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THE ROAD TO DAMASCUS
A TRILOGY
By August Strindberg
English Version By Graham Rawson
With An Introduction By Gunnar Ollén
Contents
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INTRODUCTION
Strindberg's great trilogy The Road to Damascus presents many mysteries to the uninitiated. Its peculiar changes of mood, its gallery of half unreal characters, its bizarre episodes combine to make it a bewilderingly rich but rather 'difficult' work. It cannot be recommended to the lover of light drama or the seeker of momentary distraction. The Road to Damascus does not deal with the superficial strata of human life, but probes into those depths where the problems of God, and death, and eternity become terrifying realities.
Strindberg's famous trilogy The Road to Damascus poses many mysteries for those unfamiliar with it. Its unusual mood shifts, its cast of almost surreal characters, and its strange events come together to create a work that is richly complex but quite 'challenging.' It’s not something I would recommend to fans of light drama or those looking for a quick distraction. The Road to Damascus doesn't explore the surface-level aspects of human existence; instead, it delves into the deeper issues where the challenges of God, death, and eternity become haunting realities.
Many authors have, of course, dealt with the profoundest problems of humanity without, on that account, having been able to evoke our interest. There may have been too much philosophy and too little art in the presentation of the subject, too little reality and too much soaring into the heights. That is not so with Strindberg's drama. It is a trenchant settling of accounts between a complex and fascinating individual—the author—and his past, and the realistic scenes have often been transplanted in detail from his own changeful life.
Many authors have tackled the deepest issues of humanity, but that hasn’t necessarily captured our interest. They might have included too much philosophy and not enough artistry in how they presented the topic, with too little reality and too much idealism. However, that’s not the case with Strindberg's plays. They provide a sharp reckoning between a complicated and intriguing person—the author—and his past, and the realistic scenes are often directly drawn from his own tumultuous life.
In order fully to understand The Road to Damascus it is therefore essential to know at least the most important features of that background of real life, out of which the drama has grown.
To fully understand The Road to Damascus, it's essential to know at least the key aspects of the real-life background from which the drama has emerged.
Parts I and II of the trilogy were written in 1898, while Part III was added somewhat later, in the years 1900-1901. In 1898 Strindberg had only half emerged from what was by far the severest of the many crises through which in his troubled life he had to pass. He had overcome the worst period of terror, which had brought him dangerously near the borders of sanity, and he felt as if he could again open his eyes and breathe freely. He was not free from that nervous pressure under which he had been working, but the worst of the inner tension had relaxed and he felt the need of taking a survey of what had happened, of summarising and trying to fathom what could have been underlying his apparently unaccountable experiences. The literary outcome of this settling of accounts with the past was The Road to Damascus.
Parts I and II of the trilogy were written in 1898, while Part III was added somewhat later, in the years 1900-1901. In 1898, Strindberg had only partially emerged from the harshest crisis he faced in his troubled life. He had gotten through the worst period of terror, which brought him dangerously close to losing his sanity, and he felt as if he could finally open his eyes and breathe freely again. He wasn't free from the nervous pressure he had been under while working, but the worst of the inner tension had eased, and he felt the need to take stock of what had happened, to summarize and try to understand what might have been behind his seemingly inexplicable experiences. The literary result of this reckoning with the past was The Road to Damascus.
The Road to Damascus might be termed a marriage drama, a mystery drama, or a drama of penance and conversion, according as preponderance is given to one or other of its characteristics. The question then arises: what was it in the drama which was of deepest significance to the author himself? The answer is to be found in the title, with its allusion to the narrative in the Acts of the Apostles of the journey of Saul, the persecutor, the scoffer, who, on his way to Damascus, had an awe-inspiring vision, which converted Saul, the hater of Christ, into Paul, the apostle of the Gentiles. Strindberg's drama describes the progress of the author right up to his conversion, shows how stage by stage he relinquishes worldly things, scientific renown, and above all woman, and finally, when nothing more binds him to this world, takes the vows of a monk and enters a monastery where no dogmas or theology, but only broadminded humanity and resignation hold sway. What, however, in an inner sense, distinguishes Strindberg's drama from the Bible narrative is that the conversion itself—although what leads up to it is convincingly described, both logically and psychologically—does not bear the character of a final and irrevocable decision, but on the contrary is depicted with a certain hesitancy and uncertainty. THE STRANGER'S entry into the monastery consequently gives the impression of being a piece of logical construction; the author's heart is not wholly in it. From Strindberg's later works it also becomes evident that his severe crisis had undoubtedly led to a complete reformation in that it definitely caused him to turn from worldly things, of which indeed he had tasted to the full, towards matters divine. But this did not mean that then and there he accepted some specific religion, whether Christian or other. One would undoubtedly come nearest to the author's own interpretation in this respect by characterising The Road to Damascus not as a drama of conversion, but as a drama of struggle, the story of a restless, arduous pilgrimage through the chimeras of the world towards the border beyond which eternity stretches in solemn peace, symbolised in the drama by a mountain, the peaks of which reach high above the clouds.
The Road to Damascus can be called a marriage drama, a mystery drama, or a drama about penance and conversion, depending on which aspect is emphasized. This raises the question: what was most significant in the drama for the author himself? The answer lies in the title, which refers to the story in the Acts of the Apostles about Saul, the persecutor and scoffer, who, on his way to Damascus, experienced a life-changing vision that transformed him from Saul, the hater of Christ, into Paul, the apostle to the Gentiles. Strindberg’s drama outlines the author’s journey up to his conversion, showing how he gradually lets go of worldly things, scientific fame, and especially women. Finally, when he has no more ties to this world, he takes monastic vows and enters a monastery where only open-minded humanity and resignation dominate, without dogmas or theology. However, what sets Strindberg’s drama apart from the biblical narrative is that the conversion itself—though the preceding events are convincingly described, both logically and psychologically—does not come across as a final and irrevocable choice; instead, it is portrayed with some hesitation and uncertainty. THE STRANGER's entry into the monastery feels somewhat constructed; the author's heart isn't fully in it. From Strindberg's later works, it's clear that his intense personal crisis did lead to a significant transformation, pushing him away from worldly matters he had fully indulged in towards divine concerns. But this did not mean that he embraced any specific religion, whether Christian or otherwise. The closest interpretation to the author's own understanding of The Road to Damascus would be to describe it not as a story of conversion, but as a story of struggle—a tale of a restless, challenging journey through the illusions of the world toward the boundary beyond which eternity lies in solemn peace, symbolized in the drama by a mountain with peaks that soar high above the clouds.
In this final settling of accounts one subject is of dominating importance, recurring again and again throughout the trilogy; it is that of woman. Strindberg him, of course, become famous as a writer about women; he has ruthlessly described the hatreds of love, the hell that marriage can be, he is the creator of Le Plaidoyer d'un Fou and The Dance of Death, he had three divorces, yet was just as much a worshipper of woman—and at the same time a diabolical hater of her seducing qualities under which he suffered defeat after defeat. Each time he fell in love afresh he would compare himself to Hercules, the Titan, whose strength was vanquished by Queen Omphale, who clothed herself in his lion's skin, while he had to sit at the spinning wheel dressed in women's clothes. It can be readily understood that to a man of Strindberg's self-conceit the problem of his relations with women must become a vital issue on the solution of which the whole Damascus pilgrimage depended.
In this final accounting, one subject stands out prominently and appears repeatedly throughout the trilogy: the issue of women. Strindberg, of course, became famous for his writing about women; he has brutally depicted the hatred that love can evoke, the torment of marriage. He is the creator of Le Plaidoyer d'un Fou and The Dance of Death, had three divorces, yet was equally a worshipper of women—and at the same time a fierce critic of their seductive qualities, which led to his numerous defeats. Whenever he fell in love again, he would liken himself to Hercules, the Titan, whose strength was overpowered by Queen Omphale, who wore his lion's skin while he was left at the spinning wheel dressed in women's clothes. It's easy to see that for a man with Strindberg's ego, his relationships with women would become a critical issue on which his entire journey of self-discovery depended.
In 1898, when Parts I and II of the trilogy were written, Strindberg had been married twice; both marriages had ended unhappily. In the year 1901, when the wedding scenes of Part III were written, Strindberg had recently experienced the rapture of a new love which, however, was soon to be clouded. It must not be forgotten that in his entire emotional life Strindberg was an artist and as such a man of impulse, with the spontaneity and naivity and intensity of a child. For him love had nothing to do with respectability and worldly calculations; he liked to think of it as a thunderbolt striking mortals with a destructive force like the lightning hurled by the almighty Zeus. It is easy to understand that a man of such temperament would not be particularly suited for married life, where self-sacrifice and strong-minded patience may be severely tested. In addition his three wives were themselves artists, one an authoress, the other two actresses, all of them pronounced characters, endowed with a degree of will and self-assertion, which, although it could not be matched against Strindberg's, yet would have been capable of producing friction with rather more pliant natures than that of the Swedish dramatist.
In 1898, when Parts I and II of the trilogy were written, Strindberg had been married twice; both marriages ended unhappily. In 1901, when he wrote the wedding scenes for Part III, Strindberg had just experienced the joy of a new love, but that was soon to be complicated. It’s important to remember that throughout his emotional life, Strindberg was an artist and, as such, was impulsive, with the spontaneity, naivety, and intensity of a child. For him, love had nothing to do with social norms or practical considerations; he liked to think of it as a lightning bolt striking people with destructive power, much like the lightning thrown by the powerful Zeus. It’s easy to see that someone with such a temperament wouldn’t be well-suited for married life, where self-sacrifice and strong patience can be put to the test. Additionally, his three wives were also artists: one a writer and the other two actresses, all strong personalities with a level of will and confidence that, while not matching Strindberg's, could definitely create tension with more flexible personalities than that of the Swedish playwright.
In the trilogy Strindberg's first wife, Siri von Essen, his marriage to whom was happiest and lasted longest (1877-1891), and more especially his second wife, the Austrian authoress Frida Uhl (married to him 1893-1897) have supplied the subject matter for his picture of THE LADY. In the happy marriage scenes of Part III we recognise reminiscences from the wedding of Strindberg, then fifty-two, and the twenty-three-year-old actress Harriet Bosse, whose marriage to him lasted from 1901 until 1904.
In the trilogy, Strindberg's first wife, Siri von Essen, who he was happiest with and whose marriage lasted the longest (1877-1891), and especially his second wife, the Austrian author Frida Uhl (married to him from 1893 to 1897), have provided the inspiration for his portrayal of THE LADY. In the joyful marriage scenes of Part III, we see reflections from Strindberg's wedding, when he was fifty-two, to the twenty-three-year-old actress Harriet Bosse, whose marriage to him lasted from 1901 to 1904.
The character of THE LADY in Parts I and II is chiefly drawn from recollections—fairly recent when the drama was written—of Frida Uhl and his life with her. From the very beginning her marriage to Strindberg had been most troublous. In the autumn of 1892 Strindberg moved from the Stockholm skerries to Berlin, where he lived a rather hectic Bohemian life among the artists collecting in the little tavern 'Zum Schwarzen Ferkel.' He made the acquaintance of Frida Uhl in the beginning of the year 1893, and after a good many difficulties was able to arrange for a marriage on the 2nd May on Heligoland Island, where English marriage laws, less rigorous than the German, applied. Strindberg's nervous temperament would not tolerate a quiet and peaceful honeymoon; quite soon the couple departed to Gravesend via Hamburg. Strindberg was too restless to stay there and moved on to London. There he left his wife to try to negotiate for the production of his plays, and journeyed alone to Sellin, on the island of Rügen, after having first been compelled to stop in Hamburg owing to lack of money. Strindberg stayed on Rügen during the month of July, and then left for the home of his parents-in-law at Mondsee, near Salzburg in Austria, where he was to meet his wife. But when she was delayed a few days on the journey from London, Strindberg impatiently departed for Berlin, where Frida Uhl followed shortly after. About the same time an action was brought for the suppression of the German version of Le Plaidoyer d'un Fou as being immoral. This book gives an undisguised, intensely personal picture of Strindberg's first marriage, and was intended by him for publication only after his death as a defence against accusations directed against him for his behaviour towards Siri von Essen. Strindberg was acquitted after a time, but before that his easily fired imagination had given him a thorough shake-up, which could only hasten the crisis which seemed to be approaching. After a trip to Brünn, where Strindberg wrote his scientific work Antibarbarus, the couple arrived in November at the home of Frida Uhl's grandparents in the little village of Dornach, by the Upper Danube; here the wanderings of 1893 at last came to an end. For a few months comparative peace reigned in the artists' little home, but the birth of a daughter, Kerstin, in May, brought this tranquillity to a sudden end. Strindberg, who had lived in a state of nervous depression since the 1880's, felt himself put on one side by the child, and felt ill at ease in an environment of, as he put it in the autobiographical The Quarantine Master, 'articles of food, excrements, wet-nurses treated like milch-cows, cooks and decaying vegetables.' He longed for cleanliness and peace, and in letters to an artist friend he spoke of entering a monastery. He even thought of founding one himself in the Ardennes and drew up detailed schemes for rules, dress, and food. The longing to get away and common interests with his Parisian friend (a musician named Leopold Littmansson) attracted Strindberg to Paris, where he settled down in the beginning of the autumn 1894. His wife joined him, but left again at the close of the autumn. In reality Strindberg was at this time almost impossible to live with. Persecution mania and hallucinations took possession of him and his morbid suspicions knew no bounds. In spite of this he was half conscious that there was something wrong with his mental faculties, and in the beginning of 1895, assisted by the Swedish Minister, he went by his own consent to the St. Louis Hospital in Paris. During his chemical experiments, in which among other things he tried to produce gold, he had burnt his hands, so that he had to seek medical attention on that account also. He wrote about this in a letter:
The character of THE LADY in Parts I and II is mainly based on memories—fairly recent when the play was written—of Frida Uhl and his life with her. From the start, her marriage to Strindberg was quite troubled. In the autumn of 1892, Strindberg moved from the Stockholm skerries to Berlin, where he lived a rather chaotic Bohemian lifestyle among artists at the small tavern 'Zum Schwarzen Ferkel.' He met Frida Uhl at the beginning of 1893, and after many difficulties, managed to arrange their marriage on May 2nd on Heligoland Island, where the English marriage laws were less strict than the German ones. Strindberg's nervous temperament wouldn’t allow for a calm and peaceful honeymoon; soon enough, the couple left for Gravesend via Hamburg. Strindberg was too restless to stay there and moved on to London. He left his wife to negotiate the production of his plays and traveled alone to Sellin on the island of Rügen, after being forced to halt in Hamburg due to lack of funds. Strindberg spent July on Rügen, then headed to his in-laws' home in Mondsee, near Salzburg, Austria, where he was supposed to meet his wife. But when she was delayed a few days on the trip from London, Strindberg impatiently left for Berlin, with Frida Uhl following shortly after. Around the same time, there was a lawsuit to suppress the German version of Le Plaidoyer d'un Fou for being immoral. This book offers an unfiltered, deeply personal depiction of Strindberg's first marriage and was intended by him for publication only after his death as a defense against accusations of his behavior towards Siri von Essen. Strindberg was eventually cleared, but before that, his volatile imagination had caused him considerable distress, which could only hasten the crisis that seemed to be looming. After a trip to Brünn, where he wrote his scientific work Antibarbarus, the couple arrived in November at Frida Uhl's grandparents' home in the small village of Dornach by the Upper Danube; here, the travels of 1893 finally came to a close. For a few months, relative peace reigned in the artists' modest home, but the birth of a daughter, Kerstin, in May abruptly ended that tranquility. Strindberg, who had been living in a state of nervous depression since the 1880s, felt sidelined by the child and uncomfortable in an environment filled with, as he described it in the autobiographical The Quarantine Master, 'food, excrement, wet-nurses treated like dairy cows, cooks, and rotting vegetables.' He yearned for cleanliness and peace, and in letters to an artist friend, he talked about entering a monastery. He even considered starting one himself in the Ardennes and drafted detailed plans for rules, attire, and food. His longing to escape and shared interests with his Parisian friend (a musician named Leopold Littmansson) drew Strindberg to Paris, where he settled at the beginning of autumn 1894. His wife joined him but left again by the end of autumn. In truth, Strindberg was nearly impossible to live with at this time. He was plagued by paranoia and hallucinations, and his morbid suspicions were endless. Despite this, he was somewhat aware that something was off with his mental state, and at the start of 1895, with the help of the Swedish Minister, he voluntarily admitted himself to the St. Louis Hospital in Paris. During his chemical experiments, in which he tried to produce gold, he burned his hands and needed medical attention for that as well. He wrote about this in a letter:
'I am going to hospital because I am ill, because my doctor has sent me there, and because I need to be looked after like a child, because I am ruined.... And it torments me and grieves me, my nervous system is rotten, paralytic, hysterical....'
'I’m going to the hospital because I’m sick, because my doctor sent me there, and because I need to be taken care of like a child, because I’m falling apart.... And it torments and saddens me, my nervous system is a mess, paralyzed, hysterical....'
Never before had Strindberg lived in such distress as at this period, both physically and mentally. With shattered nerves, sometimes over the verge of insanity, without any means of existence other than what friends managed to scrape together, separated from his second wife, who had opened proceedings for divorce, far from his native land and without any prospects for the future, he was brought to a profound religious crisis. With almost incredible fortitude he succeeded in fighting his way through this difficult period, with the remarkable result that the former Bohemian, atheist, and scoffer was gradually able to emerge with the firm assurance of a prophet, and even enter a new creative period, perhaps mightier than before. One cannot help reflecting that a man capable of overcoming a crisis of such a formidable character and of several years' duration, as this one of Strindberg's had been, with reason intact and even with increased creative power, in reality, in spite of his hypersensitive nervous system, must have been an unusually strong man both physically and mentally.
Never before had Strindberg experienced such distress as he did during this time, both physically and mentally. With shattered nerves, sometimes on the verge of insanity, without any means of support other than what friends could gather, separated from his second wife, who had started divorce proceedings, far from his homeland and without any prospects for the future, he faced a deep religious crisis. With almost unbelievable strength, he managed to push through this tough period, resulting in the transformation of a former Bohemian, atheist, and skeptic into someone who emerged with the firm confidence of a prophet, entering a new creative phase, perhaps even stronger than before. It’s hard not to think that a person capable of overcoming such a significant and lengthy crisis, like Strindberg's, while maintaining his sanity and even enhancing his creative ability, must have been an exceptionally strong individual both physically and mentally, despite his hypersensitive nervous system.
Upon trying to define more closely what actual relation the play has to those events of Strindberg's restless life, of which we have given a rough outline, we find that for the most part the author has undoubtedly made use of his own experiences, but has adapted, combined and added to them still more, so that the result is a mixture of real experience and imagination, all moulded into a carefully worked out artistic form.
When we attempt to clearly define the relationship between the play and the events of Strindberg's turbulent life that we’ve briefly outlined, we discover that the author has largely drawn from his own experiences. However, he has also adapted, combined, and embellished these experiences, resulting in a blend of real events and imagination, all shaped into a carefully crafted artistic form.
If to begin with, we dwell for a while on Part I it is evident that the hurried wanderings of THE STRANGER and THE LADY between the street corner, the room in the hotel, the sea and the Rose Room with the mother-in-law, have their foundation—often in detail—in Strindberg's rovings with Frida Uhl. I will give a few examples. In a book by Frida Uhl about her marriage to the Swedish genius (splendid in parts but not very reliable) she recalls that the month before her marriage she took rooms at Neustädtische Kirchstrasse 1, in Berlin, facing a Gothic church in Dorotheenstrasse, situated at the cross-roads between the post office in Dorotheenstrasse and the café 'Zum Schwarzen Ferkel' in Wilhelmstrasse. This Berlin environment appears to be almost exactly reproduced in the introductory scene of Part I, where THE STRANGER and THE LADY meet outside a little Gothic church with a post office and café adjoining. The happy scenes by the sea are, of course, pleasant recollections from Heligoland, and the many discussions about money matters in the midst of the honeymoon are quite explicable when we know how the dramatist was continually haunted by money troubles, even if occasionally he received a big fee, and that this very financial insecurity was one of the chief reasons why Frida Uhl's father opposed the marriage. Again, the country scenes which follow in Part I, shift to the hilly country round the Danube, with their Catholic Calvaries and expiation chapels, where Strindberg lived with his parents-in-law in Mondsee and with his wife's grandparents in Dornach and the neighbouring village Klam, with its mill, its smithy, and its gloomy ravine. The Rose Room was the name he gave to the room in which he lived during his stay with his mother-in-law and his daughter Kerstin in Klam in the autumn of 1896, as he has himself related in one of his autobiographical books Inferno. In this way we could go on, showing how the localities which are to be met with in the drama often correspond in detail to the places Strindberg had visited in the course of his pilgrimage during the years 1893-1898. Space prevents us, however, from entering on a more detailed analysis in this respect.
If we start by looking at Part I, it's clear that the hurried movements of THE STRANGER and THE LADY between the street corner, the hotel room, the sea, and the Rose Room with the mother-in-law are often based—sometimes in detail—on Strindberg's experiences with Frida Uhl. Here are a few examples. In a book by Frida Uhl about her marriage to the Swedish genius (great in parts but not very trustworthy), she recalls that a month before their wedding, she rented rooms at Neustädtische Kirchstrasse 1 in Berlin, facing a Gothic church in Dorotheenstrasse, located at the crossroads between the post office in Dorotheenstrasse and the café 'Zum Schwarzen Ferkel' in Wilhelmstrasse. This Berlin setting seems to be almost exactly replicated in the opening scene of Part I, where THE STRANGER and THE LADY meet outside a small Gothic church, with a post office and café next door. The joyful scenes by the sea are clearly happy memories from Heligoland, and the many conversations about finances during the honeymoon make sense when we know how the playwright was constantly plagued by money issues, even if he occasionally received a large payment, and that this financial instability was a main reason why Frida Uhl's father opposed the marriage. Additionally, the country scenes that follow in Part I shift to the hilly region around the Danube, with its Catholic Calvaries and chapels of atonement, where Strindberg lived with his in-laws in Mondsee and with his wife's grandparents in Dornach and the nearby village of Klam, known for its mill, smithy, and dark ravine. The Rose Room was the name he gave to the room where he stayed with his mother-in-law and his daughter Kerstin in Klam in the fall of 1896, as he has mentioned in one of his autobiographical books, Inferno. We could continue detailing how the settings found in the play often match up closely with the places Strindberg visited during his travels from 1893 to 1898. However, time doesn't allow us to delve deeper into this analysis.
