING and the VIKINGS, who lead RODERIK between them.] + </p> + <p> + ASGAUT. [To GANDALF.] A meagre find, yet something, to be sure. + </p> + <p> + BLANKA. My father! + </p> + <p> + [She throws herself in his arms.] + </p> + <p> + RODERIK. Blanka! O, my child! + </p> + <p> + JOSTEJN. A woman! He will have company. + </p> + <p> + ASGAUT. Yes, straight to Hell! + </p> + <p> + BLANKA. O father, wherefore have you never told me— + </p> + <p> + RODERIK. Hush! Hush! my child! + </p> + <p> + [Points to GANDALF.] + </p> + <p> + RODERIK. Is this your chieftain? + </p> + <p> + ASGAUT. Yes. + </p> + <p> + ASGAUT. [To GANDALF.] This man can tell you how your father died; For he + was in the thick of it, he says, The only one to get away alive. + </p> + <p> + GANDALF. Hush! I will nothing hear. + </p> + <p> + ASGAUT. Good; let us then Begin the task. + </p> + <p> + BLANKA. O God! what will they do? + </p> + <p> + GANDALF. [In an undertone.] I cannot, Asgaut! + </p> + <p> + ASGAUT. [Likewise.] Is our king afraid? Has woman's flattering tongue + beguiled his mind? + </p> + <p> + GANDALF. No matter,—I have said— + </p> + <p> + ASGAUT. Bethink yourself,— Your standing with your warriors is at + stake. Your word you pledged Valhalla's mighty gods, And if you fail a + dastard you'll be judged. Do not forget our faith is insecure— And + wavering; one blow can strike its root, And if the blow comes from the + king above, It will have had a mortal wound. + </p> + <p> + GANDALF. Ah me! That was a most unhappy oath I swore. + </p> + <p> + ASGAUT. [To the VIKINGS.] Now ready, warriors! + </p> + <p> + BLANKA. Will you murder him, An old, defenseless man? + </p> + <p> + ASGAUT. Down with them both! + </p> + <p> + BLANKA. O God! + </p> + <p> + HROLLOUG. The woman is too fair! Let her Return with us. + </p> + <p> + JOSTEJN. [Laughing.] Yes, as a warrior maid. + </p> + <p> + GANDALF. Stand back! + </p> + <p> + RODERIK. O spare,—O spare at least my child! The slayer of your + chieftain I will bring you, If you will only spare her! + </p> + <p> + GANDALF. [Quickly.] Bring him here, And she is free. What say you? + </p> + <p> + THE VIKINGS. She is free! + </p> + <p> + BLANKA. [To RODERIK.] You promise that? + </p> + <p> + ASGAUT. Then fetch him! + </p> + <p> + RODERIK. Here he stands! + </p> + <p> + SOME. Ha, that old man! + </p> + <p> + GANDALF. O woe! + </p> + <p> + BLANKA. No, no, you shall not— + </p> + <p> + RODERIK. Struck by this hand the viking found his death, Now rests he + peacefully in yonder mound! + </p> + <p> + GANDALF. My father's barrow! + </p> + <p> + RODERIK. He was strong and brave; Wherefore I laid him here in viking + style. + </p> + <p> + GANDALF. Since he is buried, then,— + </p> + <p> + ASGAUT. Though he be buried, The fallen king cries for revenge,—strike, + strike! + </p> + <p> + BLANKA. He is deceiving you! + </p> + <p> + BLANKA. [To GANDALF.] Do you not see It is alone his daughter he would + save? Yet, how should your kind understand a soul That sacrifices all— + </p> + <p> + GANDALF. I do not understand? You do not think I can? + </p> + <p> + GANDALF. [To the VIKINGS.] He shall not die! + </p> + <p> + ASGAUT. How so? + </p> + <p> + BLANKA. O father! He is good like you. + </p> + <p> + ASGAUT. You mean to break your oath? + </p> + <p> + GANDALF. No, I shall keep it! + </p> + <p> + JOSTEJN. Then what have you in mind? + </p> + <p> + HROLLOUG. Explain! + </p> + <p> + GANDALF. I swore To take revenge or else to die myself. Well, he is free,—I + to Valhalla go. + </p> + <p> + BLANKA. [To RODERIK.] What does he mean? + </p> + <p> + ASGAUT. Your honor you would save?— + </p> + <p> + GANDALF. Go,—hold a ship in readiness for me, With hoisted sail, the + pyre light in the prow; In ancient fashion I shall go aboard! Behold, the + evening breeze blows from the strand,— On crimson wings I sail into + Valhalla! + </p> + <p> + [JOSTEJN goes out to the right.] + </p> + <p> + ASGAUT. Ah, 'tis the woman who has cast her spell on you! + </p> + <p> + BLANKA. No, you must live! + </p> + <p> + GANDALF. I live? No, to the gods I must be true, I cannot break with them. + </p> + <p> + BLANKA. Your oath is bloody, Balder hates it. + </p> + <p> + GANDALF. Yes, But Balder lives no longer with us now! + </p> + <p> + BLANKA. For you he lives; your soul is gentleness. + </p> + <p> + GANDALF. Yes, to my ruin! It became my task As king to keep intact our + great ideal,— But I lack strength enough! Come, Asgaut, you Shall + take the kingly sceptre from my hand; You are a warrior of the truest + steel; On me the Southern plague has been at work. But if I cannot for my + people live, I now can die for them. + </p> + <p> + ASGAUT. Well said, King Gandalf! + </p> + <p> + BLANKA. Then need no more be said! Die like a hero, Faithful and true unto + the very end! But now that we must part forever,—know, That when you + die yourself to keep your oath You are then likewise marking me for death! + </p> + <p> + GANDALF. What! You for death? + </p> + <p> + BLANKA. My life was like a flower, Transplanted in an unfamiliar soil, + Which therefore slumbered in its prison folds: Then came a sunbeam from + the distant home,— O, that was you, my Gandalf! Opened then The + flower its calyx. In another hour, Alas! the sunbeam paled,—the + flower died! + </p> + <p> + GANDALF. O, have I understood you right? You could? Then is my promise + thrice unfortunate! + </p> + <p> + BLANKA. But we shall meet again! + </p> + <p> + GANDALF. O, nevermore! You go to heaven and the holy Christ, I to + Valhalla; silent I shall take My place among the rest,—but near the + door; Valhalla's merriment is not for me. + </p> + <p> + JOSTEJN. [Returns with a banner in his hand.] See, now the bark is ready, + as you bade. + </p> + <p> + ASGAUT. O, what a glorious end! Many a man Will envy you, indeed. + </p> + <p> + GANDALF. [To BLANKA.] Farewell! + </p> + <p> + BLANKA. Farewell! Farewell for life and for eternity! + </p> + <p> + RODERIK. [Struggling with himself.] Wait! Wait! + </p> + <p> + [Prostrates himself before BLANKA.] + </p> + <p> + RODERIK. Mercy, I cry! Forgive, forgive me! + </p> + <p> + BLANKA. O God! + </p> + <p> + GANDALF. What means he? + </p> + <p> + RODERIK. All will I confess: My whole life here with you has been deceit! + </p> + <p> + BLANKA. Ah, terror has unhinged his mind! + </p> + <p> + RODERIK. No, no! + </p> + <p> + RODERIK. [To GANDALF, after he has risen.] You are released forever from + your vow; Your father's shadow needs no blood revenge! + </p> + <p> + GANDALF. Ah, then explain! + </p> + <p> + BLANKA. Oh, speak! + </p> + <p> + RODERIK. Here stands King Rorek! + </p> + <p> + SOME. The fallen king? + </p> + <p> + BLANKA. O heavens! + </p> + <p> + GANDALF. [In doubt.] You,—my father? + </p> + <p> + RODERIK. See, Asgaut! Do you still recall the scratch You gave me on our + earliest viking trip, The time we fought about the booty? + </p> + <p> + [He uncovers his arm and shows it to ASGAUT.] + </p> + <p> + ASGAUT. Yes, By Thor, it is King Rorek! + </p> + <p> + GANDALF. [Throws himself in his arms.] Father! Father! A second time now + have you given me life. My humble thanks! + </p> + <p> + RODERIK. [Downcast; to BLANKA.] And you now—what will you Grant the + old robber? + </p> + <p> + BLANKA. Love as hitherto! I am your daughter! Has not three years' care + Wiped off each spot of blood upon your shield? + </p> + <p> + ASGAUT. Yet now explain,—how comes it that you live! + </p> + <p> + GANDALF. She saved his life. + </p> + <p> + RODERIK. Yes, like a friendly elf She healed my wounds and cared for me, + And all the while she told me of the faith These quiet people in the South + believe, Until my rugged heart itself was moved. And day by day I kept the + truth from her; I did not dare to tell her— + </p> + <p> + GANDALF. But the mound there? + </p> + <p> + RODERIK. I laid therein my armor and my sword, It seemed to me the grim + old savage viking Was buried then and there. Each day my child Sent up a + prayer for him beside the mound. + </p> + <p> + ASGAUT. Farewell! + </p> + <p> + GANDALF. Where do you go? + </p> + <p> + ASGAUT. Northward again! I now see clearly that my time is past— So + likewise is the viking life. I go To Iceland; there the plague has not yet + come. + </p> + <p> + ASGAUT. [To BLANKA.] You, woman, take my place beside the king! For Thor + is gone—and Mjölnir out of gear; Through you now Balder rules.—Farewell! + </p> + <p> + [He goes.] + </p> + <p> + GANDALF. Yes, Balder ruleth now, through you, my Blanka! I see the meaning + of my viking life! 'Twas not alone desire for fame and wealth That drove + me hence from my forefathers' home; No, that which called me was a secret + longing, A quiet yearning after Balder. See, Now is the longing stilled, + now go we home; There will I live in peace among my people. + </p> + <p> + GANDALF. [To the VIKINGS.] And will you follow? + </p> + <p> + ALL. We will follow you! + </p> + <p> + GANDALF. And you, my Blanka? + </p> + <p> + BLANKA. I? I too am born A Northern child; for on your mountain sides The + choicest flowers of my heart took root. To you it was I journeyed in my + dreams, From you it was that I received my love. + </p> + <p> + RODERIK. And now away! + </p> + <p> + GANDALF. But you? + </p> + <p> + BLANKA. He comes with us! + </p> + <p> + RODERIK. I shall remain. + </p> + <p> + [He points to the mound.] + </p> + <p> + RODERIK. My barrow waits for me. + </p> + <p> + BLANKA. And should I leave you here alone? + </p> + <p> + HEMMING. No, no! Be not afraid! For I shall close his eyes And sing to him + a saga from the mound; My last song it will be. + </p> + <p> + HEMMING. [Moved as he seizes GANDALF's hand.] Farewell, my king! Now have + you found a better scald than I. + </p> + <p> + RODERIK. [With firmness.] It must be so, my Gandalf; you are king, And you + have sacred duties to discharge. + </p> + <p> + [He puts their hands together.] + </p> + <p> + RODERIK. You are the children of the coming dawn,— Go yonder where + the royal throne awaits you; I am the last one of the by-gone age, My + throne—it is the barrow—grant me that! + </p> + <p> + [GANDALF and BLANKA throw themselves silently into his arms. RODERIK + ascends the burial mound.—HEMMING with his harp seats himself at his + feet.] + </p> + <p> + GANDALF. [With resolution.] And now to Norway! + </p> + <p> + HROLLOUG. Home! + </p> + <p> + ALL. To Norway! Home! + </p> + <p> + BLANKA. [Fired as she seizes the banner from JOSTEJN's hand.] Yes, now + away! Our course shall northward run O'er ocean billow on through storm + and sun. Soon fades the daylight o'er the glacier's peak, Soon is the + viking life a memory bleak! Already sits the hero on his mound; The time + is past when he could sail around With sword and battle cry from strand to + strand. Thor's hammer will no longer rule the land, The North will be + itself a giant grave. But bear in mind the pledge All-Fader gave: When + moss and flowers shall the barrow hide, To Idavold the hero's ghost shall + ride,— Then Norway too shall from the grave be brought To chastened + deeds within the realm of thought! + </p> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> <br /> <a name="olaf" id="olaf"> </a> + </p> + <h2> + OLAF LILJEKRANS + </h2> + <h3> + A Play in Three Acts + </h3> + <h3> + 1857 + </h3> + <p> + <b>DRAMATIS PERSONÆ</b> + </p> + <p> + LADY KIRSTEN LILJEKRANS. + </p> + <p> + OLAF LILJEKRANS Her son. + </p> + <p> + ARNE OF GULDVIK. + </p> + <p> + INGEBORG His daughter. + </p> + <p> + HEMMING His page. + </p> + <p> + THORGJERD An old fiddler. + </p> + <p> + ALFHILD. + </p> + <p> + Wedding GUESTS. + </p> + <p> + RELATIVES of Arne of Guldvik. + </p> + <p> + MAIDS and SERVANTS of Lady Kirsten. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + SETTING +</pre> + <p> + The action takes place in the middle ages, in a mountain, district. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0016" id="link2H_4_0016"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + FIRST ACT + </h2> + <p> + [A thickly wooded hillside which leads up to higher mountain regions; in a + deep ravine a swift river runs from the background out to the right; over + the river lie some old logs and other remnants of a dilapidated bridge. + Huge rocks lie scattered in the foreground; far away can be seen the + summits of snow-capped mountain peaks. Evening twilight rests over the + landscape; later on the moon appears.] + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0017" id="link2H_4_0017"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + SCENE I + </h2> + <p> + [THORGJERD stands on a rocky projection near the river and listens to the + various choruses which are heard off the stage.] + </p> + <p> + CHORUS OF LADY KIRSTEN'S RETINUE. [Deep in the wood to the right.] + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + With ringing of bells we hurry along, + We wander in field and in dell; + O Christian, come, give heed to our song, + Awake from your magic spell. +</pre> + <p> + RELATIVES OF ARNE OF GULDVIK. [Far away to the right.] + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Now hasten we all + To the wedding hall; + The foal runneth light and gay! + The hoofs resound + On the grassy ground + As the merry swains gallop away! +</pre> + <p> + LADY KIRSTEN'S RETINUE. [A little nearer than before.] + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + We conjure you forth from mountain and hill, + From the places which hold you bound. + Awake to our call, come, free your will + From elves that hover around! +</pre> + <p> + [THORGJERD disappears in the ravine where the river runs; after a rapid + interplay the choruses are heard much nearer.] + </p> + <p> + ARNE'S RELATIVES. Our way we shorten with jest and with song, And all of + the bridal night. + </p> + <p> + LADY KIRSTEN'S RETINUE. With tears we wander the whole day long, We search + to the left and the right. + </p> + <p> + ARNE'S RELATIVES. [In close proximity, yet still outside the scene.] To + wedding and banquet, to song and dance, Both servants and hand-maidens + throng. + </p> + <p> + LADY KIRSTEN'S RETINUE. [Nearer than before.] Olaf Liljekrans! Olaf + Liljekrans! Why sleep you so deep and so long? + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0018" id="link2H_4_0018"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + SCENE II + </h2> + <p> + [ARNE of Guldvik appears with his relatives, men and women, minstrels, + etc., in the background to the right on the other side of the river; they + are all in festive attire. Shortly afterwards HEMMING from the same side.] + </p> + <p> + ONE OF THE RETINUE. See, here goes the way. + </p> + <p> + ANOTHER. No, here! + </p> + <p> + A THIRD. Not at all, it must be here. + </p> + <p> + ARNE OF GULDVIK. Well, well, are we now astray again! + </p> + <p> + ARNE OF GULDVIK. [Calls.] Hemming! Where is Hemming? + </p> + <p> + HEMMING. [Enters.] Here! + </p> + <p> + ARNE. Have I not told you to keep yourself close so as to be of some + service to me? + </p> + <p> + HEMMING. It was Mistress Ingeborg—she wanted,—and so— + </p> + <p> + ARNE. [Annoyed.] Mistress Ingeborg! Mistress Ingeborg! Are you Mistress + Ingeborg's maid? You are my page; it is me you shall serve. Do you not get + your keep and wage therefor? Come, tell us where the way goes,—we + are stuck. + </p> + <p> + HEMMING. [Uncertain.] The way? Well now, I am little acquainted up here, + but— + </p> + <p> + ARNE. I might have known it,—that is always the service you give me! + Well, we shall have to spend the night in the wilderness, as sure as I am + Arne of Guldvik. + </p> + <p> + HEMMING. [Who has in the meantime spied the remnants of the bridge.] Aha, + no need of that; here we can get across. + </p> + <p> + ARNE. Why didn't you tell us so in the first place? + </p> + <p> + [All cross the river and come forward on the stage.] + </p> + <p> + ARNE. [Looks about.] Yes, now I have my bearings again. The river there is + the boundary between Lady Kirsten's dominions and mine. + </p> + <p> + ARNE. [Points to the left.] Down there lies her estate; in another hour or + two we can sit cozily in the bridal house, but then we must hurry along. + </p> + <p> + ARNE. [Calls.] Ingeborg!—Hemming! Now where's Ingeborg? + </p> + <p> + HEMMING. In the rear, up on the hillside. + </p> + <p> + HEMMING. [Points to the right.] She is playing with her bridesmaids; they + gather green twigs from the cherry trees and run about with joy and + laughter. + </p> + <p> + ARNE. [Bitterly but in subdued voice.] Hemming! this wedding makes me + sick; there are so many vexations about it. + </p> + <p> + ARNE. [Gazes out to the right.] There they run,—just look at them! + It was she who hit upon the idea of going over the mountain instead of + following the highway; we should reach our goal the sooner, she thought;—and + yet notwithstanding—hm! I could go mad over it; tomorrow is she to + go to the altar. Are these the decorous customs she ought to observe! What + will Lady Kirsten say when she finds my daughter so ill disciplined? + </p> + <p> + ARNE. [As HEMMING starts to speak.] Yes, for that she is; she is ill + disciplined, I say. + </p> + <p> + HEMMING. Master! You should never have married your daughter into Lady + Kirsten's family; Lady Kirsten and her kinsmen are high-born people— + </p> + <p> + ARNE. You art stupid, Hemming! High-born, high-born! Much good that will + do,—it neither feeds nor enriches a man. If Lady Kirsten is + high-born, then I am rich; I have gold in my chests and silver in my + coffers. + </p> + <p> + HEMMING. Yes, but your neighbors make merry over the agreement you have + concluded with her. + </p> + <p> + ARNE. Ah, let them, let them; it is all because they wish me ill. + </p> + <p> + HEMMING. They say that you have surrendered your legal right in order to + have Ingeborg married to Olaf Liljekrans; I shouldn't mention it, I + suppose,—but a lampoon about you is going the rounds, master! + </p> + <p> + ARNE. You lie in your throat; there is no one dares make a lampoon about + Arne of Guldvik. I have power; I can oust him from house and home whenever + I please. Lampoon! And what do you know about lampoons!—If they have + composed any songs, it is to the honor of the bride and her father! + </p> + <p> + ARNE. [Flaring up.] But it is a wretched bit of verse nevertheless, really + a wretched bit of verse, I tell you. It is no man skilled in the art of + poetry who has put it together, and if I once get hold of him, then— + </p> + <p> + HEMMING. Aha, master! then you know it too? Is there some one who has + dared sing it to you? + </p> + <p> + ARNE. Sing, sing! Now don't stand there and delay me with your twaddle. + </p> + <p> + ARNE. [To the others.] Away, my kinsmen; little must we delay if we are to + reach the bridal house before midnight. You should have heard what Hemming + is telling. He says there is a rumor around that Lady Kirsten has baked + and brewed for five whole days in honor of our coming. Is it not so, + Hemming? + </p> + <p> + HEMMING. Aye, master! + </p> + <p> + ARNE. He says she owns not the beaker of silver so costly but she places + it on the table shining and polished; so splendid a feast she has not + prepared since the king came to visit her blessed lord twenty years ago. + Is it not true, Hemming? + </p> + <p> + HEMMING. Aye, master! + </p> + <p> + HEMMING. [Whispering.] But, master, it is ill-thought to say such things; + Lady Kirsten is proud of her birth; she thinks this marriage is somewhat + of an honor to you; little you know how she intends to show herself to her + guests. + </p> + <p> + ARNE. [Softly.] Ah, what nonsense! + </p> + <p> + ARNE. [To the others.] He says Lady Kirsten gives herself no rest; both + day and night she is busy in pantry and cellar. Is it not—? + </p> + <p> + ARNE. [Startled as he looks out to the right.] Hemming! what is that? See + here, who is that coming? + </p> + <p> + HEMMING. [With a cry.] Lady Kirsten Liljekrans! + </p> + <p> + ALL. [Astonished.] Lady Kirsten! + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0019" id="link2H_4_0019"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + SCENE III + </h2> + <p> + [The Preceding. LADY KIRSTEN comes with her HOUSE CARLS from the left.] + </p> + <p> + LADY KIRSTEN. [To her followers, without noticing the others.] Now just a + little farther and I am sure we shall find him. + </p> + <p> + LADY KIRSTEN. [Taken aback, aside.] Arne of Guldvik! Heaven help me! + </p> + <p> + ARNE. [As he goes to meet her.] The peace of God, Lady Kirsten Liljekrans! + </p> + <p> + LADY KIRSTEN. [Composes herself and gives him her hand.] The peace of God + to you! + </p> + <p> + LADY KIRSTEN. [Aside.] Does he then know nothing? + </p> + <p> + ARNE. [Contentedly.] And well met at the boundary! Indeed, this pleases + me; yet almost too great is the honor you show me. + </p> + <p> + LADY KIRSTEN. What mean you? + </p> + <p> + ARNE. I mean too great is the honor you show me, when you travel miles + over fields and wildernesses in order to bid me welcome on your land. + </p> + <p> + LADY KIRSTEN. Ah, Lord Arne— + </p> + <p> + LADY KIRSTEN. [Aside.] He knows nothing as yet! + </p> + <p> + ARNE. And that on a day like this, when you have enough things to attend + to; 'tis at your house we celebrate the wedding of our children, since my + estate lies too far from the church, and yet you come here to meet me with + all your servants. + </p> + <p> + LADY KIRSTEN. [Embarrassed.] I beg you, say no more about that. + </p> + <p> + ARNE. Aye, I will speak of it loudly; the village people have said that + you pride yourself on your noble birth, that you look down upon me and + mine, and that you entered into the agreement only in order to put an end + to the long-standing disputes which grew troublesome now that you have + become a widow and begin to grow old; and if that had not been the case, + you would never— + </p> + <p> + LADY KIRSTEN. How can you listen to what evil tongues invent? No more will + we think of our differences which have lasted since the days of your + ancestors. I think our families have suffered enough these years, yours as + well as mine. Look around you, Lord Arne! Is not the hillside here like + the wildest of upland pastures? And yet in our fathers' days it was a + region much frequented and rich. A bridge there was across the river, and + a highway from Guldvik to my father's house. But with fire and sword they + sallied forth from both sides; they laid everything waste that they came + upon, for it seemed to them that they were too near neighbors. Now all + sorts of weeds grow in the highway, the bridge is broken, and it is only + the bear and the wolf that make their homes here. + </p> + <p> + ARNE. Yes, they ran the road around the mountain below; it is a good deal + longer and they could thus better keep an eye on one another; but there is + little need of that now,—which is well and good for both of us. + </p> + <p> + LADY KIRSTEN. To be sure, to be sure! But Ingeborg, the bride, where is + she? I do not see her, and the bridesmaids likewise are lacking; surely + she is not— + </p> + <p> + ARNE. She follows in the rear; she must shortly be here. But—listen, + Lady