Chapter 7

GULDSTAD. Hear a golden counsel then. Use your experience; watch your fellow-men, How every loving couple struts and swaggers Like millionaires among a world of beggars. They scamper to the altar, lad and lass, They make a home and, drunk with exultation, Dwell for awhile within its walls of glass. Then comes the day of reckoning;--out, alas, They're bankrupt, and their house in liquidation! Bankrupt the bloom of youth on woman's brow, Bankrupt the flower of passion in her breast, Bankrupt the husband's battle-ardour now, Bankrupt each spark of passion he possessed. Bankrupt the whole estate, below, above,-- And yet this broken pair were once confessed A first-class house in all the wares of love!

FALK [vehemently]. That is a lie!

GULDSTAD [unmoved]. Some hours ago 'twas true However. I have only quoted you;-- In these same words you challenged to the field The "caucus" with love's name upon your shield. Then rang repudiation fast and thick From all directions, as from you at present; Incredible, I know; who finds it pleasant To hear the name of death when he is sick? Look at the priest! A painter and composer Of taste and spirit when he wooed his bride;-- What wonder if the man became a proser When she was snugly settled by his side? To be his lady-love she was most fit; To be his wife, tho'--not a bit of it. And then the clerk, who once wrote clever numbers? No sooner was the gallant plighted, fixed, Than all his rhymes ran counter and got mixed; And now his Muse continuously slumbers, Lullabied by the law's eternal hum. Thus you see-- [Looks at SVANHILD. Are you cold?

SVANHILD [softly]. No.

FALK [with forced humour]. Since the sum Works out a minus then in every case And never shows a plus,--why should you be So resolute your capital to place In such a questionable lottery?

GULDSTAD [looks at him, smiles, and shakes his head]. My bold young Falk, reserve a while your mirth.-- There are two ways of founding an estate. It may be built on credit--drafts long-dated On pleasure in a never-ending bout, On perpetuity of youth unbated, And permanent postponement of the gout. It may be built on lips of rosy red, On sparkling eyes and locks of flowing gold, On trust these glories never will be shed, Nor the dread hour of periwigs be tolled. It may be built on thoughts that glow and quiver,-- Flowers blowing in the sandy wilderness,-- On hearts that, to the end of life, for ever Throb with the passion of the primal "yes." To dealings such as this the world extends One epithet: 'tis known as "humbug," friends.

FALK. I see, you are a dangerous attorney, You--well-to-do, a millionaire may-be; While two broad backs could carry in one journey All that beneath the sun belongs to me.

GULDSTAD [sharply]. What do you mean?

FALK. That is not hard to see. For the sound way of building, I suppose, Is just with cash--the wonder-working paint That round the widow's batten'd forehead throws The aureole of a young adored saint.

GULDSTAD. O no, 'tis something better that I meant. 'Tis the still flow of generous esteem, Which no less honours the recipient Than does young rapture's giddy-whirling dream. It is the feeling of the blessedness Of service, and home quiet, and tender ties, The joy of mutual self-sacrifice, Of keeping watch lest any stone distress Her footsteps wheresoe'er her pathway lies; It is the healing arm of a true friend The manly muscle that no burdens bend, The constancy no length of years decays, The arm that stoutly lifts and firmly stays. This, Svanhild, is the contribution I Bring to your fortune's fabric: now, reply. [SVANHILD makes an effort to speak; GULDSTAD lifts his hand to check her. Consider well before you give your voice! With clear deliberation make your choice.

