Complete Works of Henrik Ibsen (177 page)

Mrs. Rummel: Your family affection is beautiful, Mr. Bernick!

Bernick: Well, the family is the kernel of society. A good home, honoured and trusty friends, a little snug family circle where no disturbing elements can cast their shadow —
(KRAP comes in from the right, bringing letters and papers.)

Krap: The foreign mail, Mr. Bernick — and a telegram from New York.

Bernick
(taking the telegram)
: Ah — from the owners of the “Indian Girl”.

Rummel: Is the mail in? Oh, then you must excuse me.

Vigeland: And me too.

Sandstad: Good day, Mr. Bernick.

Bernick: Good day, good day, gentlemen. And remember, we have a meeting this afternoon at five o’clock.

The Three Men: Yes — quite so — of course.
(They go out to the right.)

Bernick
(who has read the telegram)
: This is thoroughly American! Absolutely shocking!

Mrs. Bernick: Good gracious, Karsten, what is it?

Bernick: Look at this, Krap! Read it!

Krap
(reading)
: “Do the least repairs possible. Send over ‘Indian Girl’ as soon as she is ready to sail; good time of year; at a pinch her cargo will keep her afloat.” Well, I must say —

Rorlund: You see the state of things in these vaunted great communities!

Bernick: You are quite right; not a moment’s consideration for human life, when it is a question of making a profit.
(To KRAP:)
Can the “Indian Girl” go to sea in four — or five — days?

Krap: Yes, if Mr. Vigeland will agree to our stopping work on the “Palm Tree” meanwhile.

Bernick: Hm — he won’t. Well, be so good as to look through the letters. And look here, did you see Olaf down at the quay?

Krap: No, Mr. Bernick.
(Goes into BERNICK’S room.)

Bernick
(looking at the telegram again)
: These gentlemen think nothing of risking eight men’s lives —

Hilmar: Well, it is a sailor’s calling to brave the elements; it must be a fine tonic to the nerves to be like that, with only a thin plank between one and the abyss —

Bernick: I should like to see the ship-owner amongst us who would condescend to such a thing! There is not one that would do it — not a single one!
(Sees OLAF coming up to the house.)
Ah, thank Heaven, here he is, safe and sound.
(OLAF, with a fishing-line in his hand, comes running up the garden and in through the verandah.)

Olaf: Uncle Hilmar, I have been down and seen the steamer.

Bernick: Have you been down to the quay again?

Olaf: No, I have only been out in a boat. But just think, Uncle Hilmar, a whole circus company has come on shore, with horses and animals; and there were such lots of passengers.

Mrs. Rummel: No, are we really to have a circus?

Rorlund: We? I certainly have no desire to see it.

Mrs. Rummel: No, of course I don’t mean we, but —

Dina: I should like to see a circus very much.

Olaf: So should I.

Hilmar: You are a duffer. Is that anything to see? Mere tricks. No, it would be something quite different to see the Gaucho careering over the Pampas on his snorting mustang. But, Heaven help us, in these wretched little towns of ours.

Olaf
(pulling at MARTHA’S dress)
: Look, Aunt Martha! Look, there they come!

Mrs. Holt: Good Lord, yes — here they come.

Mrs. Lynge: Ugh, what horrid people!

(A number of passengers and a whole crowd of townsfolk, are seen coming up the street.)

Mrs. Rummel: They are a set of mountebanks, certainly. Just look at that woman in the grey dress, Mrs. Holt — the one with a knapsack over her shoulder.

Mrs. Holt: Yes — look — she has slung it on the handle of her parasol. The manager’s wife, I expect.

Mrs. Rummel: And there is the manager himself, no doubt. He looks a regular pirate. Don’t look at him, Hilda!

Mrs. Holt: Nor you, Netta!

Olaf: Mother, the manager is bowing to us.

Bernick: What?

Mrs. Bernick: What are you saying, child?

Mrs. Rummel: Yes, and — good Heavens — the woman is bowing to us too.

Bernick: That is a little too cool —

Martha
(exclaims involuntarily)
: Ah — !

