Complete Works of Henrik Ibsen (130 page)

HEIRE.
That forfeit? Hee-hee, let me see; he might, for example — yes, — he shall make a speech!

SELMA.
It’s Mr. Stensgard’s forfeit.

ERIK.
Mr. Stensgard is to make a speech.

STENSGARD.
Oh no, spare me that; I came off badly enough last night.

THE CHAMBERLAIN.
Excellently, Mr. Stensgard; I know something of public speaking.

LUNDESTAD
[to HEIRE.]
If only he doesn’t put his foot in it now.

HEIRE.
Put his foot in it? Hee-hee! You’re a sharp one! That’s an inspiration!
[In an undertone to STENSGARD.]
If you came off badly last night, why not put yourself right again to-night?

STENSGARD
[seized with a sudden idea.]
Lundestad, here is the opportunity!

LUNDESTAD
[evasively.]
Play your cards neatly.
[Looks for his hat and slips quietly towards the door.]

STENSGARD.
Yes, I will make a speech!

THE YOUNG LADIES.
Bravo! Bravo!

STENSGARD.
Fill your glasses, ladies and gentlemen! I am going to make a speech which shall begin with a fable; for here I seem to breathe the finer air of fable-land.

ERIK
[to the LADIES.]
Hush! Listen!
[The CHAMBERLAIN takes his glass from the cardtable on the right, beside which he remains standing. RINGDAL, FIELDBO, and one or two other gentlemen come in from the garden.]

STENSGARD.
It was in the spring time. There came a young cuckoo flying over the uplands. Now the cuckoo is an adventurer. There was a great Bird-Parliament on the meadow beneath him, and both wild and tame fowl flocked to it. They came tripping out of the hen-yards; they waddled up from the goose-ponds; down from Stonelee hulked a fat capercailzie, flying low and noisily; he settled down, and ruffled his feathers and flapped his wings, and made himself even broader than he was; and every now and then he crowed, “Krak, krak, krak!” as much as to say: I’m the game-cock from Stonelee, I am!

THE CHAMBERLAIN.
Capital! Hear, hear!

STENSGARD.
And then there was an old woodpecker. He bustled up and down the tree-trunks, pecking with his pointed beak, and gorging himself with grubs and everything that turns to gall. To right and left you heard him going: prik, prik, prik! And that was the woodpecker.

ERIK.
Excuse me, wasn’t it a stork, or a — ?

HEIRE.
Say no more!

STENSGARD.
That was the old woodpecker. But now there came life into the crew; for they found something to cackle evil about. And they flustered together, and cackled in chorus, until at last the young cuckoo began to join in the cackling —

FIELDBO
[unnoticed.]
For God’s sake, man, be quiet!

STENSGARD.
Now it was an eagle they cackled about — an eagle who dwelt in lonely dignity upon a beetling cliff. They were all agreed about him. “He’s a bugbear to the neighbourhood,” croaked a hoarse raven. But the eagle swooped down into their midst, seized the cuckoo, and bore him aloft to his eyrie. — Heart conquered heart! From that clear summit the adventurer-cuckoo looked far and wide over the lowlands; there he found sunshine and peace; and there he learned to judge aright the swarm from the hen-yards and the clearings —

FIELDBO
[loudly.]
Bravo, bravo! And now some music.

THE CHAMBERLAIN.
Hush! Don’t interrupt him.

STENSGARD.
Chamberlain Bratsberg — here my fable ends; and here I stand before you, in the presence of every one, to beg your forgiveness for last night.

THE CHAMBERLAIN
[falls a step backwards.]
Mine — ?

STENSGARD.
I thank you for the magnanimous vengeance you have taken for my senseless words. In me you have henceforth a faithful champion. And now, ladies and gentlemen, I drink the health of the eagle on the mountain-top — the health of Chamberlain Bratsberg.

THE CHAMBERLAIN
[clutching at the table.]
Thank you, Mr. — Mr. Stensgard.