FALK. And how have you discovered--

GULDSTAD. That I love her? That in your eyes 'twas easy to discover. Let her too know it. [Presses his hand. Now I will go in. Let the jest cease and earnest work begin; And if you undertake that till the end You'll be to her no less a faithful friend, A staff to lean on, and a help in need, Than I can be-- [Turning to SVANHILD. Cancel it from the tables of your thought. Then it is I who triumph in very deed; You're happy, and for nothing else I fought. [To FALK. And, apropos--just now you spoke of cash, Trust me, 'tis little more than tinsell'd trash. I have not ties, stand perfectly alone; To you I will make over all I own; My daughter she shall be, and you my son. You know I have a business by the border: There I'll retire, you set your home in order, And we'll foregather when a year is gone. Now, Falk, you know me; with the same precision Observe yourself: the voyage down life's stream, Remember, is no pastime and no dream. Now, in the name of God--make your decision!

[Goes into the house. Pause. FALK and SVANHILD look shyly at each other.

FALK. You are so pale.

SVANHILD. And you so silent.

FALK. True.

SVANHILD. He smote us hardest.

FALK [to himself]. Stole my armour, too.

SVANHILD. What blows he struck!

FALK. He knew to place them well.

SVANHILD. All seemed to go to pieces where they fell. [Coming nearer to him. How rich in one another's wealth before We were, when all had left us in despite, And Thought rose upward like the echoing roar Of breakers in the silence of the night. With exultation then we faced the fray, And confidence that Love is lord of death;-- He came with worldly cunning, stole our faith, Sowed doubt,--and all the glory pass'd away!

FALK [with wild vehemence]. Tear, tear it from thy memory! All his talk Was true for others, but for us a lie!

SVANHILD [slowly shaking her head]. The golden grain, hail-stricken on its stalk, Will never more wave wanton to the sky.

FALK [with an outburst of anguish]. Yes, we two, Svanhild--!

SVANHILD. Hence with hopes that snare! If you sow falsehood, you must reap despair. For others true, you say? And do you doubt That each of them, like us, is sure, alike, That he's the man the lightning will not strike, And no avenging thunder will find out, Whom the blue storm-cloud scudding up the sky On wings of tempest, never can come nigh?

FALK. The others split their souls on scattered ends: Thy single love my being comprehends. They're hoarse with yelling in life's Babel din: I in this quiet shelter fold thee in.

SVANHILD. But if love, notwithstanding, should decay, --Love being Happiness's single stay-- Could you avert, then, Happiness's fall?

FALK. No, my love's ruin were the wreck of all.

SVANHILD. And can you promise me before the Lord That it will last, not drooping like the flower, But smell as sweet as now till life's last hour?

FALK [after a short pause]. It will last long.

SVANHILD. "Long!" "Long!"--Poor starveling word! Can "long" give any comfort in Love's need? It is her death-doom, blight upon her seed. "My faith is, Love will never pass away"-- That song must cease, and in its stead be heard: "My faith is, that I loved you yesterday!" [As uplifted by inspiration. No, no, not thus our day of bliss shall wane, Flag drearily to west in clouds and rain;-- But at high noontide, when it is most bright, Plunge sudden, like a meteor, into the night!

FALK. What would you, Svanhild?

SVANHILD. We are of the Spring; No autumn shall come after, when the bird Of music in thy breast shall not be heard, And long not thither where it first took wing. Nor ever Winter shall his snowy shroud Lay on the clay-cold body of our bliss;-- This Love of ours, ardent and glad and proud, Pure of disease's taint and age's cloud, Shall die the young and glorious thing it is!

FALK [in deep pain]. And far from thee--what would be left of life?

SVANHILD. And near me what were left--if Love depart?

FALK. A home?

SVANHILD. Where Joy would gasp in mortal strife. [Firmly. It was not given to me to be your wife. That is the clear conviction of my heart! In courtship's merry pastime I can lead, But not sustain your spirit in its need. [Nearer and gathering fire. Now we have revell'd out a feast of spring; No thought of slumber's sluggard couch come nigh! Let Joy amid delirious song make wing And flock with choirs of cherubim on high. And tho' the vessel of our fate capsize, One plank yet breasts the waters, strong to save;-- The fearless swimmer reaches Paradise! Let Joy go down into his watery grave; Our Love shall yet triumph, by God's hand, Be borne from out the wreckage safe to land!