Kirsten! One thing I will tell you, as well first as last, although, + I should think, you know it. Ingeborg has at times whims and moods,—I + swear to you she has them, however well disciplined she may be. + </p> + <p> + LADY KIRSTEN. [Expectant.] Well, what then? + </p> + <p> + LADY KIRSTEN. [Aside.] Is she too— + </p> + <p> + ARNE. Such things you must tame; I, as her father, will never succeed, but + you will no doubt find ways and means. + </p> + <p> + LADY KIRSTEN. Aye, rest you assured. + </p> + <p> + LADY KIRSTEN. [Aside.] And Olaf, who is nowhere to be seen! + </p> + <p> + HEMMING. [Who has looked out to the right.] There comes Mistress Ingeborg. + </p> + <p> + HEMMING. [Aside.] How fair she is advancing foremost in the group! + </p> + <p> + LADY KIRSTEN. [Slowly to her servants.] You will keep silent about your + errand up here. + </p> + <p> + A SERVANT. You may be sure of that. + </p> + <p> + HEMMING. [Aside, sighing, as he continues to look out to the right.] Ah, + happy is Olaf, who will have her! + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0020" id="link2H_4_0020"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + SCENE IV + </h2> + <p> + [The Preceding. INGEBORG and the Bridesmaids come over the bridge.] + </p> + <p> + INGEBORG. [Still in the background.] Why do you run away from me? What + good will that do? There can be no wedding anyway before I come. + </p> + <p> + INGEBORG. [Notices LADY KIRSTEN and her retinue.] Lady Kirsten! you here? + Well, I am glad of that. + </p> + <p> + [Casually to the retinue.] + </p> + <p> + [To LADY KIRSTEN as she looks about.] + </p> + <p> + LADY KIRSTEN. Olaf! + </p> + <p> + LADY KIRSTEN. [Aside.] Woe is me! now it will out. + </p> + <p> + ARNE. Yes, Olaf, indeed! Ha, ha, ha! I must have been blind; 'tis well the + bride sees better than I; for I have not noticed that the bridegroom is + lacking; but now I understand very well how it comes that we meet here,—it + is he who is causing— + </p> + <p> + LADY KIRSTEN. He—you mean—you know, that— + </p> + <p> + ARNE. I mean it has grown tedious for him down there in the festive hall. + Aye, aye, I remember now my own wedding day; at that time I also was + young. He has had a great desire to meet the bride, and accordingly he + prevailed upon you to go with him. + </p> + <p> + LADY KIRSTEN. He greatly desired, to be sure, to meet the bride, but— + </p> + <p> + INGEBORG. But what? + </p> + <p> + LADY KIRSTEN. Olaf is not here with us. + </p> + <p> + HEMMING. [Approaches.] Not with you! + </p> + <p> + ARNE. And why not? + </p> + <p> + INGEBORG. Speak, I beg you! + </p> + <p> + LADY KIRSTEN. [Embarrassed and jestingly.] Truly, it appears the bride + also is anxious! Come along, come along with me down to the bridal hall; + there, I imagine he will be found. + </p> + <p> + HEMMING. [Whispering to ARNE.] Master! remember I gave you warning. + </p> + <p> + ARNE. [Suspiciously to LADY KIRSTEN.] First answer me; then shall we + follow. + </p> + <p> + LADY KIRSTEN. Well then,—he is ridden out to the hunt. + </p> + <p> + LADY KIRSTEN. [As she is about to go.] Come, 'tis fast growing dark. + </p> + <p> + INGEBORG. To the hunt? + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +LADY KIRSTEN. Aye! Does that surprise you? You know the song +of course: + "The knight likes to ride in the forest around, + To test his horse and his hound!" +</pre> + <p> + INGEBORG. Does he think so little of his young bride that he uses the + wedding days to go hunting wild animals? + </p> + <p> + LADY KIRSTEN. Now you are jesting. Come along, come along! + </p> + <p> + ARNE. [Who has in the meantime kept his eye on LADY KIRSTEN and her + retinue.] No, wait, Lady Kirsten! I hardly dare measure myself in wisdom + with you, but one thing clearly I see, and that is that you are concealing + your real errand up here. + </p> + <p> + LADY KIRSTEN. [Confused.] I? How can you think that? + </p> + <p> + ARNE. From one thing and another I can see you are concealing something. + You are strangely downcast, and yet you pretend to be playful in spirit; + but it won't do— + </p> + <p> + LADY KIRSTEN. 'Tis nothing new for you to think ill of me and mine. + </p> + <p> + ARNE. Perhaps; but never did I do so without just cause. + </p> + <p> + ARNE. [Bursting out.] As sure as I live, there is something you are hiding + from me. + </p> + <p> + LADY KIRSTEN. [Aside.] What will be the end of this? + </p> + <p> + ARNE. I let myself be fooled by you, but now I see clearly enough. You + said you came to greet me at the boundary. How did you know we took the + way over the mountain? It was Ingeborg who suggested this way just as we + left Guldvik, and no one could have informed you about it. + </p> + <p> + ARNE. [When LADY KIRSTEN does not answer.] You are silent, as I might have + known. + </p> + <p> + HEMMING. [In an undertone.] You see, master! Will you now believe what I + said? + </p> + <p> + ARNE. [Likewise.] Hush! + </p> + <p> + LADY KIRSTEN. [Who has in the meantime composed herself.] Well and good, + Lord Arne! I will be honest with you; let chance take care of the rest. + </p> + <p> + ARNE. Then tell us— + </p> + <p> + INGEBORG. What mean you? + </p> + <p> + LADY KIRSTEN. The agreement between us is sealed with word and with hand,—many + honorable men whom I see here can bear witness to that: Olaf, my son, was + to wed your daughter; tomorrow at my house the wedding was to be held— + </p> + <p> + ARNE. [Impatiently.] Yes, yes! + </p> + <p> + LADY KIRSTEN. Dishonor to him who breaks his word, but— + </p> + <p> + ARNE AND THE GUESTS.. What then! Speak out! + </p> + <p> + LADY KIRSTEN. There can be no wedding tomorrow as we had agreed. + </p> + <p> + ARNE. No wedding? + </p> + <p> + LADY KIRSTEN. It must be postponed. + </p> + <p> + HEMMING. Ah, shame and disgrace! + </p> + <p> + INGEBORG. No wedding! + </p> + <p> + ARNE. Cursed be you that you play me false! + </p> + <p> + THE GUESTS. [Threatening, as several of them draw their knives and rush in + on Lady Kirsten's people.] Revenge! Revenge on the house of Liljekrans! + </p> + <p> + LADY KIRSTEN'S MEN. [Raise their axes and prepare to defend themselves.] + Strike too! Down with the men of Guldvik! + </p> + <p> + LADY KIRSTEN. [Throws herself between the contending parties.] Stop, stop; + I pray you, stop! Lord Arne! hear me to the end ere you judge my conduct. + </p> + <p> + ARNE. [Who has tried to quiet his kinsmen, approaches LADY KIRSTEN and + speaks in a low tone as he tries to overcome his inner agitation, which is + nevertheless apparent.] Forgive me, Lady Kirsten! I was too quick in my + wrath. Had I stopped to think I might surely have known the whole was a + jest on your part; I beg you, do not contradict me, it must be so! No + wedding tomorrow,—how could such a thing happen! If it is ale and + mead you lack, or if you need silver or embroidered linens, then come you + to me. + </p> + <p> + LADY KIRSTEN. It is no poor man's house that your daughter is marrying + into, Lord Arne! Do you but come to the wedding with all your kinsmen and + friends, aye, come with three times as many if you wish,—in my home + you shall find plenty of room and banquet fare, as much as you may desire. + Think not for a moment that such an inglorious reason could stand in my + way. + </p> + <p> + ARNE. You have changed your mind, perchance? + </p> + <p> + LADY KIRSTEN. Nor that either! If I have given my word, then am I likewise + ready to keep it, today just as well as tomorrow; for such was ever the + custom and rule in my family. But in this instance it is not in my power; + one there is lacking— + </p> + <p> + INGEBORG. One! Whom? Surely I should think that when the bride is ready,— + </p> + <p> + LADY KIRSTEN. For a wedding two people are needed, the groom as well as + the bride— + </p> + <p> + ARNE AND THE GUESTS. Olaf! + </p> + <p> + INGEBORG. My betrothed! + </p> + <p> + LADY KIRSTEN. Yes, he, my son—this night he is fled from his home + and his bride. + </p> + <p> + GUESTS. Fled! + </p> + <p> + ARNE. Fled! He! + </p> + <p> + LADY KIRSTEN. As I hope for the grace of heaven, I have no hand therein. + </p> + <p> + ARNE. [With suppressed exasperation.] And the wedding was to be tomorrow! + My daughter has put on her golden attire; invitations I have sent around + in the district; my kinsmen and friends come from far away to attend the + festive day. + </p> + <p> + ARNE. [Flaring up.] Ah, take you good care, if Arne of Guldvik is held up + to scorn before his neighbors; it shall profit you little,—that I + solemnly swear! + </p> + <p> + LADY KIRSTEN. You reason unjustly, if you think— + </p> + <p> + ARNE. 'Tis not, Lady Kirsten, for you to say so! We two have an old + account to settle; it is not the first time that you set your cunning + traps for me and mine. The race of Guldvik has long had to suffer, when + you and your kinsmen plotted deception and guile. Power we had,—we + had wealth and property too; but you were too crafty for us. You knew how + to lure us with wily words and ready speech,—those are wares I am + little able to reckon as I should. + </p> + <p> + LADY KIRSTEN. Lord Arne! Hear me, I pray! + </p> + <p> + ARNE. [Continuing.] Now I see clearly that I have behaved like the man who + built his house on the ice-floe: a thaw came on and down he went to the + bottom. But you shall have little joy of this. I shall hold you to + account, Lady Kirsten! You must answer for your son; you it was who made + love for him, and your affair it will be to keep the word you have given + me! A fool I was, aye, tenfold a fool, that I put my faith in your glib + tongue. Those who wished me well gave me warning; my enemies made me an + object of scorn; but little heed gave I to either. I put on my gala + attire; kinsmen and friends I gathered together; with song and laughter we + set out for the festive hall, and then,—the bridegroom has fled. + </p> + <p> + INGEBORG. Never will I marry one who holds me so lightly. + </p> + <p> + ARNE. Be still! + </p> + <p> + HEMMING. [Softly to ARNE.] Mistress Ingeborg is right; best it is you + break the agreement. + </p> + <p> + ARNE. Be still, I say! + </p> + <p> + LADY KIRSTEN. [To ARNE.] You may well be rilled with wrath and resentment; + but if you think I meant to deceive you, you do me the greatest injustice. + You think we are playing a game of deception with you. But tell me,—what + would tempt me and my son to such a thing? Does he not love Ingeborg? + Where could he choose him a better bride? Is she not fair and lithe? Is + her father not rich and mighty? Is not her family mentioned with honor as + far as it is known? + </p> + <p> + ARNE. But how then could Olaf— + </p> + <p> + LADY KIRSTEN. The lot I have suffered is worse than you think. You will + pity me instead of growing angry when you have heard.—Since the sun + rose this morning I have wandered up here to find him again. + </p> + <p> + ARNE. Up here? + </p> + <p> + LADY KIRSTEN. Yes, up here; I must tell you—you'll be frightened—but + nevertheless,—Olaf is bewitched in the mountain! + </p> + <p> + GUESTS. Bewitched in the mountain! + </p> + <p> + INGEBORG. [At the same time.] Deliver me, God! + </p> + <p> + ARNE. What say you, Lady Kirsten? + </p> + <p> + LADY KIRSTEN. He is bewitched in the mountain! Nothing else can it be.—Three + weeks ago, after the betrothal feast at Guldvik, he did not come home till + far into the next day. Pale he was and moody and quiet as I had never seen + him before. And thus the days went by; he spoke but little; he lay in his + bed most of the time and turned his face to the wall; but when evening + came on, it seemed a strange uneasiness seized him; he saddled his horse + and rode away, far up the mountain side; but no one dared follow him, and + no one knew where he went beyond that. Believe me, 'tis evil spirits that + have charmed his mind; great is the power they wield in here; from the + time the terrible plague overran the country it has never been quite safe + in the mountain here; there is scarcely a day goes by but the chalet girls + hear strange playing and music, although there is no living soul in the + place whence it comes. + </p> + <p> + ARNE. Bewitched in the mountain! Could such a thing be possible? + </p> + <p> + LADY KIRSTEN. Would to God it were not; but I can no longer doubt it. + Three days is it now since he last was at home. + </p> + <p> + ARNE. And you have seen none who knows where he is? + </p> + <p> + LADY KIRSTEN. Alas, no, it is not so easy. Up here a hunter yesterday saw + him; but he was wild and shy as the deer; he had picked all sorts of + flowers, and these he scattered before him wherever he went, and all the + while he whispered strange words. As soon as I heard of this, I set out + with my people, but we have found nothing. + </p> + <p> + INGEBORG. You met none who could tell you— + </p> + <p> + LADY KIRSTEN. You know of course the mountain-side is desolate. + </p> + <p> + ARNE. [As he spies THORGJERD, who rises from the river.] Here comes one + will I ask. + </p> + <p> + HEMMING. [Apprehensively.] Master! Master! + </p> + <p> + ARNE. What now? + </p> + <p> + HEMMING. Let him go! Do you not see who it is? + </p> + <p> + THE GUESTS AND LADY KIRSTEN'S PEOPLE. [Whispering among themselves.] + Thorgjerd the fiddler! The crazy Thorgjerd! + </p> + <p> + INGEBORG. He has learned the nixie's songs. + </p> + <p> + HEMMING. Let him go, let him go! + </p> + <p> + ARNE. No,—not even were he the nixie himself— + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0021" id="link2H_4_0021"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + SCENE V + </h2> + <h3> + [The Preceding.] + </h3> + <p> + [THORGJERD has in the meantime gone to the edge of the stage to the left; + at ARNE's last words he turns about suddenly as if he had been addressed.] + </p> + <p> + THORGJERD. [As he draws a step or two nearer.] What do you want of me? + </p> + <p> + ARNE. [Startled.] What's that? + </p> + <p> + HEMMING. Now see! + </p> + <p> + ARNE. Let me manage this. + </p> + <p> + ARNE. [To THORGJERD.] We seek Olaf Liljekrans. Have you met him about here + today? + </p> + <p> + THORGJERD. Olaf Liljekrans? + </p> + <p> + LADY KIRSTEN. Why, yes,—you know him well. + </p> + <p> + THORGJERD. Is he not one of the evil men from the villages? + </p> + <p> + LADY KIRSTEN. Evil? + </p> + <p> + THORGJERD. They are all evil there! Olaf Liljekrans curses the little bird + when it sings on his mother's roof. + </p> + <p> + LADY KIRSTEN. You lie, you fiddler! + </p> + <p> + THORGJERD. [With an artful smile.] So much the better for him. + </p> + <p> + ARNE. How so? + </p> + <p> + THORGJERD. You ask about Olaf Liljekrans? Has he gone astray in here? You + seek him and cannot find him? + </p> + <p> + LADY KIRSTEN. Yes, yes! + </p> + <p> + THORGJERD. So much the better for him;—if it were a lie that I told, + he will suffer no want. + </p> + <p> + INGEBORG. Speak out what you know! + </p> + <p> + THORGJERD. Then I should never be done! + </p> + <p> + THORGJERD. [Mischievously.] Elves and sprites hold sway here. Be you of + good cheer! If you find him not he is at play with the elves; they are + fond of all who love little birds, and Olaf, you said.... Go home,—go + home again. Olaf is up in the mountain; he suffers no want. + </p> + <p> + LADY KIRSTEN. Curse you for saying such things! + </p> + <p> + ARNE. [To LADY KIRSTEN.] Do not heed what he says. + </p> + <p> + THORGJERD. [Approaches again.] I go hence now to tune my harp; Olaf + Liljekrans is up in the mountain,—there shall his wedding be held.—Mad + Thorgjerd must also be there; he can make tables and benches dance, so + stirring is the music he plays. But you, take you heed; go you home again; + it is not safe for you here. Have you not heard the old saying: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Beware of the elves when they frolic around, + They may draw you into their play; + And all that you see and all that you hear + Will stay with your mind alway. +</pre> + <p> + THORGJERD. [Suddenly breaking out with wild joy.] But here there are + wedding guests,—ah! Each lady has on her very best gown, each man + his very best coat,—now I see. Olaf Liljekrans is likewise a groom + in the village,—there also he has a betrothed! Well, you have heard + of such things before! I know that at any rate once, —it is years + ago—but well I remember.... + </p> + <p> + THORGJERD. [He continues after a moment's pause, more and more wildly.] + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Sir Alvar and Ingrid had plighted their troth, + She was a sprightly maiden; + Three blessed long days they feasted and sang, + With jolly good wine they were laden. + The bride was fair and the bride was gay, + The dance of the guests she led, + When in came the nixie, the evil wight, + And sat on the edge of the bed. + Like a fiddler he sat on the edge of the bed, + And music bewitchingly played. + Around danced the benches and tables and all, + As lightly as servant and maid!— + The nixie he went through the open door,— + The truth it boots not to hide!— + And while he played on the harpstrings sweet, + There followed him ever—the bride! +</pre> + <p> + THORGJERD. [Wildly, triumphantly.] + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Fast in a spell lay knight and page, + The groom knew not whither to go, + The nixie made ready the bridal bed, + Little Ingrid's bed in the river below. +</pre> + <p> + THORGJERD. [Suddenly becomes quiet and says softly.] That song I shall + never forget!—But go you home, night is coming on, and when the sun + is down the forest belongs to the others. Farewell! I shall take greetings + to Olaf where he sits—in the mountain! + </p> + <p> + [Goes out to the left.] + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0022" id="link2H_4_0022"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + SCENE VI + </h2> + <h3> + [The Preceding except THORGJERD.] + </h3> + <p> + ARNE. [To LADY KIRSTEN.] He lies! Do not believe him! + </p> + <p> + HEMMING. But it is nevertheless true,—the tale of the bride who + disappeared on the eve of her wedding. + </p> + <p> + ARNE. Aye, that was many years ago; nowadays such things never happen. But + we'll all help to find him. + </p> + <p> + INGEBORG. It was not sung at my cradle that I should run about in forest + and field to find my bridegroom. + </p> + <p> + ARNE. Be still! + </p> + <p> + INGEBORG. If he is enthralled in the mountain, then let her take him who + has done it; I don't propose to share my betrothed's heart and soul. + </p> + <p> + HEMMING. [Softly and feelingly.] The Lord bless you for those words! + </p> + <p> + INGEBORG. [With a haughty look of dismissal.] What? + </p> + <p> + ARNE. Will you be silent, I say! + </p> + <p> + ARNE. [To the Guests.] Now quick, my good men! Spread out and search for + him on every ridge and in every hillock! Away! Quite so! Tomorrow we drink + to the wedding! + </p> + <p> + [The Guests and LADY KIRSTEN's People go out in different groups to the + right and the left.] + </p> + <p> + ARNE. [Softly, to LADY KIRSTEN.] We must find him! It would cause me + eternal shame if the wedding— + </p> + <p> + LADY KIRSTEN. Come, then, come! + </p> + <p> + INGEBORG. [Softly, to HEMMING, who stands downcast.] Why do you not go + with the rest? Better it were that you brought me again my betrothed than + stand here thus and bless me for words I really don't mean. + </p> + <p> + ARNE. [At the exit.] Come, come! + </p> + <p> + INGEBORG. [To HEMMING, who starts to go.] Wait, Hemming! Fasten my shoe + buckle! + </p> + <p> + [LADY KIRSTEN and ARNE go out to the left.] + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0023" id="link2H_4_0023"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + SCENE VII + </h2> + <h3> + [INGEBORG. HEMMING.] + </h3> + <p> + INGEBORG. [Puts her foot forward.] See there,—fasten it tight! + </p> + <p> + [HEMMING kneels and does her bidding.] + </p> + <p> + INGEBORG. [As she puts the other foot forward.] There,—buckle this + one too! Well, why do you bow your head? Has something gone wrong? + </p> + <p> + HEMMING. Do you demand that I shall speak honestly? + </p> + <p> + INGEBORG. Certainly I do. + </p> + <p> + HEMMING. Well, then you must know— + </p> + <p> + INGEBORG. [Quickly.] O no, it isn't necessary. + </p> + <p> + [She moves away a few steps; HEMMING rises.] + </p> + <p> + HEMMING. Alas, Lady Ingeborg! Once you were so kind to me; but now since + you have become a real grown-up lady—and especially, I imagine, + since you gave your betrothal vow— + </p> + <p> + INGEBORG. What then? + </p> + <p> + HEMMING. O nothing!