Mrs. Bernick: What is it, Martha?

Martha: Nothing, nothing. I thought for a moment —

Olaf
(shrieking with delight)
: Look, look, there are the rest of them, with the horses and animals! And there are the Americans, too! All the sailors from the “Indian Girl”!
(The strains of “Yankee Doodle,” played on a clarinet and a drum, are heard.)

Hilmar
(stopping his ears)
: Ugh, ugh, ugh!

Rorlund: I think we ought to withdraw ourselves from sight a little, ladies; we have nothing to do with such goings on. Let us go to our work again.

Mrs. Bernick: Do you think we had better draw the curtains?

Rorlund: Yes, that was exactly what I meant.

(The ladies resume their places at the work-table; RORLUND shuts the verandah door, and draws the curtains over it and over the windows, so that the room becomes half dark.)

Olaf
(peeping out through the curtains)
: Mother, the manager’s wife is standing by the fountain now, washing her face.

Mrs. Bernick: What? In the middle of the marketplace?

Mrs. Rummel: And in broad daylight, too!

Hilmar: Well, I must say if I were travelling across a desert waste and found myself beside a well, I am sure I should not stop to think whether — . Ugh, that frightful clarinet!

Rorlund: It is really high time the police interfered.

Bernick: Oh no; we must not be too hard on foreigners. Of course these folk have none of the deep-seated instincts of decency which restrain us within proper bounds. Suppose they do behave outrageously, what does it concern us? Fortunately this spirit of disorder, that flies in the face of all that is customary and right, is absolutely a stranger to our community, if I may say so — . What is this!
(LONA HESSEL walks briskly in from the door on the right.)

The Ladies
(in low, frightened tones)
: The circus woman! The manager’s wife!

Mrs. Bernick: Heavens, what does this mean?

Martha
(jumping up)
: Ah — !

Lona: How do you do, Betty dear! How do you do, Martha! How do you do, brother-in-law!

Mrs. Bernick
(with a cry)
: Lona — !

Bernick
(stumbling backwards)
: As sure as I am alive — !

Mrs. Holt: Mercy on us — !

Mrs. Rummel: It cannot possibly be — !

Hilmar: Well! Ugh!

Mrs. Bernick: Lona — ! Is it really — ?

Lona: Really me? Yes, indeed it is; you may fall on my neck if you like.

Hilmar: Ugh, ugh!

Mrs. Bernick: And coming back here as — ?

Mrs. Bernick: And actually mean to appear in — ?

Lona: Appear? Appear in what?

Bernick: Well, I mean — in the circus —

Lona: Ha, ha, ha! Are you mad, brother-in-law? Do you think I belong to the circus troupe? No, certainly I have turned my hand to a good many things and made a fool of myself in a good many ways —

Mrs. Rummel: Hm!

Lona: But I have never tried circus riding.

Bernick: Then you are not — ?

Mrs. Bernick: Thank Heaven!

Lona: No, we travelled like other respectable folk, second-class, certainly, but we are accustomed to that.

Mrs. Bernick: We, did you say?

Bernick
(taking a step for-ward)
: Whom do you mean by “we”?

Lona: I and the child, of course.

The Ladies
(with a cry)
: The child!

Hilmar: What?

Rorlund: I really must say — !

Mrs. Bernick: But what do you mean, Lona?

Lona: I mean John, of course; I have no other child, as far as I know, but John, or Johan as you used to call him.

Mrs. Bernick: Johan —

Mrs. Rummel
(in an undertone to MRS. LYNGE)
: The scapegrace brother!

Bernick
(hesitatingly)
: Is Johan with you?

Lona: Of course he is; I certainly would not come without him. Why do you look so tragical? And why are you sitting here in the gloom, sewing white things? There has not been a death in the family, has there?

Rorlund: Madam, you find yourself in the Society for Fallen Women.

Lona
(half to herself)
: What? Can these nice, quiet-looking ladies possibly be — ?

Mrs. Rummel: Well, really — !