FALK. O, I divine thee! But--to sever thus! Now, when the portals of the world stand wide,-- When the blue spring is bending over us, On the same day that plighted thee my bride!

SVANHILD. Just therefore must we part. Our joy's torch fire Will from this moment wane till it expire! And when at last our worldly days are spent, And face to face with our great Judge we stand, And, as righteous God, he shall demand Of us the earthly treasure that he lent-- Then, Falk, we cry--past power of Grace to save-- "O Lord, we lost it going to the grave!"

FALK [with strong resolve]. Pluck off the ring!

SVANHILD [with fire]. Wilt thou?

FALK. Now I divine! Thus and no otherwise canst thou be mine! As the grave opens into life's Dawn-fire, So Love with Life may not espoused be Till, loosed from longing and from wild desire, Pluck off the ring, Svanhild!

SVANHILD [in rapture]. My task is done! Now I have filled thy soul with song and sun. Forth! Now thou soarest on triumphant wings,-- Forth! Now thy Svanhild is the swan that sings! [Takes off the ring and presses a kiss upon it. To the abysmal ooze of ocean bed Descend, my dream!--I fling thee in its stead!

[Goes a few steps back, throws the ring into the fjord, and approaches FALK with a transfigured expression.

Now for this earthly life I have foregone thee,-- But for the life eternal I have won thee!

FALK [firmly]. And now to the day's duties, each, alone. Our paths no more will mingle. Each must wage His warfare single-handed, without moan. We caught the fevered frenzy of the age, Fain without fighting to secure the spoil, Win Sabbath ease, and shirk the six days' toil, Tho' we are called to strive and to forego.

SVANHILD. But not in sickness.

FALK. Tho' quenched were all the light of earth and sky,-- The thought of light is God, and cannot die.

SVANHILD [withdrawing towards the background]. Farewell! [Goes further.

FALK. Farewell--gladly I cry again-- [Waves his hat. Hurrah for love, God's glorious gift to men!

[The door opens. FALK withdraws to the right; the younger guests come out with merry laughter.

THE YOUNG GIRLS. A lawn dance!

A YOUNG GIRL. Dancing's life!

ANOTHER. A garland spread With dewy blossoms fresh on every head!

SEVERAL. Yes, to the dance, the dance!

ALL. And ne'er to bed!

[STIVER comes out with STRAWMAN arm in arm. MRS. STRAWMAN and the children follow.

STIVER. Yes, you and I henceforward are fast friends.

STRAWMAN. Allied in battle for our common ends.

STIVER. When the twin forces of the State agree--

STRAWMAN. They add to all men's--

STIVER [hastily]. Gains!

STRAWMAN. And gaiety.

[MRS. HALM, LIND, ANNA, GULDSTAD, and MISS JAY, with the other guests, come out. All eyes are turned upon FALK and SVANHILD. General amazement when they are seen standing apart.

MISS JAY [among the AUNTS, clasping her hands]. What! Am I awake or dreaming, pray?

LIND [who has noticed nothing]. I have a brother's compliments to pay.

[He, with the other guests, approaches FALK, but starts involuntarily and steps back on looking at him.

What is the matter with you? You're a Janus With double face!

FALK [smiling]. I cry, like old Montanus,(6) The earth is flat, Messieurs;--by optics lied; Flat as a pancake--are you satisfied? [Goes quickly out to the right.

MISS JAY. Refused!

THE AUNTS. Refused!

MRS. HALM. Hush, ladies, if you please! [Goes across to SVANHILD.

MRS. STRAWMAN [to STRAWMAN]. Fancy, refused!

STRAWMAN. It cannot be!

MISS JAY. It is!

THE LADIES [from mouth to mouth]. Refused! Refused! Refused!

[They gather in little groups about the garden.

STIVER [dumfounded]. He courting? How?