— + </p> + <p> + [A pause.] + </p> + <p> + HEMMING. Can you remember,—we have been up here once before? + </p> + <p> + INGEBORG. [Curtly.] I don't remember! + </p> + <p> + HEMMING. You had run after your spotted goat, and I followed you, as was + always my custom,—yes, that was a long time ago, but I remember it + as if it happened today; right down there lies the swamp, which— + </p> + <p> + INGEBORG. [Comes nearer.] Was it the time we heard the bear? + </p> + <p> + HEMMING. Yes, the very time. + </p> + <p> + INGEBORG. [Constantly becoming more animated.] I found the goat again. + </p> + <p> + HEMMING. No, it was I who first discovered it. + </p> + <p> + INGEBORG. Yes, yes, you are right; up there on the slope— + </p> + <p> + HEMMING. And then you took your garter. + </p> + <p> + INGEBORG. And bound it. + </p> + <p> + HEMMING. Yes, for we had come to pick strawberries. + </p> + <p> + INGEBORG. Over there on the hill, yes! And you had made me a birch-bark + scrip. + </p> + <p> + HEMMING. But then it was we heard— + </p> + <p> + INGEBORG. The bear, ha, ha, ha! We had to cross the swamp just where it + was the wettest,— + </p> + <p> + HEMMING. And then I took you in my arms. + </p> + <p> + INGEBORG. And jumped with me from tuft to tuft. + </p> + <p> + INGEBORG. [Laughing.] How frightened we were, the two of us! + </p> + <p> + HEMMING. Of course I was most frightened for your sake. + </p> + <p> + INGEBORG. And I for yours— + </p> + <p> + [Stops suddenly and as she continues to look at him her face assumes an + imperious and wounded expression.] + </p> + <p> + INGEBORG. What is it you stand here and say? Why don't you go? Is it + fitting to speak thus to your master's daughter? Go, go; you were to find + my betrothed! + </p> + <p> + HEMMING. Alas, I forgot your betrothed; I forgot that you are my master's + daughter. + </p> + <p> + INGEBORG. If you find him, I promise you an embroidered jacket for + Christmas,—so pleased shall I be. + </p> + <p> + HEMMING. I don't want any jacket; I serve you neither for gold nor silver, + neither for keep nor for knightly dress. But now I am off; what lies in my + power I shall do, if I know it pleases you. + </p> + <p> + INGEBORG. [Who has climbed up on a stone and is picking some blossoming + cherry twigs.] Hemming! how rich is my betrothed? + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +HEMMING. How rich he is I really can't say; but it is said of +his grandsire in the song: + With golden attire he can provide + A hundred maids or more for his bride! +So mighty perhaps is not Olaf Liljekrans, but still he owns +both forest and field. +</pre> + <p> + INGEBORG. [Still occupied.] And you, what do you possess? + </p> + <p> + HEMMING. [Sighing.] My poverty—is all I have. + </p> + <p> + INGEBORG. That isn't very much, Hemming! + </p> + <p> + HEMMING. No, it isn't very much, Mistress Ingeborg! + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +INGEBORG. [Hums, turned away from him, without changing her +position, and still occupied as before.] + 'Tis little my heart is attracted indeed + To him who has all the wealth he may need! + Much more I fancy the humble swain, + The friend of my heart he will ever remain! +</pre> + <p> + HEMMING. [In the greatest joy.] Ingeborg! O, if what you say is true, I + must tenfold bless my poverty. + </p> + <p> + INGEBORG. [Turns her head and speaks coldly.] I don't understand you; the + song was only an ancient ballad. + </p> + <p> + [Comes down from the rock with the cherry twigs in her hand, and + approaches him as she looks at him fixedly.] + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +INGEBORG. But I know another song too, and that I will sing for +you: + The king's court within stand the steeds so fair; + The suitor who lacks not the courage to dare,— + He shoes the yellow, he shoes the gray, + The swiftest he saddles before it is day! + He places his bride on the steed behind, + She follows him safe, she follows him blind. + He rides with her off, to the sea they hie, + With him she would willingly live and die! +</pre> + <p> + HEMMING. [As though beside himself.] Ingeborg! Ingeborg! then nothing + shall henceforth terrify me! Not that you have a betrothed, not that you + are my master's daughter;—yea, as sure as I live, I shall steal you + tonight! + </p> + <p> + INGEBORG. [Vehemently, as she constantly struggles to suppress a smile.] + Help me, God! what is amiss with you? What is it you are thinking of? Will + you steal your master's daughter? You must be sick or mad to conceive such + a thing! Yet, it shall be forgotten—for this once. Go, now! and + thank heaven you escape so lightly; for you have certainly earned a blow— + </p> + <p> + INGEBORG. [Raises the twigs, but lets them fall, and says in a changed + tone.] —and my red golden ring—see there, take it! + </p> + <p> + [Throws him a ring, which she has removed from her arm, and rushes out + quickly to the left.] + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0024" id="link2H_4_0024"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + SCENE VIII + </h2> + <p> + [HEMMING. Shortly afterwards OLAF Liljekrans from the, background. The + moon rises.] + </p> + <p> + HEMMING. The golden ring unto me she has granted, Then still is she true, + I am not deceived! 'Twas only in jest that she scolded and ranted As + though she were bitterly grieved. All will I venture, no more will I + dread! + </p> + <p> + HEMMING. [Despondent.] And yet, I am only a penniless swain, And early + tomorrow is she to be wed! + </p> + <p> + HEMMING. [Quickly.] But into the forest the bridegroom is fled; O, if he + should never come home again! + </p> + <p> + HEMMING. [Starts to rush out, but stops with a cry.] Olaf! there is he! + </p> + <p> + [OLAF comes slowly forward between the rocks in the background. He walks + dreaming, his head uncovered, and his hands full of flowers which he tears + to pieces and scatters on the way; his whole behavior during the following + indicates an unsettled mind.] + </p> + <p> + OLAF. [Without noticing HEMMING.] If only I knew What she meant, could + somehow the riddle unravel! + </p> + <p> + [Starts to go out to the left.] + </p> + <p> + HEMMING. Lord Olaf! Lord Olaf! O where do you travel? O hear me, Lord + Olaf! + </p> + <p> + OLAF. [Half awakening.] Hemming! Is it you? Stand not in my way! + </p> + <p> + HEMMING. What is it that weighs On your mind, that you wander in here for + three days? + </p> + <p> + [Observes him more closely.] + </p> + <p> + HEMMING. And what is the game that here you do play,— Your cheek is + white, and your forehead is gray! + </p> + <p> + OLAF. Be not so amazed that my cheek is white, Three nights have I fought + so strange a fight; Be not so amazed that my forehead is gray, Three + nights have I been in the elfen play. + </p> + <p> + HEMMING. Heaven protect us! + </p> + <p> + OLAF. I am ill, I am faint! I remember neither devil nor saint! + </p> + <p> + HEMMING. [Apprehensively.] Come, Olaf, with me to your mother's estate! + </p> + <p> + OLAF. My mother's estate! Where stood it of late? 'Tis here, as it seems, + that I have my home! The wood has become my ancestral hall, The river's + roaring, the pine-trees' moan, Is sweeter to me than my mother's call. + </p> + <p> + OLAF. [With increasing rapture.] Aye, here it is quiet! Aye, here it is + fair! Behold, my hall for the feast I prepare. + </p> + <p> + HEMMING. [Aside.] O what has come o'er him? + </p> + <p> + OLAF. Soon comes my bride! + </p> + <p> + HEMMING. Your bride! Then you know—? + </p> + <p> + OLAF. [Continuing.] When the day has died, When slumber the birds, when + fades the cloud, Then here will she come so young and so proud! + </p> + <p> + HEMMING. [Crosses himself.] All heavenly saints! I fear the worst! + </p> + <h3> + OLAF. + </h3> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Know you when it was that I saw her here first? + I rode late one evening from Guldvik hall, + Some kind of feast I seem to recall. + My spirit was heavy, my heart full of woe! + That something had grieved me is all that I know. + I rode all alone up the mountain side, + At midnight I passed by the river so wide; + Then heard I beyond a melodious wail, + That rang like a song over mountain and dale. + It seemed a plaintive, bewitching lay; + I folded my hands, I tried to pray, + But tied was my tongue and my thoughts went astray; + The strains did beguile and lure me away. + 'Twas now like weeping and now like laughter, + 'Twas now full of mirth, and now ever after + As were it the cry of a perishing man, + As were it a soul in the anguish of death, + That I heard in the song so beguiling, that ran + Like a stream around me!—I scarce got my breath! + So sorely bewildered was I in my soul; + It was as if powers both gentle and strong + Enticed me and lured me away from my goal, + I needs must come up, I was carried along. + And ever rang out the mysterious call; + How far I rode on I no longer recall. +</pre> + <p> + HEMMING. [Aside.] And the bride, of whom the minstrel sang,—she too + had to follow— + </p> + <h3> + OLAF. + </h3> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + My foal stopped short, I awoke in a maze, + I looked around with a wondering gaze; + 'Twas all so pleasant and fair! But what land + I was in I could not understand! + I stood in a valley;—a deep peace lay + Over all like dew in the night! + The moon on the edge of the tarn did play; + It seemed to laugh as it vanished away + In the rolling billows so bright! + My head was heavy, my spirit oppressed, + I yearned for nothing but sleep; + I laid me down 'neath a linden to rest + In the whispering forest so sweet! +</pre> + <p> + HEMMING. Lord Olaf! Lord Olaf! How dared you do it? + </p> + <p> + OLAF. [Continuing.] + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + I ventured then into the elf-maidens' play; + The fairest of maidens gave me a bouquet + Of snow-drops blue and of lilies white; + She pierced my soul with her glances so bright, + And whispered to me what nobody knows,— + A word I'll keep ever in mind: + "Olaf Liljekrans! know you where happiness grows, + Know you the hour when peace you will find? + Of all the flowers on the hill over yonder + Must you the fairest one find, + And bit by bit you must tear it asunder + And scatter it far to the wind, + Then—only then will you happiness find!" +</pre> + <p> + HEMMING. You have slumbered and dreamed! + </p> + <h3> + OLAF. + </h3> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + That very same day + My mother's estate grew cramped and narrow! + Through thicket, o'er highway, I hastened away + To the grove so pleasant with bow and with arrow! + There met I again the elf-maiden fair. +</pre> + <p> + HEMMING. [Steps back amazed.] When then,—have you wakened and found—? + </p> + <p> + OLAF. I took my betrothal ring, shot with it there Right over her head, + far into the air; Now is she evermore bound! + </p> + <p> + HEMMING. And it is the bride you are waiting for here? + </p> + <p> + OLAF. Yes, yes, the bride; soon will she be near! + </p> + <p> + HEMMING. [Aside.] His soul is enthralled, his mind is ill; All this Lady + Kirsten shall know! + </p> + <p> + HEMMING. [Aloud.] And dare you go wandering fearless up here In the hills? + </p> + <p> + OLAF. It is here so still, 'Tis sweetly I dream as I go! + </p> + <p> + [Goes slowly in between the huge rocks in front on the right.] + </p> + <h3> + HEMMING. + </h3> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + His wedding tomorrow his people prepare; + Yet for his betrothed he seems little to care; + 'Tis little he knows that she is so near, + And less that she holds another one dear!— + He wanders around in the forest astray, + And Ingeborg gave me the golden ring! + His mother I'll seek without further delay; + The saints only know what the morrow will bring! +</pre> + <p> + [Goes out to the left.] + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0025" id="link2H_4_0025"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + SCENE IX + </h2> + <h3> + [OLAF LILJEKRANS enters again from the right.] + </h3> + <p> + OLAF. [As he tears to pieces some flowers he has gathered off the stage.] + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + "Of all the flowers on the hill over yonder + Must you the fairest one find; + And bit by bit you must tear it asunder, + And scatter it far to the wind,— + Then—only then will you happiness find!" + These mysterious words give my spirit no rest. + The fairest of flowers? And what is the test? + Where will it be found? Is its beauty revealed + In the fragrance or deep in the blossom concealed? + Or hid in some magic power that I never + Can possibly find if I search forever? + So may there be virtue in many a spear + Whose steel is rusty and out of gear; + So too may a harp that no longer sings + But hangs forgotten in the halls of mirth, + Hide in its forsaken and dusty strings + The strangest magic on earth. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0026" id="link2H_4_0026"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + SCENE X + </h2> + <p> + [OLAF LILJEKRANS. ALFHILD from the back of the stage. She is fantastically + dressed and adorned with flowers and garlands of leaves; she looks about + anxiously until she discovers OLAF and runs joyfully to meet him.] + </p> + <p> + ALFHILD. O, stay, stay! Do not go away from me! + </p> + <p> + OLAF. [As if suddenly awakened to life.] Alfhild! my young and beautiful + bride! + </p> + <p> + ALFHILD. Olaf! my handsome knight! I grew tired of waiting; I had to come + here to meet you! + </p> + <p> + OLAF. But tell me, why are you always afraid to come here? + </p> + <p> + ALFHILD. I have so often told you that I never went beyond this valley + until you visited me. My father has said that evil powers hold sway out + there; only here among the mountains could I fare safely and without harm! + O, let whatever power will hold sway; you are here, and that is enough for + me! Come, let me look into your eyes! Truly, I have you again! + </p> + <p> + OLAF. Have me! Alas, Alfhild! You artful, you beautiful woman, indeed you + have me again! My soul you have charmed so deeply, so deeply. Lead me + whither and as far as you will, into the mountain, under the hill, to the + grassy meadow, where song and refrain echo sweetly in the evening, on the + bottom of the river, down under the rapids, where there are harps for + powerful plaintive lays; wherever your home is, there I am ready to + wander! + </p> + <p> + ALFHILD. Why speak you thus? You must surely know better than what you are + saying.—Spirits and elves hold sway in mountain and hillock, and on + the bottom of the river lives the nixie,—so father has said. Think + you that I am an elf or— + </p> + <p> + OLAF. You are the fairest in the world; be you what you please, so long as + you are mine! + </p> + <p> + ALFHILD. Were I an elfen maid, then truly, say I, it would fare with you + ill! + </p> + <p> + OLAF. Me! + </p> + <p> + ALFHILD. Yes, you! When you rode on your lonely path, I should go out to + meet you and give you the drink of forgetfulness from the golden horn. I + should mix therein my magic and charm so that you would forget both heaven + and earth, forget where you were born and reared, what name you answered + to, and where your kinsmen fared,—one thing alone should you + remember, one thing alone should fill your mind and soul. + </p> + <p> + OLAF. Forsooth, then are you the elfen maid! For from the first hour you + have practiced your magic on me. + </p> + <p> + ALFHILD. Have I? + </p> + <p> + OLAF. Through the meadow I rode, below where the river runs,—it was + night and the songs and the plaintive lays echoed strangely around me.... + </p> + <p> + OLAF. Bewildered I grew and lost my path; I wandered far, far in among the + mountains; I discovered the beautiful valley, where no foot has trod, + where no eye has feasted ere mine.... + </p> + <p> + OLAF. A heavy slumber fell upon me in there; the elf maidens played in the + meantime, and they drew me into their play.... + </p> + <p> + OLAF. But when I awoke, there was affliction in my soul; homeward I rode, + but down there I could no more be content; it seemed as if I had left + behind me the richest and best in life, as if a wonderful treasure were + held in store for me, if only I sought and found it.... + </p> + <p> + OLAF. Up to the valley I had to go before I could find peace.... + </p> + <p> + OLAF. You came to meet me, fair and glowing as in this hour; I seized your + hand, I looked you in the eye—heaven and earth, the beauty of all + creation, was in your eye!.... + </p> + <p> + OLAF. Then I forgot both kinsmen and friends!.... + </p> + <p> + OLAF. I came there the next night, I embraced you, I pressed you to my + bosom,—the glory of heaven was in your embrace.... + </p> + <p> + OLAF. —Then I forgot my Christian name and my forefathers' home.... + </p> + <p> + OLAF. And I came the third night; I had to come; I kissed your red lips; + my eyes burned their way into your soul.—More than the glory of + creation was therein! I forgot more than God and home, more than heaven + and earth. I forgot myself. + </p> + <p> + [Prostrates himself before her.] + </p> + <p> + OLAF. Alfhild! Alfhild! + </p> + <p> + ALFHILD. If it be a drink of forgetfulness which you speak of, then have I + also charmed myself with it. I have fared as the minstrel who learned the + nixie's songs in order to charm his sweetheart;—he charmed and + charmed so long that at length the magic wove itself round his own soul + too, and he could never win himself free therefrom. + </p> + <p> + [Stops and continues standing thoughtfully.] + </p> + <p> + OLAF. [As he rises.] What are you brooding over? + </p> + <p> + ALFHILD. High in the mountain there is a rocky ledge so steep that not + even the eagle can fasten his claws thereon; there stands a lonely birch,—ill + does it thrive, it is poor in leaves; but downward it bends its branches + to the valley which lies far away; it is as though it longed for its + sisters in the fresh and luxuriant grove, as though it yearned to be + transplanted in the warm sunny life down below.... + </p> + <p> + ALFHILD. Like the birch in the mountain was also my life; I longed to get + away; I longed for you through the long, long years, even before I knew + you existed. The valley became too cramped for me, but I did not know that + beyond the mountains there was another valley like this one in here. The + knights and the ladies that visited me every evening were not enough for + me, and they told me nothing of the life beyond! + </p> + <p> + OLAF. Knights and ladies? You told me you never met any one there. + </p> + <p> + ALFHILD. No one like you! But every evening my father sang songs to me, + and when the night came and my eyes were closed, they came to visit me, + all those that live in my father's songs. Merry knights and beautiful + ladies there were among them; they came with falcons on their hands, + riding on stately steeds. They danced in the field, and laughter and + merriment reechoed wherever they fared; the elves listened silently from + behind each flower and the birds from the trees where they had fallen + asleep. But with the coming of dawn they again disappeared; lonely I + wandered; I decked myself with flowers and with green leaves, for I knew + the next night they would come again. Alas, that life was after all not + sufficient for me; a mighty longing rilled my bosom; it would never have + been stilled if you had not come! + </p> + <p> + OLAF. You speak of your father; at no time did I see him in there! + </p> + <p> + ALFHILD. But seldom he comes now; he has never been there since the night + we first met. + </p> + <p> + OLAF. But tell me, where is he? + </p> + <p> + ALFHILD. You have told me you rode late one summer night in the meadow + where the river flows; there you heard strange songs which you only half + understood, but which haunt and haunt you so that you will never forget + them. + </p> + <p> + OLAF. Yes, yes! + </p> + <p> + ALFHILD. You once heard my father's songs! It is on them that I have been + nourished. In truth, neither have I fully understood them; they seemed to + me to be the most precious treasure, to be life itself; now they mean + little to me; they are to me but a token of all the glory that was to + come. In all of them was there a handsome knight; I imagined him to be the + best and most glorious thing in all the valleys, the best and most + glorious as far as bird can fly, as far as clouds can sail. Olaf! it was + you,—I know you again! Oh, you must tell me of your home, of the + distant valley whence you come; life out there must be rich and glorious; + there it must be that my birds all fly with the falling of the leaves; for + when they again come to visit me, they have so much to tell that is + strange, so many a marvel to sing about, that all the flowers begin to bud + and to blossom, the trees to grow green, and the big and glorious sun to + rise early and go tardily to rest, in order to listen to all the stories + and songs. But little grasp I of all that they tell; you must interpret it + for me, you must make everything clear that inwardly craves an answer. + </p> + <p> + OLAF. Little am I able to answer what you ask of my home. My home? If I + have had a home other than this, then I remember but little about it. It + is all to me like a misty dream which is forgotten in the hour we waken. + Yet, come! far below us there lies a village; there it seems I remember I + wandered before I saw you; there it seems to me that my kinsmen live. Do + you hear how the river conjures and rushes; let us follow it; out on the + ledge near the waterfall we can overlook the village where I—once + had my home. Come, come! + </p> + <p> + ALFHILD. But dare I— + </p> + <p> + OLAF. Follow and trust me, I shall protect you! + </p> + <p> + ALFHILD. I am ready; I know it well enough; whether I wished to or not, I + must follow you wherever you go. + </p> + <p> + [They go out to the right.] + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +CHORUS OF WEDDING GUESTS AND LADY. KIRSTEN'S PEOPLE + (From the forest to the left.) + Awake to our call, come free your will + From elves that hover around! +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0027" id="link2H_4_0027"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + SCENE XI + </h2> + <h3> + [LADY KIRSTEN and HEMMING enter from the left.] + </h3> + <p> + HEMMING. Here he was;—why—now he is gone! + </p> + <p> + LADY KIRSTEN. And he said he was waiting for the bride who was to come? + </p> + <p> + HEMMING. Yes, but whom he had in mind I could not quite make out; for his + speech was strangely incoherent. Ingeborg he did not mean,—that is + certain. + </p> + <p> + LADY KIRSTEN. Say nothing, good Hemming! say nothing of what he just said! + You did well to let me alone know he was here. You shall be richly + rewarded for this, but first we must find him again— + </p> + <p> + HEMMING. [As he looks out to the right.] See,—see there, in the + moonlight, on the hill near the river,—yes, surely I think— + </p> + <p> + LADY KIRSTEN. Hush, hush, it is Olaf! + </p> + <p> + HEMMING. There are two; a woman is with him— + </p> + <p> + LADY KIRSTEN. Heavenly saints! + </p> + <p> + HEMMING. He is pointing out the village as if—there they go! + </p> + <p> + LADY KIRSTEN. Call Lord Arne and our people! We will meet again here; I + bring Olaf with me! + </p> + <p> + HEMMING. But dare you then—? + </p> + <p> + LADY KIRSTEN. Do as I say; but say nothing of what you have heard and + seen. You can say that Olaf came up here to hunt deer and bear, and that + he went astray in the mountain. + </p> + <p> + HEMMING. You can rely on me, Lady Kirsten! + </p> + <p> + [Goes out to the left.] + </p> + <p> + LADY KIRSTEN. Is it true, then? Have evil sprites gained control over him? + Yes, so I can pretend to Arne of Guldvik, but little I believe it myself;—and + yet it is said it happened often enough in the days gone by. But it is + elfen maids no doubt of flesh and blood that—. There he goes down to + the river,—I must hasten! + </p> + <p> + [Goes out to the right in the background.] + </p> + <p> + CHORUS. [From the forest to the left.] + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + With ringing of bells we hurry along, + We wander in field and in dell! + O Christian, come, give heed to our song, + Wake up from your magic spell! +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0028" id="link2H_4_0028"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + SCENE XII + </h2> + <p> + [OLAF and ALFHILD come in from the right in the background. Later LADY + KIRSTEN.] + </p> + <h3> + ALFHILD. + </h3> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + O, you must tell me still more of the world! + Your words to my soul are refreshing indeed; + It seems as if here in the wonders you tell + My innermost longings you read!.... + + Did you ne'er on a summer night sit by a tarn, + So deep that no one could fathom it quite, + And see in the water the stars so bright, + Those knowing eyes that express with their flickering light + Much more than a thousand tongues could possibly say? + + I often sat thus; I sought with my hands to capture + The sparkling riddles below in the deep— + I snatched after them, I would see them close, + Then they grew blurred like eyes that weep,— + It is idle to search and to seek— + + So too in my soul there was many a riddle + I yearned to solve in the days that are gone! + They tricked me as did all the stars in the deep, + Grew stranger and stranger the more I brooded thereon! +</pre> + <h3> + OLAF. + </h3> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Am I not to myself a mysterious riddle? + Am I Olaf Liljekrans, the nobly born, + The knight so proud, who vaunted his race, + Who laughed the singing of birds to scorn! + And yet, from my heart I tear what I was! + Happy I am,—and that can I understand— + Your prophecy failed,—I should happiness find, + When the fairest of flowers I had found in the land. + Ah! happiness here I have found! +</pre> + <p> + ALFHILD. I prophesied nothing. But—tell me more of the life that is + yonder! + </p> + <h3> + OLAF. + </h3> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + The life that is yonder may go its own way; + Here is my home; with you will I wander, + My lovely wife! Alfhild, behold! + Is it not as if here in the mountainous fold + Were built for us two a bower so fair! + The snowdrops in splendor stand garbed everywhere; + In here there is feasting, there is joy, there is mirth, + More real than any I have found on this earth! + The song rings out from the river so deep; + It is that which makes me both laugh and weep! + The song of magic, the mysterious lay, + Has made me so free, so happy and gay! +</pre> + <p> + [Seizes her passionately in his arms.] + </p> + <h3> + OLAF. + </h3> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Farewell to the village below I say! + 'Tis here that my bridal-bed I shall prepare; + Farewell to the world forever and ay,— + For here I shall hold my beautiful bride! +</pre> + <p> + ALFHILD. [Moves away apprehensively.] Olaf! + </p> + <p> + OLAF. [Stops suddenly, as if seized with a vague and painful remembrance.] + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + My bride! What is it I say! + Tell me—when first—I happened this way— + Can you still remember the very first night? + What was it I sought?