THE GUESTS
[for the most part in painful embarrassment.]
The Chamberlain! Chamberlain Bratsberg!

THE CHAMBERLAIN.
Ladies! Gentlemen!
[Softly.]
Thora!

THORA.
Father!

THE CHAMBERLAIN.
Oh, Doctor, Doctor, what have you done — ?

STENSGARD
[with his glass in his hand, radiant with self- satisfaction.]
Now to our places again! Hullo, Fieldbo! Come, join in — join in the League of Youth! The game’s going merrily!

HEIRE
[in front, on the left.]
Yes, on my soul, the game’s going merrily!
[LUNDESTAD slips out by the door in the back.]

ACT THIRD
.

[An elegant morning-room, with entrance-door in the back. On the left, the door of the CHAMBERLAIN’s Study; further back, a door leading to the drawing-room. On the right, a door leading to RINGDAL’S offices; further forward, a window.]
[THORA is seated on the sofa, left, weeping. The CHAMBERLAIN paces angrily up and down.]

THE CHAMBERLAIN.
Yes, now we have the epilogue — tears and lamentations —

THORA.
Oh, that we had never seen that man!

THE CHAMBERLAIN.
What man?

THORA.
That wretched Mr. Stensgard, of course.

THE CHAMBERLAIN.
You should rather say: Oh, that we had never seen that wretched Doctor.

THORA.
Doctor Fieldbo?

THE CHAMBERLAIN.
Yes, Fieldbo, Fieldbo! Wasn’t it he that palmed off a parcel of lies upon me — ?

THORA.
No, my dear father, it was I.

THE CHAMBERLAIN.
You? Well, then, both of you! You were his accomplice — behind my back. A nice state of affairs!

THORA.
Oh, father, if you only knew —

THE CHAMBERLAIN.
Oh, I know enough; more than enough; much more! DR. FIELDBO enters from the back.

FIELDBO.
Good morning, Chamberlain! Good morning, Miss Bratsberg!

THE CHAMBERLAIN
[still pacing the room.]
So you are there, are you — bird of evil omen!

FIELDBO.
Yes, it was a very unpleasant affair.

THE CHAMBERLAIN
[looking out at the window.]
Oh, you think so?

FIELDBO.
You must have noticed how I kept my eye upon Stensgard all the evening. Unfortunately, when I heard there was to be a game of forfeits, I thought there was no danger —

THE CHAMBERLAIN
[stamping on the floor.]
To be made a laughing-stock by such a windbag! What must my guests have thought of me? That I was mean enough to want to buy this creature, this — this — as Lundestad calls him!

FIELDBO.
Yes, but —

THORA
[unnoticed by her father.]
Don’t speak.

THE CHAMBERLAIN
[after a short pause, turns to FIELDBO.]
Tell me frankly, Doctor: — Am I really denser than the general run of people?

FIELDBO.
How can you ask such a question, Chamberlain?

THE CHAMBERLAIN.
Then how did it happen that I was probably the only person there who didn’t understand that that confounded speech was meant for me?

FIELDBO.
Shall I tell you why?

THE CHAMBERLAIN.
Certainly.

FIELDBO.
It is because you yourself regard your position in the district differently from other people.

THE CHAMBERLAIN.
I regard my position as my father before me regarded his. No one would ever have ventured to treat him so.

FIELDBO.
Your father died about the year 1830.

THE CHAMBERLAIN.
Oh, yes; many a barrier has broken down since that time. But, after all, it’s my own fault. I have mixed myself up too much with these good people. So now I must be content to have my name coupled with Anders Lundestad’s!

FIELDBO.
Well, frankly, I see no disgrace in that.

THE CHAMBERLAIN.
Oh, you know quite well what I mean. Of course I don’t plume myself on rank, or titles, or anything of that sort. But what I hold in honour, and expect others to hold in honour, is the integrity handed down in our family from generation to generation. What I mean is that when a man like Lundestad goes into public life, he cannot keep his character and his conduct entirely free from stain. In the general mud-throwing, he is sure to find himself bespattered. But they might leave me in peace; I stand outside their parties.