That THE STRANGER represents Strindberg's alter ego is evident in many ways, even apart from the fact that THE STRANGER'S wanderings from place to place, as we have already seen, bear a direct relation to those of Strindberg himself. THE STRANGER is an author, like Strindberg; his childhood of hate is Strindberg's own; other details—such as for instance that THE STRANGER has refused to attend his father's funeral, that the Parish Council has wanted to take his child away from him, that on account of his writings he has suffered lawsuits, illness, poverty, exile, divorce; that in the police description he is characterised as a person without a permanent situation, with uncertain income; married, but had deserted his wife and left his children; known as entertaining subversive opinions on social questions (by The Red Room, The New Realm and other works Strindberg became the great standard-bearer of the Swedish Radicals in their campaign against conventionalism and bureaucracy); that he gives the impression of not being in full possession of his senses; that he is sought by his children's guardian because of unpaid maintenance allowance—everything corresponds to the experiences of the unfortunate Strindberg himself, with all his bitter defeats in life and his triumphs in the world of letters.
That THE STRANGER represents Strindberg's alter ego is clear in many ways, not just because THE STRANGER'S travels from place to place relate directly to Strindberg's own experiences. THE STRANGER is a writer, like Strindberg; his childhood filled with hate mirrors Strindberg's life. Other details—like the fact that THE STRANGER refused to attend his father's funeral, that the Parish Council tried to take his child away, that he's faced lawsuits, illness, poverty, exile, and divorce due to his writings; that in the police description he is noted as someone without a stable situation and an uncertain income; married but having deserted his wife and left his children; known for holding subversive views on social issues (through The Red Room, The New Realm, and other works, Strindberg became the key figure of the Swedish Radicals in their fight against conventionalism and bureaucracy); that he seems to be mentally unstable; and that he is pursued by his children's guardian for unpaid child support—everything aligns with the unfortunate experiences of Strindberg himself, reflecting both his bitter defeats in life and his victories in literature.
Those scenes where THE STRANGER is uncertain whether the people he sees before him are real or not—he catches hold of THE BEGGAR'S arm to feel whether he is a real, live person—or those occasions when he appears as a visionary or thought-reader—he describes the kitchen in his wife's parental home without ever having seen it, and knows her thoughts before she has expressed them—have their deep foundation in Strindberg's mental make-up, especially as it was during the period of tension in the middle of the 1890's, termed the Inferno period, because at that time Strindberg thought that he lived in hell. Our most prominent student of Strindberg, Professor Martin Lamm, wrote about this in his work on Strindberg's dramas:
Those scenes where THE STRANGER is unsure if the people he encounters are real—he grabs THE BEGGAR'S arm to check if he is actually a living person—or those moments when he seems to be a visionary or mind-reader—he describes the kitchen in his wife's childhood home without ever having seen it, and knows her thoughts before she verbalizes them—are deeply rooted in Strindberg's psyche, especially during the tense period of the mid-1890s known as the Inferno period, because at that time Strindberg believed he was living in hell. Our leading expert on Strindberg, Professor Martin Lamm, wrote about this in his analysis of Strindberg's plays:
'In order to understand the first part of The Road to Damascus we must take into consideration that the author had not yet shaken off his terrifying visions and persecutionary hallucinations. He can play with them artistically, sometimes he feels tempted to make a joke of them, but they still retain for him their "terrifying semi-reality." It is this which makes the drama so bewildering, but at the same time so vigorous and affecting. Later, when depicting dream states, he creates an artful blend of reality and poetry. He produces more exquisite works of art, but he no longer gives the same anguished impression of a soul striving to free itself from the meshes of his idées fixes.'
'To understand the first part of The Road to Damascus, we need to consider that the author hadn't yet shaken off his terrifying visions and feelings of persecution. He can play with them creatively, and sometimes he feels tempted to joke about them, but they still hold for him their "terrifying semi-reality." This is what makes the drama so confusing, yet at the same time so powerful and moving. Later on, when depicting dream states, he creates a skillful blend of reality and poetry. He produces more beautiful works of art, but he no longer conveys the same desperate impression of a soul trying to break free from the grip of his idées fixes.'
With his hypersensitive nervous system Strindberg, like THE STRANGER, really gives the impression of having been a visionary. For instance, his author friend Albert Engström, has told how one evening during a stay far out in the Stockholm skerries, far from all civilisation, Strindberg suddenly had a feeling that his little daughter was ill, and wanted to return to town at once. True enough, it turned out that the girl had fallen ill just at the time when Strindberg had felt the warning. As regards thought-reading, it appears that at the slightest change in expression and often for no perceptible reason at all, Strindberg would draw the most definite conclusions, as definite as from an uttered word or an action. This we have to keep in mind, for instance, when judging Strindberg's accusations against his wife in Le Plaidoyer d'un Fou, the book which THE LADY in The Road to Damascus is tempted to read, in spite of having been forbidden by THE STRANGER, with tragic results. In Part III of the drama Strindberg lets THE STRANGER discuss this thought-reading problem with his first wife. THE STRANGER says:
With his highly sensitive nervous system, Strindberg, like THE STRANGER, really gives off the vibe of being a visionary. For example, his author friend Albert Engström recounted how one evening during a stay far out in the Stockholm archipelago, away from all civilization, Strindberg suddenly felt that his little daughter was sick and wanted to return to the city immediately. As it turned out, the girl had indeed fallen ill just at the moment Strindberg sensed the warning. Regarding thought-reading, it seems that at the slightest change in expression—and often for no clear reason at all—Strindberg would make very definite conclusions, as clear as if they came from spoken words or actions. We need to keep this in mind, especially when assessing Strindberg's accusations against his wife in Le Plaidoyer d'un Fou, the book that THE LADY in The Road to Damascus feels tempted to read, despite being forbidden by THE STRANGER, leading to tragic outcomes. In Part III of the play, Strindberg has THE STRANGER discuss this thought-reading issue with his first wife. THE STRANGER says:
'We made a mistake when we were living together, because we accused each other of wicked thoughts before they'd become actions; and lived in mental reservations instead of realities. For instance, I once noticed how you enjoyed the defiling gaze of a strange man, and I accused you of unfaithfulness';
"We made a mistake while we were living together because we blamed each other for having bad thoughts before they turned into actions; we lived in our heads instead of in the real world. For example, I once saw how much you liked the attention from a strange man, and I accused you of being unfaithful."
to which THE LADY, to Strindberg's satisfaction, has to reply:
to which THE LADY, to Strindberg's satisfaction, has to reply:
'You were wrong to do it, and right. Because my thoughts were sinful.'
'You were wrong to do it, but also right. Because my thoughts were sinful.'
As regards the other figures in the gallery of characters in Part I, we have already shown THE LADY as the identical counterpart in all essentials of Strindberg's second wife, Frida Uhl. Like the latter THE LADY is a Catholic, has a grandfather, Dr. Cornelius Reisch—called THE OLD MAN in the drama—whose passion is shooting; and a mother, Maria Uhl, with a predilection for religious discourses in Strindberg's own style; another detail, the fact that she was eighteen years old before she crossed to the other shore to see what had shimmered dimly in the distant haze, corresponds with Frida Uhl's statement that she had been confined in a convent until she was eighteen and a half years old. On the other hand, the chief female character of the drama does not correspond to her real life counterpart in that she is supposed to have been married to a doctor before eloping with THE STRANGER, Strindberg. Here reminiscences from Strindberg's first marriage play a part. Siri von Essen, Strindberg's first wife, was married to an officer, Baron Wrangel, and both the Wrangels received Strindberg kindly in their home as a friend. Love quickly flared up between Siri von Essen-Wrangel and Strindberg. She obtained a divorce from her husband and married Strindberg. Baron von Wrangel shortly afterwards married again, a cousin of Siri von Essen. Knowing these matrimonial complications we understand how Strindberg must have felt when, on the point of leaving for Heligoland to marry Frida Uhl, he met his former wife's (Siri von Essen) first husband, Baron Wrangel, on Lehrter Station in Berlin, and found that, like Strindberg himself, he was on a lover's errand. Knowing all this we need not be surprised at the extremely complicated matrimonial relations in The Road to Damascus, where, for example, for the sake of THE STRANGER, THE DOCTOR obtains a divorce from THE LADY in order to marry THE STRANGER'S first wife. In addition to Baron Wrangel a doctor in the town of Ystad, in the south of Sweden—Dr. Eliasson who attended Strindberg during his most difficult period—has stood as a model for THE DOCTOR. We note in particular that the description of the doctor's house enclosing a courtyard on three sides, tallies with a type of building which is characteristic of the south of Sweden. When THE DOCTOR ruthlessly explains to THE STRANGER that the asylum, 'The Good Help,' was not a hospital but a lunatic asylum, he expresses Strindberg's own misgivings that the St. Louis Hospital, of which, as mentioned above, Strindberg was an inmate in the beginning of the year 1895, was really to be regarded as a lunatic asylum.
As for the other characters in Part I, we have already shown that THE LADY closely resembles Strindberg's second wife, Frida Uhl, in all major aspects. Like Frida, THE LADY is a Catholic and has a grandfather, Dr. Cornelius Reisch—referred to as THE OLD MAN in the play—who is passionate about shooting. She also has a mother, Maria Uhl, who enjoys religious talks in Strindberg's distinctive style. Another detail is that she was eighteen when she first crossed to the other side to discover what had been vaguely seen in the distance, which parallels Frida Uhl's claim that she was in a convent until she was eighteen and a half. However, the main female character in the play does not match her real-life counterpart because she is portrayed as having been married to a doctor before running away with THE STRANGER, Strindberg. This takes us back to Strindberg's first marriage. Siri von Essen, Strindberg's first wife, was married to an officer, Baron Wrangel, and both he and his wife welcomed Strindberg into their home as a friend. A romance quickly ignited between Siri von Essen-Wrangel and Strindberg. She divorced her husband and married Strindberg. Shortly after, Baron von Wrangel remarried, taking a cousin of Siri von Essen as his wife. Understanding these marital complexities helps us grasp Strindberg's feelings when he was about to leave for Heligoland to marry Frida Uhl and unexpectedly ran into his former wife's first husband, Baron Wrangel, at Lehrter Station in Berlin, only to find that, like Strindberg, he was also on a romantic mission. With this in mind, it isn't surprising to see the intricate marital entanglements in The Road to Damascus, where, for example, to be with THE STRANGER, THE DOCTOR divorces THE LADY to marry THE STRANGER'S first wife. Besides Baron Wrangel, a doctor from Ystad in southern Sweden—Dr. Eliasson, who supported Strindberg during his toughest times—served as inspiration for THE DOCTOR. It's worth noting that the description of the doctor's house, which has a courtyard on three sides, matches a style typical of southern Sweden. When THE DOCTOR callously tells THE STRANGER that 'The Good Help' isn't a hospital but a mental asylum, he's voicing Strindberg's own doubts about whether the St. Louis Hospital, where Strindberg was a patient in early 1895, could be considered anything other than a mental asylum.
Even minor characters, such as CAESAR and THE BEGGAR have their counterparts in real life, even though in the main they are fantastic creations of his imagination. The guardian of his daughter, Kerstin, a relative of Frida Uhl's, was called Dr. Cäsar R. v. Weyr. Regarding THE BEGGAR it may be enough to quote Strindberg's feelings when confronted with the collections made by his Paris friends:
Even minor characters, like CAESAR and THE BEGGAR, have their real-life counterparts, even though they are primarily fantastic creations from his imagination. The guardian of his daughter, Kerstin, who was related to Frida Uhl, was named Dr. Cäsar R. v. Weyr. When it comes to THE BEGGAR, it might be sufficient to reference Strindberg's feelings when he faced the collections made by his friends in Paris:
'I am a beggar who has no right to go to cafés. Beggar! That is the right word; it rings in my ears and brings a burning blush to my cheeks, the blush of shame, humiliation, and rage!
'I am a beggar who has no right to go to cafés. Beggar! That is the right word; it echoes in my ears and brings a burning blush to my cheeks, the blush of shame, humiliation, and anger!
'To think that six weeks ago I sat at this table! My theatre manager addressed me as Dear Master; journalists strove to interview me, the photographer begged to be allowed to sell my portrait. And now: a beggar, a branded man, an outcast from society!'
'Can you believe that six weeks ago I was sitting at this table? My theater manager called me "Dear Master;" journalists were eager to interview me, and a photographer was desperate to sell my portrait. And now: I'm a beggar, a marked man, an outcast from society!'
After this we can understand why Strindberg in The Road to Damascus apparently in such surprising manner is seized by the suspicion that he is himself the beggar.
After this, we can understand why Strindberg in The Road to Damascus seems to be suddenly taken by the suspicion that he is the beggar himself.
We have thus seen that Part I of The Road to Damascus is at the same time a free creation of fantasy and a drama of portrayal. The elements of realism are starkly manifest, but they are moulded and hammered into a work of art by a force of combinative imagination rising far above the task of mere descriptive realism. The scenes unroll themselves in calculated sequence up to the central asylum picture, from there to return in reverse order through the second half of the drama, thus symbolising life's continuous repetition of itself, Kierkegaard's Gentagelse. The first part of The Road to Damascus is the one most frequently produced on the stage. This is understandable, having regard to its firm structure and the consistency of its faith in a Providence directing the fortunes and misfortunes of man, whether the individual rages in revolt or submits in quiet resignation.
We can see that Part I of The Road to Damascus is both a creative fantasy and a vivid portrayal. The elements of realism are clearly evident, but they are shaped and crafted into a work of art by a powerful imagination that goes beyond simple descriptive realism. The scenes unfold in a carefully planned sequence leading up to the main asylum scene, and then they reverse order through the second half of the play, symbolizing life's endless cycle of repetition, as noted by Kierkegaard in Gentagelse. The first part of The Road to Damascus is the most commonly performed on stage. This makes sense, considering its solid structure and its unwavering belief in a Providence that governs the ups and downs of human life, whether a person rebels furiously or submits with quiet acceptance.
The second part of The Road to Damascus is dominated by the scenes of the great alchemist banquet which, in all its fantastic oddity, is one of the most suggestive ever created on the ancient theme of the fickleness of fortune. It was suggested above that there were two factors beyond all others binding Strindberg to the world and making him hesitate before the monastery; one was woman, from whom he sets himself free in Part II, after the birth of a child—precisely as in his marriage to Frida Uhl—the other was scientific honour, in its highest phase equivalent, to Strindberg, to the power to produce gold. Countless were the experiments for this purpose made by Strindberg in his primitive laboratories, and countless his failures. To the world-famous author, literary honour meant little as opposed to the slightest prospect of being acknowledged as a prominent scientist. Harriet Bosse has told me that Strindberg seldom said anything about his literary work, never was interested in what other people thought of them, or troubled to read the reviews; but on the other hand he would often, with sparkling eyes and childish pride, show her strips of paper, stained at one end with some golden-brown substance. 'Look,' he said, 'this is pure gold, and I have made it!' In face of the stubborn scepticism of scientific experts Strindberg was, however, driven to despair as to his ability, and felt his dreams of fortune shattered, as did THE STRANGER at the macabre banquet given in his honour—a banquet which was, as a matter of fact, planned by his Paris friends, not, as Strindberg would have liked to believe, in honour of the great scientist, but to the great author.
The second part of The Road to Damascus is centered around the scenes of the extravagant alchemist banquet, which, in all its bizarre uniqueness, stands out as one of the most evocative portrayals of the ancient theme of the unpredictability of fate. It was mentioned earlier that there were two key factors holding Strindberg back from the monastery; one was women, from whom he frees himself in Part II after the birth of a child—just like in his marriage to Frida Uhl—the other was scientific honor, which to Strindberg was equated with the ability to create gold. Strindberg performed countless experiments in his makeshift labs in pursuit of this goal, resulting in numerous failures. For the world-renowned author, literary recognition meant little compared to even the slightest chance of being acknowledged as a prominent scientist. Harriet Bosse has shared that Strindberg rarely talked about his literary work, never cared about others’ opinions of it, or bothered to read the reviews; however, he often excitedly showed her strips of paper, stained at one end with a golden-brown substance. 'Look,' he said, 'this is pure gold, and I made it!' Yet, faced with the persistent skepticism of scientific experts, Strindberg was driven to despair about his abilities and felt his dreams of wealth were crushed, much like THE STRANGER at the grim banquet held in his honor—a banquet that was actually organized by his friends in Paris, not, as Strindberg would have liked to believe, in tribute to the great scientist, but in celebration of the great author.
In Part I of The Road to Damascus, THE STRANGER replies with a hesitating 'Perhaps' when THE LADY wants to lead him to the protecting Church; and at the end of Part II he exclaims: 'Come, priest, before I change my mind'; but in Part III his decision is final, he enters the monastery. The reason is that not even THE LADY in her third incarnation had shown herself capable of reconciling him to life. The wedding day scenes just before, between Harriet Bosse and the ageing author, form, however, the climax of Part III and are among the most poetically moving that Strindberg has ever written.
In Part I of The Road to Damascus, THE STRANGER responds with a hesitant 'Maybe' when THE LADY tries to take him to the safe Church; and at the end of Part II, he exclaims: 'Come, priest, before I change my mind'; but in Part III, his choice is definite—he enters the monastery. The reason is that not even THE LADY in her third form had shown she could reconcile him to life. The wedding day scenes just before, between Harriet Bosse and the aging author, form, however, the climax of Part III and are among the most poetically moving moments that Strindberg has ever written.
Besides having his belief in the rapture of love shattered, THE STRANGER also suffers disappointment at seeing his child fall short of expectations. The meeting between the daughter Sylvia and THE STRANGER probably refers to an episode from the summer of 1899, when Strindberg, after long years of suffering in foreign countries, saw his beloved Swedish skerries again, and also his favourite daughter Greta, who had come over from Finland to meet him. Contrary to the version given in the drama, the reunion of father and daughter seems to have been very happy and cordial. However, it is typical of the fate-oppressed Strindberg that in his work even the happiest summer memories become tinged with black. Once and for all the dark colours on his palette were the most intense.
Besides having his belief in the excitement of love shattered, THE STRANGER also feels let down by his child not living up to expectations. The meeting between the daughter Sylvia and THE STRANGER likely references an event from the summer of 1899, when Strindberg, after enduring many years of hardship in foreign countries, finally saw his beloved Swedish skerries again, along with his favorite daughter Greta, who had traveled from Finland to see him. Unlike the version presented in the play, the reunion of father and daughter seems to have been very joyful and warm. However, it's typical of the fate-burdened Strindberg that in his work, even the happiest summer memories take on a darker shade. The dark hues on his palette were always the most vivid.
The final entry into the monastery was more a symbol for the struggling author's dream of peace and atonement than a real thing in his life. It is true he visited the Benedictine monastery, Maredsous, in Belgium in 1898, and its well stocked library came to play a certain part In the drama, but already he realised, after one night's sojourn there, that he had no call for the monastic life.
The final entry into the monastery was more a representation of the struggling author's quest for peace and redemption than an actual event in his life. It's true that he visited the Benedictine monastery, Maredsous, in Belgium in 1898, and its well-stocked library played a role in the story, but he already realized, after just one night there, that he wasn’t suited for the monastic life.
Seen as a whole the trilogy marks a turning point in Strindberg's dramatic production. The logical, calculated concentration of his naturalistic work of the 1880's has given way to a freer form of composition, in which the atmosphere has come to mean more than the dialogue, the musical and dreamlike qualities more than conciseness. The Road to Damascus abounds with details from real life, reproduced in sharply naturalistic manner, but these are not, as things were in his earlier works viewed by the author a priori as reality but become wrapped in dreamlike mystery. Just as with Lady Julia and The Father Strindberg ushered in the naturalistic drama of the 1880's, so in the years around the turn of the century he was, with his symbolist cycle The Road to Damascus, to break new ground for European drama which had gradually become stuck in fixed formulas. The Road to Damascus became a landmark in world literature both as a brilliant work of art and as bearer of new stage technique.
When viewed as a whole, the trilogy represents a turning point in Strindberg's dramatic work. The logical, calculated focus of his naturalistic pieces from the 1880s has given way to a more free-form composition, where the atmosphere carries more weight than the dialogue, and the musical and dreamlike qualities take precedence over brevity. The Road to Damascus is filled with details from real life, depicted in a sharply naturalistic way, but unlike in his earlier works, the author does not see these elements a priori as reality; instead, they become enveloped in a dreamlike mystery. Just as with Lady Julia and The Father, Strindberg introduced the naturalistic drama of the 1880s. In the years around the turn of the century, with his symbolist cycle The Road to Damascus, he broke new ground for European drama that had gradually become stuck in rigid formulas. The Road to Damascus became a landmark in world literature, both as an outstanding work of art and as a pioneer of new stage techniques.
GUNNAR OLLÉN
Gunnar Ollén
Translated by ESTHER JOHANSON
Translated by ESTHER JOHANSON
THE ROAD TO DAMASCUS
PART I.