—No longer I know! + Did I come to fetch you—to—the village below? + Did I come the wedding guests to invite? +</pre> + <p> + ALFHILD. What mean you? Wedding? I can't understand—? + </p> + <h3> + OLAF. + </h3> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Our betrothal at Guldvik was held, you remember! + For three weeks thereafter our wedding was planned— + But it seems to me that,—no, my brow like an ember + Burns hot! I will try no more to remember! +</pre> + <p> + CHORUS. [Softly and far in the forest.] + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Olaf Liljekrans! Olaf Liljekrans! + Why sleep you so deep and so long? +</pre> + <p> + ALFHILD. Hush, Olaf! do you hear? + </p> + <p> + OLAF. Did you hear it too? + </p> + <p> + ALFHILD. What was it? + </p> + <h3> + OLAF. + </h3> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + A memory of long ago, + Which often comes back when I wander with you! + 'Tis evil,—it calls from the village below. +</pre> + <p> + LADY KIRSTEN. [Aside, as she enters from the rear of the stage unobserved + by the others.] Ah, there! He speaks; could I understand—! + </p> + <p> + [Approaches listening.] + </p> + <p> + OLAF. [With increasing vehemence.] + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Yes, yes, I come; not alone will I ride! + For ladies and knights shall heed my command, + And come hither with song to greet my bride! + For you shall be saddled my swiftest steed, + The poet and minstrel shall ride in the lead, + Thereafter shall follow the steward and priest, + The people shall all be bid to the feast! + Pages so courtly shall guide your steed, + And beautiful flowers be strewn at your feet, + The peasant shall bow to the ground like a weed, + His wife shall curtsy to you as is meet! + The church bell shall ring to the countryside: + Now rides Olaf Liljekrans home with his bride! +</pre> + <p> + CHORUS OF WEDDING GUESTS. [Animated, yet softly, in the forest to the + left.] + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Now hasten we all + To the wedding hall! + The foal runneth light and gay! + The hoofs resound + On the grassy ground, + As the merry swains gallop away! +</pre> + <p> + LADY KIRSTEN. [Aside during the chorus.] Heaven he praised then! Hemming + has told—! + </p> + <p> + ALFHILD. [Jubilant.] + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + They come, they come, their voices I hear! + How sweetly it sounds! O Olaf, behold! +</pre> + <p> + LADY KIRSTEN. Olaf, my son! + </p> + <p> + [Rushes to him unobserved by ALFHILD, who continues to look out to the + left.] + </p> + <p> + OLAF. God help me! What's here! My mother! + </p> + <h3> + LADY KIRSTEN. + </h3> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + My poor unfortunate son! + Now are you saved from the evil one! + There comes Lord Arne with Ingeborg, your wife! +</pre> + <p> + OLAF. [With a cry and as if suddenly awakening.] + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Ingeborg!—With that have you shattered my life! + My happiness then was not what it seemed! + Alas, that you had to inform me of this! +</pre> + <p> + OLAF. [In despair.] + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Dear mother! a beautiful dream I have dreamed; + You waken me now,—there's an end to my bliss! +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0029" id="link2H_4_0029"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + SCENE XIII + </h2> + <p> + [The Preceding. ARNE, INGEBORG, HEMMING, WEDDING GUESTS, and LADY KIRSTEN + from the left.] + </p> + <p> + ARNE. Good luck, Lady Kirsten, to you! You have found him again, I am + told. + </p> + <p> + LADY KIRSTEN. Of course I have found him.—And now for home! + </p> + <p> + ARNE. [To OLAF.] And no harm has been done you? + </p> + <p> + OLAF. [Absent-minded.] Me! What do you mean? + </p> + <p> + LADY KIRSTEN. [Interrupting.] Of course not, Lord Arne! He went astray on + the hunt and— + </p> + <p> + INGEBORG. [Pointing to ALFHILD.] But this young woman—? + </p> + <p> + LADY KIRSTEN. A poor child! She has given him lodging and shelter. + </p> + <p> + ARNE. But there is no one who lives up here. + </p> + <p> + LADY KIRSTEN. Yet a stray one here and there! There is many a solitary + family still dwells among the mountains since the time of the plague. + </p> + <p> + ARNE. Then come, come! The horses are waiting below on the hill. + </p> + <p> + OLAF. [Painfully, as he glances at ALFHILD.] O mother! I cannot! + </p> + <p> + LADY KIRSTEN. [Softly and resolute.] You must! It will be your eternal + shame if you— + </p> + <p> + ARNE. What does he mean? + </p> + <p> + LADY KIRSTEN. He is sick and tired as yet, but it will pass off. Come! + </p> + <p> + LADY KIRSTEN. [With a significant look at OLAF.] The young woman comes + too! + </p> + <p> + INGEBORG. You mean that she—! + </p> + <p> + LADY KIRSTEN. Faithfully has she nursed him; it is only fitting that she + be rewarded. + </p> + <p> + ARNE. And tomorrow the wedding is held! + </p> + <p> + LADY KIRSTEN. Tomorrow,—that I solemnly swear! + </p> + <p> + ARNE. I have your word! + </p> + <p> + HEMMING. [Softly and triumphant, as he brings forth the ring.] And I have + Ingeborg's golden ring! + </p> + <p> + INGEBORG. [Takes the ring from him and says carelessly.] My ring! Aha,—so + you have my ring, Hemming! Thanks, I shall now take care of it myself! + </p> + <p> + [HEMMING stands a moment dumfounded and then follows very slowly the rest, + who all except ALFHILD go out to the left.] + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0030" id="link2H_4_0030"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + SCENE XIV + </h2> + <p> + [ALFHILD. Shortly afterwards THORGJERD from the background.] + </p> + <h3> + ALFHILD. + </h3> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + (Has observed in silent and childlike amazement + the preceding scene without however heeding the + action; when they are gone she suddenly comes to + herself as from a dream.) + + They are gone! Can I trust my eyes;—is it true? + Yes, here in the moonlight they stood in full view! + There I see them again down the mountain side, + And I must go with them, for I am the bride! + + [Starts as if to rush out to the left.] +</pre> + <p> + THORGJERD. [In the background.] + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Alfhild! my child! And how come you here? + I have told you before— +</pre> + <h3> + ALFHILD. + </h3> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + O my father dear! + Now must I be free—as free as the wind, + No longer can I in the hills be confined! +</pre> + <p> + THORGJERD. [Comes nearer.] What has befallen you? + </p> + <p> + ALFHILD. [In ecstasy.] Now is he come! + </p> + <p> + THORGJERD. But who? + </p> + <h3> + ALFHILD. + </h3> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + The fair knight! He will carry me home! + Now first do I grasp all the restless desire, + That long has been smouldering in me like fire! + We often have sat, as the river rushed by, + While you sang of the princess enthralled in the hill! + The princess, my father! the princess am I; + But he, the fair knight, bent the troll to his will!— + And now I am free to do what I may; + I will hence into life and its motley affray! + His words were like song! I am free as the wind; + No power can stay me or hold me behind! +</pre> + <h3> + THORGJERD. + </h3> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Poor child! You would down to the village below; + It will cost you your happiness; stay, do not go! +</pre> + <h3> + ALFHILD. + </h3> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + But, father, I must! Your sweetest lays + Will seem to me now like a misty haze! +</pre> + <h3> + THORGJERD. + </h3> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Then go, my Alfhild! and dream while you may, + Your father will guard you alway! + But look you take care of the crafty young swains + With words so cunning and free! +</pre> + <h3> + ALFHILD. + </h3> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Away in the distant and sunny domains,— + Where Olaf is, there must I be! + There stands his castle with golden hall! + From the ballads you sang his face I recall; + The king's son is he, the knight who can ride, + And I, the poor Alfhild,—I am his bride! + Poor, did I say,—no, the princess on high, + O, more than the princess,—his sweetheart am I! +</pre> + <p> + [The wedding chorus is heard far down the mountain side.] + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + ALFHILD. Listen, he calls with his trumpet and horn! + Farewell now, forest and flower and thorn! + Farewell, my valley; you have cramped me too long, + The whole world is calling with laughter and song! + Tomorrow attired in gold I shall ride + Away to the church as Olaf's bride! + We shall sit on the throne of honor within— + Ah, now shall my life in its fulness begin! +</pre> + <p> + [She rushes out to the left. THORGJERD gazes after her thoughtfully. The + chorus dies away in the distance as the curtain falls.] + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0031" id="link2H_4_0031"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + SECOND ACT + </h2> + <p> + [The enclosure on Lady Kirsten's estate. To the right is seen the main + building with an opening in the gable; neither windows nor doors are + visible. Further towards the back of the stage on the same side a small + log church and a churchyard. On the left side a storehouse and other + out-buildings. On both sides in the foreground simple benches of stone. It + is afternoon.] + </p> + <h3> + SCENE I + </h3> + <p> + [LADY KIRSTEN. Servants and Maids occupied with preparations for the + wedding.] + </p> + <p> + LADY KIRSTEN. Let there be no lack of food or drink. + </p> + <p> + LADY KIRSTEN. [To herself.] Hard have I labored and struggled to bring + things to this point; but now I shall give a feast that shall be heralded + far and wide. + </p> + <p> + LADY KIRSTEN. [To the servants.] Be sure to see that on the banquet table—yet + no, I shall attend to that myself. The wine shall be poured into the + silver flagons; the large drinking horns shall be filled with the Italian + cider; the ale is for the servants only, and likewise the homebrewed mead;—and + listen, be sure to see that there are enough yellow candles in the church; + the bridal party are not to go to the altar until late in the evening, and + with red lights shall they be escorted on their way from the banquet hall + to the church. Go now, all of you, and see that you remember, every one of + you, the things I have told you. + </p> + <p> + [The people go.] + </p> + <p> + LADY KIRSTEN. God knows this wedding is costing me more than I well can + bear; but Ingeborg brings with her a good dowry and besides—Oh, + well, Arne I shall no doubt be able to manage and rule as I see fit, if he + is first— + </p> + <p> + [Looks out to the right.] + </p> + <p> + LADY KIRSTEN. There comes Olaf! If only I knew that he— + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0032" id="link2H_4_0032"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + SCENE II + </h2> + <p> + [LADY KIRSTEN. OLAF comes from the house in festive garb; he is pale and + thoughtful.] + </p> + <p> + OLAF. [To himself.] Yesterday and today! There is but a midsummer night + between the two, and yet it seems to me that both autumn and winter have + overtaken my soul since the time I wandered up there on the mountain side—with + her, with Alfhild! + </p> + <p> + OLAF. [Notices Lady Kirsten.] Alas, my dear mother, are you there? + </p> + <p> + LADY KIRSTEN. Quite so, my son! I like to see you dressed in gold and in + silk. Now one can see by your dress who it is that is bridegroom tonight. + I see you have rested. + </p> + <p> + OLAF. I have slept, but little have I rested; for all the while I was + dreaming. + </p> + <p> + LADY KIRSTEN. A bridegroom must dream,—that is an ancient custom. + </p> + <p> + OLAF. My fairest dream is ended; let us not think any longer about that. + </p> + <p> + LADY KIRSTEN. [Changing the subject.] We shall have a merry time today, I + think. + </p> + <p> + OLAF. It does not appear that heaven is pleased with my wedding day. + </p> + <p> + LADY KIRSTEN. How so? + </p> + <p> + OLAF. There are indications of a storm. Do you see how heavily the clouds + are gathering in the west? + </p> + <p> + LADY KIRSTEN. The brighter the festive candles will shine when you go to + the church tonight. + </p> + <p> + OLAF. [Paces back and forth a few times; at length he stops before his + mother and says.] If I had married a poor man's daughter, without family + or wealth,—tell me, mother, what would you have done? + </p> + <p> + LADY KIRSTEN. [Looks at him sharply.] Why do you ask? + </p> + <p> + OLAF. Answer me first. What would you have done? + </p> + <p> + LADY KIRSTEN. Cursed you and gone to my grave in sorrow!—But tell + me, why do you ask? + </p> + <p> + OLAF. Ah, it was only a jest; I little thought of doing so. + </p> + <p> + LADY KIRSTEN. That I can believe; for you have always held your family in + high honor. But be merry and gay; tomorrow Ingeborg will sit in there as + your wife, and then you will find both peace and happiness. + </p> + <p> + OLAF. Peace and happiness. One thing there is lacking. + </p> + <p> + LADY KIRSTEN. What do you mean? + </p> + <p> + OLAF. The fairest of flowers which I was to pick asunder and scatter far + to the winds. + </p> + <p> + LADY KIRSTEN. The silly dream;—think no longer about it. + </p> + <p> + OLAF. Perhaps it would be best for me if I could forget. + </p> + <p> + LADY KIRSTEN. In the ladies' room your betrothed sits with all her maids; + little have you talked with her today. Do you not want to go in? + </p> + <p> + OLAF. [In thought.] Yes, yes! Where is she? + </p> + <p> + LADY KIRSTEN. In the ladies' room, as I said. + </p> + <p> + OLAF. [Lively.] Nothing shall be lacking to her from this day. Shoes with + silver buckles I shall give her; she shall wear brooches and rings. The + withered twigs shall be put away; I shall give her a golden necklace to + wear. + </p> + <p> + LADY KIRSTEN. Of whom do you speak? + </p> + <p> + OLAF. Of Alfhild! + </p> + <p> + LADY KIRSTEN. I was speaking of Ingeborg, your betrothed. Olaf! Olaf! You + make me anxious and worried,—so strange are you. I could really + almost believe that she had bewitched you. + </p> + <p> + OLAF. That she has! Yes, forsooth, mother, I have been bewitched. I have + been in the elf maidens' play; happy and gay I was as long as it lasted, + but now—. Through long, long years I shall be weighed down with woe + as often as I call it to mind. + </p> + <p> + LADY KIRSTEN. If she were a witch, the stake would surely be hers; but she + is a crafty and wily woman who has lured you on with her fair speech. + </p> + <p> + OLAF. She is pure as the mother of God herself! + </p> + <p> + LADY KIRSTEN. Yes, yes, but beware! Remember, whatever she is, tomorrow + you are wed; it would be both sin and shame to you if you longer took + notice of her. + </p> + <p> + OLAF. I realize it, mother, full well! + </p> + <p> + LADY KIRSTEN. And Ingeborg, whom you have betrothed and who loves you, + yes, Olaf! loves you with all her heart—the punishment of heaven + would be visited on you, in case you— + </p> + <p> + OLAF. True, true! + </p> + <p> + LADY KIRSTEN. I will not speak of our own circumstances; but you can + easily see that Arne's daughter can help us greatly in one thing or + another; our affairs have been going from bad to worse, and if the harvest + should fail this year I should not in the least be surprised if we had to + take up the beggar's staff. + </p> + <p> + OLAF. Yes, I know it. + </p> + <p> + LADY KIRSTEN. With Arne's money we can mend everything; an honorable place + you will win for yourself among the king's men. Think this carefully over; + if you have promised Alfhild more than you can fulfil—and I seem to + notice in her something like that in spite of her quiet demeanor—why, + speak with her about it. Tell her,—well, tell her anything you + please; empty-handed she shall not go away from here,—that you can + freely promise. See, here she comes! Olaf, my son! think of your betrothed + and your noble race, think of your old mother who would have to go to her + grave in shame, in case—be a man, Olaf! Now I go in to look after + the banqueting table. + </p> + <p> + [Goes into the house.] + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0033" id="link2H_4_0033"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + SCENE III + </h2> + <h3> + [OLAF alone.] + </h3> + <p> + OLAF. [Gazes out to the right.] + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + As merry she is as the youthful roe, + As it plays with no thought of the morrow; + But soon will she wring her small hands in woe, + And suffer in anguish and sorrow! + Soon must I destroy the faith in her heart, + And waken her out of her dreams. + And then—yes, then we forever must part. + Poor Alfhild! So bitter your fate to me seems! +</pre> + <p> + OLAF. [Brooding.] + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + What cared I for honor, what cared I for power, + What mattered my race when I wandered with you! + It seemed in your eyes was reflected a flower, + More precious than any the world ever knew! + Forgotten I had both struggle and strife, + But since I again came home to this life, + Since at table I sat in my father's hall, + Since I went to answer my mother's call— +</pre> + <p> + OLAF. [Abruptly.] + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + 'Tis true from a noble race I am born, + And Alfhild lives up in the mountains forlorn. + In her I should find but a constant sorrow. + I must tell her—yet, no, I can't let her know! + Yet truly—I must—I must ere the morrow, + She must hear what to me is the bitterest woe! +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0034" id="link2H_4_0034"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + SCENE IV + </h2> + <h3> + [OLAF. ALFHILD from the church.] + </h3> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + ALFHILD. [Runs eagerly to meet him.] + Olaf! Olaf! You have led me to the land + Where I walk amid flowers, where before I trod on sand. + In truth you have here so pleasant an isle, + O here I can live without worry or guile! + So much I would question, so little I know, + The riddles must you explain as we go.— + Is it green here always in summer and spring? + + OLAF. Alfhild! + + ALFHILD. Your answer delay! + You see yon house with its spire and wing? + There went I this morning to play; + Without there was joy, there was laughter and mirth; + Within it was still as nowhere on earth. + I stepped through the door, I saw a great hall, + Within was a peace that was fair; + A dawn softly breaking pervaded it all, + And people were kneeling in prayer. + But high from above them a virgin looked down, + She sailed upon clouds of white, + Her head shone forth like a crimson crown, + Like heaven when dawns the light. + Calm was her face, a blue dress she wore, + A beautiful elf in her arms she bore, + And round about her played angels of love, + That laughed when they saw me below in the door + From their place in the heavens above! + + OLAF. [Aside.] Alas! I have wrought so woeful a play, + Soon will her sorrow begin! + + ALFHILD. O, tell me, Olaf! what people are they + Who live in the house I was in? + + OLAF. Each one who like you is good and kind, + Each one who is child-like in spirit and mind. + 'Tis the church, God's house,—it belongs to him. + + ALFHILD. The mighty father! 'Tis only your whim! + His house is high over the stars in the sky, + Where the white swan sails undefiled, + So high 'tis beyond any mortal eye + Save that of the dreaming child!— + The church that you spoke of! So then it is there + We shall ride in festal procession, + As bridegroom and bride! + + OLAF. [Aside.] No longer I dare + Delay my wretched confession! + + ALFHILD. Ah, each of your words has burned like a coal, + And deep its mark it has left on my soul! + My bosom is filled with joy and with song; + Wherever I wander in field or at home, + They shine on my path, they light me along,— + Like stars at night in the heavenly dome! + You said the whole world would be asked to the feast, + And foremost should ride the minstrel and priest, + Knights should go forward and guide my steed, + And roses should blossom on every side, + Each lily we met should bow like a weed, + The flowers should curtsy before the bride! + + OLAF. Have I said— + + ALFHILD. Olaf, you surely recall! + All things have followed your every desire; + The lindens stand yonder so green and so tall; + The roses are decked in their festive attire + And dance like elves at an elfen ball. + Never did heaven's illumining eye + So radiantly shine as here from the sky; + Never before sang the birds so sweet! + They sing the bride and the bridegroom to greet!