FIELDBO.
Not so entirely, Chamberlain; at least you were delighted so long as you thought it was Monsen that was attacked.

THE CHAMBERLAIN.
Don’t mention that fellow! — It is he that has relaxed the moral sense of the district. And now he has gone and turned my son’s head, confound him!

THORA.
Erik’s?

FIELDBO.
Your son’s?

THE CHAMBERLAIN.
Yes; what tempted him to go and set up in business? It leads to nothing.

FIELDBO.
Why, my dear Chamberlain, he must live and —

THE CHAMBERLAIN.
Oh, with economy he could quite well live on the money that came to him from his mother.

FIELDBO.
He might perhaps live on it; but what could he live for?

THE CHAMBERLAIN.
For? Well, if he absolutely must have something to live for, hasn’t he qualified as a lawyer? He might live for his profession.

FIELDBO.
No, that he couldn’t do; it is against his nature. Then there was no official appointment he could well hope for; you have kept the management of your property in your own hands; and your son has no children to educate. Under these circumstances, when he sees tempting examples around him — people who have started from nothing and are worth their half million —

THE CHAMBERLAIN.
Their half million! Oh, come now, let us keep to the hundred thousands. But neither the half million nor the hundred thousands can be scraped together with perfectly clean hands: — I don’t mean in the eyes of the world; Heaven knows it is easy enough to keep within the law; but in respect to one’s own conscience. Of course my son cannot descend to anything questionable; so you may be quite sure Mr. Erik Bratsberg’s financial operations won’t bring in any half millions. SELMA, in walking dress, enters from the back.

SELMA.
Good-morning! Is Erik not here?

THE CHAMBERLAIN.
Good-morning, child! Are you looking for your husband?

SELMA.
Yes, he said he was coming here. Mr. Monsen called upon him early this morning, and then —

THE CHAMBERLAIN.
Monsen? Does Monsen come to your house?

SELMA.
Now and then; generally on business. Why, my dear Thora, what’s the matter? Have you been crying?

THORA.
Oh, it’s nothing.

SELMA.
No, it’s not nothing! At home Erik was out of humour, and here — I can see it in your looks: there is something wrong. What is it?

THE CHAMBERLAIN.
Nothing you need trouble about, at any rate. You are too dainty to carry burdens, my little Selma. Go into the drawing-room for the present. If Erik said he was coming, he will be here soon, no doubt.

SELMA.
Come, Thora — and be sure you don’t let me sit in a draught!
[Embracing her.]
Oh, I could hug the life out of you, my sweet Thora!
[The two ladies go off to the left.]

THE CHAMBERLAIN.
So they are hand in glove, are they, the two speculators! They should go into partnership. Monsen and Bratsberg — how nice it would sound!
[A knock at the door in the back.]
Come in!
[STENSGARD enters.]

THE CHAMBERLAIN
[recoiling a step.]
What is this?

STENSGARD.
Yes, here I am again, Chamberlain!

THE CHAMBERLAIN.
So I see.

FIELDBO.
Are you mad, Stensgard?

STENSGARD.
You retired early yesterday evening. When Fieldbo had explained to me how matters stood, you had already —

THE CHAMBERLAIN.
Excuse me — all explanations are superfluous —

STENSGARD.
I understand that; therefore I have not come to make any.

THE CHAMBERLAIN.
Oh, indeed?

STENSGARD.
I know I have insulted you.

THE CHAMBERLAIN.
I know that too; and before I have you turned out, perhaps you will be good enough to tell me why you are here.

STENSGARD.
Because I love your daughter, Chamberlain.

FIELDBO.
What — !

THE CHAMBERLAIN.
What does he say, Doctor?