English Version by Graham Rawson
CHARACTERS
THE STRANGER
THE LADY
THE BEGGAR
THE DOCTOR
HIS SISTER
AN OLD MAN
A MOTHER
AN ABBESS
A CONFESSOR
less important figures
FIRST MOURNER
SECOND MOURNER
THIRD MOURNER
LANDLORD
CAESAR
WAITER
non-speaking
A SMITH
MILLER'S WIFE
FUNERAL ATTENDANTS
THE STRANGER
THE LADY
THE BEGGAR
THE DOCTOR
HIS SISTER
AN OLD MAN
A MOTHER
AN ABBESS
A CONFESSOR
less important figures
FIRST MOURNER
SECOND MOURNER
THIRD MOURNER
LANDLORD
CAESAR
WAITER
non-speaking
A SMITH
MILLER'S WIFE
FUNERAL ATTENDANTS
SCENE I Street Corner SCENE XVII
SCENE II Doctor's House SCENE XVI
SCENE III Room in an Hotel SCENE XV
SCENE IV By the Sea SCENE XIV
SCENE V On the Road SCENE XIII
SCENE VI In a Ravine SCENE XII
SCENE VII In a Kitchen SCENE XI
SCENE VIII The 'Rose' Room SCENE X
SCENE IX Convent
SCENE I Street Corner SCENE XVII
SCENE II Doctor's House SCENE XVI
SCENE III Hotel Room SCENE XV
SCENE IV By the Sea SCENE XIV
SCENE V On the Road SCENE XIII
SCENE VI In a Ravine SCENE XII
SCENE VII In a Kitchen SCENE XI
SCENE VIII The 'Rose' Room SCENE X
SCENE IX Convent First Performance in England by the Stage Society at the Westminster Theatre, 2nd May 1937
First Performance in England by the Stage Society at the Westminster Theatre, May 2, 1937
THE STRANGER Francis James
THE LADY Wanda Rotha
THE BEGGAR Alexander Sarner
FIRST MOURNER George Cormack
SECOND MOURNER Kenneth Bell
THIRD MOURNER Peter Bennett
FOURTH MOURNER Bryan Sears
FIFTH MOURNER Michael Boyle
SIXTH MOURNER Stephen Patrick
THE LANDLORD Stephen Jack
THE DOCTOR Neil Porter
HIS SISTER Olga Martin
CAESAR Peter Land
A WAITER Peter Bennett
AN OLD MAN A. Corney Grain
A MOTHER Frances Waring
THE SMITH Norman Thomas
THE MILLER'S WIFE Julia Sandham
AN ABBESS Natalia Moya
A CONFESSOR Tristan Rawson
PRODUCER Carl H. Jaffe
ASSISTANT PRODUCER Ossia Trilling
THE STRANGER Francis James
THE LADY Wanda Rotha
THE BEGGAR Alexander Sarner
FIRST MOURNER George Cormack
SECOND MOURNER Kenneth Bell
THIRD MOURNER Peter Bennett
FOURTH MOURNER Bryan Sears
FIFTH MOURNER Michael Boyle
SIXTH MOURNER Stephen Patrick
THE LANDLORD Stephen Jack
THE DOCTOR Neil Porter
HIS SISTER Olga Martin
CAESAR Peter Land
A WAITER Peter Bennett
AN OLD MAN A. Corney Grain
A MOTHER Frances Waring
THE SMITH Norman Thomas
THE MILLER'S WIFE Julia Sandham
AN ABBESS Natalia Moya
A CONFESSOR Tristan Rawson
PRODUCER Carl H. Jaffe
ASSISTANT PRODUCER Ossia Trilling [Street Corner with a seat under a tree; the side-door of a small Gothic Church nearby; also a post office and a café with chairs outside it. Both post office and café are shut. A funeral march is heard off, growing louder sand then fainter. A STRANGER is standing on the edge of the pavement and seems uncertain which way to go. A church clock strikes: first the four quarters and then the hour. It is three o'clock. A LADY enters and greets the STRANGER. She is about to pass him, but stops.]
[Street corner with a seat under a tree; the side door of a small Gothic church nearby; also a post office and a café with chairs outside. Both the post office and café are closed. A funeral march is heard in the distance, growing louder and then fading away. A STRANGER stands at the edge of the sidewalk, looking uncertain about which way to go. A church clock strikes: first the four quarters and then the hour. It is three o'clock. A LADY enters and greets the STRANGER. She is about to walk past him but stops.]
STRANGER. It's you! I almost knew you'd come.
STRANGER. It's you! I had a feeling you would show up.
LADY. You wanted me: I felt it. But why are you waiting here?
LADY. You wanted me: I sensed it. But why are you just standing here?
STRANGER. I don't know. I must wait somewhere.
STRANGER. I have no idea. I need to wait somewhere.
LADY. Who are you waiting for?
LADY. Who are you waiting for?
STRANGER. I wish I could tell you! For forty years I've been waiting for something: I believe they call it happiness; or the end of unhappiness. (Pause.) There's that terrible music again. Listen! But don't go, I beg you. I'll feel afraid, if you do.
STRANGER. I wish I could tell you! For forty years I've been waiting for something: I think they call it happiness; or the end of unhappiness. (Pause.) There's that awful music again. Listen! But please don't go. I'll be scared if you do.
LADY. We met yesterday for the first time; and talked for four hours. You roused my sympathy, but you mustn't abuse my kindness on that account.
LADY. We met for the first time yesterday and talked for four hours. You got my sympathy, but don’t take advantage of my kindness because of that.
STRANGER. I know that well enough. But I beg you not to leave me. I'm a stranger here, without friends; and my few acquaintances seem more like enemies.
STRANGER. I know that all too well. But I’m asking you not to leave me. I’m a stranger here, without any friends; and my few acquaintances feel more like enemies.
LADY. You have enemies everywhere. You're lonely everywhere. Why did you leave your wife and children?
LADY. You have enemies everywhere. You're lonely everywhere. Why did you leave your wife and kids?
STRANGER. I wish I knew. I wish I knew why I still live; why I'm here now; where I should go and what I should do! Do you believe that the living can be damned already?
STRANGER. I really want to know. I want to understand why I'm still alive; why I'm here right now; where I should go and what I should do! Do you think that the living can be cursed already?
LADY. No.
No.
STRANGER. Look at me.
STRANGER. Check me out.
LADY. Hasn't life brought you a single pleasure?
LADY. Hasn't life given you any joy?
STRANGER. Not one! If at any time I thought so, it was merely a trap to tempt me to prolong my miseries. If ripe fruit fell into my hand, it was poisoned or rotten at the core.
STRANGER. Not a single one! If I thought so at any point, it was just a trick to get me to drag out my suffering. If ripe fruit came into my hand, it was either poisoned or spoiled at the core.
LADY. What is your religion—if you'll forgive the question?
LADY. What’s your religion—if you don’t mind me asking?
STRANGER. Only this: that when I can bear things no longer, I shall go.
STRANGER. Just this: when I can't take it anymore, I'll leave.
LADY. Where?
LADY. Where's that?
STRANGER. Into annihilation. If I don't hold life in my hand, at least I hold death.... It gives me an amazing feeling of power.
STRANGER. Into oblivion. If I don't have life in my grasp, at least I have death.... It gives me an incredible sense of power.
LADY. You're playing with death!
You're playing with death!
STRANGER. As I've played with life. (Pause.) I was a writer. But in spite of my melancholy temperament I've never been able to take anything seriously—not even my worst troubles. Sometimes I even doubt whether life itself has had any more reality than my books. (A De Profundis is heard from the funeral procession.) They're coming back. Why must they process up and down these streets?
STRANGER. I've had my fun with life. (Pause.) I was a writer. But despite my sad nature, I've never been able to take anything seriously—not even my biggest problems. Sometimes I even wonder if life is any more real than my stories. (A De Profundis is heard from the funeral procession.) They're coming back. Why do they have to walk up and down these streets?
LADY. Do you fear them?
LADY. Are you afraid of them?
STRANGER. They annoy me. The place might be bewitched. No, it's not death I fear, but solitude; for then one's not alone. I don't know who's there, I or another, but in solitude one's not alone. The air grows heavy and seems to engender invisible beings, who have life and whose presence can be felt.
STRANGER. They bother me. This place might be cursed. No, it's not death I'm afraid of, but loneliness; because then you’re not truly alone. I don't know who's here, me or someone else, but in loneliness, you're not by yourself. The air becomes thick and seems to create invisible figures that are alive and whose presence can be felt.
LADY. You've noticed that?
Lady. Did you notice that?
STRANGER. For some time I've noticed a great deal; but not as I used to. Once I merely saw objects and events, forms and colours, whilst now I perceive ideas and meanings. Life, that once had no meaning, has begun to have one. Now I discern intention where I used to see nothing but chance. (Pause.) When I met you yesterday it struck me you'd been sent across my path, either to save me, or destroy me.
STRANGER. For a while now, I've been noticing so much more; but not in the same way as before. I used to just see objects and events, shapes and colors, but now I pick up on ideas and meanings. Life, which once felt meaningless, has started to feel significant. Now I notice intention where before I only saw random chance. (Pause.) When I met you yesterday, it hit me that you were brought into my life either to help me or to ruin me.
LADY. Why should I destroy you?
LADY. Why would I want to ruin you?
STRANGER. Because it may be your destiny.
STRANGER. Because it could be your fate.
LADY. No such idea ever crossed my mind; it was largely sympathy I felt for you.... Never, in all my life, have I met anyone like you. I have only to look at you for the tears to start to my eyes. Tell me, what have you on your conscience? Have you done something wrong, that's never been discovered or punished?
LADY. I never had such a thought; it was mostly sympathy I felt for you.... I've never met anyone like you in my entire life. Just looking at you makes me tear up. Tell me, what’s bothering you? Have you done something wrong that’s never been found out or punished?
STRANGER. You may well ask! No, I've no more sins on my conscience than other free men. Except this: I determined that life should never make a fool of me.
STRANGER. You might wonder! No, I don’t have any more sins weighing on my conscience than other free people. Except for this: I decided that life would never make a fool of me.
LADY. You must let yourself be fooled, more or less, to live at all.
LADY. You have to allow yourself to be deceived, to some extent, in order to really live.
STRANGER. That would seem a kind of duty; but one I wanted to get out of. (Pause.) I've another secret. It's whispered in the family that I'm a changeling.
STRANGER. That feels like a bit of an obligation; but it’s something I wanted to avoid. (Pause.) I have another secret. It’s rumored in the family that I’m a changeling.
LADY. What's that?
LADY. What’s that?
STRANGER. A child substituted by the elves for the baby that was born.
STRANGER. A child swapped by the elves for the newborn baby.
LADY. Do you believe in such things?
LADY. Do you really believe in that kind of stuff?
STRANGER. No. But, as a parable, there's something to be said for it. (Pause.) As a child I was always crying and didn't seem to take to life in this world. I hated my parents, as they hated me. I brooked no constraint, no conventions, no laws, and my longing was for the woods and the sea.
STRANGER. No. But, as a story, there’s a point to it. (Pause.) As a kid, I was always crying and didn't really fit into this world. I hated my parents, and they hated me. I couldn't stand any rules, norms, or laws, and all I wanted was to be in the woods or by the sea.
LADY. Did you ever see visions?
LADY. Have you ever seen visions?
STRANGER. Never. But I've often thought that two beings were guiding my destiny. One offers me all I desire; but the other's ever at hand to bespatter the gifts with filth, so that they're useless to me and I can't touch them. It's true that life has given me all I asked of it—but everything's turned out worthless to me.
STRANGER. Never. But I've often felt like two forces have been shaping my fate. One gives me everything I want; but the other is always there to ruin those gifts, making them useless to me so I can’t even use them. It’s true that life has given me everything I asked for—but it’s all ended up feeling worthless to me.
LADY. You've had everything and yet are not content?
LADY. You've had it all and still aren't satisfied?
STRANGER. That is the curse....
STRANGER. That's the curse...
LADY. Don't say that! But why haven't you desired things that transcend this life, that can never be sullied?
LADY. Don't say that! But why haven't you wanted things that go beyond this life, things that can never be tainted?
STRANGER. Because I doubt if there is a beyond.
STRANGER. Because I wonder if there’s anything after this life.
LADY. But the elves?
LADY. But what about the elves?
STRANGER. Are merely a fairy story. (Pointing to a seat.) Shall we sit down?
STRANGER. It's just a fairy tale. (Pointing to a seat.) Should we sit down?
LADY. Yes. Who are you waiting for?
LADY. Yes. Who are you waiting for?
STRANGER. Really, for the post office to open. There's a letter for me—it's been forwarded on but hasn't reached me. (They sit down.) But tell me something of yourself now. (The Lady takes up her crochet work.)
STRANGER. Seriously, I'm just waiting for the post office to open. There's a letter for me—it's been sent to me but hasn't arrived yet. (They sit down.) But tell me something about yourself now. (The Lady picks up her crochet.)
LADY. There's nothing to tell.
LADY. There's nothing to say.
STRANGER. Strangely enough, I should prefer to think of you like that. Impersonal, nameless—I only do know one of your names. I'd like to christen you myself—let me see, what ought you to be called? I've got it. Eve! (With a gesture towards the wings.) Trumpets! (The funeral march is heard again.) There it is again! Now I must invent your age, for I don't know how old you are. From now on you are thirty-four—so you were born in sixty-four. (Pause.) Now your character, for I don't know that either. I shall give you a good character, your voice reminds me of my mother—I mean the idea of a mother, for my mother never caressed me, though I can remember her striking me. You see, I was brought up in hate! An eye for an eye—a tooth for a tooth. You see this scar on my forehead? That comes from a blow my brother gave me with an axe, after I'd struck him with a stone. I never went to my father's funeral, because he turned me out of the house when my sister married. I was born out of wedlock, when my family were bankrupt and in mourning for an uncle who had taken his life. Now you know my family! That's the stock I come from. Once I narrowly escaped fourteen years' hard labour—so I've every reason to thank the elves, though I can't be altogether pleased with what they've done.
STRANGER. Oddly enough, I prefer to think of you that way. Impersonal, nameless—I only know one of your names. I’d like to give you a name myself—let’s see, what should I call you? I’ve got it. Eve! (Gesturing toward the wings.) Trumpets! (The funeral march is heard again.) There it is again! Now I have to make up your age since I don’t know how old you are. From now on, you’re thirty-four—so you were born in sixty-four. (Pause.) Now your character, because I don’t know that either. I’ll give you a good character, your voice reminds me of my mother—I mean the idea of a mother, since my mom never hugged me, though I can remember her hitting me. You see, I was raised in hate! An eye for an eye—a tooth for a tooth. You see this scar on my forehead? That comes from a blow my brother gave me with an axe after I hit him with a stone. I never went to my father’s funeral because he kicked me out when my sister got married. I was born out of wedlock when my family was bankrupt and mourning an uncle who took his own life. Now you know my family! That’s where I come from. Once I narrowly escaped fourteen years of hard labor—so I have every reason to thank the elves, even though I can’t be completely happy with what they’ve done.
LADY. I like to hear you talk. But don't speak of the elves: it makes me sad.
LADY. I love hearing you talk. But please don’t mention the elves; it makes me feel sad.
STRANGER. Frankly, I don't believe in them; yet they're always making themselves felt. Are these elves the souls of the unhappy, who still await redemption? If so, I am the child of an evil spirit. Once I believed I was near redemption—through a woman. But no mistake could have been greater: I was plunged into the seventh hell.
STRANGER. Honestly, I don’t believe in them; yet they always make their presence known. Are these elves the souls of the unhappy, still waiting for redemption? If that’s the case, I am the child of a wicked spirit. I once thought I was close to redemption—through a woman. But there could be no greater mistake: I found myself in the depths of despair.
LADY. You must be unhappy. But this won't go on always.
LADY. You must be feeling down. But this won't last forever.
STRANGER. Do you think church bells and Holy Water could comfort me? I've tried them; they only made things worse. I felt like the Devil when he sees the sign of the cross. (Pause.) Let's talk about you now.
STRANGER. Do you think church bells and Holy Water could make me feel better? I've tried them; they only made things worse. I felt like the Devil when he sees the sign of the cross. (Pause.) Let's talk about you now.
LADY. There's no need. (Pause.) Have you been blamed for misusing your gifts?
LADY. No need for that. (Pause.) Have people criticized you for not using your talents properly?
STRANGER. I've been blamed for everything. In the town I lived in no one was so hated as I. Lonely I came in and lonely I went out. If I entered a public place people avoided me. If I wanted to rent a room, it would be let. The priests laid a ban on me from the pulpit, teachers from their desks and parents in their homes. The church committee wanted to take my children from me. Then I blasphemously shook my fist... at heaven!
STRANGER. I've been blamed for everything. In the town I lived in, no one was hated as much as I was. I came in lonely and I went out lonely. When I walked into a public place, people avoided me. If I tried to rent a room, it was always taken. The priests condemned me from the pulpit, teachers from their desks, and parents in their homes. The church committee even wanted to take my kids away from me. Then I foolishly shook my fist... at heaven!
LADY. Why did they hate you so?
LADY. Why did they dislike you so much?
STRANGER. How should I know! Yet I do! I couldn't endure to see men suffer. So I kept on saying, and writing, too: free yourselves, I will help you. And to the poor I said: do not let the rich exploit you. And to the women: do not allow yourselves to be enslaved by the men. And—worst of all—to the children: do not obey your parents, if they are unjust. What followed was impossible to foresee. I found that everyone was against me: rich and poor, men and women, parents and children. And then came sickness and poverty, beggary and shame, divorce, law-suits, exile, solitude, and now.... Tell me, do you think me mad?
STRANGER. How should I know! But I do! I couldn't stand to see people suffer. So I kept saying, and writing too: free yourselves, I will help you. And to the poor I said: don’t let the rich take advantage of you. And to the women: don’t let the men enslave you. And—worst of all—to the children: don’t obey your parents if they are unjust. What happened next was impossible to predict. I found that everyone was against me: rich and poor, men and women, parents and children. And then came illness and poverty, begging and shame, divorce, lawsuits, exile, loneliness, and now.... Tell me, do you think I’m crazy?
LADY. No.
LADY. Nope.
STRANGER. You must be the only one. But I'm all the more grateful.
STRANGER. You must be the only one. But I'm even more thankful.
LADY (rising). I must leave you now.
LADY (standing up). I need to go now.
STRANGER. You, too?
You too?
LADY. And you mustn't stay here.
LADY. And you can't stay here.
STRANGER. Where should I go?
STRANGER. Where do I go?
LADY. Home. To your work.
Home. To your job.
STRANGER. But I'm no worker. I'm a writer.
STRANGER. But I'm not a worker. I'm a writer.
LADY. I know. But I didn't want to hurt you. Creative power is something given you, that can also taken away. See you don't forfeit yours.
LADY. I know. But I didn't want to hurt you. Creative power is something that's given to you, but it can also be taken away. Make sure you don't lose yours.
STRANGER. Where are you going?
STRANGER. Where are you headed?
LADY. Only to a shop.
LADY. Just to a shop.
STRANGER (after a pause). Tell me, are you a believer?
STRANGER (after a pause). Tell me, do you believe?
LADY. I am nothing.
I am nothing.
STRANGER. All the better: you have a future. How I wish I were your old blind father, whom you could lead to the market place to sing for his bread. My tragedy is I cannot grow old that's what happens to children of the elves, they have big heads and never only cry. I wish I were someone's dog. I could follow him and never be alone again. I'd get a meal sometimes, a kick now and then, a pat perhaps, a blow often....
STRANGER. That's great: you have a future. I wish I were your old blind father, so you could take me to the marketplace to sing for my bread. My tragedy is that I can't grow old—that's what happens to the children of elves, they have big heads and only cry. I wish I were someone’s dog. I could follow them and never be alone again. Sometimes I’d get a meal, a kick now and then, a pat maybe, and often a blow....
LADY. Now I must go. Good-bye. (She goes out.)
LADY. I've got to leave now. Bye. (She exits.)
STRANGER (absent-mindedly). Good-bye. (He remains on the seat. He takes off his hat and wipes his forehead. Then he draws on the ground with his stick. A BEGGAR enters. He has a strange look and is collecting objects from the gutter.) White are you picking up, beggar?
STRANGER (distractedly). Bye. (He stays seated. He takes off his hat and wipes his forehead. Then he draws on the ground with his stick. A BEGGAR enters. He has an unusual look and is gathering things from the gutter.) What are you picking up, beggar?
BEGGAR. Why call me that? I'm no beggar. Have I asked you for anything?
BEGGAR. Why do you call me that? I'm not a beggar. Have I asked you for anything?
STRANGER. I beg your pardon. It's so hard to judge men from appearances.
STRANGER. I’m sorry. It’s really tough to judge people based on looks.
BEGGAR. That's true. For instance, can you guess who I am?
BEGGAR. That's right. For example, can you guess who I am?
STRANGER. I don't intend to try. It doesn't interest me.
STRANGER. I'm not going to bother. I'm not interested.
BEGGAR. No one can know that in advance. Interest commonly comes afterwards—when it's too late. Virtus post nummos!
BEGGAR. No one can know that ahead of time. Interest usually comes later—when it's too late. Virtue comes after money!
STRANGER. What? Do beggars know Latin?
STRANGER. What? Do beggars speak Latin?
BEGGAR. You see, you're interested already. Omne tulit punctum qui miscuit utile dulci. I have always succeeded in everything I've undertaken, because I've never attempted anything. I should like to call myself Polycrates, who found the gold ring in the fish's stomach. Life has given me all I asked of it. But I never asked anything; I grew tired of success and threw the ring away. Yet, now I've grown old I regret it. I search for it in the gutters; but as the search takes time, in default of my gold ring I don't disdain a few cigar stumps....
BEGGAR. You see, you're already interested. The one who combines the useful with the sweet has it all. I've always succeeded in everything I've done because I've never really tried for anything. I’d like to think of myself as Polycrates, who found the gold ring in the fish’s stomach. Life has given me everything I wanted. But I never wanted anything; I got tired of success and tossed the ring away. Now that I’m old, I regret it. I search for it in the gutters; but since the search takes time, I don't mind a few discarded cigar butts in place of my gold ring....
STRANGER. I don't know whether this beggar's cynical or mad.
STRANGER. I can't tell if this beggar is cynical or crazy.
BEGGAR. I don't know either.
IDK either.
STRANGER. Do you know who I am?
STRANGER. Do you know who I am?
BEGGAR. No. And it doesn't interest me.
BEGGAR. Nope. Not interested.
STRANGER. Well, interest commonly comes afterwards.... You see you tempt me to take the words out of your mouth. And that's the same thing as picking up other people's cigars.
STRANGER. Well, interest usually comes later.... You see, you're making me want to say what you're thinking. And that's just like grabbing someone else's cigar.
BEGGAR. So you won't follow my example?
BEGGAR. So you’re not going to follow my lead?
STRANGER. What's that scar on your forehead?
STRANGER. What's that scar on your forehead?
BEGGAR. I got it from a near relation.
BEGGAR. I got it from a close relative.
STRANGER. Now you frighten me! Are you real? May I touch you? (He touches his arm.) There's no doubt of it.... Would you deign to accept a small coin in return for a promise to seek Polycrates' ring in another part of the town? (He hands him a coin.) Post nummos virtus.... Another echo. You must go at once.
STRANGER. Now you’re scaring me! Are you real? Can I touch you? (He touches his arm.) There’s no doubt about it.... Would you accept a small coin in exchange for a promise to look for Polycrates' ring in another part of town? (He hands him a coin.) Money brings virtue.... Another echo. You need to go right away.