STRAWMAN. Yes, think! He laugh'd at us, ha, ha--but now--

[They gaze at each other speechless.

ANNA [to LIND]. That's good! He was too horrid, to be sure!

LIND [embracing her]. Hurrah, now thou art mine, entire and whole.

[They go outside into the garden.

GULDSTAD [looking back towards SVANHILD]. Something is shattered in a certain soul; But what is yet alive in it I'll cure.

STRAWMAN [recovering himself and embracing STIVER]. Now then, you can be very well contented To have your dear _fiancee_ for a spouse.

STIVER. And you complacently can see your house With little Strawmans every year augmented.

STRAWMAN [Rubbing his hands with satisfaction and looking after FALK]. Insolent fellow! Well, it served him right;-- Would all these knowing knaves were in his plight!

[They go across in conversation; MRS. HALM approaches with SVANHILD.

MRS. HALM [aside eagerly]. And nothing binds you?

SVANHILD. Nothing.

MRS. HALM. Good, you know A daughter's duty--

SVANHILD. Guide me, I obey.

MRS. HALM. Thanks, child. [Pointing to GULDSTAD. He is rich and _comme il faut Parti_; and since there's nothing in the way--

SVANHILD. Yes, there is one condition I require!-- To leave this place.

MRS. HALM. Precisely his desire.

SVANHILD. And time--

MRS. HALM. How long? Bethink you, fortune's calling!

SVANHILD [with a quiet smile]. Only a little; till the leaves are falling.

[She goes towards the verandah; MRS. HALM seeks out GULDSTAD.

STRAWMAN [among the guests]. One lesson, friends, we learn from this example! Tho' Doubt's beleaguering forces hem us in, The Truth upon the Serpents's head shall trample, The cause of Love shall win--

GUESTS. Yes, Love shall win!

[They embrace and kiss, pair by pair. Outside to the left are heard song and laughter.

MISS JAY. What can this mean?

ANNA. The students!

LIND. The quartette, Bound for the mountains;--and I quite forgot To tell them--

[The STUDENTS come in to the left and remain standing at the entrance.

A STUDENT [to LIND]. Here we are on the spot!

MRS. HALM. It's Lind you seek, then?

MISS JAY. That's unfortunate. He's just engaged--

AN AUNT. And so, you may be sure, He cannot think of going on a tour.

THE STUDENTS. Engaged!

ALL THE STUDENTS. Congratulations!

LIND [to his comrades]. Thanks, my friends!

THE STUDENT [to his comrades]. There goes our whole fish-kettle in the fire! Our tenor lost! No possible amends!

FALK [Coming from the right, in summer suit, with student's cap, knapsack and stick. _I'll_ sing the tenor in young Norway's choir!

THE STUDENTS. You, Falk! hurrah!

FALK. Forth to the mountains, come! As the bee hurries from her winter home! A twofold music in my breast I bear, A cither with diversely sounding strings, One for life's joy, a treble loud and clear, And one deep note that quivers as it sings. [To individuals among the STUDENTS. You have the palette?--You the note-book? Good, Swarm then, my bees, into the leafy wood, Till at night-fall with pollen-laden thigh, Home to our mighty mother-queen we fly!

[Turning to the company, while the STUDENTS depart and and the Chorus of the First Act is faintly heard outside.

Forgive me my offences great and small, I resent nothing;-- [Softly. but remember all.

STRAWMAN [beaming with happiness]. Now fortune's garden once again is green! My wife has hopes,--a sweet presentiment-- [Draws him whispering apart. She lately whispered of a glad event-- [Inaudible words intervene. If all goes well . . . at Michaelmas . . . thirteen!

STIVER [With MISS JAY on his arm, turning to FALK, smiles triumphantly, and says, pointing to STRAWMAN: I'm going to start a household, flush of pelf!

MISS JAY [with an ironical courtesy]. I shall put on my wedding-ring next Yule.