— + O, you—you make me so happy and blessed, + Both heaven and earth could I hold to my breast! + Nowhere can so humble a weed be found + Which under my feet I could crush and destroy, + Nowhere a creature so deep in the ground, + But I would share in its sorrow and joy! + My bosom is filled with the glory of spring; + It surges and roars like a wood in a storm! + + OLAF. [Aside.] And soon this youthful and lovely form + Shall writhe beneath sorrow's tormenting sting! + + ALFHILD. O, glorious life! + + [She kneels with upstretched arms.] + + ALFHILD. O father of love, + In the distant heaven! Had I but the power, + The tongues of the angels above, + Thy praise I should sing every hour; + I cannot, for I am of little worth, + I can only bow down before you to the earth— + O thanks, thou unspeakable! Glory and praise + For all I can here understand of thy ways! + + [She rises.] + + ALFHILD. Yes, lovely is life in its every breath, + As lovely almost as the journey to death! + + OLAF. In the grave you think it is pleasant to lie? + + ALFHILD. I know not your meaning, but I brooded long. + And asked of my father "What means it to die?" + In answer thereto he sang me a song: + + "When the child of man is weighted with grief + And longs to be rocked to rest, + Then comes there an elf with wings of white + And frees its spirit oppressed. + + "The little elf with his wings of white + Makes ready a downy bed, + Of lilies he weaves the linen sheets + And pillows of roses red. + + "Away on the pillows he carries the child, + He carries it safe on his arm, + He takes it to heaven aloft on a cloud + Away from all earthly harm. + + "And cherubs there are in the heaven above + (I tell what is true to you); + They strew the pillows of rosy red + With pearls of white and of blue. + + "Then wakens the little earthly child, + It wakens to heavenly mirth,— + But all that happiness, all that joy + There's no one that knows here on earth." + + OLAF. 'Twere better, alas! had you never come here, + Had you lived in the mountain your peaceful life. + Your joy like a weed will wither and sear, + Your faith will be killed— + + ALFHILD. But as Olaf's wife + I am strong as the torrent and have no fear! + With you by my side let happen what may, + With you I will laugh and suffer and languish. + + ALFHILD. [Listening.] Hush, Olaf! You hear that mournful lay, + It sounds like a song of the bitterest anguish! + + CHORUS OF PALLBEARERS. [Softly outside to the right.] + The little child we carry + With sorrow to the grave, + Beneath the mould we bury + What soon the worms will crave. + + Hard is this lot and dreary: + With mournful dirge and sigh + To carry sad and weary + The child where it shall lie! + + ALFHILD. [Uncertain and anxious.] + What is it, Olaf? What is it, I say? + + OLAF. A child that death is bearing away, + A mother and children weep on the way. + + ALFHILD. Death! Then where are the pillows of red, + The lily-white linen, and where is the dead? + + OLAF. I see no pillows of red or of gray, + But only the dark black boards of the bier; + And thereon the dead sleeps on shavings and hay. + + ALFHILD. On shavings and hay? + + OLAF. That is all there is here! + + ALFHILD. And where is the elf who bears on his arm + The child far away from all earthly harm? + + OLAF. I see but a mother whose heart will break, + And little children who follow the wake. + + ALFHILD. And where are the pearls of blue and of white, + That the angels strew in the heaven of light? + + OLAF. I see only this,—they weep many a tear + As they stand at the side of the bier. + + ALFHILD. And where is the home, the house of God, + Where the dead dream only of mirth? + + OLAF. Behold! Now they place him beneath the sod + And cover him over with earth. + + ALFHILD. [Quiet and thoughtful, after a pause.] + Not so was death in the song—not so. + + OLAF. 'Tis true; but no such joy and pleasure + Has any one felt here below.— + Have you never heard of the mountain king's treasure, + Which night after night like gold would glow; + But if you would seize the gold in your hand, + You nothing would find save gravel and sand; + And listen, Alfhild! it often is true + That life turns out in the selfsame way; + Approach not too near, it may happen to you, + That you burn your fingers some day. + 'Tis true it may shine like a heavenly star, + But only when seen from afar. + + [He becomes aware of Lady Kirsten off the stage to the right.] + + OLAF. My mother—she'll tell you—I shall depart. + The angels above send their peace to your heart! +</pre> + <p> + [He goes towards the house but is stopped by LADY KIRSTEN.—The sky + becomes overcast with dark clouds; the wind begins to howl in the + tree-tops.—ALFHILD stands absorbed in deep thought.] + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0035" id="link2H_4_0035"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + SCENE V + </h2> + <h3> + [The Preceding. LADY KIRSTEN.] + </h3> + <p> + LADY KIRSTEN. [Softly.] Not so, my son, you have told her—? + </p> + <p> + OLAF. All I was able to say I have said. Now you tell her the rest, and + then, mother, let me never, never see her again. + </p> + <p> + [He casts a glance at ALFHILD and goes out past the house.] + </p> + <p> + LADY KIRSTEN. That folly will soon be burned out of his soul, if— + </p> + <p> + LADY KIRSTEN. [As if she suddenly has an idea.] But in case I—Ah, if + that could succeed, then would he be cured,—that I can promise. But + Alfhild—? Well, nevertheless, it must be attempted. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +ALFHILD. [To herself.] + So then there is here too anguish and woe; + Well, so let it be; I shall never despair. + The sorrow of earth I never need know, + Still Olaf is good and fair! +</pre> + <p> + LADY KIRSTEN. [Approaches.] It seems to me that gloomy thoughts are + weighing upon your mind. + </p> + <p> + ALFHILD. Yes, yes, the result of things I have recently heard. + </p> + <p> + LADY KIRSTEN. From Olaf? + </p> + <p> + ALFHILD. Certainly from Olaf; he has told me— + </p> + <p> + LADY KIRSTEN. I know, Alfhild. I know what he has said. + </p> + <p> + LADY KIRSTEN. [Aside.] He has mentioned to her his wedding, I see. + </p> + <p> + LADY KIRSTEN. [Aloud.] This very night it is to be held. + </p> + <p> + ALFHILD. What is to be held? + </p> + <p> + LADY KIRSTEN. The wedding! + </p> + <p> + ALFHILD. [Eagerly.] Oh, yes, that I know! + </p> + <p> + LADY KIRSTEN. You know it and do not take it more to your heart than this? + </p> + <p> + ALFHILD. No. Why should I take it to heart? + </p> + <p> + LADY KIRSTEN. [Aside.] There is something she is meditating,—I see + that clearly. + </p> + <p> + LADY KIRSTEN. [Aloud.] Well, so much the better for all of us. But tell + me, when the wedding is over, what then will you do? + </p> + <p> + ALFHILD. I? I have little thought of that. + </p> + <p> + LADY KIRSTEN. I mean, have you in mind to remain here or to go home? + </p> + <p> + ALFHILD. [Looks at her, surprised.] I have in mind to remain! + </p> + <p> + LADY KIRSTEN. [Aside.] There we have it; she thinks to hold him in her + wiles even after he is wed. Well, we shall see about that. + </p> + <p> + LADY KIRSTEN. [Aloud.] Alfhild! I wish you every possible good, and if you + dared rely on my— + </p> + <p> + ALFHILD. Yes, that I certainly dare! + </p> + <p> + LADY KIRSTEN. Well and good; then you will let me take upon myself your + happiness. I shall take charge of you as best I know how, and if you but + give me your word you shall this very night go to the church as a bride. + </p> + <p> + ALFHILD. Yes, I know that. + </p> + <p> + LADY KIRSTEN. [Surprised.] You know that! Who has told you? + </p> + <p> + ALFHILD. Olaf himself said so. + </p> + <p> + LADY KIRSTEN. [Aside.] Has Olaf—? Yes, forsooth, he has had the same + idea that I had, to marry her off in order to be rid of her. Or perhaps in + order to—well, no matter,—when she is finally married, when + Olaf on his side is a married man, then— + </p> + <p> + LADY KIRSTEN. [Aloud.] Well and good, Alfhild! If Olaf has told you our + intention for you, then it is not necessary for me to—But do you now + hasten, go in there in the store house; there you will find my own wedding + gown; that you shall wear! + </p> + <p> + ALFHILD. [With childlike joy.] Shall I! Your own wedding gown! + </p> + <p> + LADY KIRSTEN. Do as I say. Go in there and dress yourself as splendidly as + you please. + </p> + <p> + ALFHILD. And do I also get a bridal crown? + </p> + <p> + LADY KIRSTEN. Certainly! A bridal crown and silver rings and golden + bracelet. You will find plenty of them in the coffers and chests. + </p> + <p> + ALFHILD. Silver rings and golden bracelets! + </p> + <p> + LADY KIRSTEN. Go, go, and hurry as fast as you can. + </p> + <p> + ALFHILD. O, I shall not be long about it. + </p> + <p> + [Claps her hands.] + </p> + <p> + ALFHILD. I shall have silver rings and golden bracelets! + </p> + <p> + [She runs out to the left.] + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0036" id="link2H_4_0036"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + SCENE VI + </h2> + <h3> + [LADY KIRSTEN alone.] + </h3> + <p> + LADY KIRSTEN. The evil and cursed woman! Happy and gay she is though she + knows that Olaf is to wed another. But that very fact will serve me well; + it will go easier than I had thought. She looks as innocent as a child, + and yet she can agree to take him as a husband whom I first pick out for + her. And I who thought that she truly loved Olaf! If he is still ignorant + of her real spirit, he shall soon learn. He shall know her to the core, he + shall know how she has bewitched and lured him, and then, well, then she + is no longer dangerous. + </p> + <p> + LADY KIRSTEN. [Smiling.] Well, well! Olaf thought of the same way of + saving himself that I did; so good-natured I had never imagined him.—But + where shall we find the man who is willing to—well, she is pretty, + and I shall not mind a little silver and even a bit of land. Has Olaf + already spoken to some one? That is hardly thinkable!—Well, then I + shall see to that. I have servants enough on the estate and— + </p> + <p> + [Looks out to the right.] + </p> + <p> + LADY KIRSTEN. Hemming! what if I should try him! But he saw them together + in the mountain yesterday; he must surely know there is something between + the two. But none the less—he is a humble serving-man, and poor + besides, and weak of mind—we shall see, we shall see! + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0037" id="link2H_4_0037"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + SCENE VII + </h2> + <h3> + [LADY KIRSTEN. HEMMING from the right.] + </h3> + <p> + HEMMING. [To himself.] Nowhere is Ingeborg to be found; she will bring me + to my grave,—that is certain. Yesterday she was gracious to me; she + gave me her ring; but then she took it away from me again; and today she + will not so much as look at me as I pass. + </p> + <p> + LADY KIRSTEN. [Slowly, as she approaches.] A little cautious I must be. + </p> + <p> + LADY KIRSTEN. [Aloud.] Ah, Hemming, is it you? You prefer to wander alone, + I see; you keep yourself away from the servants and maids; when I see such + things I realize very well that you do so not without reason. + </p> + <p> + HEMMING. Why, my noble lady! what should— + </p> + <p> + LADY KIRSTEN. Yes, Hemming! there is something that you keep all to + yourself as you go about; you are not very cheerful! + </p> + <p> + HEMMING. [Disconcerted.] Not cheerful? I? + </p> + <p> + LADY KIRSTEN. [Smiling.] There is here today a young and beautiful girl + whom you fancy very much. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + HEMMING. All saints! +</pre> + <p> + LADY KIRSTEN. And she in turn has a fancy for you. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + HEMMING. Me—Whom? I do not know whom you mean. +</pre> + <p> + LADY KIRSTEN. Come, Hemming, do not speak so; before me you need not feel + ashamed. Yes, yes, I see clearly, I tell you. + </p> + <p> + HEMMING. [Aside.] Heaven! she must have noticed by Ingeborg's manner that— + </p> + <p> + LADY KIRSTEN. I have seen that the wedding is but little joy to you. The + trip to the church you care little about, since you would yourself like to + go as a groom, yet cannot see your way clear. + </p> + <p> + HEMMING. [In the greatest agitation.] Alas, Lady Kirsten! my noble, august + lady! be not offended! + </p> + <p> + LADY KIRSTEN. [Surprised.] I? And why should I be offended? + </p> + <p> + HEMMING. [Continuing.] I have struggled and fought against this unhappy + love as long as I have been able, and I honestly believe she has done the + same. + </p> + <p> + LADY KIRSTEN. She? Has she then told you that she cares for you? + </p> + <p> + HEMMING. Yes, almost! + </p> + <p> + LADY KIRSTEN. Well and good; then you talked about it together? + </p> + <p> + HEMMING. Yes,—but only once, only one single time, I swear. + </p> + <p> + LADY KIRSTEN. Once or ten times, it is all the same to me. + </p> + <p> + LADY KIRSTEN. [Aside.] Then they are already agreed; it was certainly a + stroke of luck that I came upon Hemming; now I am not at all surprised + that Alfhild was so willing to go to the altar. + </p> + <p> + LADY KIRSTEN. [Aloud.] Hemming! I am much indebted to you for finding my + son again and for otherwise being of help to me; now I shall make + requital,—I shall to the limit of my power stand by you in the + matter we just spoke of. + </p> + <p> + HEMMING. [Overcome with joy.] You! You will! Lady Kirsten! Alas, great God + and holy saints! I hardly dare believe it. + </p> + <p> + LADY KIRSTEN. [Stops.] But Lord Olaf, your son! What do you think he will + say? + </p> + <p> + LADY KIRSTEN. He will not interpose any objection,—I shall see to + that. + </p> + <p> + HEMMING. [Unsuspecting.] Yes, truly, it would be best for him too, for I + know she cares little for him. + </p> + <p> + LADY KIRSTEN. [Smiling.] That I have noticed, Hemming! + </p> + <p> + HEMMING. Have you! Well, you are so clever, Lady Kirsten! And I who + thought that I was the only one who had noticed it. + </p> + <p> + HEMMING. [Doubtfully.] Do you think that Lord Arne will give his consent? + </p> + <p> + LADY KIRSTEN. Your master? I shall know how to talk him into it,—that + will not be so difficult. + </p> + <p> + HEMMING. You think so? Alas, but I am so poor a man. + </p> + <p> + LADY KIRSTEN. I shall remedy that all right, in case Lord Arne is not + prepared to do so. + </p> + <p> + HEMMING. Thanks, thanks, Lady Kirsten! Heaven reward you for your + kindness! + </p> + <p> + LADY KIRSTEN. But you will keep this that we have been speaking of to + yourself. + </p> + <p> + HEMMING. That I promise. + </p> + <p> + LADY KIRSTEN. Then hold yourself in readiness; the guests will assemble + out here in a little while now, and do you be on hand. + </p> + <p> + [She goes over to the door of the store house and looks for ALFHILD.] + </p> + <p> + HEMMING. [To himself.] No, this is to me like a strange illusive dream. + Ingeborg and I,—we are to belong to each other! Ah, can it be true? + So high I never dared let my thoughts ascend;—it seemed to me in the + morning that I had been guilty of the greatest presumption if during the + night I had dreamed about it.—Hm! I know very well of course that it + is not for my sake that Lady Kirsten goes to all this trouble. She has + something up her sleeve; she thinks it necessary to break the agreement + with Lord Arne, and now that she has noticed that Ingeborg cares for me + she will use that as an excuse. Well, I have so often given my master + warning, but he will never believe me. + </p> + <p> + ARNE. [Calls outside to the left.] Hemming! Hemming! + </p> + <p> + LADY KIRSTEN. [Comes forward.] Your master calls! Go now! After a while I + shall speak to him; he will agree. Believe me, he shall follow his page to + the church in the same hour that he leads his daughter thither. + </p> + <p> + HEMMING. Thanks, thanks, Lady Kirsten! Truly, you confer a blessing on us + all. + </p> + <p> + [He goes out to the left.] + </p> + <p> + LADY KIRSTEN. [To herself.] So young she is and yet so cunning; she has + been coquetting with Hemming all the while she made my son believe that—Well + and good, he shall soon learn to know her arts. But first I must see Lord + Arne; he thinks highly of Hemming and would reluctantly part with him; it + seemed too that Hemming feared that something like that might stand in the + way; but they can easily remain as they are even if Hemming marries.—Hemming + sees more clearly in the affair than I had expected. What will Olaf say, + he asked; he has evidently noticed that my son still thinks of Alfhild. + Well, let him; if he takes her he will say nothing, and when Alfhild is + married,—I know Olaf; he has always wanted to stand in high honor + among the men of the village, and for that reason he will certainly—yes, + yes, it must, it shall succeed. + </p> + <p> + [She goes out to the right.] + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0038" id="link2H_4_0038"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + SCENE VIII + </h2> + <p> + [HEMMING comes from the left with a bowl of ale hidden under his coat. + ARNE follows him cautiously, looking about.] + </p> + <p> + ARNE. Is there anyone? + </p> + <p> + HEMMING. No, come along, master. + </p> + <p> + ARNE. But it seemed to me I heard Lady Kirsten. + </p> + <p> + HEMMING. She is gone now, come along! + </p> + <p> + ARNE. [Sits down on the bench to the left.] Hemming! it is well that the + wedding is to be held tonight. Tomorrow I go home; yes, that I will. Not a + day longer will I remain in Lady Kirsten's house. + </p> + <p> + HEMMING. Why, master! is there enmity again between you? + </p> + <p> + ARNE. Is it not enough, do you think, that she and all her superior + relatives look down on me; at supper they laughed and jested among + themselves because I could not bring myself to eat of all those ungodly, + outlandish dishes. And what was it that we got to drink? Sweet wine and + cider that will stay in my stomach for eight days. No, the good old + homebrewed ale for me. + </p> + <p> + [Drinks and adds softly and bitterly.] + </p> + <p> + ARNE. Of this I had sent the wretched woman three full barrels. And what + has she done? Thrown it to her servants, and here I must steal myself a + drink,—yes, Hemming! steal myself a drink of my own ale, that they + may not revile me as a coarse peasant, who doesn't understand the more + refined drinks. + </p> + <p> + HEMMING. Well, master! I gave you warning. + </p> + <p> + ARNE. Ah—gave me warning! You are stupid, Hemming! You think I + haven't noticed it myself; but wait, just wait! + </p> + <p> + ARNE. [Flaring up.] To place my good nourishing ale before the house + servants, as though it were not worthy to be put on the table of a lord.— + </p> + <p> + HEMMING. Yes, Lady Kirsten treats you ill, that is certain. + </p> + <p> + ARNE. [Hands him the bowl.] Come, sit down and drink! + </p> + <p> + ARNE. [HEMMING sits down.] Listen, Hemming! I could wish we were home + again. + </p> + <p> + HEMMING. Well, I have no fancy for this festive home. + </p> + <p> + ARNE. No, my old room at Guldvik for me;—when we sat there of an + evening and played chess with the ale jug between us— + </p> + <p> + HEMMING. The while Mistress Ingeborg sat at the loom and embroidered roses + and all sorts of flowers in the linen— + </p> + <p> + ARNE. And sang all the time so merrily that it seemed to me that I became + young and active again. Yes, Hemming! when the wedding is over, we shall + go back and live our old ways again. + </p> + <p> + HEMMING. But then there will be no one who works the loom and sings merry + lays the while. + </p> + <p> + ARNE. No, that is true enough; Ingeborg will then be gone. It will be a + little hard on me; she is wild and self-willed, but I shall miss her + nevertheless,—miss her greatly. + </p> + <p> + ARNE. [Considers.] Now and then I suppose I could visit her here—But + no, that I will not! Here they laugh at me, they whisper behind my back,—I + see it well enough. + </p> + <p> + HEMMING. But in case you wished, it could still be changed. + </p> + <p> + ARNE. Changed! You are stupid, Hemming! Always you talk about changing. + </p> + <p> + ARNE. [Hands him the bowl.] Come, drink, it will do you good. Changed; no, + no, it shall never be changed! It was evil spirits who put into my head + the idea of marrying into Lady Kirsten's family. But now it is done; the + superior kinsmen will have to behave as they please, but my own relatives + and friends shall not laugh at me,—if I have given my word, I shall + keep it too. + </p> + <p> + ARNE. [Disheartened.] If I only knew that Olaf would be kind to her; I + shall ask him to—. + </p> + <p> + ARNE. [Vehemently.] He <i>shall</i> be kind, else I shall come and beat + him with my old fists. + </p> + <p> + HEMMING. Yes, it is well that you keep your eye on her, for Olaf cares + little for her, I do believe. + </p> + <p> + ARNE. So, you think so? + </p> + <p> + HEMMING. Do you remember Alfhild, the poor girl, who yesterday followed us + down from the mountain? + </p> + <p> + ARNE. Indeed I do. She is pretty! + </p> + <p> + HEMMING. [Rises.] So thinks Olaf, too. + </p> + <p> + ARNE. What does that mean? + </p> + <p> + HEMMING. Olaf loves her! 