BEGGAR. I will. But you've given me far too much. I'll return three-quarters of it. Now we owe one another nothing but friendship.
BEGGAR. I will. But you've given me way too much. I'll give back three-quarters of it. Now we owe each other nothing but friendship.
STRANGER. Friendship! Am I a friend of yours?
STRANGER. Friendship! Am I really your friend?
BEGGAR. Well, I am of yours. When one's alone in the world one can't be particular.
BEGGAR. Well, I belong to you. When you're all alone in the world, you can't be choosy.
STRANGER. Then let me tell you you forget yourself...
STRANGER. So let me tell you that you're losing touch with reality...
BEGGAR. Only too pleased! But when we meet again I'll have a word of welcome for you. (Exit.)
BEGGAR. I’d be happy to! But when we see each other again, I’ll have a warm welcome for you. (Exit.)
STRANGER (sitting down again and drawing in the dust with his stick). Sunday afternoon! A long, dank, sad time, after the usual Sunday dinner of roast beef, cabbage and watery potatoes. Now the older people are testing, the younger playing chess and smoking. The servants have gone to church and the shops are shut. This frightful afternoon, this day of rest, when there's nothing to engage the soul, when it's as hard to meet a friend as to get into a wine shop. (The LADY comes back again, she is noun wearing a flower at her breast.) Strange! I can't speak without being contradicted at once!
STRANGER (sitting down again and drawing in the dirt with his stick). Sunday afternoon! A long, damp, gloomy time, after the usual Sunday dinner of roast beef, cabbage, and soggy potatoes. Now the older folks are testing the food, while the younger ones are playing chess and smoking. The servants have gone to church and the shops are closed. This awful afternoon, this day of rest, when there's nothing to engage the mind, when it’s as hard to run into a friend as it is to get into a liquor store. (The LADY comes back again, now wearing a flower at her breast.) Strange! I can’t say anything without being immediately contradicted!
LADY. So you're still here?
LADY. So, you're still here?
STRANGER. Whether I sit here, or elsewhere, and write in the sand doesn't seem to me to matter—as long so I write in the sand.
STRANGER. It doesn't really matter to me whether I sit here or somewhere else and write in the sand, as long as I'm writing in the sand.
LADY. What are you writing? May I see?
LADY. What are you writing? Can I take a look?
STRANGER. I think you'll find: Eve 1864.... No, don't step on it.
STRANGER. I think you'll find: Eve 1864.... No, don't step on it.
LADY. What happens then?
What happens next?
STRANGER. A disaster for you... and for me.
STRANGER. A disaster for you... and for me.
LADY. You know that?
LADY. You aware of that?
STRANGER. Yes, and more. That the Christmas rose you're wearing is a mandragora. Its symbolical meaning is malice and calumny; but it was once used in medicine for the healing of madness. Will you give it me?
STRANGER. Yes, and more. That Christmas rose you're wearing is a mandrake. It symbolizes malice and slander; however, it was once used in medicine to treat madness. Will you give it to me?
LADY (hesitating). As medicine?
LADY (hesitating). Like medicine?
STRANGER. Of course. (Pause.) Have you read my books?
STRANGER. Of course. (Pause.) Have you read my books?
LADY. You know I have. And that it's you I have to thank for giving me freedom and a belief in human rights and human dignity.
LADY. You know I have. And I owe you for giving me freedom and a belief in human rights and dignity.
STRANGER. Then you haven't read the recent ones?
STRANGER. So, you haven't read the latest ones?
LADY. No. And if they're not like the earlier ones I don't want to.
LADY. No. And if they aren't like the previous ones, I don't want them.
STRANGER. Then promise never to open another book of mine.
STRANGER. Then promise you’ll never open another one of my books.
LADY. Let me think that over. Very well, I promise.
LADY. Let me think about that. Alright, I promise.
STRANGER. Good! But see you keep your promise. Remember what happened to Bluebeard's wife when curiosity tempted her into the forbidden chamber....
STRANGER. Good! But make sure you keep your promise. Remember what happened to Bluebeard's wife when her curiosity led her into the forbidden chamber...
LADY. You see, already you make demands like those of a Bluebeard. What you don't see, or have long since forgotten, is that I'm married, and that my husband's a doctor, and that he admires your work. So that his house is open to you, if you wish to be made welcome there.
LADY. You see, you're already making demands like a Bluebeard. What you might not see, or what you’ve probably forgotten, is that I’m married and my husband’s a doctor who respects your work. So his house is open to you if you’d like to be welcomed there.
STRANGER. I've done all I can to forget it. I've expunged it from my memory so that it no longer has any reality for me.
STRANGER. I've done everything I can to forget it. I've wiped it from my memory so it no longer feels real to me.
LADY. If that's so, will you come home with me to-night?
LADY. If that's the case, will you come home with me tonight?
STRANGER. No. Will you come with me?
STRANGER. No. Will you come with me?
LADY. Where?
LADY. Where?
STRANGER. Anywhere! I have no home, only a trunk. Money I sometimes have—though not often. It's the one thing life has capriciously refused me, perhaps because I never desired it intensely enough. (The LADY shakes her head.) Well? What are you thinking?
STRANGER. Anywhere! I don’t have a home, just a suitcase. Sometimes I have money—though not very often. It’s the one thing life has unpredictably denied me, maybe because I never wanted it badly enough. (The LADY shakes her head.) So? What are you thinking?
LADY. I'm surprised I'm not angry with you. But you're not serious.
LADY. I'm surprised I'm not mad at you. But you're not being serious.
STRANGER. Whether I am or not's all one to me. Ah! There's the organ! It won't be long now before the drink shops open.
STRANGER. Whether I am or not doesn't matter to me. Ah! There's the organ! It won't be long now before the bars open.
LADY. Is it true you drink?
LADY. Is it true you drink?
STRANGER. Yes. A great deal! Wine makes my soul from her prison, up into the firmament, where she what has never yet been seen, and hears what men never yet heard....
STRANGER. Yes. A lot! Wine lifts my soul from its prison, up into the sky, where she sees what has never been seen before and hears what men have never heard...
LADY. And the day after?
LADY. What about the next day?
STRANGER. I have the most delightful scruples of conscience! I experience the purifying emotions of guilt and repentance. I enjoy the sufferings of the body, whilst my soul hovers like smoke about my head. It is as if one were suspended between Life and Death, when the spirit feels that she has already opened her pinions and could fly aloft, if she would.
STRANGER. I have the most delightful feelings of guilt! I experience the cleansing emotions of guilt and remorse. I relish the pains of the body, while my soul floats around my head like smoke. It’s like being caught between Life and Death, when the spirit knows she has already spread her wings and could soar up high, if she wanted to.
LADY. Come into the church for a moment. You'll hear no sermon, only the beautiful music of vespers.
LADY. Come into the church for a moment. You won't hear a sermon, just the beautiful music of evening prayers.
STRANGER. No. Not into church! It depresses me because I feel I don't belong there.... That I'm an unhappy soul and that it's as impossible for me to re-enter as to become a child again.
STRANGER. No. Not into church! It brings me down because I feel out of place there.... Like I'm an unhappy person and that it's just as impossible for me to go back as it is to become a child again.
LADY. You feel all that... already?
LADY. You already feel all that...?
STRANGER. Yes. I've got that far. I feel as if I lay hacked in pieces and were being slowly melted in Medea's cauldron. Either I shall be sent to the soap-boilers, or arise renewed from my own dripping! It depends on Medea's skill!
STRANGER. Yes. I've gotten that far. I feel like I'm lying here chopped into pieces and slowly melting in Medea's cauldron. Either I’ll end up with the soap-makers or rise again, transformed from my own melting! It all depends on Medea's skill!
LADY. That sounds like the word of an oracle. We must see if you can't become a child again.
LADY. That sounds like something an oracle would say. We should see if you can become a child again.
STRANGER. We should have to start with the cradle; and this time with the right child.
STRANGER. We should begin with the cradle, and this time with the right baby.
LADY. Exactly! Wait here for me whilst I go into the church. If the café were open I'd ask you please not to drink. But luckily it's shut.
LADY. Exactly! Wait here for me while I go into the church. If the café were open, I’d ask you not to drink. But luckily it’s closed.
(The LADY exits. The STRANGER sits down again and draws in the sand. Enter six funeral attendants in brown with some mourners. One of them carries a banner with the insignia of the Carpenters, draped in brown crêpe; another a large axe decorated with spruce, a third a cushion with a chairman's mallet. They stop outside the café and wait.)
(The LADY exits. The STRANGER sits down again and draws in the sand. Enter six funeral attendants in brown with some mourners. One of them carries a banner with the Carpenters' insignia, draped in brown crepe; another holds a large axe decorated with spruce, and a third has a cushion with a chairman's mallet. They stop outside the café and wait.)
STRANGER. Excuse me, whose funeral have you been attending?
STRANGER. Excuse me, whose funeral were you at?
FIRST MOURNER. A house-breaker's. (He imitates the ticking of a clock.)
FIRST MOURNER. A burglar's. (He mimics the ticking of a clock.)
STRANGER. A real house-breaker? Or the insect sort, that lodges in the woodwork and goes 'tick-tick'?
STRANGER. A real burglar? Or the creepy-crawly kind that hides in the wood and makes a 'tick-tick' sound?
FIRST MOURNER. Both—but mainly the insect sort. What do they call them?
FIRST MOURNER. Both—but mostly the insect kind. What do they call them?
STRANGER (to himself). He wants to fool me into saying the death-watch beetle. So I won't. You mean a burglar?
STRANGER (to himself). He’s trying to trick me into saying the death-watch beetle. So, I won't. You’re talking about a burglar?
SECOND MOURNER. No. (The clock is again heard ticking.)
SECOND MOURNER. No. (The clock is ticking again.)
STRANGER. Are you trying to frighten me? Or does the dead man work miracles? In that case I'd better explain that my nerves are good, and that I don't believe in miracles. But I do find it strange that the mourners wear brown. Why not black? It's cheap and suitable.
STRANGER. Are you trying to scare me? Or is the dead man performing miracles? In that case, I should clarify that I'm pretty composed and that I don't believe in miracles. But I do find it weird that the mourners are wearing brown. Why not black? It's inexpensive and appropriate.
THIRD MOURNER. To us, in our simplicity, it looks black; but if Your Honour wishes it, it shall look brown to you.
THIRD MOURNER. To us, in our simplicity, it looks black; but if Your Honor wants it to, it can look brown to you.
STRANGER. A queer company! They give me an uneasy feeling I'd like to ascribe to the wine I drank yesterday. If I were to ask if that were spruce, you'd probably say—well what?
STRANGER. An odd bunch! They give me an uncomfortable vibe I’d like to blame on the wine I had yesterday. If I were to ask if that’s spruce, what would you probably say—well, what?
FIRST MOURNER. Vine leaves.
FIRST MOURNER. Grape leaves.
STRANGER. I thought it would not be spruce! The café's opening, at last! (The Café opens, the STRANGER sits at a table and is served with wine. The MOURNERS sit at the other tables.) They must have been glad to be rid of him, if the mourners start drinking as soon as the funeral's over.
STRANGER. I didn’t think it would happen! The café is finally open! (The café opens, the STRANGER sits at a table and is served wine. The MOURNERS sit at the other tables.) They must have been relieved to see him go if the mourners start drinking right after the funeral ends.
FIRST MOURNER. He was a good-for-nothing, who couldn't take life seriously.
FIRST MOURNER. He was a lazy bum who couldn't take life seriously.
STRANGER. And who probably drank?
STRANGER. And who likely drank?
SECOND MOURNER. Yes.
SECOND MOURNER. Yeah.
THIRD MOURNER. And let others support his wife and children.
THIRD MOURNER. And let others take care of his wife and kids.
STRANGER. He shouldn't have done so. Is that why his friends speak so well of him now? Please don't shake my table when I'm drinking.
STRANGER. He shouldn't have done that. Is that why his friends are saying such nice things about him now? Please don't shake my table while I'm drinking.
SECOND MOURNER. When I'm drinking, I don't mind.
SECOND MOURNER. When I drink, I don't care.
STRANGER. Well, I do. There's a great difference between us! (The MOURNERS whisper together. The BEGGAR comes back.) Here's the beggar again!
STRANGER. Well, I do. There's a big difference between us! (The MOURNERS whisper among themselves. The BEGGAR returns.) Here's the beggar again!
BEGGAR (sitting down at a table). Wine. Moselle!
BEGGAR (sitting down at a table). Wine. Moselle!
LANDLORD (consulting a police last). I can't serve you: you've not paid your taxes. Here's your name, age and profession, and the decision of the court.
LANDLORD (consulting a police list). I can't serve you: you haven't paid your taxes. Here are your name, age, and job, along with the court's decision.
BEGGAR. Omnia serviliter pro dominatione! I'm a free man with a university education. I refused to pay taxes because I didn't want to become a member of parliament. Moselle!
BEGGAR. Everything done for the sake of power! I'm a free man with a college degree. I refused to pay taxes because I didn't want to become a politician. Moselle!
LANDLORD. You'll get free transport to the poor house, if you don't get out.
LANDLORD. You'll get a free ride to the poorhouse if you don't leave.
STRANGER. Couldn't you gentlemen settle this somewhere else. You're disturbing your patrons.
STRANGER. Couldn't you guys settle this somewhere else? You're disturbing the customers.
LANDLORD. You can witness I'm in the right.
LANDLORD. You can see that I'm correct.
STRANGER. No. The whole thing's too distressing. Even without paying taxes he has the right to enjoy life's small pleasures.
STRANGER. No. This whole situation is just too upsetting. Even without paying taxes, he deserves to enjoy the little things in life.
LANDLORD. So you're the kind who'd absolve vagabonds from their duties?
LANDLORD. So you're the type who would let drifters off the hook?
STRANGER. This is too much! I'd have you know that I'm a famous man. (The LANDLORD and MOURNERS laugh.)
STRANGER. This is ridiculous! Just so you know, I'm a well-known person. (The LANDLORD and MOURNERS laugh.)
LANDLORD. Infamous, probably! Let me look at the police list, and see if the description tallies: thirty-eight, brown hair, moustache, blue eyes; no settled employment, means unknown; married, but has deserted his wife and children; well known for revolutionary views on social questions: gives impression he is not in full possession of his faculties.... It fits!
LANDLORD. Probably infamous! Let me check the police list and see if the description matches: thirty-eight, brown hair, mustache, blue eyes; no stable job, means unknown; married but has abandoned his wife and kids; well-known for having revolutionary ideas on social issues: gives the impression he’s not fully sane... It fits!
STRANGER (rising, pale and taken aback). What?
STRANGER (standing up, pale and taken aback). What?
LANDLORD. Yes. It fits all right.
LANDLORD. Yeah. It works just fine.
BEGGAR. Perhaps he's on the list. And not me!
BEGGAR. Maybe he's on the list. And not me!
LANDLORD. It looks like it. In any case, both of you had better clear out.
LANDLORD. It seems that way. Either way, you both should leave.
BEGGAR (to the STRANGER). Shall we?
BEGGAR (to the STRANGER). Shall we go?
STRANGER. We? This begins to look like a conspiracy.
STRANGER. We? This is starting to feel like a conspiracy.
(The church bells are heard. The sun comes out and illuminates the coloured rose window above the church door, which is now opened, disclosing the interior. The organ is heard and the choir singing Ave Maris Stella.)
(The church bells ring out. The sun shines and lights up the colorful rose window above the church door, which is now open, revealing the interior. The organ plays and the choir sings Ave Maris Stella.)
LADY (coming from the church). Where are you? What are you doing? Why did you call me? Must you hang on a woman's skirts like a child?
LADY (coming from the church). Where are you? What are you up to? Why did you call me? Do you have to cling to a woman’s skirts like a child?
STRANGER. I'm afraid now. Things are happening that have no natural explanation.
STRANGER. I'm really scared right now. Things are happening that can't be explained.
LADY. But you were afraid of nothing. Not even death!
LADY. But you weren't afraid of anything. Not even death!
STRANGER. Death... no. But of something else, the unknown.
STRANGER. Death... no. But of something else, the unknown.
LADY. Listen. Give me your hand. You're ill, I'll take you to a doctor. Come!
LADY. Hey. Give me your hand. You're not feeling well, I'll take you to a doctor. Come on!
STRANGER. If you like. But tell me: is this carnival, or... reality?
STRANGER. If that works for you. But let me ask: is this carnival, or... reality?
LADY. It's real enough.
LADY. It's definitely real.
STRANGER. This beggar must be a wretched fellow. Is it true he resembles me?
STRANGER. This beggar must be a miserable guy. Is it true he looks like me?
LADY. He will, if you go on drinking. Now go to the post office and get your letter. And then come with me.
LADY. He will, if you keep drinking. Now go to the post office and grab your letter. Then come with me.
STRANGER. No, I won't. It'll only be about lawsuits.
STRANGER. No, I won’t. It’ll just be about lawsuits.
LADY. If not?
LADY. If not, then what?
STRANGER. Malicious gossip.
HATER. Toxic rumors.
LADY. Well, do as you wish. No one can escape his fate. At this moment I feel a higher power is sitting in judgment on us and has made a decision.
LADY. Well, do what you want. No one can escape their fate. Right now, I feel like a greater power is judging us and has made a decision.
STRANGER. You feel that, too! I heard the hammer fall just now; and the chairs being pushed back. The clerk's being sent to find me! Oh, the suspense! No, I can't follow you.
STRANGER. You feel that, too! I just heard the hammer drop and the chairs moving. They’re sending the clerk to look for me! Oh, the suspense! No, I can't go with you.
LADY. Tell me, what have you done to me? In the church I found I couldn't pray. A light on the altar was extinguished and an icy wind blew in my face when I heard you call me.
LADY. Tell me, what have you done to me? In the church, I realized I couldn't pray. A light on the altar went out, and a cold wind blew in my face when I heard you call me.
STRANGER. I didn't call you. But I wanted you.
STRANGER. I didn’t call for you. But I wanted you.
LADY. You're not as weak as you pretend. You have great strength; and I'm afraid of you....
LADY. You're not as weak as you act. You have a lot of strength, and I'm scared of you....
STRANGER. When I'm alone I've no strength at all; but if I can find a single companion I grow strong. I shall be strong now; and so I'll follow you.
STRANGER. When I'm by myself, I feel completely weak; but just having one friend makes me feel powerful. I'm going to feel strong now; so I'll follow you.
LADY. Perhaps you can free me from the werewolf.
LADY. Maybe you can help me get rid of the werewolf.
STRANGER. Who's he?
STRANGER. Who's that?
LADY. That's what I call him.
LADY. That's what I call him.
STRANGER. Count on me. Killing dragons, freeing princesses, defeating werewolves—that is Life!
STRANGER. You can count on me. Slaying dragons, rescuing princesses, battling werewolves—that's what life is all about!
LADY. Then come, my liberator!
LADY. Then come, my savior!
(She draws her veil over her face, kisses him on the mouth and hurries out. The STRANGER stands where he is for a moment, surprised and stunned. A loud chord sung by women's voices, rather like a cry, is heard from the church. The rose window suddenly grows dark and the tree above the seat is shaken by the wind. The MOURNERS rise and look at the sky, as if they could see something terrifying. The STRANGER hurries out after the LADY.)
(She pulls her veil over her face, kisses him on the lips, and rushes out. The STRANGER stands still for a moment, surprised and in shock. A loud chord sung by women's voices, almost like a scream, echoes from the church. The rose window suddenly goes dark, and the tree above the seat shakes in the wind. The MOURNERS rise and look up at the sky, as if they can see something frightening. The STRANGER quickly follows the LADY out.)
[Courtyard enclosed on three sides by a single-storied house with a tiled roof. Small windows in all three façades. Right, verandah with glass doors. Left, climbing roses and bee-hives outside the windows. In the middle of the courtyard a woodpile in the form of a cupola. A well beside it. The top of a walnut tree is seen above the central façade of the house. In the corner, right, a garden gate. By the well a large tortoise. On right, entrance below to a wine-cellar. An ice-chest and dust-bin. The DOCTOR'S SISTER enters from the verandah with a telegram.]
[Courtyard surrounded on three sides by a one-story house with a tiled roof. Small windows on all three sides. To the right, a verandah with glass doors. To the left, climbing roses and beehives outside the windows. In the center of the courtyard, there’s a woodpile shaped like a dome. A well is next to it. The top of a walnut tree is visible above the front of the house. In the right corner, there’s a garden gate. Beside the well, a large tortoise. On the right, there’s an entrance to a wine cellar below. An ice chest and a dustbin are there. The DOCTOR'S SISTER comes in from the verandah holding a telegram.]
SISTER. Now misfortune will fall on your house.
SISTER. Now bad luck is coming to your home.
DOCTOR. When has it not, my dear sister?
DOCTOR. When hasn’t it, my dear sister?
SISTER. This time.... Ingeborg's coming and bringing... guess whom?
SISTER. This time... Ingeborg is coming and bringing... guess who?
DOCTOR. Wait! I know, because I've long foreseen this, even desired it, for he's a writer I've always admired. I've learnt much from him and often wished to meet him. Now he's coming, you say. Where did Ingeborg meet him?
DOCTOR. Wait! I know this moment well because I've anticipated it for a long time, even hoped for it, since he’s a writer I’ve always respected. I’ve learned a lot from him and have often wanted to meet him. So now he's coming, you say. Where did Ingeborg meet him?
SISTER. In town, it seems. Probably in some literary salon.
SISTER. In town, it looks like. Probably at some literary salon.
DOCTOR. I've often wondered whether this man was the boy of the same name who was my friend at school. I hope not; for he seemed one that fortune would treat harshly. And in a life-time he'll have given his unhappy tendencies full scope.
DOCTOR. I've often wondered if this guy is the same boy I was friends with at school. I hope not, because he seemed like someone fortune would be unkind to. And in a lifetime, he'll have fully indulged his unhappy tendencies.
SISTER. Don't let him come here. Go out. Say you're engaged.
SISTER. Don’t let him come here. Go outside. Say you’re engaged.
DOCTOR. No. One can't escape one's fate.
DOCTOR. No. You can't escape your fate.
SISTER. But you've never bowed your head to anyone! Why crawl before this spectre, and call him fate?