Lona: Oh, I understand! But, bless my soul, that is surely Mrs. Rummel? And Mrs. Holt sitting there too! Well, we three have not grown younger since the last time we met. But listen now, good people; let the Fallen Women wait for a day — they will be none the worse for that. A joyful occasion like this —

Rorlund: A home-coming is not always a joyful occasion.

Lona: Indeed? How do you read your Bible, Mr. Parson?

Rorlund: I am not a parson.

Lona: Oh, you will grow into one, then. But — faugh! — this moral linen of yours smells tainted, just like a winding-sheet. I am accustomed to the air of the prairies, let me tell you.

Bernick
(wiping his forehead)
: Yes, it certainly is rather close in here.

Lona: Wait a moment; we will resurrect ourselves from this vault.
(Pulls the curtains to one side)
We must have broad daylight in here when the boy comes. Ah, you will see a boy then that has washed himself.

Hilmar: Ugh!

Lona
(opening the verandah door and window)
: I should say, when he has washed himself, up at the hotel — for on the boat he got piggishly dirty.

Hilmar: Ugh, ugh!

Lona: Ugh? Why, surely isn’t that — ?
(Points at HILDAR and asks the others)
: Is he still loafing about here saying “Ugh”?

Hilmar: I do not loaf; it is the state of my health that keeps me here.

Rorlund: Ahem! Ladies, I do not think —

Lona
(who has noticed OLAF)
: Is he yours, Betty? Give me a paw, my boy! Or are you afraid of your ugly old aunt?

Rorlund
(putting his book under his arm)
: Ladies, I do not think any of us is in the mood for any more work today. I suppose we are to meet again tomorrow?

Lona
(while the others are getting up and taking their leave)
: Yes, let us. I shall be on the spot.

Rorlund: You? Pardon me, Miss Hessel, but what do you propose to do in our Society?

Lona: I will let some fresh air into it, Mr. Parson.

ACT I
I

(SCENE. — The same room. MRS. BERNICK is sitting alone at the work-table, sewing. BERNICK comes in from the right, wearing his hat and gloves and carrying a stick.)

Mrs. Bernick: Home already, Karsten?

Bernick: Yes, I have made an appointment with a man.

Mrs. Bernick
(with a sigh)
: Oh yes, I suppose Johan is coming up here again.

Bernick: With a man, I said.
(Lays down his hat.)
What has become of all the ladies today?

Mrs. Bernick: Mrs. Rummel and Hilda hadn’t time to come.

Bernick: Oh! — did they send any excuse?

Mrs. Bernick: Yes, they had so much to do at home.

Bernick: Naturally. And of course the others are not coming either?

Mrs. Bernick: No, something has prevented them today, too.

Bernick: I could have told you that, beforehand. Where is Olaf?

Mrs. Bernick: I let him go out a little with Dina.

Bernick: Hm — she is a giddy little baggage. Did you see how she at once started making a fuss of Johan yesterday?

Mrs. Bernick: But, my dear Karsten, you know Dina knows nothing whatever of —

Bernick: No, but in any case Johan ought to have had sufficient tact not to pay her any attention. I saw quite well, from his face, what Vigeland thought of it.

Mrs. Bernick
(laying her sewing down on her lap)
: Karsten, can you imagine what his objective is in coming here?

Bernick: Well — I know he has a farm over there, and I fancy he is not doing particularly well with it; she called attention yesterday to the fact that they were obliged to travel second class —

Mrs. Bernick: Yes, I am afraid it must be something of that sort. But to think of her coming with him! She! After the deadly insult she offered you!

Bernick: Oh, don’t think about that ancient history.

Mrs. Bernick: How can I help thinking of it just now? After all, he is my brother — still, it is not on his account that I am distressed, but because of all the unpleasantness it would mean for you. Karsten, I am so dreadfully afraid!

Bernick: Afraid of what?

Mrs. Bernick: Isn’t it possible that they may send him to prison for stealing that money from your mother?

Bernick: What rubbish! Who can prove that the money was stolen?

Mrs. Bernick: The whole town knows it, unfortunately; and you know you said yourself.