ANNA [similarly, as she takes LIND's arm]. My Lind will stay, the Church can mind itself--

LIND [hiding his embarrassment]. And seek an opening in a ladies' school.

MRS. HALM. I cultivate my Anna's capabilities--

GULDSTAD [gravely]. An unromantic poem I mean to make Of one who only lives for duty's sake.

FALK [with a smile to the whole company]. I go to scale the Future's possibilities! Farewell! [Softly to SVANHILD. God bless thee, bride of my life's dawn, Where'er I be, to nobler deed thou'lt wake me.

[Waves his hat and follows the STUDENTS.

SVANHILD [Looks after him a moment, then says softly but firmly: Now over is my life, by lea and lawn, The leaves are falling;--now the world may take me.

[At this moment the piano strikes up a dance, and champagne corks explode in the background. The gentlemen hurry to and fro with their ladies on their arms. GULDSTAD approaches SVANHILD and bows: she starts momentarily, then collects herself and gives him her hand. MRS. HALM and her family, who have watched the scene in suspense, throng about them with expressions of rapture, which are overpowered by the music and the merriment of the dancers in the garden.

[But from the country the following chorus rings loud and defiant through the dance music:

CHORUS OF FALK AND THE STUDENTS.

And what if I shattered my roaming bark, It was passing sweet to be roaming!

MOST OF THE COMPANY. Hurrah!

[Dance and merriment; the curtain falls.

NOTES

1. "_William Russel._" An original historic tragedy, found upon the career of the ill-fated Lord William Russell, by Andreas Munch, cousin of the historian P. A. Munch. It was produced at Christiania in 1857, the year of Ibsen's return from Bergen, and reviewed by him in the _Illusteret Nyhedsblad_ for that year, Nos. 61 and 52. Professor Johan Storm of Christiania, to whose kindness I owe these particulars, adds that "it is rather a fine play and created a certain sensation in its time; but Munch is forgotten."

2. _A grey old stager_. Ibsen's friend P. Botten-Hansen, author of the play _Hyldrebryllupet_.

3. _A Svanhild like the old_. In the tale of the Volsungs Svanhild was the daughter of Sigurd and Gudrun,--the _Siegfried_ and Kriemhild of _Nibelungenlied_. The fierce King Jormunrek, hearing of her matchless beauty, sends his son Randwer to woo her in his name. Randwer is, however, induced to woo her in his own, and the girl approves. Jormunrek thereupon causes Randwer to be arrested and hanged, and meeting with Svanhild, as he and his men ride home from the hunt, tramples her to death under their horses' hoofs. Gudrun incites her sons Sorli and Hamdir to avenge their sister: they boldly enter Jormunrek's hall, and succeed in cutting off his hands and feet, but are themselves slain by his men. This last dramatic episode is told in the Eddic _Hamthismol_.

4. _In the remotest east there grows a plant_. The germ of the famous tea-simile is due to Fru Collett's romance, "The Officials Daughters" (cf. Introduction, p. ix.). But she exploits the idea only under a single and obvious aspect, viz., the comparison of the tender bloom of love with the precious firstling blade which brews the quintessential tea for the Chinese emperor's table; what the world calls love being, like what it calls tea a coarse and flavourless after-crop. Ibsen has, it will be seen given a number of ingenious developments to the analogy. I know Fru Collett's work only through the accounts of it given by Brandes and Jaeger.

5. _Another Burns_. In the original: "Dolen" ("The Dalesman"), that is A. O. Vinje, Ibsen's friend and literary comrade, editor of the journal so-called and hence known familiarly by its name. See the Introduction.

6. _Like Old Montanus_. The hero of Holberg's comedy _Erasmus Montanus_, who returns from foreign travel to his native parish with the discovery that the world is _not_ flat. Public indignation is aroused, and Montanus finds it expedient to announce that his eyes had deceived him, that "the world _is_ flat, gentlemen."