SISTER. But you've never submitted to anyone! Why lower yourself before this ghost and call it fate?
DOCTOR. Life has taught me to. I've wasted time and energy in fighting the inevitable.
DOCTOR. Life has shown me that. I've wasted time and energy fighting against what I can't change.
SISTER. But why allow your wife to behave like this? She'll compromise you both.
SISTER. But why let your wife act like this? She'll put you both at risk.
DOCTOR. You think so? Because, when I made her break off her engagement I held out false hopes to her of a life of freedom, instead of the slavery she'd known. Besides, I could never love her if I were in a position to give her orders.
DOCTOR. You really think that? Because when I got her to end her engagement, I gave her false hopes of a free life, rather than the bondage she had experienced. Plus, I could never love her if I were in a position to boss her around.
SISTER. You'd be friends with your enemy?
SISTER. You'd be friends with your enemy?
DOCTOR. Oh...!
DOCTOR. Oh...!
SISTER. Will you let her bring someone into the house who'll destroy you? If you only knew how I hate that man.
SISTER. Are you really going to let her bring someone into the house who'll ruin you? If you only knew how much I hate that guy.
DOCTOR. I do. His last book's terrible; and shows a certain lack of mental balance.
DOCTOR. I do. His last book is awful and indicates a bit of a lack of mental stability.
SISTER. They ought to shut him up.
SISTER. They should lock him up.
DOCTOR. Many people have said so, but I don't think him bad enough.
DOCTOR. A lot of people have said that, but I don’t think he’s that bad.
SISTER. Because you're eccentric yourself, and live in daily contact with a woman who's mad.
SISTER. Because you’re quirky yourself and spend every day with a woman who’s insane.
DOCTOR. I admit abnormality has always had a strong attraction for me, and originality is at least not commonplace. (The syren of a steamer is heard.) What was that?
DOCTOR. I have to admit that I've always been drawn to things that are unusual, and originality is at least not something you see every day. (The sound of a steamer's horn is heard.) What was that?
SISTER. Your nerves are on edge. It's only the steamer. (Pause.) Now, I implore you, go away!
SISTER. You're really on edge. It's just the steamer. (Pause.) Please, I'm begging you, go away!
DOCTOR. I ought to want to; but I'm held fast. (Pause.) From here I can see his portrait in my study. The sunlight throws a shadow on it that changes it completely. It makes him look like.... Horrible! You see what I mean?
DOCTOR. I should want to; but I'm stuck. (Pause.) From here I can see his portrait in my office. The sunlight casts a shadow on it that totally transforms it. It makes him look like... awful! You see what I mean?
HATER. The devil! Come away!
HATER. The devil! Go away!
DOCTOR. I can't.
DOCTOR. I can't do that.
SISTER. Then at least defend yourself.
SISTER. Then at least stand up for yourself.
DOCTOR. I always do. But this time I feel a thunder storm gathering. How often have I tried to fly, and not been able to. It's as if the earth were iron and I a compass needle. If misfortune comes, it's not of my fee choice. They've come in at the door.
DOCTOR. I always do. But this time I feel a storm brewing. How often have I tried to soar, only to be grounded? It's like the earth is made of iron and I'm just a compass needle. If bad luck arrives, it's not by my own choice. They've come in through the door.
SISTER. I heard nothing.
SISTER. I didn’t hear anything.
DOCTOR. I did! Now I can see them, too! He is the friend of my boyhood. He got into trouble at school; but I was blamed and punished. He was nick-named Caesar, I don't know why.
DOCTOR. I did! Now I can see them, too! He is the friend from my childhood. He got into trouble at school, but I was the one who got blamed and punished. He was nicknamed Caesar; I don't know why.
SISTER. And this man....
SISTER. And this guy....
DOCTOR. That's what always happens. Caesar! (The LADY comes in.)
DOCTOR. That's what always happens. Caesar! (The LADY enters.)
LADY. I've brought a visitor.
I've brought a guest.
DOCTOR. I know, and he's welcome.
DOCTOR. I know, and he's welcome.
LADY. I left him in the house, to wash.
LADY. I left him at home to take a shower.
DOCTOR. Well, are you satisfied with your conquest?
DOCTOR. So, are you happy with your victory?
LADY. I think he's the unhappiest man I ever met.
LADY. I think he's the saddest man I've ever met.
DOCTOR. That's saying a great deal.
DOCTOR. That’s a bold statement.
LADY. Yes, there's enough unhappiness for all of us.
LADY. Yes, there's plenty of unhappiness for everyone.
DOCTOR. There is! (To his SISTER.) Would you ask him to come out here? (His SISTER goes out.) Have you had an interesting time?
DOCTOR. There is! (To his SISTER.) Can you ask him to come out here? (His SISTER goes out.) Did you have an interesting time?
LADY. Yes. I met a number of strange people. Have you had many patients?
LADY. Yes. I met a lot of unusual people. Have you had many patients?
DOCTOR. No. The consulting room's empty this morning. I think the practice is going down.
DOCTOR. No. The consulting room is empty this morning. I think the practice is struggling.
LADY (kindly). I'm sorry. Tell me, oughtn't that woodpile to be taken into the house? It only draws the damp.
LADY (kindly). I'm sorry. Tell me, shouldn't that woodpile be brought inside? It just attracts moisture.
DOCTOR (without reproach). Yes, and the bees should be killed, too; and the fruit in the garden picked. But I've no time to do it.
DOCTOR (without blame). Yes, and the bees should be eliminated too; and the fruit in the garden picked. But I don't have time to do it.
LADY. You're tired.
You're tired.
DOCTOR. Tired of everything.
Doctor. Fed up with everything.
LADY (without bitterness). And you've a wife who can't even help you.
LADY (without bitterness). And you have a wife who can't even support you.
DOCTOR (kindly). You mustn't say that, if I don't think so.
DOCTOR (kindly). You shouldn't say that if I don't believe it.
LADY (turning towards the verandah). Here he is!
LADY (looking toward the porch). There he is!
(The STRANGER comes in through the verandah, dressed in a way that makes him look younger than before. He has an air of forced candour. He seems to recognise the doctor, and shrinks back, but recovers himself.)
(The STRANGER enters through the verandah, dressed in a way that makes him look younger than before. He has an air of forced sincerity. He seems to recognize the doctor and steps back but quickly regains his composure.)
DOCTOR. You're very welcome.
DOCTOR. You’re welcome.
STRANGER. It's kind of you.
STRANGER. That's very kind of you.
DOCTOR. You bring good weather with you. And we need it; for it's rained for six weeks.
DOCTOR. You bring nice weather with you. And we really need it; it's been raining for six weeks.
STRANGER. Not for seven? It usually rains for seven if it rains on St. Swithin's. But that's later on—how foolish of me!
STRANGER. Not for seven? It usually rains for seven days if it rains on St. Swithin's. But that's later—how silly of me!
DOCTOR. As you're used to town life I'm afraid you'll find the country dull.
DOCTOR. Since you're used to city life, I'm afraid you'll find the countryside boring.
STRANGER. Oh no. I'm no more at home there than here. Excuse me asking, but haven't we met before—when we were boys?
STRANGER. Oh no. I'm not any more at home there than I am here. Sorry to ask, but haven't we met before—when we were kids?
DOCTOR. Never.
DOCTOR. No way.
(The LADY has sat down at the table and is crocheting.)
(The LADY has sat down at the table and is doing some crochet.)
STRANGER. Are you sure?
STRANGER. Are you positive?
DOCTOR. Perfectly. I've followed your literary career from the first with great interest; as I know my wife has told you. So that if we had met I'd certainly have remembered your name. (Pause.) Well, now you can see how a country doctor lives!
DOCTOR. Absolutely. I've been closely following your writing career from the beginning, as I'm sure my wife has mentioned to you. So if we had met, I definitely would have remembered your name. (Pause.) Well, now you can see what life is like for a country doctor!
STRANGER. If you could guess what the life of a so-called liberator's like, you wouldn't envy him.
STRANGER. If you could imagine what the life of a so-called liberator is like, you wouldn't envy him.
DOCTOR. I can imagine it; for I've seen how men love their chains. Perhaps that's as it should be.
DOCTOR. I can picture it; I've seen how men cling to their chains. Maybe that’s just how it is.
STRANGER (listening). Strange. Who's playing in the village?
STRANGER (listening). That's odd. Who's performing in the village?
DOCTOR. I don't know. Do you, Ingeborg?
DOCTOR. I don't know. Do you, Ingeborg?
LADY. No.
LADY. Nope.
STRANGER. Mendelssohn's Funeral March! It pursues me. I never know whether I've heard it or not.
STRANGER. Mendelssohn's Funeral March! It haunts me. I can never tell if I've actually heard it or not.
DOCTOR. Do you suffer from hallucinations?
DOCTOR. Do you see things that aren't there?
STRANGER. No. But I'm pursued by trivial incidents. Can't you hear anyone playing?
STRANGER. No. But I'm being bothered by insignificant things. Can't you hear anyone playing?
DOCTOR. Yes.
DOCTOR: Yes.
LADY. Someone is playing. Mendelssohn.
LADY. Someone's playing. Mendelssohn.
DOCTOR. Not surprising.
DOCTOR. Not surprising at all.
STRANGER. No. But that it should be played precisely at the right place, at the right time.... (He gets up.)
STRANGER. No. But it has to be played exactly in the right place, at the right time.... (He stands up.)
DOCTOR. To reassure you, I'll ask my sister. (Exit through the verandah.)
DOCTOR. To put your mind at ease, I'll check with my sister. (Leaves through the verandah.)
STRANGER (to the LADY). I'm stifling here. I can't pass a night under this roof. Your husband looks like a werewolf and in his presence you turn into a pillar of salt. Murder has been done in this house; the place is haunted. I shall escape as soon as I can find an excuse.
STRANGER (to the LADY). I'm suffocating here. I can't spend another night under this roof. Your husband looks like a werewolf, and in his presence, you become a statue. There’s been murder in this house; this place is haunted. I’ll get out of here as soon as I can come up with a reason.
(The DOCTOR comes back.)
(The DOCTOR returns.)
DOCTOR. It's the girl at the post office.
DOCTOR. It's the girl at the post office.
STRANGER (nervously). Good. That's all right. You've an original house. That pile of wood, for instance.
STRANGER (nervously). Good. That's fine. You've got a unique house. That stack of wood, for example.
DOCTOR. Yes. It's been struck by lightning twice.
DOCTOR. Yeah. It's been hit by lightning twice.
STRANGER. Terrible! And you still keep it?
STRANGER. That's awful! And you still hang onto it?
DOCTOR. That's why. I've made it higher out of defiance; and to give shade in summer. It's like the prophet's gourd. But in the autumn it must go into the wood shed.
DOCTOR. That's why. I've raised it higher out of defiance; and to provide shade in the summer. It's like the prophet's gourd. But come autumn, it has to be put into the woodshed.
STRANGER (looking round). Christmas roses, too! Where did you get them? They're flowering in summer! Everything's upside down here.
STRANGER (looking around). Christmas roses, too! Where did you find them? They're blooming in summer! Everything's turned upside down here.
DOCTOR. They were given me by a patient. He's not quite sane.
DOCTOR. A patient gave them to me. He's not entirely sane.
STRANGER. Is he staying in the house?
STRANGER. Is he staying in the house?
DOCTOR. Yes. He's a quiet soul, who ponders on the purposelessness of nature. He thinks it foolish for hellebore to grow in the snow and freeze; so he puts the plants in the cellar and beds them out in the spring.
DOCTOR. Yes. He's a thoughtful person who reflects on the meaninglessness of nature. He finds it silly for hellebore to grow in the snow and get frozen, so he moves the plants to the cellar and plants them outside in the spring.
STRANGER. But a madman... in the house. Most unpleasant!
STRANGER. But a crazy person... in the house. Super uncomfortable!
DOCTOR. He's very harmless.
DOCTOR. He's totally harmless.
STRANGER. How did he lose his wits?
STRANGER. How did he go insane?
DOCTOR. Who can tell. It's a disease of the mind, not the body.
DOCTOR. Who knows? It's a mental illness, not a physical one.
STRANGER. Tell me—is he here—now?
STRANGER. Is he here—now?
DOCTOR. Yes. He's free to wander in the garden and arrange creation. But if his presence disquiets you, we can shut him up.
DOCTOR. Yes. He can roam around the garden and enjoy nature. But if his presence makes you uncomfortable, we can keep him inside.
STRANGER. Why aren't such poor devils put out of—their misery?
STRANGER. Why aren't these poor souls freed from their misery?
DOCTOR. It's hard to know whether they're ripe....
DOCTOR. It's tough to tell if they're ripe....
STRANGER. What for?
STRANGER. Why?
DOCTOR. For what's to come.
DOCTOR. For what's coming next.
STRANGER. There is nothing. (Pause.)
STRANGER. There’s nothing. (Pause.)
DOCTOR. Who knows!
DOCTOR. Who knows?
STRANGER. I feel strangely uneasy. Have you medical material... specimens... dead bodies?
STRANGER. I feel really uneasy. Do you have medical supplies... samples... dead bodies?
DOCTOR. Oh yes. In the ice-box—for the authorities, you know. (He pulls out an arm and leg.) Look here.
DOCTOR. Oh yeah. In the fridge—for the authorities, you know. (He pulls out an arm and leg.) Look at this.
STRANGER. No. Too much like Bluebeard!
STRANGER. No. Way too much like Bluebeard!
DOCTOR (sharply). What do you mean by that? (Looking at the LADY.) Do you think I kill my wives?
DOCTOR (sharply). What do you mean by that? (Looking at the LADY.) Do you think I murder my wives?
STRANGER. Oh no. It's clear you don't. Is this house haunted, too?
STRANGER. Oh no. It's obvious you don't. Is this house haunted as well?
DOCTOR. Oh yes. Ask my wife.(He disappears behind the wood pile where neither the STRANGER nor the LADY can see him.)
DOCTOR. Oh sure. Just ask my wife. (He steps behind the wood pile where neither the STRANGER nor the LADY can see him.)
LADY. You needn't whisper, my husband's deaf. Though he can lip read.
LADY. You don't have to whisper, my husband's deaf. But he can read lips.
STRANGER. Then let me say that I've never known a more painful half-hour. We exchange the merest commonplaces, because none of us has the courage to say what he thinks. I suffered so that the idea came to me of opening my veins to get relief. But now I'd like to tell him the truth and have done with it. Shall we say to his face that we mean to go away, and that you've had enough of his foolishness?
STRANGER. Let me just say that I've never experienced a more painful half-hour. We’re just exchanging small talk because none of us has the guts to say what we really think. I was in so much pain that I thought about hurting myself just to feel some relief. But now I want to be honest with him and get it over with. Should we just tell him directly that we plan to leave and that you're tired of his nonsense?
LADY. If you talk like that I'll begin to hate you. You must behave under any circumstances.
LADY. If you keep talking like that, I’ll start to hate you. You need to behave no matter what.
STRANGER. How well brought up you are! (The DOCTOR now becomes visible to the STRANGER and the LADY, who continue their conversation.) Come away with me, before the sun goes down. (Pause.) Tell me, why did you kiss me yesterday?
STRANGER. You have such great manners! (The DOCTOR now appears to the STRANGER and the LADY, who are still talking.) Come with me before the sun sets. (Pause.) So, why did you kiss me yesterday?
LADY. But....
LADY. But...
STRANGER. Supposing he could hear what we say! I don't trust him.
STRANGER. What if he can hear us? I don’t trust him.
DOCTOR. What shall we do to amuse our guest?
DOCTOR. What should we do to entertain our guest?
LADY. He doesn't care much for amusement. His life's not been happy.
LADY. He doesn't really enjoy having fun. His life hasn't been happy.
(The DOCTOR blows a whistle. The MADMAN comes into the garden. He wears a laurel wreath and his clothes are curious.)
(The DOCTOR blows a whistle. The MADMAN enters the garden. He has a laurel wreath on his head and his clothes are strange.)
DOCTOR. Come here, Caesar.
DOCTOR. Come here, Caesar.
STRANGER (displeased). What? Is he called Caesar?
STRANGER (displeased). What? Is his name Caesar?
DOCTOR. No. It's a nickname I gave him, to remind me of a boy I was at school with.
DOCTOR. No. It's a nickname I gave him to remind me of a boy I went to school with.
STRANGER (disturbed). Oh?
STRANGER (disturbed). Oh?
DOCTOR. He was involved in a strange incident, and I got all the blame.
DOCTOR. He was caught up in a bizarre situation, and I ended up taking all the blame.
LADY (to the STRANGER). You'd never believe a boy could have been so corrupt.
LADY (to the STRANGER). You wouldn’t believe a boy could be so messed up.
(The STRANGER looks distressed. The MADMAN comes nearer.)
(The STRANGER looks upset. The MADMAN approaches.)
DOCTOR. Caesar, come and make your bow to our famous writer.
DOCTOR. Caesar, come over and greet our renowned writer.
CAESAR. Is this the great man?
CAESAR. Is this the famous person?
LADY (to the DOCTOR). Why did you let him come, if it annoys our guest?
LADY (to the DOCTOR). Why did you let him come if it bothers our guest?
DOCTOR. Caesar, you must behave. Or I shall have to whip you.
DOCTOR. Caesar, you need to behave. Otherwise, I'll have to discipline you.
CAESAR. Yes. He is Caesar, but he's not great. He doesn't even know which came first, the hen or the egg. But I do.
CAESAR. Yes. He is Caesar, but he's not great. He doesn't even know which came first, the chicken or the egg. But I do.
STRANGER (to the LADY). I shall go. Is this a trap? What am I to think? In a minute he'll unloose his bees to amuse me.
STRANGER (to the LADY). I'm going to leave. Is this a setup? What should I think? In a moment, he'll let his bees go to entertain me.
LADY. Trust me... whatever happens! And turn your face away when you speak.
LADY. Trust me... no matter what happens! And look away when you talk.
STRANGER. This werewolf never leaves us.
STRANGER. This werewolf never leaves us.
DOCTOR (looking at his watch). You must excuse me for about an hour. I've a patient to visit. I hope the time won't hang on your hands.
DOCTOR (looking at his watch). Please excuse me for about an hour. I have a patient to see. I hope you won't get bored waiting.
STRANGER. I'm used to waiting, for what never comes....
STRANGER. I'm used to waiting for things that never happen....
DOCTOR (to the MADMAN). Come along, Caesar. I must lock you up in the cellar. (He goes out with the MADMAN.)
DOCTOR (to the MADMAN). Come on, Caesar. I need to put you in the cellar. (He goes out with the MADMAN.)
STRANGER (to the LADY). What does that mean? Someone's pursuing me! You told me your husband was well disposed towards me, and I believed you. But he can't open his mouth without wounding me. Every word pricks like a goad. Then this funeral march... it's really being played! And here, once more, Christmas roses! Why does everything follow in an eternal round? Dead bodies, beggars, madmen, human destinies and childhood memories? Come away. Let me free you from this hell.
STRANGER (to the LADY). What does that mean? Someone's after me! You said your husband liked me, and I took your word for it. But he can't say anything without hurting me. Every word feels like a stab. And this funeral march... it’s actually being played! And look, more Christmas roses! Why does everything seem to come back around endlessly? Dead bodies, beggars, crazy people, human lives, and childhood memories? Come on. Let me rescue you from this nightmare.
LADY. That's why I brought you here. Also that it could never be said you'd stolen the wife of another. But one thing I must ask you: can I put my trust in you?
LADY. That's why I brought you here. Also so it could never be said that you stole another man's wife. But I have one thing to ask you: can I trust you?
STRANGER. You mean in my feelings?
STRANGER. Are you talking about my feelings?
LADY. I don't speak of them. We're taking them for granted. They'll endure as long as they'll endure.
LADY. I don’t talk about them. We’re just assuming they’ll last. They’ll last for as long as they last.
STRANGER. You mean in my position? Large sums are owed me. All I have to do is to write or telegraph....
STRANGER. You mean in my situation? I’m owed a lot of money. All I have to do is write or send a message....
LADY. Then I will trust you. (Putting away her work.) Now go straight out of that door. Follow the syringa hedge till you find a gate. We'll meet in the next village.
LADY. Then I’ll trust you. (Putting away her work.) Now go straight out of that door. Follow the lilac hedge until you find a gate. We'll meet in the next village.
STRANGER (hesitating). I don't like leaving the back way. I'd rather have fought it out with him here.
STRANGER (hesitating). I don't want to leave through the back. I would rather have faced him here.
LADY. Quick!
Lady. Hurry!
STRANGER. Won't you come with me?
STRANGER. Will you come with me?
LADY. Yes. But then I must go first. (She turns and blows a kiss towards the verandah.) My poor werewolf!
LADY. Yeah. But I have to go first. (She turns and blows a kiss towards the porch.) My poor werewolf!
[The STRANGER enters followed by the LADY. A WAITER.]
[The STRANGER enters followed by the LADY. A WAITER.]
STRANGER (who is carrying a suitcase). Is no other room free?
STRANGER (holding a suitcase). Is there no other room available?
WAITER. No.
WAITER: No.
STRANGER. I don't want this one.
STRANGER. I don't want this one.
LADY. But it's the only one: the other hotels are all full.
LADY. But it's the only one available; all the other hotels are fully booked.
STRANGER (to the WAITER). You can go. (The LADY sinks on to a chair without taking off her hat and coat.) What is it you want?
STRANGER (to the WAITER). You can leave. (The LADY sits down in a chair without removing her hat and coat.) What do you want?
LADY. I wish you'd kill me.
LADY. I wish you would just kill me.
STRANGER. I don't wonder! Thrown out of hotels, because we're not married, and pestered by the police, we're forced to come to this place, the last I'd have wished. To this very room, number eight.... Someone must be against me!
STRANGER. I can’t believe it! Kicked out of hotels because we’re not married, and constantly harassed by the police, we’re stuck coming to this place, the last place I wanted to be. In this very room, number eight.... Someone must be out to get me!
LADY. Is this eight?
LADY. Is this 8?
STRANGER. What? Have you been here before?
STRANGER. What? Have you been here before?
LADY. Have you?
Have you?
STRANGER. Yes.
STRANGER. Yeah.
LADY. Then let's get away. Onto the road, into the woods. It doesn't matter where.
LADY. Then let's go. Onto the road, into the woods. It doesn't really matter where.