Bernick: I said nothing. The town knows nothing whatever about the affair; the whole thing was no more than idle rumour.

Mrs. Bernick: How magnanimous you are, Karsten!

Bernick: Do not let us have any more of these reminiscences, please! You don’t know how you torture me by raking all that up.
(Walks up and down; then flings his stick away from him.)
And to think of their coming home now — just now, when it is particularly necessary for me that I should stand well in every respect with the town and with the Press. Our newspaper men will be sending paragraphs to the papers in the other towns about here. Whether I receive them well, or whether I receive them ill, it will all be discussed and talked over. They will rake up all those old stories — as you do. In a community like ours —
(Throws his gloves down on the table.)
And I have not a soul here to whom I can talk about it and to whom I can go for support.

Mrs. Bernick: No one at all, Karsten?

Bernick: No — who is there? And to have them on my shoulders just at this moment! Without a doubt they will create a scandal in some way or another — she, in particular. It is simply a calamity to be connected with such folk in any way!

Mrs. Bernick: Well, I can’t help their —

Bernick: What can’t you help? Their being your relations? No, that is quite true.

Mrs. Bernick: And I did not ask them to come home.

Bernick: That’s it — go on! “I did not ask them to come home; I did not write to them; I did not drag them home by the hair of their heads!” Oh, I know the whole rigmarole by heart.

Mrs. Bernick
(bursting into tears)
: You need not be so unkind —

Bernick: Yes, that’s right — begin to cry, so that our neighbours may have that to gossip about too. Do stop being so foolish, Betty. Go and sit outside; some one may come in here. I don’t suppose you want people to see the lady of the house with red eyes? It would be a nice thing, wouldn’t it, if the story got out about that — . There, I hear some one in the passage.
(A knock is heard at the door.)
Come in!
(MRS. BERNICK takes her sewing and goes out down the garden steps. AUNE comes in from the right.)

Aune: Good morning, Mr. Bernick.

Bernick: Good morning. Well, I suppose you can guess what I want you for?

Aune: Mr. Krap told me yesterday that you were not pleased with —

Bernick: I am displeased with the whole management of the yard, Aune. The work does not get on as quickly as it ought. The “Palm Tree” ought to have been under sail long ago. Mr. Vigeland comes here every day to complain about it; he is a difficult man to have with one as part owner.

Aune: The “Palm Tree” can go to sea the day after tomorrow.

Bernick: At last. But what about the American ship, the “Indian Girl,” which has been laid up here for five weeks and —

Aune: The American ship? I understood that, before everything else, we were to work our hardest to get your own ship ready.

Bernick: I gave you no reason to think so. You ought to have pushed on as fast as possible with the work on the American ship also; but you have not.

Aune: Her bottom is completely rotten, Mr. Bernick; the more we patch it, the worse it gets.

Bernick: That is not the reason. Krap has told me the whole truth. You do not understand how to work the new machines I have provided — or rather, you will not try to work them.

Aune: Mr. Bernick, I am well on in the fifties; and ever since I was a boy I have been accustomed to the old way of working —

Bernick: We cannot work that way now-a-days. You must not imagine, Aune, that it is for the sake of making profit; I do not need that, fortunately; but I owe consideration to the community I live in, and to the business I am at the head of. I must take the lead in progress, or there would never be any.

Aune: I welcome progress too, Mr. Bernick.

Bernick: Yes, for your own limited circle — for the working class. Oh, I know what a busy agitator you are; you make speeches, you stir people up; but when some concrete instance of progress presents itself — as now, in the case of our machines — you do not want to have anything to do with it; you are afraid.

Aune: Yes, I really am afraid, Mr. Bernick. I am afraid for the number of men who will have the bread taken out of their mouths by these machines. You are very fond, sir, of talking about the consideration we owe to the community; it seems to me, however, that the community has its duties too. Why should science and capital venture to introduce these new discoveries into labour, before the community has had time to educate a generation up to using them?

Bernick: You read and think too much, Aune; it does you no good, and that is what makes you dissatisfied with your lot.