'Tis many a time he visited her up there;—what + Lady Kirsten has told you, you must never believe. + </p> + <p> + ARNE. And what you blab about I believe still less. You are provoked with + Ingeborg because at times she makes fun of you, and therefore you begrudge + her this attractive marriage; yes, yes, I know you too well. + </p> + <p> + HEMMING. Why, master! you could believe that— + </p> + <p> + ARNE. Make me believe that Olaf Liljekrans loves that beggar woman! A + noble, high-born lord such as he! It is almost as if one were to say that + Ingeborg, my daughter, had a fancy for you. + </p> + <p> + HEMMING. [Embarrassed.] For me—how could you ever imagine— + </p> + <p> + ARNE. No, I don't imagine! But the one is as unreasonable as the other. + Come, drink! and don't talk any more such nonsense. + </p> + <p> + ARNE. [Rises.] There is Lady Kirsten with the guests. What's going to + happen now? + </p> + <p> + HEMMING. They are all to assemble out here; they will then follow the + bride and bridegroom to the banquet-table and thence to the church. + </p> + <p> + ARNE. Aye, what a cursed custom! To the church at night! Is then marriage + a work of darkness? + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0039" id="link2H_4_0039"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + SCENE IX + </h2> + <p> + [The Preceding. LADY KIRSTEN, OLAF, INGEBORG, GUESTS, and SERVANTS and + MAIDS enter gradually from the several sides.] + </p> + <p> + LADY KIRSTEN. [To herself.] I have not seen Olaf alone; but when I think + it over, it is probably best that he know nothing about it until it is all + over. + </p> + <p> + LADY KIRSTEN. [Softly, to HEMMING, who has been whispering with INGEBORG.] + Well, Hemming! How do you think your master is disposed? + </p> + <p> + HEMMING. Alas, Lady Kirsten! I have but little hope unless you lend your + aid. + </p> + <p> + LADY KIRSTEN. Aye, we'll manage it all right. + </p> + <p> + [She mingles with the GUESTS.] + </p> + <p> + INGEBORG. [Softly, to HEMMING.] What do you mean? What blessed hope is it + you are speaking of? + </p> + <p> + HEMMING. Alas, I hardly dare believe it myself; but Lady Kirsten means + well by us. She will soon show you that— + </p> + <p> + INGEBORG. Hush! they are approaching. + </p> + <p> + OLAF. [In an undertone.] Tell me, mother! how goes it with her? + </p> + <p> + LADY KIRSTEN. Well enough, as I knew before. + </p> + <p> + OLAF. Then she knows how to comfort herself? + </p> + <p> + LADY KIRSTEN. [Smiling.] It seems so. Only wait! This very evening you + shall know for certain. + </p> + <p> + OLAF. What do you mean? + </p> + <p> + LADY KIRSTEN. I mean that she is a sly witch. All her fair words have been + deceitful wiles. + </p> + <p> + OLAF. No, no, mother! + </p> + <p> + LADY KIRSTEN. That we shall see! Alfhild is happy and gay,—so much I + know. + </p> + <p> + OLAF. It were well for me if she were! + </p> + <p> + LADY KIRSTEN. [Loudly and clearly.] Lord Arne of Guldvik! Now is the hour + come at length which we have all, I imagine, been looking forward to. + </p> + <p> + HEMMING. [Aside.] Now it begins! + </p> + <p> + LADY KIRSTEN. Soon will the church bestow its blessing on our children and + unite them in a long and loving union. + </p> + <p> + HEMMING. [Aside, startled.] What now? + </p> + <p> + LADY KIRSTEN. The terms we have already agreed upon. But I suggest that we + here once again seal them with hand and word. + </p> + <p> + HEMMING. [As before.] Heaven and earth! Is she trying to deceive me? + </p> + <p> + ARNE. That is not necessary; I stand by my word like an honorable man. + </p> + <p> + LADY KIRSTEN. That I well know, Lord Arne! but it will take but a moment. + First of all, there shall be an end for all time to every quarrel and + dispute between our families,—and as for the damages and injuries + which our old disagreements have caused on either side, no one shall + demand compensation for them; each must manage them as best he knows how. + We promise that, do we not? + </p> + <p> + ARNE. That we promise! + </p> + <p> + [General shaking of hands among the relatives of the bridal couple.] + </p> + <p> + HEMMING. [Softly.] Curses upon you; you lied to me shamefully! + </p> + <p> + LADY KIRSTEN. Then we mention again, what we are already agreed upon, that + the boundary line between Lord Arne's domains and mine shall be moved as + far in upon his land as good and impartial men may judge to be fitting and + just. + </p> + <p> + ARNE. Yes, yes, I suppose it must be so! + </p> + <p> + LADY KIRSTEN. That we promise, then? + </p> + <p> + THE GUESTS. That we promise! + </p> + <p> + [Shaking of hands as before.] + </p> + <p> + LADY KIRSTEN. Finally, Lord Arne shall give in the form of a dowry to his + daughter as much silver, linen, and other furnishings as were named and + agreed upon at the betrothal feast, all of which shall here be placed in + my home from the day Mistress Ingeborg moves herein as my son's lawful + wife, which is tonight. On that we are agreed? + </p> + <p> + THE GUESTS. That we solemnly promise! + </p> + <p> + [Shaking of hands.] + </p> + <p> + LADY KIRSTEN. Then let the bride and bridegroom clasp hands and go to the + banquet-table and thence to the church. + </p> + <p> + ARNE. [Aside.] Ah, Hemming can now see whether Lady Kirsten deceives me. + </p> + <p> + HEMMING. [Softly.] O, then it is all over for me; a fool I was to depend + on her. + </p> + <p> + LADY KIRSTEN. But on this joyful day it is fitting that we make as many as + possible happy. And therefore I have a request to make, Lord Arne! + </p> + <p> + ARNE. Speak forth! If I can I shall gladly comply. + </p> + <p> + HEMMING. [Aside.] What does she purpose now? + </p> + <p> + LADY KIRSTEN. There is still a young couple who would like to go to the + altar this evening; from what I hear, they are agreed between themselves. + The bride I shall take care of, but the bridegroom you must assist; it is + Hemming, your page, and Alfhild! + </p> + <p> + INGEBORG. [With a cry.] Hemming! + </p> + <p> + OLAF. [Likewise.] Alfhild! + </p> + <p> + HEMMING. O, woe is me! Now I understand— + </p> + <p> + THE GUESTS. [At the same time.] Hemming and Alfhild! The mountain girl! + </p> + <p> + [Laughter and whispering.] + </p> + <p> + OLAF. Alfhild! You will marry her off to—No, no, it shall not be! + Never, never! + </p> + <p> + LADY KIRSTEN. Be still!—Olaf, my son; be still, I beg you! + </p> + <p> + ARNE. [To himself.] What's this! Yes, truly, then Hemming was right; there + is something between Olaf and Alfhild. + </p> + <p> + ARNE. [Whispering.] Aye, Lady Kirsten! I see your scheme. Now I know why + Olaf wandered three days in the mountain, and now you intend to make use + of Hemming to be rid of her. Ha, ha! + </p> + <p> + LADY KIRSTEN. [With forced composure.] Lord Arne! how can you believe such + a thing? + </p> + <p> + ARNE. [In a low tone.] O, I see clearly! Now I should think I had very + good reason to break the agreement. + </p> + <p> + LADY KIRSTEN. [Softly and frightened.] Break the agreement! I beg of you! + Will you put us all to shame? + </p> + <p> + [They talk together softly.] + </p> + <p> + HEMMING. [To INGEBORG, with whom he has in the meantime been whispering.] + That is all there is to it, I swear. Lady Kirsten and I have not + understood each other. + </p> + <p> + INGEBORG. Well, then decline! You shall! I command you. + </p> + <p> + HEMMING. No, no! I dare not; she will then see that it was you I was + thinking of. + </p> + <p> + INGEBORG. Good; then I shall. + </p> + <p> + INGEBORG. [Aloud.] Hemming shall not go to the altar with Alfhild;—he + is too good to marry another man's darling! + </p> + <p> + OLAF. [With a cry.] For shame! + </p> + <p> + THE GUESTS. Darling! + </p> + <p> + ARNE. [To INGEBORG.] What are you saying? + </p> + <p> + LADY KIRSTEN. Heaven protect us! + </p> + <p> + OLAF. Cursed be my soul! She is put to shame! + </p> + <p> + INGEBORG. Yes, loudly I proclaim it: she is another man's darling. Let him + gainsay it who dares. + </p> + <p> + ARNE. Ingeborg! + </p> + <p> + ARNE. [Aside.] What is the matter with her? + </p> + <p> + LADY KIRSTEN. [Softly.] So that's the way it is! She then,—she it is + who cares for Hemming! + </p> + <p> + LADY KIRSTEN. [Softly and clearly, to ARNE.] Do you now intend to break + the agreement? You can now see for yourself from your daughter's conduct + what reason I had to get Hemming married! + </p> + <p> + ARNE. [Disconcerted.] My daughter! Could you imagine that she— + </p> + <p> + LADY KIRSTEN. You need not pretend! Ingeborg has a fancy for your + house-carl; now I should think I had good reason to break our agreement. + </p> + <p> + ARNE. Break, break—! What are you thinking of! To bring on me such + disgrace! + </p> + <p> + LADY KIRSTEN. [Mocking.] Yes,—otherwise you would do it! + </p> + <p> + ARNE. [Quickly.] No, no, I have reconsidered; it is best we both keep + still! + </p> + <p> + LADY KIRSTEN. [To herself.] See, now have I won! I know Olaf; a woman so + scorned will never tempt him! + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0040" id="link2H_4_0040"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + SCENE X + </h2> + <p> + [The Preceding. ALFHILD comes unnoticed out of the storehouse in + glittering bridal dress with a crown on her head and her hair flowing.] + </p> + <p> + ARNE. [Aside.] This has been a cursed day for me! O, he is a cunning dog, + this Hemming! He knew that Ingeborg had a fancy for him; it was therefore + so galling to him that Olaf should have her. + </p> + <p> + LADY KIRSTEN. [Who has in the meantime regained her composure.] And now to + the festive hall! Hemming we can think of later.—Olaf, take your + bride by the hand! + </p> + <p> + ARNE. [Reluctantly, as he sees INGEBORG whisper to HEMMING.] Where is the + bride? Come, come! + </p> + <p> + ALFHILD AND INGEBORG. [At the same time, as they each seize one of OLAF's + hands.] Here I am! + </p> + <p> + THE GUESTS. How,—she takes Olaf? + </p> + <p> + [General amazement.] + </p> + <p> + LADY KIRSTEN. [Aside.] So far has he gone, then! + </p> + <p> + LADY KIRSTEN. [Aloud, to ALFHILD.] You are mistaken! That is not your + bridegroom! + </p> + <p> + ALFHILD. Why, certainly, it is Olaf! + </p> + <p> + INGEBORG. [Lets go his hand.] If then he has promised her—! + </p> + <p> + LADY KIRSTEN. [In great agitation.] Olaf is not your bridegroom, I say! + Tell her it yourself, my son! + </p> + <p> + [OLAF is silent. LADY KIRSTEN's Kinsmen look at each other embarrassed. + ARNE's Relatives draw nearer, angry and threatening.] + </p> + <p> + LADY KIRSTEN. [With raised voice.] Olaf Liljekrans! Answer loudly and + clearly! You owe it to yourself and to us. + </p> + <p> + OLAF. [In despair, struggling with himself.] Let it be as you wish then, + mother! Yes, by all the saints! I shall answer. Alfhild! you are mistaken! + I am not your bridegroom. + </p> + <p> + OLAF. [Pointing to INGEBORG.] There—there stands my bride! + </p> + <p> + ALFHILD. [Withdraws a step or two dumfounded and stares at him.] She—your— + </p> + <p> + OLAF. [With rising irritation.] Alfhild! go hence! Go, go, far into the + mountain again; 'twill be best for you. I was sick and bewildered in mind + when I wandered up there! What I have told you I little remember! I do not + know and I do not want to know! Do you hear,—I do not want to!—The + golden crown you can keep! Keep all, both the silver and gold, that you + there stand dressed in. More,—yea, tenfold more you shall have.—Well! + why do you stare at me so? + </p> + <p> + [ALFHILD takes off the crown and the other adornments and places them at + OLAF's feet as she continues uninterruptedly to stare at him.] + </p> + <p> + OLAF. Perhaps I pretended to you that you were to be my bride tonight, + perhaps you believed me! Perhaps you thought that Olaf Liljekrans would + marry a—a—what was it you called her? + </p> + <p> + OLAF. [Stamps with his foot.] Do not stare at me so, I say! I know you + well enough; you have bewitched me. I forgot my family; I forgot my bride, + my betrothed, she who stands there. + </p> + <p> + OLAF. [Seizes ALFHILD violently by the arm.] Look at her, Alfhild! Aha, it + is she that I love! + </p> + <p> + [ALFHILD sinks down on her knees and covers her face with her hands.] + </p> + <p> + OLAF. Rise, Alfhild! rise, I say! If you dare to grieve in this way, I + shall kill you!—Why are you not happy? Be merry and wild as I am!—And + the rest of you! Why do you stand so silently, looking at one another? + Laugh,—laugh loudly, so that it may echo around!—Alfhild! Why + don't you answer? Have I not told you enough! Aha! Then add, you others, a + word to what I have said! Come, say something, you too; Lady Kirsten would + like it! Laugh at her, mock her, trample her under your feet! + </p> + <p> + OLAF. [With ringing laughter.] Ha, ha, ha! She is Olaf's darling! + </p> + <p> + [ALFHILD sinks down to the ground in such a way that she rests prostrate + against the stone bench at the left. A flash of lightning illuminates the + scene and the thunder rolls; during the following to the close of the act + the darkness and the storm increase.] + </p> + <p> + OLAF. See, see! That I like; now do the powers above join in! Right now + will I ride to the church with my bride! Come, Mistress Ingeborg! But + first will we drink,—yes, drink, drink! Bring here the beaker and + horn,—not in there—! Light the candles in the church! Let the + organ resound; prepare for a dance—not mournful psalms—fie, + fie, no, a dance! + </p> + <p> + [Thunder and lightning.] + </p> + <p> + OLAF. Ah, it is rumored in heaven that Olaf Liljekrans is celebrating his + wedding! + </p> + <p> + [Rushes out to the right.] + </p> + <p> + ARNE. Christ save me! his reason is gone! + </p> + <p> + LADY KIRSTEN. Ah, have no fear; it will soon pass,—I know him. + </p> + <p> + [Draws ARNE aside with her.] + </p> + <p> + ARNE. [Gently threatening HEMMING in passing.] O, Hemming, Hemming! You + are a sly dog! + </p> + <p> + [The GUESTS go quietly and gloomily out to the right; the SERVANTS to the + left.] + </p> + <p> + INGEBORG. [Detains HEMMING.] Hemming! I will not go to church with Olaf + Liljekrans! + </p> + <p> + HEMMING. Alas, what will prevent it? + </p> + <p> + INGEBORG. If it comes to that, I shall say no,—no before the very + altar itself, in the presence of all! + </p> + <p> + HEMMING. Ingeborg! + </p> + <p> + INGEBORG. Hold my horse saddled and ready! + </p> + <p> + HEMMING. What! You will—! + </p> + <p> + INGEBORG. I will! Now I know for the first time how dear you are to me,—now + when I stand in danger of losing you. Go,—do as I say, and let me + know when it is time. + </p> + <p> + [She goes out to the right.] + </p> + <p> + HEMMING. Yes, now am I strong; now I dare venture whatever it be! + </p> + <p> + [He goes out to the left.] + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0041" id="link2H_4_0041"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + SCENE XI + </h2> + <p> + [ALFHILD. Later HEMMING, INGEBORG, and others at various times.] + </p> + <p> + ALFHILD. [Remains lying motionless for a long time with her face concealed + in her hands. At length she half raises herself, looks about bewildered, + rises, and speaks with quiet broken laughter.] + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + One falcon the heavens with plenty may bless, + Another must suffer great want and distress! + One bird wears a coat of feathers so gay, + Another must live contented with gray! + I have known that tears are a balm to the soul, + When the world is nothing but gall; + But now I have suffered such sorrow and dole, + I could laugh myself dead at the thought of it all! +</pre> + <p> + [It is now quite dark. The windows of the church are being lighted up. + ALFHILD goes over to the house and listens while the following song is + heard faintly within.] + </p> + <h3> + CHORUS OF WEDDING GUESTS. + </h3> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Hail to the bridegroom and hail to the bride! + There's feasting and joy everywhere. + Lord Olaf, all hail! a knight who can ride, + And Ingeborg a lady so fair! +</pre> + <p> + HEMMING. [Steals in from the left during the song.] The horse stands + saddled and ready! Now a secret sign to Ingeborg and then away! + </p> + <p> + [He goes out to the right to the rear of the house.] + </p> + <h3> + ALFHILD. + </h3> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + His health from the silvery cup they drink, + The bride sits proudly enthroned at his side; + The candles of wax on the altar now wink, + Soon out to the church they will ride! + Within at the banquet sit host and guest + And laugh as they bandy the merry jest! + But here I must wander alone in the night, + Alas, they have all forsaken me quite! + Olaf! The storm is rending my hair! + The rain beats against me wherever I fare! + Olaf, Olaf! Can you see me thus languish + Beneath this unspeakable torture and anguish? +</pre> + <p> + [She laughs.] + </p> + <h3> + ALFHILD. + </h3> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + But rain or storm is a trifling thing, + 'Tis as nothing beside the poignant sting + I suffer within my breast.— + My home and my father and all the rest + I left for Olaf, the friend I loved best! + He swore to me then I should be his bride! + And I came—God's love I felt in my soul; + But he drove me away, he thrust me aside; + So loudly he laughed when I writhed in dole! + While they banquet within, like a dog I must stay + Out here in the storm. Hence,—hence I will go! +</pre> + <p> + [Starts to go, but stops.] + </p> + <h3> + ALFHILD. + </h3> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + But I have not the power, I cannot go away; + Here must I stay and suffer my woe! + 'Tis little the flowers out there in the wood + Can tear themselves up from the ground! + And Olaf, whether he be false or good,— + About him my roots I have wound. +</pre> + <p> + [Pause.—The HOUSE SERVANTS come with torches from the left.] + </p> + <p> + ALFHILD. [As if seized by an uneasy presentiment.] Whither do you go? + Whither, whither? What is going to happen? + </p> + <p> + A SERVANT. Why, see, see! It is Alfhild; she is still here! + </p> + <p> + ALFHILD. O, tell me this! What is going to happen,—why all these + preparations? + </p> + <p> + THE SERVANT. The wedding! Wouldn't you care to see it? + </p> + <p> + ALFHILD. [In feverish anxiety.] The wedding! O, no, no! Put it off, only + till tomorrow! If the wedding is held, then is everything over with me, I + well know! + </p> + <p> + THE SERVANT. Postpone it! No, Alfhild! 'Tis not, I'm afraid, the wish of + bridegroom or bride! + </p> + <p> + ANOTHER. Think for a moment! Were you yourself but the bride, you surely + would not want to wait. + </p> + <p> + [Laughter.] + </p> + <p> + THE FIRST SERVANT. Now we go down to the gate at the church to light the + way with red bridal lights when the procession starts from the house. + </p> + <p> + THE SECOND SERVANT. Come along with us, Alfhild! You shall also have a + torch to carry! + </p> + <p> + SEVERAL. Yes, yes, you must come! It is Lord Olaf's day of glory! + </p> + <p> + [Laughter.] + </p> + <p> + ALFHILD. [Takes one of the torches.] Yes, yes, I will! As the most humble + in the row I shall stand down there, and then, when he sees me, when I ask + of him, when I remind him of everything he has promised and sworn,—O, + tell me, tell me, do you not think that he will be kind to me again? Do + you think so? O, tell me you do! Say that you think so! + </p> + <p> + THE SERVANTS. Aha,—for certain he will; now come! + </p> + <p> + [They go out to the right to the rear of the house.] + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + ALFHILD. [Bursts into tears.] + They mock at me, laugh at me,—one and all! + So harsh is not even the mountain wall; + The moss thereon is permitted to grow; + There's no one so kind to me here! I—I must go! + + [Thunder and lightning.] + + ALFHILD. Ah, heaven itself is angry and grim, + It pours out its wrath on my wretched head; + But flash there is none to annihilate him + Who craftily tricked me in all that he said! + + [The tones of the organ are heard from within the church.] + + ALFHILD. O, listen! I hear God's angel choir! + 'Tis Olaf to the altar they call! + And I must stand here in my ragged attire + And suffer outside the church-hall! + + [She swings the torch high in the air.] + + ALFHILD. No, no, that I will not, thou all-highest God! + O, tempt me no longer, forswear thee I may! + + [She is silent and listens to the organ music.] + + ALFHILD. God's angels are singing! From under the sod + The dead they were able to carol away! + O, my bosom is bursting with woe! + + [She kneels and faces the church.] + + ALFHILD. Cease, cease your melodies tender and sweet! + O, cease your singing; be kind, I entreat! + Or Olaf to the altar will go! + + [Whispering and in the greatest apprehension.] + + ALFHILD. Be still! O, be still! For a little while yet! + He is lulled in a sleep that will make him forget! + O, waken him not, else straight he will hie + To the church—and then, alas, I must die! + + [The organ grows louder through the storm. ALFHILD springs up, + beside herself with despair.] + + The angels of God have forsaken me quite! + They mock at my anguish and woe! + They conjure him forth;—he is now in their might! + Ah, if here in the dark, dark night I must go, + Your bridal chamber at least shall be light! + + [She throws the torch in through the opening in the gable and + falls down on the ground.—INGEBORG and HEMMING come hurriedly + from behind the house.] + + HEMMING. Now it is time. The horse stands saddled behind the + store house. +</pre> + <p> + INGEBORG. And all the servants are down at the church, are they not? + </p> + <p> + HEMMING. Aye, rest you assured; and in the banquet house I have barred + every shutter and door with heavy iron rings; no one can get out! + </p> + <p> + INGEBORG. Away, then! Up to the valley which Alfhild has told of! + </p> + <p> + HEMMING. Yes, up there! There no one will seek us! + </p> + <p> + [They rush out to the left.—ALFHILD continues to lie motionless for + some time. Suddenly cries and commotion are hear in the bridal house; the + flames break out through the roof.] + </p> + <p> + ALFHILD. [Jumps up in despair.] + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + It burns!—Aha,—I remember! 'T was here + Too dark for my soul—it filled me with fear! + Olaf, before it was you who smiled, + Now it is Alfhild, so gay and so wild!— + In the bridal house there is anguish and gloom, + The bride is burning on the arm of the groom! +</pre> + <p> + [The HOUSE SERVANTS rush in one by one without torches and stand as if + turned to stone. OLAF comes into view up in the opening, which he seeks to + widen with desperate efforts.] + </p> + <h3> + OLAF. + </h3> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Alfhild! 