STRANGER. I should like to. But after this terrible time I'm as tired as you are. I felt this was to be our journey's end. I resisted, I tried to go in the opposite direction, but trains were late, or we missed them, and we had to come here. To this room! The devil's in it—at least what I call the devil. But I'll be even with him yet.
STRANGER. I want to, but after this awful time, I'm just as exhausted as you are. I thought this was supposed to be the end of our journey. I fought against it; I tried to head the other way, but the trains were delayed or we missed them, and we ended up here. In this room! It's cursed—at least that's how I see it. But I’ll get back at it eventually.
LADY. It seems we'll never find peace on earth again.
LADY. It looks like we’ll never find peace on Earth again.
STRANGER. Nothing's been changed. The dying Christmas roses. (Looking at two pictures.) There he is again. And that's the Hotel Breuer in Montreux. I've stayed there, too.
STRANGER. Nothing's changed. The fading Christmas roses. (Looking at two pictures.) There he is again. And that's the Hotel Breuer in Montreux. I've stayed there, too.
LADY. Did you go to the post office?
LADY. Did you go to the post office?
STRANGER. I thought you'd ask me that. I did. And as an answer to five letters and three telegrams I found a telegram saying that my publisher had gone away for a fortnight.
STRANGER. I figured you’d ask me that. I did. And in response to five letters and three telegrams, I received a telegram saying that my publisher had gone away for two weeks.
LADY. Then we're lost.
LADY. Then we're doomed.
STRANGER. Very nearly.
STRANGER. Almost there.
LADY. The waiter will be back in five minutes and ask for our passports. Then the landlord will come up and tell us to go.
LADY. The waiter will be back in five minutes to ask for our passports. Then the landlord will come over and tell us to leave.
STRANGER. Then only one course remains.
STRANGER. Then there's only one option left.
LADY. Two.
Lady. Two.
STRANGER. The second's impossible.
STRANGER. The second one's impossible.
LADY. What is the second?
LADY. What's the second?
STRANGER. To go to your parents in the country.
STRANGER. To visit your parents in the countryside.
LADY. You're beginning to read my thoughts.
LADY. You're starting to read my mind.
STRANGER. We no longer have any secrets from one another.
STRANGER. We have no secrets left between us.
LADY. Then the whole dream's at an end.
LADY. So, the entire dream is over.
STRANGER. It maybe.
STRANGER. It could be.
LADY. You must telegraph again.
LADY. You need to text again.
STRANGER. I ought to, I know. But I can't stir from here. I no longer believe that what I do can succeed. Someone's paralysed me.
STRANGER. I should, I know. But I can't move from here. I don't believe that what I do can succeed anymore. Someone has put me in this state.
LADY. And me! We decided never to speak of the past and yet we drag it with us. Look at this carpet. Those flowers seem to form....
LADY. And me! We agreed not to talk about the past, yet we carry it with us. Look at this carpet. Those flowers seem to create...
STRANGER. Him! It's him. He's everywhere. How many hundred times has he.... Yet I see someone else in the pattern of the table cloth. No, it's an illusion! Any moment now I'll hear my funeral march—then everything will be complete. (Listening.) There!
STRANGER. It's him! He's everywhere. How many times has he... Yet I see someone else in the design of the tablecloth. No, it's just an illusion! Any moment now, I'll hear my funeral march—then everything will be complete. (Listening.) There!
LADY. I hear nothing.
LADY. I don’t hear anything.
STRANGER. Am I... am I....
STRANGER. Am I... am I...
LADY. Shall we go home?
LADY. Should we head home?
STRANGER. The last place. The worst of all! To arrive like an adventurer, a beggar. Impossible!
STRANGER. The final destination. The absolute worst! To show up like an adventurer, like a beggar. No way!
LADY. Yes, I know, but.... No, it would be too much. To bring shame, disgrace and sorrow to the old people, and to see you humiliated, and you me! We could never respect one another again.
LADY. Yes, I get it, but... No, that would be too much. It would bring shame, disgrace, and sadness to the old folks, and I can’t bear the thought of seeing you humiliated, or me! We could never respect each other again.
STRANGER. It would be worse than death. Yet I feel it's inevitable, and I begin to long for it, to get it over quickly, if it must be.
STRANGER. It would be worse than dying. Yet I feel it's unavoidable, and I start to wish for it, to just get it over with quickly, if it has to happen.
LADY (taking out her work). But I don't want to be reviled in your presence. We must find another way. If only we were married—and divorce would be easy, because my former marriage isn't recognised by the laws of the country in which it was contracted.... All we need do is to go away and be married by the same priest... but that would be wounding for you!
LADY (taking out her work). But I don't want to be criticized in front of you. We need to find another solution. If only we were married—divorce would be simple, since my previous marriage isn't recognized by the laws of the country where it took place.... All we’d have to do is leave and have the same priest marry us... but that would hurt you!
STRANGER. It would match the rest! For this honeymoon's becoming a pilgrimage!
STRANGER. It would fit right in! This honeymoon is turning into a trip!
LADY. You're right! The landlord will be here in five minutes to turn us out. There's only one way to end such humiliations. Of our own free will we must accept the worst.... I can hear footsteps!
LADY. You're right! The landlord will be here in five minutes to kick us out. There's only one way to end this humiliation. We have to willingly face the worst.... I can hear footsteps!
STRANGER. I've foreseen this and am ready. Ready for everything. If I can't overcome the unseen, I can show you how much I can endure.... You must pawn your jewellery. I can buy it back when my publisher gets home, if he's not drowned bathing or killed in a railway accident. A man as ambitious as I must be ready to sacrifice his honour first of all.
STRANGER. I saw this coming and I'm prepared. Ready for anything. If I can't handle the unknown, I can show you how much I can take... You need to sell your jewelry. I can buy it back when my publisher returns, assuming he hasn't drowned while swimming or died in a train accident. A guy as ambitious as I have to be willing to sacrifice his honor above all else.
LADY. As we're agreed, wouldn't it be better to give up this room? Oh, God! He's coming now.
LADY. Since we're agreed, wouldn't it be better to leave this room? Oh, no! He's coming now.
STRANGER. Let's go. We'll run the gauntlet of waiters, maids and servants. Red with shame and pale with indignation. Animals have their lairs to hide in, but we are forced to flaunt our shame. (Pause.) Let down your veil.
STRANGER. Let's go. We'll get through the crowd of waiters, maids, and servants. Red with shame and pale with anger. Animals have their dens to hide in, but we have to show off our shame. (Pause.) Lower your veil.
LADY. So this is freedom!
LADY. So this is liberty!
STRANGER. And I... am the liberator. (Exeunt.)
STRANGER. And I... am the one who sets you free. (Exeunt.)
[A hut on a cliff by the sea. Outside it a table with chairs. The STRANGER and the LADY are dressed in less sombre clothing and look younger than in the previous scene. The LADY is doing crochet work.]
[A hut on a cliff by the sea. Outside, there’s a table with chairs. The STRANGER and the LADY are dressed in brighter clothing and look younger than in the previous scene. The LADY is crocheting.]
STRANGER. Three peaceful happy days at my wife's side, and anxiety returns!
STRANGER. Three peaceful, happy days with my wife, and the anxiety comes back!
LADY. What do you fear?
LADY. What are you afraid of?
STRANGER. That this will not last long.
STRANGER. This won't last.
LADY. Why do you think so?
LADY. Why do you feel that way?
STRANGER. I don't know. I believe it must end suddenly, terribly. There's something deceptive even the sunshine and the stillness. I feel that happiness if not part of my destiny.
STRANGER. I don't know. I think it has to end abruptly, and it's going to be awful. There's something misleading about both the sunshine and the calm. I feel like happiness isn't part of my fate.
LADY. But it's all over! My parents are resigned to what we've done. My husband understands and has written a kind letter.
LADY. But it's all done! My parents have accepted what we've done. My husband understands and has written a nice letter.
STRANGER. What does that matter? Fate spins the web; once more I hear the mallet fall and the chairs being pushed back from the table—judgment has been pronounced. Yet that must have happened before I was born, because even in childhood I began to serve my sentence. There's no moment in my life on which can look back with happiness.
STRANGER. What does that matter? Fate weaves the web; once again I hear the hammer drop and the chairs being pushed back from the table—judgment has been made. But that must have happened before I was born, because even as a child I started serving my sentence. There's not a single moment in my life that I can look back on with happiness.
LADY. Unfortunate man! Yet you've had everything you wished from life!
LADY. Unlucky guy! But you've gotten everything you wanted out of life!
STRANGER. Everything. Unluckily I forgot to wish for money.
STRANGER. Everything. Unfortunately, I forgot to wish for money.
LADY. You're thinking of that again.
LADY. You're thinking about that again.
STRANGER. Are you surprised?
STRANGER. Are you shocked?
LADY. Quiet!
Lady, be quiet!
STRANGER. What is it you're always working at? You sit there like one of the Fates and draw the threads through your fingers. But go on. The most beautiful of sights is a woman bending over her work, or over her child. What are you making?
STRANGER. What is it you're always working on? You sit there like one of the Fates, pulling threads through your fingers. But go ahead. The most beautiful sight is a woman focused on her work or her child. What are you making?
LADY. Nothing. Crochet work.
LADY. Nothing. Knitting project.
STRANGER. It looks like a network of nerves and knots on which you've fixed your thoughts. The brain must look like that—from within.
STRANGER. It seems like a web of nerves and knots where you've placed your thoughts. The brain must look like that from the inside.
LADY. If only I thought of half the things you imagine.... But I think of nothing.
LADY. If only I thought of even half the things you imagine... But I don't think about anything.
STRANGER. Perhaps that's why I feel so contented when I'm with you. Why, I find you so perfect that I can no longer imagine life without you! Now the clouds have blown away. Now the sky is clear! The wind soft—feel how it caresses us! This is Life! Yes, now I live. And I feel my spirit growing, spreading, becoming tenuous, infinite. I am everywhere, in the ocean which is my blood, in the rocks that are my bones, in the trees, in the flowers; and my head reaches up to the heavens. I can survey the whole universe. I am the universe. And I feel the power of the Creator within me, for I am He! I wish I could grasp the all in my hand and refashion it into something more perfect, more lasting, more beautiful. I want all creation and created beings to be happy, to be born without pain, live without suffering, and die in quiet content. Eve! Die with me now! This moment, for the next will bring sorrow again.
STRANGER. Maybe that's why I feel so happy when I'm with you. I find you so perfect that I can’t imagine life without you! Now the clouds have cleared. The sky is bright! The wind is gentle—feel how it embraces us! This is life! Yes, now I truly live. And I feel my spirit expanding, spreading, becoming delicate, infinite. I am everywhere, in the ocean that is my blood, in the rocks that are my bones, in the trees, in the flowers; and my head reaches up to the heavens. I can see the whole universe. I am the universe. And I feel the Creator's power within me, for I am Him! I wish I could hold it all in my hand and reshape it into something more perfect, more lasting, more beautiful. I want all of creation and all beings to be happy, to be born without pain, to live without suffering, and to die in peaceful contentment. Eve! Die with me now! This moment, because the next will bring sorrow again.
LADY. I'm not ready to die.
LADY. I'm not ready to die.
STRANGER. Why not?
STRANGER. Why not?
LADY. I believe there are things I've not yet done. Perhaps I've not suffered enough.
LADY. I think there are things I still haven't experienced. Maybe I haven't suffered enough.
STRANGER. Is that the purpose of life?
STRANGER. Is that what life is all about?
LADY. It seems to be. (Pause.) Now I want to ask one thing of you.
LADY. It looks that way. (Pause.) Now I want to ask you something.
STRANGER. Well?
STRANGER: So?
LADY. Don't blaspheme against heaven again, or compare yourself with the Creator, for then you remind me of Caesar at home.
LADY. Don’t speak disrespectfully about heaven again, or put yourself on the same level as the Creator, because then you remind me of Caesar at home.
STRANGER (excitedly). Caesar! How can you say that...?
STRANGER (excitedly). Caesar! How can you say that...?
LADY. I'm sorry if I've said anything I shouldn't. It was foolish of me to say 'at home.' Forgive me.
LADY. I'm sorry if I said something I shouldn't have. It was stupid of me to say 'at home.' Please forgive me.
STRANGER. You were thinking that Caesar and I resemble one another in our blasphemies?
STRANGER. You were thinking that Caesar and I are similar in our disrespectful behavior?
LADY. Of course not.
LADY. Definitely not.
STRANGER. Strange. I believe you when you say you don't mean to hurt me; yet you do hurt me, as all the others do. Why?
STRANGER. That's strange. I believe you when you say you don't intend to hurt me; but you do hurt me, just like everyone else. Why?
LADY. Because you're over-sensitive.
LADY. Because you're too sensitive.
STRANGER. You say that again! Do you think I've sensitive hidden places?
STRANGER. Say that again! Do you think I have sensitive spots?
LADY. No. I didn't mean that. And now the spirits of suspicion and discord are coming between us. Drive them away—at once.
LADY. No, that’s not what I meant. And now the feelings of doubt and conflict are getting in the way between us. Get rid of them—right now.
STRANGER. You mustn't say I blaspheme if I use the well-known words: See, we are like unto the gods.
STRANGER. You can't say I'm being disrespectful if I use the famous words: Look, we are like the gods.
LADY. But if that's so, why can't you help yourself, or us?
LADY. But if that's the case, why can't you help yourself or us?
STRANGER. Can't I? Wait. As yet we've only seen the beginning.
STRANGER. Can't I? Hold on. We’ve only just seen the beginning.
LADY. If the end is like it, heaven help us!
LADY. If the outcome is like this, God help us!
STRANGER. I know what you fear; and I meant to hold back a pleasant surprise. But now I won't torment you longer. (He takes out a registered letter, not yet opened.) Look!
STRANGER. I know what you're afraid of, and I meant to keep a nice surprise from you. But I won't keep you in suspense any longer. (He takes out a registered letter, still sealed.) Look!
LADY. The money's come!
LADY. The money has arrived!
STRANGER. This morning. Who can destroy me now?
STRANGER. This morning. Who can take me down now?
LADY. Don't speak like that. You know who could.
LADY. Don't talk like that. You know who could.
STRANGER. Who?
UNKNOWN PERSON. Who?
LADY. He who punishes the arrogance of men.
LADY. The one who punishes the arrogance of people.
STRANGER. And their courage. That especially. This was my Achilles' heel; I bore with everything, except this fearful lack of money.
STRANGER. And their bravery. That, above all. This was my weak spot; I could handle everything else, except for this terrifying shortage of cash.
LADY. May I ask how much they've sent?
LADY. Can I ask how much they've sent?
STRANGER. I don't know. I've not opened the letter. But I do know about how much to expect. I'd better look and see. (He opens the letter.) What? Only an account showing I'm owed nothing! There's something uncanny in this.
STRANGER. I don't know. I haven't opened the letter. But I do know what to expect. I should take a look. (He opens the letter.) What? It’s just a statement saying I don’t owe anything! This is weird.
LADY. I begin to think so, too.
LADY. I'm starting to think so, too.
STRANGER. I know I'm damned. But I'm ready to hurl the curse back at him who so nobly cursed me.... (He throws up the letter.) With a curse of my own.
STRANGER. I know I'm doomed. But I'm ready to throw the curse back at him who so nobly cursed me.... (He throws up the letter.) With a curse of my own.
LADY. Don't. You frighten me.
LADY. Stop. You're scaring me.
STRANGER. Fear me, so long as you don't despise me! The challenge has been thrown down; now you shall see a conflict between two great opponents. (He opens his coat and waistcoat and looks threateningly aloft.) Strike me with your lightning if you dare! Frighten me with your thunder if you can!
STRANGER. Fear me, as long as you don’t hate me! The challenge has been made; now you’ll witness a battle between two strong opponents. (He opens his coat and vest and looks menacingly up.) Hit me with your lightning if you’re brave enough! Scare me with your thunder if you’re able!
LADY. Don't speak like that.
LADY. Don't talk like that.
STRANGER. I will. Who dares break in on my dream of love? Who tears the cup from my lips; and the woman from my arms? Those who envy me, be they gods or devils! Little bourgeois gods who parry sword thrusts with pin-pricks from behind, who won't stand up to their man, but strike at him with unpaid bills. A backstairs way of discrediting a master before his servants. They never attack, never draw, merely soil and decry! Powers, lords and masters! All are the same!
STRANGER. I will. Who dares interrupt my dream of love? Who takes the cup from my lips and the woman from my arms? Those who envy me, whether they're gods or devils! Stupid little gods who dodge real fights with petty insults from the sidelines, who won’t face their opponent but hit him with unpaid bills. A sneaky way to undermine a master in front of his servants. They never attack, never confront, just slander and belittle! Powers, lords, and masters! They’re all the same!
LADY. May heaven not punish you.
LADY. I hope heaven doesn't punish you.
STRANGER. Heaven's blue and silent. The ocean's silent and stupid. Listen, I can hear a poem—that's what I call it when an idea begins to germinate in my mind. First the rhythm; this time like the thunder of hooves and the jingle of spurs and accoutrements. But there's a fluttering too, like a sail flapping.... Banners!
STRANGER. The sky is a quiet blue. The ocean is silent and dull. Listen, I can hear a poem—that’s what I call it when an idea starts to form in my mind. First, the rhythm; this time it’s like the rumble of hooves and the jingle of spurs and gear. But there’s also a fluttering, like a sail flapping.... Banners!
LADY. No. It's the wind. Can't you hear it in the trees?
LADY. No. It's the wind. Can't you hear it in the trees?
STRANGER. Quiet! They're riding over a bridge, a wooden bridge. There's no water in the brook, only pebbles. Wait! Now I can hear them, men and women, saying a rosary. The angels' greeting. Now I can see—on what you're working—a large kitchen, with white-washed walls, it has three small latticed windows, with flowers in them. In the left-hand corner a hearth, on the right a table with wooden seats. And above the table, in the corner, hangs a crucifix, with a lamp burning below. The ceiling's of blackened beams, and dried mistletoe hangs on the wall.
STRANGER. Shh! They’re crossing a bridge, a wooden one. There’s no water in the stream, just pebbles. Wait! Now I can hear them, men and women, reciting a rosary. The Angelus. Now I can see—what you’re working on—a large kitchen with whitewashed walls. It has three small windows with lattice, filled with flowers. In the left corner, there’s a hearth, and on the right, a table with wooden chairs. Above the table, in the corner, there’s a crucifix with a lamp lit underneath. The ceiling has darkened beams, and dried mistletoe hangs on the wall.
LADY (frightened). Where can you see all that?
LADY (scared). Where can you see all that?
STRANGER. On your work.
STRANGER. About your work.
LADY. Can you see people there?
LADY. Can you see anyone over there?
STRANGER. A very old man's sitting at the table, bent over a game bag, his hands clasped in prayer. A woman, so longer young, kneels on the floor. Now once more I hear the angels' greeting, as if far away. But those two in the kitchen are as motionless as figures of wax. A veil shrouds everything.... No, that was no poem! (Waking.) It was something else.
STRANGER. An elderly man is sitting at the table, hunched over a game bag, his hands folded in prayer. A woman, no longer young, is kneeling on the floor. Once again, I hear the angels' greeting, as if from a distance. But those two in the kitchen are as still as wax figures. A veil covers everything... No, that wasn't a poem! (Waking.) It was something else.
LADY. It was reality! The kitchen at home, where you've never set foot. That old man was my grandfather, the forester, and the woman my mother! They were praying for us! It was six o'clock and the servants were saying a rosary outside, as they always do.
LADY. It was real! The kitchen at home, where you've never been. That old man was my grandfather, the forester, and that woman was my mother! They were praying for us! It was six o'clock and the servants were saying a rosary outside, as they always do.
STRANGER. You make me uneasy. Is this the beginning of second sight? Still, it was beautiful. A snow-white room, with flowers and mistletoe. But why should they pray for us?
STRANGER. You make me feel uneasy. Is this the start of something more? Still, it was beautiful. A pure white room, filled with flowers and mistletoe. But why should they pray for us?
LADY. Why indeed! Have we done wrong?
LADY. Why not! Did we do something wrong?
STRANGER. What is wrong?
STRANGER. What's wrong?
LADY. I've read there's no such thing. And yet... I long to see my mother; not my father, for he turned me out as he did her.
LADY. I’ve read that it doesn’t exist. And yet... I really want to see my mother; not my father, since he abandoned me just like he did her.
STRANGER. Why should he have turned your mother out?
STRANGER. Why did he kick your mother out?
LADY. Who can say? The children least of all. Let us go to my home. I long to.
LADY. Who knows? Not the kids, for sure. Let’s head to my place. I really want to.
STRANGER. To the lion's den, the snake pit? One more or less makes no matter. I'll do it for you, but not like the Prodigal Son. No, you shall see that I can go through fire and water for your sake.
STRANGER. To the lion's den or the snake pit? One is just as bad as the other. I'll do it for you, but not like the Prodigal Son. No, you’ll see that I can go through fire and water for you.
LADY. How do you know...?
LADY. How do you know...?
STRANGER. I can guess.
I can guess.
LADY. And can you guess that the path to where my parents live in the mountains is too steep for carts to use?
LADY. Can you believe that the road to my parents' house in the mountains is too steep for carts to go up?
STRANGER. It sounds extraordinary, but I read or dreamed something of the kind.
STRANGER. It sounds unbelievable, but I either read or dreamed something like that.
LADY. You may have. But you'll see nothing that's not natural, though perhaps unusual, for men and women are a strange race. Are you ready to follow me?
LADY. You might have. But you won’t see anything that isn’t natural, though it may be unusual, because people are a strange bunch. Are you ready to come with me?
STRANGER. I'm ready—for anything!
STRANGER. I'm ready for anything!
(The LADY kisses him on the forehead and makes the sign of the cross simply, timidly and without gestures.)
(The LADY kisses him on the forehead and makes the sign of the cross simply, shyly, and without any gestures.)
LADY. Then come!
Lady. Then come!
[A landscape with hills; a chapel, right, in the far distance on a rise. The road, flanked by fruit trees, winds across the background. Between the trees hills can be seen on which are crucifixes, chapels and memorials to the victims of accidents. In the foreground a sign post with the legend, 'Beggars not allowed in this parish.' The STRANGER and the LADY.]