STENSGARD.
Ah, you can’t grasp the idea, Chamberlain. You are an old man; you have nothing to fight for —

THE CHAMBERLAIN.
And you presume to — ?

STENSGARD.
I am here to ask for your daughter’s hand, Chamberlain.

THE CHAMBERLAIN.
You — you — ? Won’t you sit down?

STENSGARD.
Thanks, I prefer to stand.

THE CHAMBERLAIN.
What do you say to this, Doctor?

STENSGARD.
Oh, Fieldbo is on my side; he is my friend; the only true friend I have.

FIELDBO.
No, no, man! Never in this world, if you —

THE CHAMBERLAIN.
Perhaps it was with this view that Doctor Fieldbo secured his friend’s introduction into my house?

STENSGARD.
You know me only by my exploits of yesterday and the day before. That is not enough. Besides, I am not the same man to-day that I was then. My intercourse with you and yours has fallen like spring showers upon my spirit, making it put forth new blossoms in a single night! You must not hurl me back into my sordid past. Till now, I have never been at home with the beautiful in life; it has always been beyond my reach —

THE CHAMBERLAIN.
But my daughter — ?

STENSGARD.
Oh, I shall win her.

THE CHAMBERLAIN.
Indeed? H’m!

STENSGARD.
Yes, for I have will on my side. Remember what you told me yesterday. You were opposed to your son’s marriage — and see how it has turned out! You must put on the glasses of experience, as Fieldbo said —

THE CHAMBERLAIN.
Ah, that was what you meant?

FIELDBO.
Not in the least! My dear Chamberlain, let me speak to him alone

STENSGARD.
Nonsense; I have nothing to speak to you about. Now, pray be reasonable, Chamberlain! A family like yours needs new alliances, or its brains stagnate —

THE CHAMBERLAIN.
Oh, this is too much!

STENSGARD.
Now, now, don’t be angry! These high-and- mighty airs are unworthy of you — of course you know they are all nonsense at bottom. You shall see how much you’ll value me when you come to know me. Yes, yes; you shall value me — both you and your daughter! I will make her —

THE CHAMBERLAIN.
What do you think of this, Doctor?

FIELDBO.
I think it’s madness.

STENSGARD.
Yes, it would be in you; but I, you see — I have a mission to fulfil on God’s beautiful earth; — I am not to be deterred by nonsensical prejudices —

THE CHAMBERLAIN.
Mr. Stensgard, there is the door.

STENSGARD.
You show me — ?

THE CHAMBERLAIN.
The door!

STENSGARD.
Don’t do that!

THE CHAMBERLAIN.
Out with you! You are an adventurer, an a — a — confound my memory! You’re a —

STENSGARD.
What am I?

THE CHAMBERLAIN.
You are — that other thing — it’s on the tip of my tongue —

STENSGARD.
Beware how you block my career!

THE CHAMBERLAIN.
Beware? Of what?

STENSGARD.
I will attack you in the papers, persecute you, libel you, do all I can to undermine your reputation. You shall shriek under the lash. You shall seem to see spirits in the air raining blows upon you. You shall huddle together in dread, and crouch with your arms bent over your head to ward off the strokes — you shall try to creep into shelter —

THE CHAMBERLAIN.
Creep into shelter yourself — in a mad-house; that is the proper place for you!

STENSGARD.
Ha-ha; that is a cheap retort; but you know no better, Mr. Bratsberg! I tell you the wrath of the Lord is in me. It is His will you are opposing. He has destined me for the light — beware how you cast a shadow! — Well, I see I shall make no way with you to-day; but that matters nothing. I only ask you to speak to your daughter — to prepare her — to give her the opportunity of choosing! Reflect, and look around you. Where can you expect to find a son-in-law among these plodding dunces? Fieldbo says she is deep and steadfast and true. So now you know just how matters stand. Good-bye, Chamberlain — I leave you to choose between my friendship and my enmity. Good-bye!
[Goes out by the back.]