Aune: It is not, Mr. Bernick; but I cannot bear to see one good workman dismissed after another, to starve because of these machines.

Bernick: Hm! When the art of printing was discovered, many a quill-driver was reduced to starvation.

Aune: Would you have admired the art so greatly if you had been a quill-driver in those days, sir?

Bernick: I did not send for you to argue with you. I sent for you to tell you that the “Indian Girl” must be ready to put to sea the day after tomorrow.

Aune: But, Mr. Bernick —

Bernick: The day after tomorrow, do you hear? — at the same time as our own ship, not an hour later. I have good reasons for hurrying on the work. Have you seen today’s paper? Well, then you know the pranks these American sailors have been up to again. The rascally pack are turning the whole town upside down. Not a night passes without some brawling in the taverns or the streets — not to speak of other abominations.

Aune: Yes, they certainly are a bad lot.

Bernick: And who is it that has to bear the blame for all this disorder? It is I! Yes, it is I who have to suffer for it. These newspaper fellows are making all sorts of covert insinuations because we are devoting all our energies to the “Palm Tree.” I, whose task in life it is to influence my fellow-citizens by the force of example, have to endure this sort of thing cast in my face. I am not going to stand that. I have no fancy for having my good name smirched in that way.

Aune: Your name stands high enough to endure that and a great deal more, sir.

Bernick: Not just now. At this particular moment I have need of all the respect and goodwill my fellow-citizens can give me. I have a big undertaking on, the stocks, as you probably have heard; but, if it should happen that evil-disposed persons succeeded in shaking the absolute confidence I enjoy, it might land me in the greatest difficulties. That is why I want, at any price, to avoid these shameful innuendoes in the papers, and that is why I name the day after tomorrow as the limit of the time I can give you.

Aune: Mr. Bernick, you might just as well name this afternoon as the limit.

Bernick: You mean that I am asking an impossibility?

Aune: Yes, with the hands we have now at the yard.

Bernick: Very good; then we must look about elsewhere.

Aune: Do you really mean, sir, to discharge still more of your old workmen?

Bernick: No, I am not thinking of that.

Aune: Because I think it would cause bad blood against you both among the townsfolk and in the papers, if you did that.

Bernick: Very probably; therefore, we will not do it. But, if the “Indian Girl” is not ready to sail the day after tomorrow, I shall discharge you.

Aune
(with a start)
: Me!
(He laughs.)
You are joking, Mr. Bernick.

Bernick: I should not be so sure of that, if I were you.

Aune: Do you mean that you can contemplate discharging me? — Me, whose father and grandfather worked in your yard all their lives, as I have done myself — ?

Bernick: Who is it that is forcing me to do it?

Aune: You are asking what is impossible, Mr. Bernick.

Bernick: Oh, where there’s a will there’s a way. Yes or no; give me a decisive answer, or consider yourself discharged on the spot.

Aune
(coming a step nearer to him)
: Mr. Bernick, have you ever realised what discharging an old workman means? You think he can look about for another job? Oh, yes, he can do that; but does that dispose of the matter? You should just be there once, in the house of a workman who has been discharged, the evening he comes home bringing all his tools with him.

Bernick: Do you think I am discharging you with a light heart? Have I not always been a good master to you?

Aune: So much the worse, Mr. Bernick. Just for that very reason those at home will not blame you; they will say nothing to me, because they dare not; but they will look at me when I am not noticing, and think that I must have deserved it. You see, sir, that is — that is what I cannot bear. I am a mere nobody, I know; but I have always been accustomed to stand first in my own home. My humble home is a little community too, Mr. Bernick — a little community which I have been able to support and maintain because my wife has believed in me and because my children have believed in me. And now it is all to fall to pieces.

Bernick: Still, if there is nothing else for it, the lesser must go down before the greater; the individual must be sacrificed to the general welfare. I can give you no other answer; and that, and no other, is the way of the world. You are an obstinate man, Aune! You are opposing me, not because you cannot do otherwise, but because you will not exhibit ‘the superiority of machinery over manual labour’.