[A landscape with hills; a chapel, to the right, in the far distance on a rise. The road, lined with fruit trees, curves across the background. Between the trees, hills can be seen with crucifixes, chapels, and memorials for accident victims. In the foreground, a signpost reads, 'Beggars not allowed in this parish.' The STRANGER and the LADY.]
LADY. You're tired.
You're tired.
STRANGER. I won't deny it. But it's humiliating to confess I'm hungry, because the money's gone. I never thought that would happen to me.
STRANGER. I won’t deny it. But it’s embarrassing to admit I’m hungry, because the money’s gone. I never thought that would happen to me.
LADY. It seems we must be prepared for anything, for I think we've fallen into disfavour. My shoe's split, and I could weep at our having to go like this, looking like beggars.
LADY. It looks like we need to be ready for anything, because I think we've lost favor. My shoe is ripped, and I could cry at having to go out like this, looking like homeless people.
STRANGER (pointing to the signpost). And beggars are not allowed in this parish. Why must that be stuck up in large letters here?
STRANGER (pointing to the signpost). And no beggars are allowed in this parish. Why does that have to be displayed in big letters here?
LADY. It's been there as long as I can remember. Think of it, I've not been back since I was a child. And In those days I found the way short and the hills lower. The trees, too, were smaller, and I think I used to hear birds singing.
LADY. It's been there for as long as I can remember. Just think about it, I haven’t been back since I was a child. Back then, the path seemed shorter and the hills felt lower. The trees were also smaller, and I think I used to hear birds singing.
STRANGER. Birds sang all the year for you then! Now they only sing in the spring—and autumn's not far off. But in those days you used to dance along this endless way of Calvaries, plucking flowers at the feet of the crosses. (A horn in the distance.) What's that?
STRANGER. Birds sang for you all year back then! Now they only sing in the spring—and autumn's just around the corner. But back then, you used to dance along this endless path of Calvaries, picking flowers at the base of the crosses. (A horn in the distance.) What's that?
LADY. My grandfather coming back from shooting. A good old man. Let's go on and reach the house by dark.
LADY. My grandfather's coming back from hunting. A good old man. Let's keep going and get to the house before it gets dark.
STRANGER. Is it still far?
STRANGER. Is it far still?
LADY. No. Only across the hills and over the river.
LADY. No. Just across the hills and over the river.
STRANGER. Is that the river I hear?
STRANGER. Is that the sound of the river I hear?
LADY. The river by which I was born and brought up. I was eighteen before I crossed over to this bank, to see what was in the blue of the distance.... Now I've seen.
LADY. The river where I was born and raised. I was eighteen before I crossed to this bank to see what was in the blue of the distance... Now I've seen.
STRANGER. You're weeping!
STRANGER. You're crying!
LADY. Poor old man! When I got into the boat, he said: My child, beyond lies the world. When you've seen enough, come back to your mountains, and they will hide you. Now I've seen enough. Enough!
LADY. Poor old man! When I got into the boat, he said: My child, beyond lies the world. When you've seen enough, come back to your mountains, and they will hide you. Now I've seen enough. Enough!
STRANGER. Let's go. It's beginning to grow dusk already. (They pick up their travelling capes and go on.)
STRANGER. Let's go. It's starting to get dark already. (They pick up their travel capes and continue on.)
[Entrance to a ravine between steep cliffs covered with pines. In the foreground a wooden shanty, a broom by the door with a ramshorn hanging from its handle. Left, a smithy, a red glow showing through its open door. Right, a flourmill. In the background the road through the ravine with mill-stream and footbridge. The rock formations look like giant profiles.]
[Entrance to a gorge between steep cliffs lined with pine trees. In the foreground, there’s a wooden shack with a broom by the door and a ram's horn hanging from its handle. To the left, there’s a blacksmith shop, a red glow visible through its open door. To the right, there’s a flour mill. In the background, the road runs through the gorge with a mill stream and footbridge. The rock formations resemble giant profiles.]
[On the rise of the curtain the SMITH is at the smithy door and the MILLER'S WIFE at the door of the mill. When the LADY enters they sign to one another and disappear. The clothing of both the LADY and the STRANGER is torn and shabby.]
[On the rise of the curtain, the SMITH is at the blacksmith's door and the MILLER'S WIFE is at the door of the mill. When the LADY enters, they signal to each other and disappear. The clothing of both the LADY and the STRANGER is torn and worn-out.]
STRANGER. They're hiding, from us, probably.
STRANGER. They’re probably hiding from us.
LADY. I don't think so.
LADY. I don't think so.
STRANGER. What a strange place! Everything seems conspire to arouse disquiet. What's that broom there? And the horn with ointment? Probably because it's their usual place, but it makes me think of witchcraft. Why is the smithy black and the mill white? Because one's sooty and the other covered with flour; yet when I saw the blacksmith by the light of his forge and the white miller's wife, it reminded me of an old poem. Look at those giant faces.... There's your werewolf from whom I saved you. There he is, in profile, see!
STRANGER. What a weird place! Everything seems to work together to create unease. What's that broom over there? And the horn with ointment? It’s probably just their usual spot, but it gives me thoughts of witchcraft. Why is the blacksmith's place dark and the mill bright? Because one is covered in soot and the other in flour; yet when I saw the blacksmith in the glow of his forge and the miller's wife in her white dress, it reminded me of an old poem. Look at those giant faces.... There’s the werewolf I saved you from. There he is, in profile, see!
LADY. Yes, but it's only the rock.
LADY. Yeah, but it's just the rock.
STRANGER. Only the rock, and yet it's he.
STRANGER. Just the rock, and yet it’s him.
LADY. Shall I tell you why we can see him?
LADY. Should I explain why we can see him?
STRANGER. You mean—it's our conscience? Which pricks us when we're hungry and tired, and is silent when we've eaten and rested. It's horrible to arrive in rags. Our clothes are torn from climbing through the brambles. Someone's fighting against me.
STRANGER. You mean—it's our conscience? It pokes at us when we're hungry and tired, but stays quiet when we've eaten and rested. It’s terrible to show up in rags. Our clothes are shredded from crawling through the bushes. Someone's battling against me.
LADY. Why did you challenge him?
LADY. Why did you call him out?
STRANGER. Because I want to fight in the open; not battle with unpaid bills and empty purses. Anyhow: here's my last copper. The devil take it, if there is one! (He throws it into the brook.)
STRANGER. Because I want to fight openly; not deal with unpaid bills and empty wallets. Anyway, here’s my last coin. To hell with it, if there is such a thing! (He throws it into the stream.)
LADY. Oh! We could have paid the ferry with it. Now we'll have to talk of money when we reach home.
LADY. Oh! We could have used that for the ferry. Now we'll have to discuss money when we get home.
STRANGER. When can we talk of anything else?
STRANGER. When can we discuss anything else?
LADY. That's because you've despised it.
LADY. That's because you've looked down on it.
STRANGER. As I've despised everything....
STRANGER. I've hated everything....
LADY. But not everything's despicable. Some things are good.
LADY. But not everything is awful. Some things are good.
STRANGER. I've never seen them.
STRANGER. I've never seen them.
LADY. Then follow me and you will.
LADY. Then come with me and you will.
STRANGER. I'll follow you. (He hesitates when passing the smithy.)
STRANGER. I'll follow you. (He pauses when passing the blacksmith shop.)
LADY (who has gone on ahead). Are you frightened of fire?
LADY (who has gone on ahead). Are you scared of fire?
STRANGER. No, but... (The horn is heard in the distance. He hurries past the smithy after the LADY.)
STRANGER. No, but... (The horn sounds in the distance. He rushes past the smithy after the LADY.)
[A large kitchen with whitewashed walls. Three windows in the corner, right, so arranged that two are at the back and one in the right wall. The windows are small and deeply recessed; in the recesses there are flower pots. The ceiling is beamed and black with soot. In the left corner a large range with utensils of copper, iron and tin, and wooden vessels. In the corner, right, a crucifix with a lamp. Beneath it a four-cornered table with benches. Bunches of mistletoe on the walls. A door at the back. The Poorhouse can be seen outside, and through the window at the back the church. Near the fire bedding for dogs and a table with food for the poor.]
[The OLD MAN is sitting at the table beneath the crucifix, with his hands clasped and a game bag before him. He is a strongly-built man of over eighty with white hair and along beard, dressed as a forester. The MOTHER is kneeling on the floor; she is grey-haired and nearly fifty; her dress is of black-and-white material. The voices of men, women and children can be clearly heard singing the last verse of the Angels' Greeting in chorus. 'Holy Mary, Mother of God, pray for us poor sinners, now and in the hour of death. Amen.']
[The OLD MAN is sitting at the table under the crucifix, with his hands clasped and a game bag in front of him. He is a sturdy man over eighty with white hair and a long beard, dressed like a forester. The MOTHER is kneeling on the floor; she is gray-haired and almost fifty; her dress is made of black-and-white fabric. The voices of men, women, and children can be clearly heard singing the last verse of the Angels' Greeting in unison. 'Holy Mary, Mother of God, pray for us poor sinners, now and in the hour of death. Amen.']
OLD MAN and MOTHER. Amen!
OLD MAN and MOM. Amen!
MOTHER. Now I'll tell you, Father. They saw two vagabonds by the river. Their clothing was torn and dirty, for they'd been in the water. And when it came to paying the ferryman, they'd no money. Now they're drying their clothes in the ferryman's hut.
OLD MAN. Let them stay there.
OLD MAN. Let them stay there.
MOTHER. Don't forbid a beggar your house. He might be an angel.
MOTHER. Don’t turn away a beggar from your home. He might be an angel.
OLD MAN. True. Let them come in.
OLD MAN. Sure. Let them in.
MOTHER. I'll put food for them on the table for the poor. Do you mind that?
MOTHER. I'll put food on the table for those in need. Is that okay with you?
OLD MAN. No.
OLD MAN. Nah.
MOTHER. Shall I give them cider?
MOTHER. Should I give them cider?
OLD MAN. Yes. And you can light the fire; they'll be cold.
OLD MAN. Yes. And you can start the fire; they'll be chilly.
MOTHER. There's hardly time. But I will, if you wish it, Father.
MOTHER. There's barely any time. But I will, if that's what you want, Dad.
OLD MAN (looking out of the window). I think you'd better.
OLD MAN (looking out of the window). I think you should.
MOTHER. What are you looking at?
MOTHER. What are you looking at?
OLD MAN. The river; it's rising. And I'm asking myself, as I've done for seventy years—when I shall reach the sea.
OLD MAN. The river's rising. And I'm wondering, as I have for seventy years—when will I reach the sea?
MOTHER. You're sad to-night, Father.
MOTHER. You're sad tonight, Dad.
OLD MAN.... et introibo ad altare Dei: ad Deum qui laetificat juventutem meam. Yes. I do feel sad.... Deus, Deus meus: quare tristis es anima mea, et quare conturbas me.
OLD MAN.... I will go to the altar of God: to God who brings joy to my youth. Yes. I do feel sad.... God, my God: why are you so downcast, my soul, and why are you disturbed within me?
MOTHER. Spera in Deo....
MOTHER. Hope in God....
(The Maid comes in, and signs to the MOTHER, who goes over to her. They whisper together and the maid goes out again.)
(The Maid enters and gestures to the MOTHER, who walks over to her. They whisper to each other, and then the maid exits.)
OLD MAN. I heard what you said. O God! Must I bear that too!
OLD MAN. I heard what you said. Oh my God! Do I have to endure that as well!
MOTHER. You needn't see them. You can go up to your room.
MOTHER. You don't have to see them. You can go to your room.
OLD MAN. No. It shall be a penance. But why come like this: as vagabonds?
OLD MAN. No. It will be a punishment. But why come like this: as wanderers?
MOTHER. Perhaps they lost their way and have had much to endure.
MOTHER. Maybe they got lost and have faced a lot of hardship.
OLD MAN. But to bring her husband! Is she lost to shame?
OLD MAN. But to bring her husband! Is she totally without shame?
MOTHER. You know Ingeborg's queer nature. She thinks all she does is fitting, if not right. Have you ever seen her ashamed, or suffer from a rebuff? I never have. Yet she's not without shame; on the contrary. And everything she does, however questionable, seems natural when she does it.
MOTHER. You know how strange Ingeborg can be. She believes everything she does is appropriate, if not exactly right. Have you ever seen her feel ashamed or be hurt by someone else's rejection? I haven’t. But she's not without shame; in fact, it's the opposite. Everything she does, no matter how questionable, feels completely natural when she does it.
OLD MAN. I've always wondered why one could never be angry with her. She doesn't feel herself responsible, or think an insult's directed at her. She seems impersonal; or rather two persons, one who does nothing but ill whilst the other gives absolution.... But this man! There's no one I've hated from afar so much as he. He sees evil everywhere; and of no one have I heard so much ill.
OLD MAN. I've always wondered why I've never been able to be angry with her. She doesn't see herself as responsible or think an insult is aimed at her. She feels distant; or rather like two people, one who does nothing but wrong while the other forgives.... But this man! There's no one I've resented from a distance as much as him. He sees negativity everywhere; and I've heard so much bad about no one else.
MOTHER. That's true. But it may be Ingeborg's found some mission in this man's life; and he in hers. Perhaps they're meant to torture each other into atonement.
MOTHER. That's true. But maybe Ingeborg has found some purpose in this man's life; and he in hers. Perhaps they're supposed to challenge each other into making amends.
OLD MAN. Perhaps. But I'll have nothing to do with at seems to me shameful. This man, under my roof! Yet I must accept it, like everything else. For I've deserved no less.
OLD MAN. Maybe. But I won't get involved with what seems shameful to me. This guy, under my roof! Still, I have to accept it, just like everything else. I've earned nothing less.
MOTHER. Very well then. (The LADY and the STRANGER come in.) You're welcome.
MOTHER. Alright then. (The LADY and the STRANGER walk in.) You're welcome.
LADY. Thank you, Mother. (She looks over to the OLD MAN, who rises and looks at the STRANGER.) Peace, Grandfather. This is my husband. Give him your hand.
LADY. Thanks, Mom. (She glances at the OLD MAN, who stands up and looks at the STRANGER.) Calm down, Grandpa. This is my husband. Shake his hand.
OLD MAN. First let me look at him. (He goes to the STRANGER, puts his hands on his shoulders and looks him in the eyes.) What motives brought you here?
OLD MAN. First, let me see him. (He approaches the STRANGER, places his hands on his shoulders, and looks him in the eyes.) What brought you here?
STRANGER (simply). None, but to keep my wife company, at her earnest desire.
STRANGER (simply). No one, just to keep my wife company, at her strong request.
OLD MAN. If that's true, you're welcome! I've a long and stormy life behind me, and at last I've found a certain peace in solitude. I beg you not to trouble it.
OLD MAN. If that's true, you're welcome! I've had a long and tumultuous life behind me, and finally, I've found some peace in solitude. I ask you not to disturb it.
STRANGER. I haven't come here to ask favours. I'll take nothing with me when I go.
STRANGER. I'm not here to ask for favors. I won't take anything with me when I leave.
OLD MAN. That's not the answer I wanted; for we all need one another. I perhaps need you. No one can know, young man.
OLD MAN. That's not the answer I was hoping for; we all need each other. I might need you. No one can really know, young man.
LADY. Grandfather!
Grandpa!
OLD MAN. Yes, my child. I shan't wish you happiness, for there's no such thing; but I wish you strength to bear your destiny. Now I'll leave you for a little. Your mother will look after you. (He goes out.)
OLD MAN. Yes, my child. I won’t wish you happiness, because it doesn’t really exist; but I hope you find the strength to face your fate. Now I’ll step out for a bit. Your mother will take care of you. (He goes out.)
LADY (to her mother). Did you lay that table for us, Mother?
LADY (to her mother). Did you set that table for us, Mom?
MOTHER. No, it's a mistake, as you can imagine.
MOTHER. No, it's a misunderstanding, as you can see.
LADY. I know we look wretched. We were lost in the mountains, and if grandfather hadn't blown his horn...
LADY. I know we look terrible. We were lost in the mountains, and if grandfather hadn't blown his horn...
MOTHER. Your grandfather gave up hunting long ago.
MOTHER. Your grandfather stopped hunting a long time ago.
LADY. Then it was someone else.... Listen, Mother, I'll go up now to the 'rose' room, and get it straight.
LADY. So it was someone else... Listen, Mom, I'm going to head up to the 'rose' room now and sort it out.
MOTHER. Do. I'll come in a moment.
MOTHER. Okay. I'll be there in a minute.
(The LADY would like to say something, cannot, and goes out.)
(The LADY wants to say something, can't, and leaves.)
STRANGER (to the MOTHER). I've seen this room already.
STRANGER (to the MOTHER). I've been in this room before.
MOTHER. And I've seen you. I almost expected you.
MOTHER. And I've seen you. I almost anticipated you.
STRANGER. As one expects a disaster?
STRANGER. Is it possible to anticipate a disaster?
MOTHER. Why say that?
MOTHER. Why would you say that?
STRANGER. Because I sow devastation wherever I go. But as I must go somewhere, and cannot change my fate, I've lost my scruples.
STRANGER. Because I bring destruction wherever I go. But since I have to go somewhere, and I can't change my fate, I've lost my sense of right and wrong.
MOTHER. Then you're like my daughter—she, too, has no scruples and no conscience.
MOTHER. So you're like my daughter—she also has no scruples or conscience.
STRANGER. What?
STRANGER. Huh?
MOTHER. You think I'm speaking ill of her? I couldn't do that of my own child. I only draw the comparison, because you know her.
MOTHER. You think I'm saying bad things about her? I could never do that about my own child. I'm only making the comparison because you know her.
STRANGER. But I've noticed what you speak of in Eve.
STRANGER. But I've noticed what you're talking about in Eve.
MOTHER. Why do you call Ingeborg Eve?
MOTHER. Why do you call Ingeborg Eve?
STRANGER. By inventing a name for her I made her mine. I wanted to change her....
STRANGER. By giving her a name, I claimed her as my own. I wanted to change her....
MOTHER. And remake her in your image? (Laughing.) I've been told that country wizards carve images of their victims, and give them the names of those they'd bewitch. That was your plan: by means of this Eve, that you yourself had made, you intended to destroy the whole Sex!
MOTHER. And recreate her in your image? (Laughing.) I've heard that wizards in the countryside carve figures of their targets and name them after the people they want to enchant. That was your scheme: through this Eve, whom you created, you aimed to wipe out the entire Gender!
STRANGER (looking at the MOTHER in surprise). Those were damnable words! Forgive me. But you have religious beliefs: how can you think such things?
STRANGER (looking at the MOTHER in surprise). Those were terrible words! Forgive me. But you have religious beliefs: how can you think like that?
MOTHER. The thoughts were yours.
MOTHER. Those thoughts were yours.
STRANGER. This begins to be interesting. I imagined an idyll in the forest, but this is a witches' cauldron.
STRANGER. This is starting to get interesting. I pictured a peaceful scene in the forest, but this is more like a witches' cauldron.
MOTHER. Not quite. You've forgotten, or never knew, that a man deserted me shamefully, and that you're a man who also shamefully deserted a woman.
MOTHER. Not really. You’ve either forgotten or never realized that a man left me in a disgraceful way, and that you’re a man who also left a woman in a disgraceful way.
STRANGER. Frank words. Now I know where I am.
STRANGER. Honest words. Now I understand where I stand.
MOTHER. I'd like to know where I am. Can you support two families?
MOTHER. I want to know where I stand. Can you take care of two families?
STRANGER. If all goes well.
STRANGER. If everything goes well.
MOTHER. All doesn't—in this life. Money can be lost.
MOTHER. Not everything lasts—in this life. Money can be lost.
STRANGER. But my talent's capital I can never lose.
STRANGER. But I can never lose my talent.
MOTHER. Really? The greatest of talents has been known to fail... gradually, or suddenly.
MOTHER. Seriously? Even the most talented people can fail... slowly or all at once.
STRANGER. I've never met anyone who could so damp one's courage.
STRANGER. I've never met anyone who could so easily crush your confidence.
MOTHER. Pride should be damped. Your last book was much weaker.
MOTHER. You need to tone down your pride. Your last book was a lot weaker.
STRANGER. You read it?
Stranger. Did you read it?
MOTHER. Yes. That's why I know all your secrets. So don't try to deceive me; it won't go well with you. (Pause.) A trifle, but one that does us no good here: why didn't you pay the ferryman?
MOTHER. Yes. That's how I know all your secrets. So don't try to trick me; it won't end well for you. (Pause.) Just a small thing, but one that doesn't help us here: why didn't you pay the ferryman?
STRANGER. My heel of Achilles! I threw my last coin away. Can't we speak of something else than money in this house?
STRANGER. My Achilles' heel! I just threw away my last coin. Can't we talk about something other than money in this house?
MOTHER. Oh yes. But in this house we do our duty before we amuse ourselves. So you came on foot because you had no money?
MOTHER. Oh yes. But in this house, we take care of our responsibilities before we have fun. So, you walked here because you didn't have any money?
STRANGER (hesitating). Yes....
STRANGER (hesitating). Yeah....
MOTHER (smiling). Probably nothing to eat?
MOTHER (smiling). Probably nothing to eat?
STRANGER (hesitating). No....
STRANGER (hesitating). No way....
MOTHER. You're a fine fellow!
MOTHER. You're a great guy!
STRANGER. In all my life I've never been in such a predicament.
STRANGER. I've never been in a situation like this in my entire life.
MOTHER. I can believe it. It's almost a pity. I could laugh at the figure you cut, if I didn't know it would make you weep, and others with you. (Pause.) But now you've had your will, hold fast to the woman who loves you; for if you leave her, you'll never smile again, and soon forget what happiness was.
MOTHER. I can believe it. It's almost a shame. I could laugh at how you looked, if I didn't know it would make you cry and hurt others with you. (Pause.) But now that you’ve gotten your way, hold on to the woman who loves you; because if you leave her, you’ll never smile again, and you’ll soon forget what happiness feels like.
STRANGER. Is that a threat?
STRANGER: Is that a threat?
MOTHER. A warning. Go now, and have your supper.
MOTHER. Here’s a heads up. Go eat your dinner now.
STRANGER (pointing at the table for the poor). There?
STRANGER (pointing at the table for the poor). Over there?
MOTHER. A poor joke; which might become reality. I've seen such things.