'Tis you! So might I have known! + If only from out of this danger you save me, + 'T is silver and gold you shall hereafter own! +</pre> + <p> + ALFHILD. [With wild laughter.] + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Too well I remember the promise you gave me! + Now ride to the church with minstrel and priest! + Now hold your wedding,—forget all the rest! + Alfhild has honored you as she knew best,— + The torch she has swung at your bridal feast! +</pre> + <p> + [She rushes out at the back. The SERVANTS hasten to lend their help; a + part of the roof falls in; OLAF is seen high amidst the flames as the + curtain falls.] + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0042" id="link2H_4_0042"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + THIRD ACT + </h2> + <p> + [A sunny valley, rich in flowers, trees, and vegetation of all kinds, and + surrounded by lofty snow-capped mountains. In the center of the background + a quiet mountain tarn; on the left side a rocky cliff which drops straight + down to the water. On the same side nearer the front of the stage a very + old log hut, almost entirely hidden in the dense shrubbery. The glow of + dawn shines over the mountains; in the valley itself the day is only half + begun; during the following scene's the sun rises.] + </p> + <h3> + SCENE I + </h3> + <p> + [ALFHILD lies sleeping and half concealed among the bushes beside the hut; + soft music indicates her shifting dreams. OLAF comes down the hillside to + the right. Over his wedding clothes he wears a coarse cloak.] + </p> + <p> + OLAF. Here it was; I know the green there this side of the tarn. It was + yonder beneath the linden tree that I dreamed my strange dream. On the + slope of the mountain there I stood when Alfhild for the first time came + to meet me; I placed my betrothal ring on the string of my bow and shot;—that + shot has proved a magic shot; it struck the huntsman himself. + </p> + <p> + OLAF. It is strange that when I wander up here, far from the village + below, it seems as if another atmosphere played around me, as if a more + vigorous blood flowed in my veins, as if I had another mind, another soul. + </p> + <p> + OLAF. Where is she now? + </p> + <p> + OLAF. I shall,—I will find her again! Up here she must come; she has + no home out there in the cold wide world. And I—am I not also a + homeless fugitive? Did I not become a stranger in my mother's house, a + stranger among my kinsmen, the very first hour I met her? + </p> + <p> + OLAF. Is she then a witch,—has she power over secret arts as—? + </p> + <p> + OLAF. My mother! Hm! It seems to me it would scarcely be well for me to + allow her to manage my life; she insinuates thoughts into my heart which + do not belong there. No, no, I will find Alfhild again and ask forgiveness + for the wrong I have done, and then— + </p> + <p> + [He stops and looks out to the left.] + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0043" id="link2H_4_0043"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + SCENE II + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +OLAF. (Alfhild still sleeping. Thorgjerd comes from + behind the hut on the left.) +</pre> + <p> + OLAF. Well met, stranger! + </p> + <p> + THORGJERD. Thanks, the same to you. You are early about! + </p> + <p> + OLAF. Or late; early in the morning, but late in the night. + </p> + <p> + THORGJERD. You belong in the village below, I take it. + </p> + <p> + OLAF. My family lives there. And you? + </p> + <p> + THORGJERD. Wherever the mind is at rest, there is one at home; that is why + I like best to wander in here;—my neighbors shall not do me any + injustice. + </p> + <p> + OLAF. That I have noticed. + </p> + <p> + THORGJERD. Then you have been here before? + </p> + <p> + OLAF. I chased a hind this summer in here; but when I look closely I see + 'tis a royal child that has been bewitched. + </p> + <p> + THORGJERD. [Looks at him sharply.] That hunt is dangerous! + </p> + <p> + OLAF. For the hunter? + </p> + <p> + [THORGJERD nods.] + </p> + <p> + OLAF. I was sitting and thinking the same thing myself; it seems to me + that I was bewitched on that hunt. + </p> + <p> + THORGJERD. Farewell and good luck to you! + </p> + <p> + OLAF. Out upon you! If you wish a huntsman good luck he will never come + within shot of the prey. + </p> + <p> + THORGJERD. If the shot should strike the hunter himself, the best luck + that could happen to him would be to have no luck at all. + </p> + <p> + OLAF. You speak wisely. + </p> + <p> + THORGJERD. Yes, yes; there is many a thing to be learned in here. + </p> + <p> + OLAF. Too true! I have learned here the best that I know. + </p> + <p> + THORGJERD. Farewell! I'll take greetings from you to your kinsmen. + </p> + <p> + OLAF. You mean to go down? + </p> + <p> + THORGJERD. Such was my purpose. These are merry days down there, I am + told. A mighty knight is celebrating his wedding— + </p> + <p> + OLAF. Then you should have been there last night; now I fear the best part + of the fun is past. + </p> + <p> + THORGJERD. I dare say I'll come in time even yet. + </p> + <p> + OLAF. Perhaps! But still you should have been there last night; so bright + and so warm a festive hall you never have seen before. + </p> + <p> + THORGJERD. It was well for him who was within. + </p> + <p> + OLAF. I know one who had to stand outside. + </p> + <p> + THORGJERD. Yes, yes, outside,—that is the poor man's place. + </p> + <p> + OLAF. I know one who had to stand outside and who nevertheless was both + worse off and better off than those within. + </p> + <p> + THORGJERD. I must go down,—I see that clearly; I shall play for the + guests. Now I shall fetch my harp, and then— + </p> + <p> + OLAF. You are a minstrel? + </p> + <p> + THORGJERD. And not among the worst. Now shall I fetch my harp from where + it lies hidden near the waterfall; those strings you should hear. With + them I sat once on the edge of the bed and played the bride out of the + festive hall over ridge and field.—Have you never heard little + Ingrid's lay? He who could play the bride out of the bridegroom's arms can + surely play his child home to her father again. Farewell! If you linger + here we may meet again when I get down there. + </p> + <p> + [He goes out to the right by the tarn.] + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0044" id="link2H_4_0044"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + SCENE III + </h2> + <h3> + [OLAF. ALFHILD.] + </h3> + <p> + OLAF. Ah, if it were—for certain I cannot doubt it. Alfhild herself + said that her father played such music that no one who heard it could ever + forget. He mentioned Lady Ingrid who disappeared on the eve of her wedding + many years ago,—there was a young minstrel named Thorgjerd who loved + her, so went the story. Many a strange tale was afterwards current about + him; at times he stood right in the midst of the village and played so + beautifully that all who heard it had to weep; but no one knew where he + made his home. Alfhild—yes, she is his child! Here she has grown up, + here in this desolate valley, which no one has known of by name for many a + year; and Ingrid, who disappeared—indeed, he said— + </p> + <p> + [Becomes aware of ALFHILD.] + </p> + <p> + OLAF. Alfhild! There she is! In her wedding garments she has fled up here. + Here then shall you awaken after the bridal night; so sorry a day to you + was my day of honor. You wished to go out into life, you said; you wanted + to learn to know all the love in the world. So sorry a journey you had, + but I swear it shall all be well again. She moves; it is as if she were + writhing in sorrow and anguish;—when you awaken, it shall be to joy + and delight! + </p> + <p> + ALFHILD. [Still half in dreams.] + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + It burns! Oh, save him,—he is within! + He must not die! Life anew he must win! +</pre> + <p> + [She jumps up in fright; the music ceases.] + </p> + <p> + ALFHILD. Where am I! He stands here before me, it seems! + </p> + <p> + Olaf Liljekrans! save me from my dreams! + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + OLAF. Alfhild! take heart, here you need fear no harm! + + ALFHILD. [Moves away, fearfully and apprehensively.] + You think with sweet words my soul to beguile? + In your heart there is evil, though with lips you may smile, + On me you shall nevermore practice your charm! + + OLAF. Alfhild! be calm, do not start; + 'Tis Olaf I am, the friend of your heart! + Unkind I have been, I have treated you ill; + But deep in my heart I was faithful to you! + I was blind and deluded and weak of will,— + And thus I did wound you far more than I knew! + O, can you forgive me? Alfhild, you must,— + I swear to you I shall be worthy your trust! + I shall bear you aloft and smooth your way, + And kiss from your cheek the tears of dole, + The grief in your heart I shall try to allay, + And heal the wound that burns in your soul! + + ALFHILD. I know you too well and your cunning disguise. + Since last I did see you I too have grown wise. + You would have me believe with your wily speech + It is you for whom I now suffer and languish. + You would have me believe it was you that did teach + Me to revel in joy and to writhe in anguish. + 'Twill profit you little, I know you too well, + Whether early or late you come to my dell. + I know you too well; for deceit on your brow + I can read. Not so was the other, I vow! + + OLAF. The other? Whom mean you? + + ALFHILD. He that is dead! + 'Tis therefore I suffer so bitter a dread. + You don't understand? You must know there were two; + And that is why peace I shall nevermore find! + The one was all love, so good and so true, + The other was evil, faithless, unkind; + The one to me came on a late summer day, + When my heart burst in flower and bloom; + The other led me in the mountain astray, + Where all things are shrouded in gloom! + 'Tis the evil one, you, that has come again; + The other who loved me, so good and so kind, + The one who will never be out of my mind,— + Ah, him have I slain! + + [She sinks down on a stone near the house and busts into tears.] + + OLAF. Has he stolen your peace, has he robbed you of rest, + Then why let him longer dwell there in your breast! + + ALFHILD. Alas, were I laid in the grave far below, + With me, I am sure, my sorrow would go! + I knew it not then,—to you do I swear, + I thought it was little for him I did care; + Now I see I must die of a grief-broken heart, + Yet his image will never depart! + + [A short pause.] + + ALFHILD. Have you chords in your bosom that you can command? + It seems so; your voice sounds so pleasant and sweet; + Pleasant—though blended it is with deceit. + Have you chords in your breast, then go round in the land + And sing of Alfhild a plaintive lay + To the village girls you meet on the way: + + Only yesterday I was so little a roe, + I roamed in the green groves around; + They came to the forest with arrow and bow, + And chased me with falcon and hound! + + Only yesterday I was a bird so forlorn, + I sat 'neath the linden alone; + They drove me away from the place I was born, + And threw at me stone after stone. + + Only yesterday I was an untamed dove, + Which nowhere finds peace or rest; + They came from below, they came from above, + And pierced with an arrow my breast! + + OLAF. [Deeply moved.] + Alas, that I lay in the grave below. + Lulled in eternal rest! + Your every word is a steel-made bow + That strikes with an arrow my breast! + + ALFHILD. [Jumps up with childlike joy.] + Just so it shall be,—'tis rightfully so! + Yes, truly, indeed, have you chords in your breast! + So let it be sung; they easily show + That you are yourself by my sorrow oppressed. + They show that your own grief is just as strong + As the one that you voice in your plaintive song! + + [She stops and looks sorrowfully at him.] + + ALFHILD. Yet no,—you shall not sing of Alfhild's lament; + What stranger is there whom my sorrow will move! + From whence I came, and whither I went + There is no one out there who shall question or prove! + Sing rather of Olaf Liljekrans, + Who wandered astray in the elf-maidens' dance! + Sing of Alfhild, the false and unkind, + Who drove his betrothed quite out of his mind; + And sing of all the sorrow and fear, + When dead Olaf Liljekrans lay on the bier. + Sing of all the weeping below, + When away they carried the three who had died! + The one was Olaf, the other his bride! + The third was his mother who perished of woe. + + OLAF. Yes, Olaf is dead; it is just as you say; + But I shall be now so faithful a friend; + Wherever you dwell, wherever you wend, + From your side I shall nevermore stray! + May I suffer in full for the sin I committed,— + Atonement to me shall be sweet. + 'Twill comfort me much if I be permitted + To roam with you here in some far-off retreat! + From early dawn till the end of day, + Like a faithful hound I shall follow your lead! + I shall clothe my remorse in so plaintive a lay + Till finally you shall believe me indeed. + Each moment we spent here in ecstasy + I shall call up again to your memory! + Each flower that blooms shall speak it anew, + The cuckoo and swallow shall sing it to you! + The trees that grow here in the forest so green + Shall whisper thereof both soft and serene! + + ALFHILD. Enough! You would only beguile me anew; + Far better were it for you now to depart! + So fair is the falsehood I see within you, + So faithless the thoughts that dwell in your heart! + What would you up here? What is it you want? + You think that you know the place that you haunt? + So pleasant a spot was this valley of yore, + A curse lies upon it forevermore! + In the past, when lone in the forest I went, + The leaves on the trees had so fragrant a scent! + The flowers bloomed forth on my every side, + When you pressed me to you and called me your bride! + But now—the whole valley is burned in the night; + The trees are burned to the left and the right; + The straw and the leaves are withered away, + Each flower is turned to a dusty gray!— + + ALFHILD. Yes, clearly I see,—in a single night + Is the world become old!—When I wandered below + All alone, and sank down 'neath my shame and my woe, + Then faded the world and its golden delight. + All things but deceit have vanished away; + So much have I learned on my bridal day! + My father lied; he was wrong when he said + The dead are borne to the dwelling of God; + But Olaf knew better the fate of the dead: + The dead sink below, far under the sod! + + ALFHILD. [She breaks out in deepest agony.] + Ah, well do I see now you knew what you did; + For low in the grave my body is hid. + + OLAF. Alfhild! Your words deal so crushing a blow! + O, God! was your heart once so young and so bold— + Forgive me my sin and forget all your woe! + + ALFHILD. [With marked and increasing bewilderment.] + Hush, do not speak to me! Olaf, behold! + A corpse they carry, to the grave they creep; + But no mother is there, no children who weep, + No pillows are there of blue or of red,— + Alfhild on shavings and straw lies dead! + I shall never ride now to the heaven above, + And awake in the arms of the God of love. + No mother have I whose heart will break, + No one who follows and weeps for my sake; + No person have I in the world so wide, + Who weeps for me at the bier,— + No angels to scatter on every side + Blue pearls in the heavenly sphere; + And ne'er shall I reach the dwelling of God, + Where the dead dream only of mirth! + + OLAF. Alfhild! + + ALFHILD. They lower me under the sod! + They cover me over with earth! + And here must I lie with all my dread, + Must live and suffer although I be dead: + Must know there is nothing now left for me, + Yet cannot forget, nor fight myself free; + Must hear when he whom my love I gave + Rides off to the church right over my grave; + Must hear him forever suffer and languish, + And yet can not lessen his anguish! + O, how my bosom is filled with despair! + The angels of God have forgotten my prayer! + They heed no longer my weeping and woe— + The portal is closed to the heavenly bliss— + Dig me up again! Let me not lie here below! + + [She rushes out to the left.] + + OLAF. Alfhild! Alfhild! O, Christ, what is this? + + [He follows her quickly.] +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0045" id="link2H_4_0045"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + SCENE IV + </h2> + <p> + [INGEBORG and HEMMING enter, after a pause, from the right.] + </p> + <p> + INGEBORG. Well, here we are up here! How lovely and bright and peaceful it + is! + </p> + <p> + HEMMING. Yes, here we shall live happily together! + </p> + <p> + INGEBORG. But mark you well that you are my servant, and nothing else,—until + my father has given his consent. + </p> + <p> + HEMMING. That he will never do! + </p> + <p> + INGEBORG. Never you mind,—we'll find some means or other.—But + now we must think about choosing a cabin to live in. + </p> + <p> + HEMMING. There are plenty of them around here. Over the whole valley there + are deserted huts; everything is just the same as it was when the last + people died in the terrible plague many years ago. + </p> + <p> + INGEBORG. Here I like it very much! Over there, too, there is just such an + old hut; the water is near by, and the forest must surely be alive with + game. You can fish and hunt; aye, we shall live a wonderful life! + </p> + <p> + HEMMING. Yea, forsooth, a wonderful life! I shall fish and hunt the while + you gather berries and keep the house in order. + </p> + <p> + INGEBORG. Do I? No, that you must take care of! + </p> + <p> + HEMMING. Yes, yes, as you please. O, a delightful life we shall live! + </p> + <p> + [Stops and adds somewhat dejectedly.] + </p> + <p> + HEMMING. But when I stop to think a bit;—I have neither bow nor + fishing outfit. + </p> + <p> + INGEBORG. [Likewise with an expression of despondency.] And it occurs to + me there are no servants here who can help me. + </p> + <p> + HEMMING. That shall I willingly do! + </p> + <p> + INGEBORG. No, thanks.—And all my good clothes—I didn't bring + anything along except my bridal gown which I am wearing. + </p> + <p> + HEMMING. That was thoughtless of you! + </p> + <p> + INGEBORG. True enough, Hemming! And for that reason you shall steal down + to Guldvik some night and bring me clothes and other things as much as I + have need of. + </p> + <p> + HEMMING. And be hanged as a thief! + </p> + <p> + INGEBORG. No, you shall be careful and cautious,—that I warn you. + But when finally the long winter comes? There are no people up here,—music + and dancing we shall never have—Hemming! Shall we stay here or— + </p> + <p> + HEMMING. Well, where else is there we can go? + </p> + <p> + INGEBORG. [Impatiently.] Yes, but human beings cannot live here! + </p> + <p> + HEMMING. Why, surely, they can! + </p> + <p> + INGEBORG. Well, you see yourself they are all of them dead! Hemming! I + think it best I go home to my father. + </p> + <p> + HEMMING. But what will become of me? + </p> + <p> + INGEBORG. You shall go to war! + </p> + <p> + HEMMING. To war! And be killed! + </p> + <p> + INGEBORG. Not at all! You shall perform some illustrious deed, and then + will you be made a knight, and then will my father no longer be opposed to + you. + </p> + <p> + HEMMING. Yes, but what if they kill me in the meantime? + </p> + <p> + INGEBORG. Well, we'll have plenty of time to think about that. Today and + tomorrow we shall have to remain here, I suppose; so long will the guests + sit in the festive house and celebrate,—if they look for us, it will + probably be about in the village; up here we can be safe and— + </p> + <p> + [She stops and listens.] + </p> + <p> + CHORUS. [Far away off the stage to the right.] + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Away,—away to find + Alfhild, the false, unkind; + For all our woe and strife + She must pay with her life! +</pre> + <p> + HEMMING. Ingeborg! Ingeborg! They are after us! + </p> + <p> + INGEBORG. Where shall we find refuge? + </p> + <p> + HEMMING. Well, how can I know— + </p> + <p> + INGEBORG. Go into the hut; lock the door so that it can be bolted from + within. + </p> + <p> + HEMMING. Yes, but— + </p> + <p> + INGEBORG. Do as I say! I shall go up on the hill the meanwhile and see if + they are far away. + </p> + <p> + [She goes out to the right.] + </p> + <p> + HEMMING. Yes, yes! Alas, if only they don't get us! + </p> + <p> + [He goes into the house.] + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0046" id="link2H_4_0046"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + SCENE V + </h2> + <p> + [OLAF comes from the forest to the left. Immediately afterwards INGEBORG + from the right.] + </p> + <p> + OLAF. [Looks about and calls softly.] Alfhild! Alfhild! She is nowhere to + be seen! Like a bird she disappeared from my view into the wood and I— + </p> + <p> + INGEBORG. They are right close and— + </p> + <p> + [Stops, frightened.] + </p> + <p> + INGEBORG. Olaf Liljekrans! + </p> + <p> + OLAF. Ingeborg! + </p> + <p> + HEMMING. [Sticks his head out of the door and spies OLAF.] Lord Olaf! So! + Now is it surely all up with me! + </p> + <p> + [Withdraws hastily.] + </p> + <p> + INGEBORG. [Aside.] He must have ridden in advance of the rest. + </p> + <p> + OLAF. [Aside.] She must have come up here with her father to look for me. + </p> + <p> + INGEBORG. [Aside.] But I will not go with him! + </p> + <p> + OLAF. [Aside.] I will not stir from here! + </p> + <p> + INGEBORG. [Aloud, as she draws nearer.] Olaf Liljekrans! Now you have me; + but you will do ill if you try to compel me. + </p> + <p> + OLAF. That is furthest from my mind! + </p> + <p> + INGEBORG. Why then come you here in company with my kinsmen? + </p> + <p> + OLAF. Do I? On the contrary, it is you who— + </p> + <p> + INGEBORG. That invention won't fool me; only a moment ago I saw the whole + crowd— + </p> + <p> + OLAF. Who? Who? + </p> + <p> + INGEBORG. My father and our relatives! + </p> + <p> + OLAF. Up here? + </p> + <p> + INGEBORG. Why, yes, right close at hand! + </p> + <p> + OLAF. Ah, then is my mother with them. + </p> + <p> + INGEBORG. Of course, she is with them. But how can that frighten you? + </p> + <p> + OLAF. You see,—it is I they seek! + </p> + <p> + INGEBORG. No, it is I! + </p> + <p> + OLAF. [Astonished.] You! + </p> + <p> + INGEBORG. [Begins to grasp the connection.] Or—wait a moment—Ha, + ha, ha! What an idea! Come, shall we two be honest with each other? + </p> + <p> + OLAF. Yes, that is exactly what I had in mind! + </p> + <p> + INGEBORG. Well, then, tell me, at what hour came you up here? + </p> + <p> + OLAF. During the night! + </p> + <p> + INGEBORG. I, too! + </p> + <p> + OLAF. You! + </p> + <p> + INGEBORG. Yes, yes! And you went away without any one's knowing it? + </p> + <p> + OLAF. Yes! + </p> + <p> + INGEBORG. I, too! + </p> + <p> + OLAF. But tell me— + </p> + <p> + INGEBORG. Hush, we have only a moment or two! And you fled up here because + you had but little desire to go to the altar with me? + </p> + <p> + OLAF. Aye, how can you think— + </p> + <p> + INGEBORG. Yes, that I can easily think. Answer me now; we were to speak + honestly. + </p> + <p> + OLAF. Well, then, it was therefore that I— + </p> + <p> + INGEBORG. Well and good, I did likewise! + </p> + <p> + OLAF. You, Ingeborg! + </p> + <p> + INGEBORG. And now you would rather not have any one come upon your tracks? + </p> + <p> + OLAF. Well, it can't be denied! + </p> + <p> + INGEBORG. I, too! Aha,—'tis a jolly coincidence; I fled from you, + and you from me! We both fled up here, and now just as our relatives are + after us we meet again! Listen, Olaf Liljekrans! Say we promise not to + betray one another! + </p> + <p> + OLAF. I promise. + </p> + <p> + INGEBORG. But now we must part! + </p> + <p> + OLAF. I understand! + </p> + <p> + INGEBORG. For, if they found us together, then— + </p> + <p> + OLAF. Yes, then it would be still more difficult for you to be rid of me! + </p> + <p> + INGEBORG. Farewell! If ever I come to have a wedding you shall be my + bride's man. + </p> + <p> + OLAF. And if anything like that should happen to me, you will, I am sure, + accommodate me in the same way. + </p> + <p> + INGEBORG. Of course! Farewell! Farewell! And do not think unkindly of me. + </p> + <p> + OLAF. Indeed not; I shall give you my hand wherever we meet! + </p> + <p> + INGEBORG. I, too! Wherever we meet—only not at the altar. + </p> + <p> + [She goes into the house. OLAF goes into the forest on the right at the + back.] + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0047" id="link2H_4_0047"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + SCENE VI + </h2> + <p> + [LADY KIRSTEN, ARNE of Guldvik, WEDDING GUESTS, PEASANTS and SERVANTS from + the right.] + </p> + <p> + LADY KIRSTEN. See, here will we begin the hunt. Our people must spread + about and search all around the tarn;—she shall come forth and then—woe + upon her! no mercy or pity is there in my soul. + </p> + <p> + ARNE. What will you do then? + </p> + <p> + LADY KIRSTEN. Hold judgment upon her—right on the spot where she is + found! All the damage she has done on my dominions I have power and + authority to punish in accordance with reason and justice. + </p> + <p> + ARNE. Yes, but what good is that? What is lost can not thereby be won back + again. + </p> + <p> + LADY KIRSTEN. No, but I shall get revenge, and that is no little gain. + Revenge,—revenge I must have, if I am to bear and live down my loss + and all the shame she has brought upon me. The storm last night ruined the + whole of my year's crop; not a single uninjured straw is left in my + fields; and in here, where she herself has said she has her home, here + everything thrives and blossoms more luxuriantly than I have ever seen! Is + not that the operation of secret arts? Olaf she has snared so securely in + her devilish net that he fled out of the village in the wildest storm to + follow her. My house she burned clear to the ground; all the openings and + doors she barred on the outside;—it was a miracle of God that the + servants brought their timely help! + </p> + <p> + ARNE. Alas, alas; I am afraid if has cost two lives that I thought much + of,—Ingeborg and my man Hemming! + </p> + <p> + LADY KIRSTEN. Come, come, Lord Arne! You must not completely despair of + them yet. Ingeborg may have escaped after all; the rest of us came out of + it untouched in spite of the cunning of the cursed witch;—Ingeborg + has been bewildered with fright and has sought refuge somewhere. + </p> + <p> + ARNE. Yes, yes, that may be the case with Ingeborg; but Hemming is past + all hope,—of that I am sure! + </p> + <p> + LADY KIRSTEN. How so? + </p> + <p> + ARNE. O, he had become such a sly and contriving devil of late! He has let + himself be shut in and burnt merely to get revenge over me; he knows I + can't get along for a single day without him. O, I know him! + </p> + <p> + LADY KIRSTEN. Well, however it is, Alfhild we must capture; she shall be + tried, condemned, and punished; I have misdeeds a plenty to charge her + with. + </p> + <p> + ARNE. And I can mention a few in case it is necessary; she has stolen my + dapple-gray horse from the stable; this morning it was gone with saddle + and bridle. + </p> + <p> + LADY KIRSTEN. [Aside.] Ingeborg and Hemming gone, and his horse likewise; + were I in his place I should know what to think. + </p> + <p> + LADY KIRSTEN. [Aloud.] Now let us divide and go about in small groups; he + who first gets his eye on Alfhild shall blow the trumpet or horn; let the + rest listen and follow the sound till we are assembled again. + </p> + <p> + [They go out at different sides.] + </p> + <p> + ARNE. [Who alone has remained.] And I, who am not acquainted here,—how + am I to find my way. + </p> + <p> + ARNE. [Calls.] Hemming! Hemming! + </p> + <p> + [Stops.] + </p> + <p> + ARNE. I forgot,—he is— + </p> + <p> + ARNE. [Shaking his head.] Hm! It was a shameful trick he played. + </p> + <p> + [He goes out to the right.] + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0048" id="link2H_4_0048"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + SCENE VII + </h2> + <p> + [ALFHILD appears near the tarn to the left; she carries a little bundle.] + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + ALFHILD. I have wailed, I have wept, till my heart is sore; + I am weary and tired, I can weep no more! + + [Sinks down on a stone in the foreground.] + + ALFHILD. First to my father farewell I shall say! + Then into the mountains I make my way! + Down here I see Olaf wherever I go; + I must up in the heights to steel my mind! + I must deaden my grief, forget what I know, + And leave all the memories dear behind! + + ALFHILD. The life in my dream had so rosy a hue! + 'Tis nothing but fiction, nothing is true,— + 'Tis nothing but nonsense and shifting lies; + Naught can be seized and held in the hand. + Naught must be looked at with open eyes, + Nothing stands proof when we understand! + + [The sound of trumpets is heard from the wood.] + + ALFHILD. My mother's heirlooms I take with me; + I shall bury them deep in the ground! + I shall bury them deep 'neath the tall birch tree, + Over yonder where Olaf I found! + + [She opens her bundle and takes out a bridal crown and other + ornaments.] + + ALFHILD. This crown did my mother once wear on her head; + She too by the world then was tricked and misled, + She too then in love and its power believed. + Was she too so rudely deceived? + Was it only in jest that my father did sing + The pleasures that gladden the human breast? + Ah, then he should never have said anything; + His songs have robbed me of earthly rest; + His songs built a home for the ecstasies + Of life in my heart,—now in ruin it lies! + + [The trumpets are heard again.] + + ALFHILD. Silver indeed is a metal of worth, + 'Twill never crumble like autumn hay. + Were it hid for a thousand years in the earth, + It would still glitter bright, it would never decay! + The pleasures of life are like autumn hay, + And sorrow like silver that glitters alway! + + [Ties the ornaments together in the bundle.] + + ALFHILD. A magic treasure I often recall, + From which dropped nine glorious pearls every night; + But no matter how many the pearls it let fall, + The treasure remained just as big and as bright! + + ALFHILD. A treasure of magic, this sorrow of mine, + And from it shall drip by night and by day, + Not nine,—but ten thousand pearls that shine,— + Yet the treasure shall never decay!— + Yes, the world has made me so wise,—so wise! + Once I followed the clouds in their flight, + Flew dreaming with them on their path in the skies, + And called them the swans of the light! + I thought that the trees spread their branches so wide, + That I might walk in the shade; + I thought there was life in the mountain side. + A sorry mistake I have made. + Now I know better;—for man alone + Can revel in joy, can suffer despair. + In tree and in flower, friend there is none,— + My sorrow alone I must bear. + + [She rises.] + + ALFHILD. Away then! Up midst the ice and the snow,— + The grave is the only shelter below! +</pre> + <p> + [She starts to leave.] + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0049" id="link2H_4_0049"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + SCENE VIII + </h2> + <p> + [ALFHILD, LADY KIRSTEN, ARNE, WEDDING GUESTS, PEASANTS and SERVANTS from + various sides. Later OLAF LILJEKRANS.] + </p> + <p> + LADY KIRSTEN. There she is! Stand still, Alfhild! Do not try to escape,—else + we shall shoot you. + </p> + <p> + ALFHILD. What do you want of me? + </p> + <p> + LADY KIRSTEN. That you shall learn soon enough. + </p> + <p> + LADY KIRSTEN. [Points to her bundle.] What is this you are carrying? + </p> + <p> + ALFHILD. My mother's treasures! + </p> + <p> + LADY KIRSTEN. Give it here! See, see! A crown of silver! Indeed, Alfhild! + If you are your mother's only daughter I am very much afraid the bridal + crown will nevermore be needed in her family. + </p> + <p> + LADY KIRSTEN. [To the Servants.] Bind her! She stands there and pretends + to be sad; no one can know what she is scheming. + </p> + <p> + [ALFHILD is bound.] + </p> + <p> + LADY KIRSTEN. [Aloud and with suppressed passion.] The court is ready. As + you all know, I have a legal and prescriptive right to protect my + dominions, to pass judgment in accordance with the law of the realm on + every one who does me harm on my own lands. This is what you, Alfhild, + have presumed to do, and it is therefore that you now stand here accused + before your judge. Defend yourself if you can, but do not forget it is a + matter of life and death. + </p> + <p> + ARNE. But listen, Lady Kirsten! + </p> + <p> + LADY KIRSTEN. Excuse me, Lord Arne! I am within my rights here, and I + intend to insist on them. + </p> + <p> + LADY KIRSTEN. [To ALFHILD.] Come forward and answer me! + </p> + <p> + ALFHILD. Do you but question me,—I shall answer! + </p> + <p> + LADY KIRSTEN. Many and grievous are the charges that are directed against + you. First and foremost I charge you here with having beguiled my son, + Olaf Liljekrans, with your unholy arts, so that he turned heart and soul + away from his betrothed to whom he was pledged,—so that he, sick in + heart, never at any time found peace in his home, but came up here to this + unknown valley where you have had your home. All this could not have + happened in any ordinary way; you are therefore accused of witchcraft,—defend + yourself if you can. + </p> + <p> + ALFHILD. I have little to say in answer to this. Witchcraft you call that + strange power that drew Olaf up here. Perhaps you are right; but this + witchcraft was not of evil;—every hour that Olaf has been here God + must surely have witnessed! Each thought that I have had of Olaf the + angels of God must have known! And they had no occasion to blush. + </p> + <p> + LADY KIRSTEN. Enough, enough! You would add blasphemy to your + transgression! Woe upon you, Alfhild! Your every word only adds weight to + the scales. Yet, that is your affair! + </p> + <p> + LADY KIRSTEN. [To the rest.] I crave you all as witnesses to her answer. + </p> + <p> + [Turns to ALFHILD.] + </p> + <p> + LADY KIRSTEN. I charge you next with having again, this very night, with + the aid of these same secret powers, met Olaf up here, and furthermore + that you keep him concealed in here! + </p> + <p> + ALFHILD. There you are right! Secretly is he hidden here! + </p> + <p> + LADY KIRSTEN. You admit it? + </p> + <p> + ALFHILD. Yes, but however powerful you are, you will never be able to set + him free. Perhaps it would be best for me if you were able; but neither + you nor the whole wide world have the power to set him free! + </p> + <p> + LADY KIRSTEN. [In a violent outburst.] Now death will certainly be your + punishment! Out with it,—where have you got him? + </p> + <p> + ALFHILD. [Presses her hands to her bosom.] In here—in my heart! If + you can tear him out from it you can practice witchcraft better than I! + </p> + <p> + LADY KIRSTEN. That answer is nothing. Out with it,—where is he? + </p> + <p> + ALFHILD. I have answered! + </p> + <p> + LADY KIRSTEN. [With repressed irritation.] Good! + </p> + <p> + ARNE. [To the spectators.] Were Hemming alive he would have been able to + get the truth out of her; he had become so crafty of late. + </p> + <p> + LADY KIRSTEN. Now the third charge against you: last night you set fire to + my house and burned it clear to the ground. Perhaps human life has been + lost,—that we not know as yet,—but whether or no, it will + neither harm nor help your cause; for your intention to burn all of us is + as clear as day. Do you deny my charge that you set fire to my home last + night? + </p> + <p> + ALFHILD. I do not deny it; I have destroyed your house! + </p> + <p> + LADY KIRSTEN. And how will you extenuate your action? + </p> + <p> + LADY KIRSTEN. [With bitter mockery.] You shall not be able to say that you + acted over hastily. Good opportunity you had, so far as I can remember, to + stop and consider; you stood outside there, no one came near you, no one + prevented you from deliberating as calmly as you could. Nor shall you say + that the merriment of the festive occasion went to your head, nor that the + wine distracted you; for you were not on the inside at all; you stood on + the outside, and it was cool enough there,—the biting wind should + have made you sober. + </p> + <p> + ALFHILD. Yes, I destroyed your house last night; but you and Olaf and all + the rest of you out there have done me a greater wrong. The world was to + me a festive hall which belonged to the Great Father. The blue heaven was + its roof, the stars were the lamps that shone from its ceiling. I wandered + happy and rich in all this; but you, you threw a brand right in the midst + of this golden splendor; now is everything withered and dead! + </p> + <p> + LADY KIRSTEN. Such talk will profit you little! Still once more I ask, + where is Olaf Liljekrans, my son? + </p> + <p> + ALFHILD. I have answered! + </p> + <p> + LADY KIRSTEN. Then you have also passed your own sentence, and I shall + confirm it. + </p> + <p> + [OLAF appears on the rocky cliff among the trees, unnoticed by the rest.] + </p> + <p> + OLAF. [Aside.] Alfhild! God help me! What is that? + </p> + <p> + [Withdraws unseen.] + </p> + <p> + LADY KIRSTEN. You have, in accordance with the law of the land, incurred + the penalty of death as guilty of witchcraft and arson. This sentence is + herewith pronounced upon you, and forthwith right here on the spot it + shall be executed. + </p> + <p> + ARNE. But listen, Lady Kirsten! + </p> + <p> + LADY KIRSTEN. Judgment is pronounced! Alfhild shall die! + </p> + <p> + ALFHILD. Do as you please; little shall I be of hindrance to you. When + Olaf denied his love, then ceased my life,—I live no longer. + </p> + <p> + LADY KIRSTEN. Take her up on the rocky ledge over there. + </p> + <p> + [Two Servants take ALFHILD up.] + </p> + <p> + LADY KIRSTEN. For the last time, Alfhild! Give me back my son! + </p> + <p> + ALFHILD. I will answer no more! + </p> + <p> + LADY KIRSTEN. Just as you please! + </p> + <p> + LADY KIRSTEN. [To the Servants.] Cast her down! No, wait! I have an idea! + </p> + <p> + LADY KIRSTEN. [To ALFHILD.] As you stand there, I remember you again as + you yesterday came forward with the golden crown and thought you were + worthy to be Olaf Liljekrans' bride. Now we soon shall see how much you + are worth; there are present here peasants and servants and many humble + men;—perhaps your life can still be saved! Yes, Alfhild! You stare + at me, but so it is; I will be merciful to you! + </p> + <p> + LADY KIRSTEN. (Turns to the rest.) You all know the old custom, that when + a woman is sentenced to death for a capital offence, as she is, her life + will be saved and she will be free if an irreproachable man comes forth + and upholds her innocence and declares himself ready and willing to marry + her. That custom you know? + </p> + <p> + ALL. Yes, yes! + </p> + <p> + ALFHILD. [Bursting into tears.] O, to be mocked,—mocked so terribly + in my last hour! + </p> + <p> + LADY KIRSTEN. Well then, Alfhild! This custom you shall have the benefit + of. If the most humble man in my company comes forth and declares himself + willing to marry you, then are you free. + </p> + <p> + LADY KIRSTEN. [Looks about.] Is there no one who applies? + </p> + <p> + [All are silent.] + </p> + <p> + LADY KIRSTEN. Give her the silver crown; that shall go in the bargain; + perhaps, Alfhild, you will then rise in value! + </p> + <p> + [The crown is placed on ALFHILD's head.] + </p> + <p> + LADY KIRSTEN. For the second time I ask,—is any one willing to save + her? + </p> + <p> + [She looks about. All are silent.] + </p> + <p> + LADY KIRSTEN. Now for it; I am afraid your moments are numbered. Hear me + well, you servants up there! Should no one answer my third call, then do + you watch for a sign from me and cast her into the lake! Use now your + arts, Alfhild! See if you can conjure yourself free from death. + </p> + <p> + LADY KIRSTEN. [With a loud voice.] For the last time! There stands the + witch and incendiary! Who will save and marry her? + </p> + <p> + [She looks about. All are silent.—LADY KIRSTEN raises her hand + quickly as a signal, the Servants seize ALFHILD; in the same moment OLAF + rushes out on the ledge in full wedding garb.] + </p> + <p> + OLAF. I will save and marry her! + </p> + <p> + [He thrusts the SERVANTS aside and unbinds her. ALFHILD sinks with a cry + on his bosom; he puts his left arm around her and raises his right arm + threateningly in the air.] + </p> + <p> + ALL. [Stand as if turned to stone.] Olaf Liljekrans! + </p> + <p> + LADY KIRSTEN. Olaf Liljekrans, my son! What have you done? Disgraced + yourself for all time! + </p> + <p> + OLAF. No, I blot out the shame and disgrace which I brought on myself by + my treatment of her! My sin I shall expiate and make myself happy the + while! + </p> + <p> + OLAF. [Brings ALFHILD forward.] Yes, before all of you I solemnly proclaim + this young woman my bride! She is innocent of all that has been charged + against her; I only have transgressed. + </p> + <p> + [Kneels before her.] + </p> + <p> + OLAF. And at your feet I beg you to forget and forgive— + </p> + <p> + ALFHILD. [Raises him.] Ah, Olaf! You have given me back all the glory of + the world! + </p> + <p> + LADY KIRSTEN. You will marry her! Well and good; then am I no longer a + mother to you! + </p> + <p> + OLAF. You will cause me great sorrow, although it is now long since that + you were a real mother to me. You used me merely to build aloft your own + pride, and I was weak and acquiesced. But now have I won power and will; + now I stand firmly on my own feet and lay the foundation of my own + happiness! + </p> + <p> + LADY KIRSTEN. But do you stop to consider— + </p> + <p> + OLAF. Nothing will I now consider,—I know what I want. Now first I + understand my strange dream. It was prophesied of me that I was to find + the fairest of flowers,—that I was to tear it asunder and strew it + to all the winds. O, thus it has happened! A woman's heart is the fairest + flower in the world; all its rich and golden leaves I have torn asunder + and scattered to the winds. But be of good cheer, my Alfhild! Many a seed + has gone too, and sorrow has ripened it, and from it shall grow a rich + life for us here in the valley; for here shall we live and be happy! + </p> + <p> + ALFHILD. O, now I am happy as in the first hour we met. + </p> + <p> + LADY KIRSTEN. [Aside.] Ingeborg is gone; this rich valley belongs to + Alfhild,—no one else has a claim to it— + </p> + <p> + LADY KIRSTEN. [Aloud.] Well, Olaf! I shall not stand in the way of your + happiness. If you think you will find it in this way, then—well, + then you have my consent! + </p> + <p> + OLAF. Thanks, mother, thanks! Now I lack nothing more! + </p> + <p> + ALFHILD. [To LADY KIRSTEN.] And me you forgive all my sin? + </p> + <p> + LADY KIRSTEN. Yes, yes! Perhaps I too was wrong,—let us not say any + more of that! + </p> + <p> + ARNE. But I, then? And my daughter, whom Olaf had pledged—Yet, it is + true, perhaps she is no longer alive! + </p> + <p> + OLAF. Of course she's alive! + </p> + <p> + ARNE. She lives! Where is she? Where? + </p> + <p> + OLAF. That I can not say; but I may say that we both in all friendliness + have broken our pledge. + </p> + <p> + LADY KIRSTEN. You see, Lord Arne! that I— + </p> + <p> + ARNE. Well, my daughter shall not be forced upon any one. Alfhild was + fated to marry a knight; the same may happen to Ingeborg. + </p> + <p> + ARNE. [With dignity.] Noble lords and honorable men, hear me! It has come + to my ear that many of you hold me to be little skilled in courtly manners + and customs. I will show you now you are completely mistaken. In the old + chronicles it is frequently told that when a noble king loses his daughter + he promises her hand and half his kingdom to him who may find her; he who + finds Ingeborg shall receive her hand in marriage and in addition half of + all that I own and possess. Are you with me on that? + </p> + <p> + THE YOUNG MEN. Yes, yes! + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0050" id="link2H_4_0050"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + SCENE IX + </h2> + <p> + [The Preceding. INGEBORG comes hurriedly out of the hut and pulls HEMMING + behind her.] + </p> + <p> + INGEBORG. Here I am! Hemming has found me! + </p> + <p> + ALL. [ASTONISHED] Ingeborg and Hemming! Up here! + </p> + <p> + ARNE. [Irritated.] Ah, then shall— + </p> + <p> + INGEBORG. [Throws herself about his neck.] O father, father! It will not + avail you; you have given your word! + </p> + <p> + ARNE. But that did not apply to him! Now I see it all right; he has taken + you away himself. + </p> + <p> + INGEBORG. No, to the contrary, father! It was I who took him away! + </p> + <p> + ARNE. [Frightened.] Will you be silent with such words! Are you out of + your head? + </p> + <p> + INGEBORG. [Softly.] Then say "yes" right here on the spot! Otherwise I + shall proclaim to all people that it was I who— + </p> + <p> + ARNE. Hush, hush! I am saying "yes"! + </p> + <p> + [Steps between them and looks sternly at HEMMING.] + </p> + <p> + ARNE. It was you then who stole my dapple-gray horse with saddle and + bridle? + </p> + <p> + HEMMING. Alas, Lord Arne!— + </p> + <p> + ARNE. O Hemming! Hemming! You are a— + </p> + <p> + [Stops to consider.] + </p> + <p> + ARNE. Well, you are my daughter's betrothed; let it all be forgotten. + </p> + <p> + HEMMING AND INGEBORG. O, thanks, thanks! + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0051" id="link2H_4_0051"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + SCENE X + </h2> + <p> + [The Preceding. THORGJERD with a harp in his hand has during the foregoing + mingled with the people.] + </p> + <p> + THORGJERD. Aye, see, see! A multitude of people in the valley today! + </p> + <p> + THE PEASANTS. Thorgjerd, the fiddler! + </p> + <p> + ALFHILD. [Throws herself in his arms.] My father! + </p> + <p> + ALL. Her father! + </p> + <p> + OLAF. Yes, yes, old man! There are people and merriment in here today, and + hereafter it shall always be thus. It is your daughter's wedding we are + celebrating; for love has she chosen her betrothed, of love have you sung + for her,—you will not stand in our way! + </p> + <p> + THORGJERD. May all good spirits guard you well! + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + ALFHILD. And you will remain with us! + + THORGJERD. No, no, Alfhild! + A minstrel has never a place to rest, + His soul fares afar, he forever must roam! + For he who has music deep down in his breast, + Is never in mountains or lowlands at home; + In the meadows green, in the sheltering bower, + He must touch the strings and sing every hour, + He must watch for the life that lives in the shower, + Beneath the wild fjord, in the rushing stream, + Must watch for the life that beats in the soul, + And clothe in music what people but dream, + And give voice to its sorrow and dole! + + OLAF. But sometime you will surely visit us here! + Now shall 'mid the birches a hall be erected; + Here, my Alfhild! shall you be protected. + I and my love will always be near, + No more shall your eye be dimmed with a tear! + + ALFHILD. Yes, now I see,—life is precious and kind! + Rich as the fairest dream of the mind! + So dreary and black is never our sorrow,— + 'Tis followed sometime by a bright sunny morrow! + + ALFHILD. [Kneels.] O angels of God! you have led me aright, + Again you have granted me solace and bliss! + You guided my wandering past the abyss, + You steadied my foot that was weak and slight! + O, if with my mind I cannot understand,— + With my heart I'll believe to the last! + Yes, heavenly powers! You still watch o'er the land! + Clear is the sun when the dark storm is passed;— + From death and destruction my love did you save: + So now then let happen what may! + For now I am cheerful, now am I brave, + Ready for life and its motley affray! +</pre> + <p> + ALFHILD. [With a glance at OLAF.] And when we at length— + </p> + <p> + [She pauses and stretches her arms above her head.] + </p> + <p> + ALFHILD. by the angels of love Are borne to our home in the heavens above! + </p> + <p> + [The rest have formed a group around her; the curtain falls.] + </p> + <div style="height: 6em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Early Plays, by Henrik Ibsen + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK EARLY PLAYS *** + +***** This file should be named 7172-h.htm or 7172-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/7/1/7/7172/ + + +Text file produced by David Starner, Michael Kaelbling, and the +Online Distributed Proofreading Team + +HTML file produced by David Widger + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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