MOTHER. A bad joke; that could actually happen. I've seen stuff like that.
STRANGER. Soon I'll believe anything can happen—this is the worst I've known.
STRANGER. Soon I'll believe anything can happen—this is the worst I've ever experienced.
MOTHER. Worse yet may come. Wait!
MOTHER. Things could get even worse. Just wait!
STRANGER (cast down). I'm prepared for anything.
STRANGER (looking defeated). I'm ready for anything.
(Exit. A moment later the OLD MAN comes in.)
(Exit. A moment later the OLD MAN enters.)
OLD MAN. It was no angel after all.
OLD MAN. It wasn't an angel after all.
MOTHER. No good angel, certainly.
MOTHER. Definitely not a good angel.
OLD MAN. Really! (Pause.) You know how superstitious people here are. As I went down to the river I heard this: a farmer said his horse shied at 'him'; another that the dogs got so fierce he'd had to tie them up. The ferryman swore his boat drew less water when 'he' got in. Superstition, but....
OLD MAN. Really! (Pause.) You know how superstitious people are around here. As I was heading down to the river, I heard this: a farmer said his horse freaked out at 'him'; another said the dogs got so aggressive he had to tie them up. The ferryman insisted his boat sat higher in the water when 'he' got in. Superstition, but....
MOTHER. But what?
MOM. But what?
OLD MAN. It was only a magpie that flew in at her window, though it was closed. An illusion, perhaps.
OLD MAN. It was just a magpie that flew in through her window, even though it was closed. Maybe it was just an illusion.
MOTHER. Perhaps. But why does one often see such things at the right time?
MOTHER. Maybe. But why do we often notice these things at just the right moment?
OLD MAN. This man's presence is intolerable. When he looks at me I can't breathe.
OLD MAN. I can't stand this guy's presence. When he looks at me, I feel like I can't breathe.
MOTHER. We must try to get rid of him. I'm certain he won't care to stay for long.
MOTHER. We need to find a way to get him out of here. I'm sure he won't want to stick around for long.
OLD MAN. No. He won't grow old here. (Pause.) Listen, I got a letter to-night warning me about him. Among other things he's wanted by the courts.
OLD MAN. No. He won't get old here. (Pause.) Listen, I got a letter tonight warning me about him. Among other things, he's wanted by the courts.
MOTHER. The courts?
MOM. The courts?
OLD MAN. Yes. Money matters. But, remember, the laws of hospitality protect beggars and enemies. Let him stay a few days, till he's got over this fearful journey. You can see how Providence has laid hands on him, how his soul is being ground in the mill ready for the sieve....
OLD MAN. Yes. Money is important. But, remember, the laws of hospitality protect beggars and enemies. Let him stay a few days until he recovers from this exhausting journey. You can see how fate has touched him, how his spirit is being tested and refined....
MOTHER. I've felt a call to be a tool in the hands of Providence.
MOTHER. I’ve felt a pull to be an instrument in the hands of Fate.
OLD MAN. Don't confuse it with your wish for vengeance.
OLD MAN. Don't mix it up with your desire for revenge.
MOTHER. I'll try not to, if I can.
MOTHER. I'll do my best not to, if I can.
OLD MAN. Well, good-night.
OLD MAN. Well, goodnight.
MOTHER. Do you think Ingeborg has read his last book?
MOTHER. Do you think Ingeborg has read his latest book?
OLD MAN. It's unlikely. If she had she'd never have married a man who held such views.
OLD MAN. It's unlikely. If she had, she would never have married a man who held those views.
MOTHER. No, she's not read it. But now she must.
MOTHER. No, she hasn't read it. But now she has to.
[A simple, pleasantly furnished room in the forester's house. The walls are colour-washed in red; the curtains are of thin rose-coloured muslin. In the small latticed windows there are flowers. On right, a writing-table and bookshelf. Left, a sofa with rose-coloured curtains above in the form of a baldachino. Tables and chairs in Old German style. At the back, a door. Outside the country can be seen and the poorhouse, a dark, unpleasant building with black, uncurtained windows. Strong sunlight. The LADY is sitting on the sofa working.]
[A simple, nicely decorated room in the forester's house. The walls are painted red; the curtains are made of thin, rose-colored muslin. There are flowers in the small, latticed windows. To the right, there's a writing desk and a bookshelf. To the left, a sofa with rose-colored drapes above in the style of a canopy. Tables and chairs are in an Old German design. At the back, there’s a door. Outside, you can see the countryside and the poorhouse, a dark, uninviting building with black, bare windows. Bright sunlight is streaming in. The LADY is sitting on the sofa, working.]
MOTHER (standing with a book bound in rose-coloured cloth in her hand.) You won't read your husband's book?
MOTHER (standing with a book covered in pink fabric in her hand.) Aren't you going to read your husband's book?
LADY. Not that one. I promised not to.
LADY. Not that one. I said I wouldn't.
MOTHER. You don't want to know the man to whom you've entrusted your fate?
MOTHER. You don't want to know the guy you've trusted with your future?
LADY. What would be the use? We're all right as we are.
LADY. What’s the point? We’re fine just the way we are.
MOTHER. You make no great demands on life?
MOTHER. You don't ask much from life?
LADY. Why should I? They'd never be fulfilled.
LADY. Why would I? They'd never actually happen.
MOTHER. I don't know whether you were born full of worldly wisdom, or foolishness.
MOTHER. I don't know if you were born with all the smarts about the world or if you're just clueless.
LADY. I don't know myself.
LADY. I don’t even know.
MOTHER. If the sun shines and you've enough to eat, you're content.
MOTHER. If the sun is shining and you have enough to eat, you're happy.
LADY. Yes. And when it goes in, I make the best of it.
LADY. Yeah. And when it happens, I make the most of it.
MOTHER. To change the subject: did you know your husband was being pressed by the courts on account of his debts?
MOTHER. Changing the subject: did you know your husband is being pursued by the courts because of his debts?
LADY. Yes. It happens to all writers.
LADY. Yes. It happens to every writer.
MOTHER. Is he mad, or a rascal?
MOTHER. Is he crazy, or just a troublemaker?
LADY. He's neither. He's no ordinary man; and it's a pity I can tell him nothing he doesn't know already. That's why we don't speak much; but he's glad to have me near him; and so am I to be near him.
LADY. He's neither. He's not an ordinary guy; and it's a shame that I can't tell him anything he doesn't already know. That's why we don't talk much; but he appreciates having me around, and I feel the same way about being close to him.
MOTHER. You've reached calm water already? Then it can't be far to the mill-race! But don't you think you'd have more to talk of, if you read what he has written?
MOTHER. You've already found calm water? Then it can't be too far to the mill-race! But don't you think you'd have more to discuss if you read what he wrote?
LADY. Perhaps. You can leave me the book, if you like.
LADY. Maybe. You can leave me the book if you want.
MOTHER. Take it and hide it. It'll be a surprise if you can quote something from his masterpiece.
MOTHER. Take it and hide it. It'll be a surprise if you can quote something from his masterpiece.
LADY (hiding the book in her bag). He's coming. If he's spoken of he seems to feel it from afar.
LADY (hiding the book in her bag). He's on his way. If people talk about him, he seems to sense it from a distance.
MOTHER. If he could only feel how he makes others suffer—from afar. (Exit left.)
MOTHER. If only he could understand how much he makes others suffer—from a distance. (Exits left.)
(The LADY, alone for an instant, looks at the book and seems taken aback. She hides it in her bag.)
(The LADY, alone for a moment, looks at the book and seems surprised. She hides it in her bag.)
STRANGER (entering). Your mother was here? You were speaking of me, of course. I can almost hear her ill-natured words. They cut the air and darken the sunshine. I can almost divine the impression of her body in the atmosphere of the room, and she leaves an odour like that of a dead snake.
STRANGER (entering). Your mom was here? You were talking about me, right? I can almost hear her nasty comments. They slice through the air and cloud the sunshine. I can almost sense her presence lingering in the room, and she leaves an odor like that of a dead snake.
LADY. You're irritable to-day.
Lady, you’re irritable today.
STRANGER. Fearfully. Some fool has restrung my nerves out of tune, and plays on them with a horse-hair bow till he sets my teeth on edge.... You don't know what that is! There's someone here who's stronger than I! Someone with a searchlight who shines it at me, wherever I may be. Do they use the black art in this place?
STRANGER. Fearfully. Some idiot has messed up my nerves, and is playing on them with a horse-hair bow until my teeth hurt.... You have no idea what that's like! There's someone here who's stronger than I am! Someone with a spotlight who shines it on me, no matter where I go. Do they use dark magic in this place?
LADY. Don't turn your back on the sunlight. Look at this lovely country; you'll feel calmer.
LADY. Don't turn away from the sunlight. Check out this beautiful landscape; it'll make you feel more at peace.
STRANGER. I can't bear that poorhouse. It seems to have been built there solely for me. And a demented woman always stands there beckoning.
STRANGER. I can't stand that poorhouse. It feels like it was built just for me. And a crazy woman is always standing there waving me over.
LADY. Do you think they treat you badly here?
LADY: Do you think they treat you unfairly here?
STRANGER. In a way, no. They feed me with tit-bits, as if I were to be fattened for the butcher. But I can't eat because they grudge it me, and I feel the cold rays of their hate. To me it seems there's an icy wind everywhere, although it's still and hot. And I can hear that accursèd mill....
STRANGER. In a way, no. They give me scraps, as if I’m meant to be fattened for the slaughter. But I can't eat because they resent me, and I can feel the coldness of their hate. It seems to me that there’s an icy wind all around, even though it’s still and hot. And I can hear that cursed mill...
LADY. It's not grinding now.
LADY. It's not busy right now.
STRANGER. Yes. Grinding... grinding.
STRANGER. Yeah. Grinding... grinding.
LADY. Listen. There's no hate here. Pity, at most.
LADY. Listen. There's no hatred here. Only pity, at most.
STRANGER. Another thing.... Why do people I meet cross themselves?
STRANGER. One more thing... Why do the people I meet cross themselves?
LADY. Only because they're used to praying in silence. (Pause.) You had an unwelcome letter this morning?
LADY. Just because they're used to praying quietly. (Pause.) You got an unwelcome letter this morning?
STRANGER. Yes. The kind that makes your hair rise from the scalp, so that you want to curse at fate. I'm owed money, but can't get paid. Now the law's being set in motion against me by... the guardians of my children, because I've not paid alimony. No one has ever been in such a dishonourable position. I'm blameless. I could pay my way; I want to, but am prevented! Not my fault; yet my shame! It's not in nature. The devil's got a hand in it.
STRANGER. Yeah. The kind that makes your hair stand on end, making you want to shout at fate. I'm owed money, but I can't get paid. Now the law is being turned against me by... the guardians of my kids, because I haven't paid alimony. No one has ever been in such a shameful position. I'm not to blame. I could pay my way; I want to, but I'm being held back! It's not my fault; yet I bear the shame! It's just not right. The devil's involved in this.
LADY. Why?
Why?
STRANGER. Why? Why is one born into this world an ignoramus, knowing nothing of the laws, customs and usage one inadvertently breaks? And for which one's punished. Why does one grow into a youth full of high ambition only to be driven into vile actions one abhors? Why, why?
STRANGER. Why? Why is someone born into this world clueless, knowing nothing about the laws, customs, and norms they accidentally violate? And for which they get punished. Why does someone grow into a young adult full of great ambitions only to be pushed into actions they despise? Why, why?
LADY (who has secretly been looking at the book: absent-mindedly). There must be a reason, even if we don't know it.
LADY (who has secretly been looking at the book: lost in thought). There has to be a reason, even if we don't understand it.
STRANGER. If it's to humble one, it's a poor method. It only makes me more arrogant. Eve!
STRANGER. If it's meant to humble someone, it's a lousy way to do it. It just makes me more arrogant. Eve!
LADY. Don't call me that.
LADY. Don't call me that.
STRANGER (starting). Why not?
Why not?
LADY. I don't like it. You'd feel as I do, if I called you Caesar.
LADY. I don't like it. You'd feel the same way if I called you Caesar.
STRANGER. Have we got back to that?
STRANGER. Are we back to that?
LADY. To what?
LADY. To what?
STRANGER. Did you mention that name for any reason?
STRANGER. Did you say that name for a specific reason?
LADY. Caesar? No. But I'm beginning to find things out.
LADY. Caesar? No. But I'm starting to figure things out.
STRANGER. Very well! Then I may as well fall honourably by my own hand. I am Caesar, the school-boy, for whose escapade your husband, the werewolf, was punished. Fate delights in making links for eternity. A noble sport! (The LADY, uncertain what to do, does not reply.) Say something!
STRANGER. Alright! Then I might as well go down honorably by my own hand. I am Caesar, the schoolboy, for whose mischief your husband, the werewolf, faced consequences. Fate enjoys creating eternal connections. A noble game! (The LADY, unsure of what to do, remains silent.) Say something!
LADY. I can't.
LADY. I can't do that.
STRANGER. Say that he became a werewolf because, as a child, he lost his belief in the justice of heaven, owing to the fact that, though innocent, he was punished for the misdeeds of another. But if you say so, I shall reply that I suffered ten times as much from my conscience, and that the spiritual crisis that followed left me so strengthened that I've never done such a thing again.
STRANGER. Say that he became a werewolf because, as a child, he lost his belief in the justice of heaven, since, despite being innocent, he was punished for someone else's wrongs. But if you say that, I’ll respond that I suffered ten times more from my conscience, and that the spiritual crisis that followed made me stronger, so I’ve never done anything like that again.
LADY. No. It's not that.
LADY. No, that's not it.
STRANGER. Then what is it? Do you respect me no longer?
STRANGER. So what is it? Do you not respect me anymore?
LADY. It's not that either.
LADY. It's not that, either.
STRANGER. Then it's to make me feel my shame before you! And it would be the end of everything between us.
STRANGER. So it's just to make me feel ashamed in front of you! That would ruin everything between us.
LADY. No!
LADY. Absolutely not!
STRANGER. Eve.
Eve.
LADY. You rouse evil thoughts.
LADY. You're stirring up evil thoughts.
STRANGER. You've broken your vow: you've been reading my book!
STRANGER. You've broken your promise: you've been reading my book!
LADY. I have.
I do.
STRANGER. Then you've done wrong.
STRANGER: Then you've made a mistake.
LADY. My intention was good.
LADY. I meant well.
STRANGER. The results even of your good intentions are terrible! You've blown me into the air with my own petard. Why must all our misdeeds come home to roost—both boyish escapades and really evil action? It's fair enough to reap evil where one has sown it. But I've never seen a good action get its reward. Never! It's a disgrace to Him who records all sins, however black or venial. No man could do it: men would forgive. The gods... never!
STRANGER. The results of your good intentions are disastrous! You've blown me up with my own plan. Why do all our wrongdoings always come back to hit us—both childish antics and truly wicked deeds? It makes sense to face the consequences of the bad we've done. But I've never seen a good deed get its due reward. Never! It's shameful to the one who tallies every sin, no matter how serious or minor. No human could manage that: people would forgive. The gods... never!
LADY. Don't say that. Say rather you forgive.
LADY. Don't say that. Say instead you forgive.
STRANGER. I'm not small-minded. But what have I forgive you?
STRANGER. I'm not narrow-minded. But what have I to forgive you for?
LADY. More than I can say.
LADY. More than I can express.
STRANGER. Say it. Perhaps then we'll be quits.
STRANGER. Just say it. Maybe then we'll be even.
LADY. He and I used to read the curse of Deutertonomy over you... for you'd ruined his life.
LADY. He and I used to read the curse from Deuteronomy over you... because you'd messed up his life.
STRANGER. What curse is that?
STRANGER. What is that curse?
LADY. From the fifth book of Moses. The priests chant it in chorus when the fasts begin.
LADY. From the fifth book of Moses. The priests sing it together when the fasts start.
STRANGER. I don't remember it. What does it matter—a curse more or less?
STRANGER. I don't recall it. What difference does it make—a curse more or less?
LADY. In my family those whom we curse, are struck.
LADY. In my family, those we curse are punished.
STRANGER. I don't believe it. But I do believe that evil emanates from this house. May it recoil upon it! That is my prayer! Now, according to custom, it would be my duty to shoot myself; but I can't, so long as I have other duties. You see, I can't even die, and so I've lost my last treasure—what, with reason, I call my religion. I've heard that man can wrestle with God, and with success; but not even job could fight against Satan. (Pause.) Let's speak of you....
STRANGER. I can't believe it. But I do believe that evil comes from this house. May it turn back on itself! That’s my prayer! Now, traditionally, I should take my own life; but I can’t do that as long as I have other responsibilities. You see, I can’t even die, and because of that, I’ve lost my most precious thing—what I rightfully call my faith. I’ve heard that a person can struggle with God and even win; but even Job couldn’t stand up to Satan. (Pause.) Let’s talk about you....
LADY. Not now. Later perhaps. Since I've got to know your terrible book—I've only glanced at it, only read a few lines here and there—I feel as if I'd eaten of the tree of knowledge. My eyes are opened and I know what's good and what's evil, as I've never known before. And now I see how evil you are, and why I am to be called Eve. She was a mother and brought sin into the world: it was another mother who brought expiation. The curse of mankind was called down on us by the first, a blessing by the second. In me you shall not destroy my whole sex. Perhaps I have a different mission in your life. We shall see!
LADY. Not right now. Maybe later. Since I've had a chance to look at your awful book—I've only skimmed it, just read a few lines here and there—I feel like I've tasted the fruit of knowledge. My eyes are opened, and I understand what's good and what's evil in a way I've never understood before. And now I see how wicked you are, and why I'm to be called Eve. She was a mother who brought sin into the world; it was another mother who brought redemption. The curse of humanity came from the first, while the second brought a blessing. You will not destroy my entire gender through me. Maybe I have a different purpose in your life. We'll see!
STRANGER. So you've eaten of the tree of knowledge? Farewell.
STRANGER. So you've eaten from the tree of knowledge? Goodbye.
LADY. You're going away?
LADY. Are you leaving?
STRANGER. I can't stay here.
STRANGER. I can't be here.
LADY. Don't go.
Don't leave.
STRANGER. I must. I must clear up everything. I'll take leave of the old people now. Then I'll come back. I shan't be long. (Exit.)
STRANGER. I have to. I have to sort everything out. I'll say goodbye to the old folks now. Then I'll be back. I won't be gone long. (Exit.)
LADY (remains motionless, then goes to the door and looks out. She sinks to her knees). No! He won't come back!
LADY (stays still, then walks to the door and peeks outside. She drops to her knees). No! He’s not coming back!
Curtain.
Curtain.
[The refectory of an ancient convent, resembling a simple whitewashed Romanesque church. There are damp patches on the walls, looking like strange figures. A long table with bowls; at the end a desk for the Lector. At the back a door leading to the chapel. There are lighted candles on the tables. On the wall, left, a painting representing the Archangel Michael killing the Fiend.]
[The dining hall of an old convent, looking like a plain whitewashed Romanesque church. There are damp spots on the walls that resemble unusual shapes. A long table is set with bowls; at one end is a desk for the Lector. In the back, there's a door that leads to the chapel. Lighted candles are on the tables. On the left wall, there's a painting of the Archangel Michael defeating the devil.]
[The STRANGER is sitting left, at a refectory table, dressed in the white clothing of a patient, with a bowl before him. At the table, right, are sitting: the brown-clad mourners of Scene I. The BEGGAR. A woman in mourning with two children. A woman who resembles the Lady, but who is not her and who is crocheting instead of eating. A Man very like the Doctor, another like the Madman. Others like the Father, Mother, Brother. Parents of the 'Prodigal Son,' etc. All are dressed in white, but over this are wearing costumes of coloured crêpe. Their faces are waxen and corpse-like, their whole appearance queer, their gestures strange. On the rise of the curtain all are finishing a Paternoster, except the STRANGER.]
[The STRANGER is sitting on the left at a dining table, wearing the white clothes of a patient, with a bowl in front of him. At the table on the right are the brown-clad mourners from Scene I. The BEGGAR. A woman in mourning with two children. A woman who looks like the Lady but isn't her, crocheting instead of eating. A man who looks a lot like the Doctor, another who resembles the Madman. Others who look like the Father, Mother, Brother. Parents of the 'Prodigal Son,' etc. All are dressed in white, but over that, they wear colorful crêpe costumes. Their faces are waxy and corpse-like, and their overall appearance is strange, with odd gestures. At the rise of the curtain, everyone is finishing a Paternoster, except for the STRANGER.]
STRANGER (rising and going to the ABBESS, who is standing at a serving table). Mother. May I speak to you?
STRANGER (standing up and walking over to the ABBESS, who is at a serving table). Mother. Can I talk to you?
ABBESS (in a black-and-white Augustinian habit). Yes, my son. (They come forward.)
ABBESS (in a black-and-white Augustinian outfit). Yes, my son. (They move forward.)
STRANGER. First, where am I?
STRANGER. First, where am I at?
ABBESS. In a convent called 'St. Saviour.' You were found on the hills above the ravine, with a cross you'd broken from a calvary and with which you were threatening someone in the clouds. Indeed, you thought you could see him. You were feverish and had lost your foothold. You were picked up, unhurt, beneath a cliff, but in delirium. You were brought to the hospital and put to bed. Since then you've spoken wildly, and complained of a pain in your hip, but no injury could be found.
ABBESS. In a convent called 'St. Saviour.' You were found on the hills above the ravine, with a cross you had broken off from a calvary, and you were threatening someone in the clouds with it. You really thought you could see him. You were feverish and lost your balance. You were picked up, unharmed, beneath a cliff, but in a state of delirium. You were taken to the hospital and put to bed. Since then, you've been talking erratically and complaining about pain in your hip, but no injury could be found.
STRANGER. What did I speak of?
STRANGER. What was I talking about?
ABBESS. You had the usual feverish dreams. You reproached yourself with all kinds of things, and thought you could see your victims, as you called them.
ABBESS. You had the typical fever dreams. You blamed yourself for everything and believed you could see your victims, as you referred to them.
STRANGER. And then?
STRANGER. What happened next?
ABBESS. Your thoughts often turned to money matters. You wanted to pay for yourself in the hospital. I tried to calm you by telling you no payment would be asked: all was done out of charity....
ABBESS. You often think about money. You wanted to cover your own expenses in the hospital. I tried to reassure you by saying that no payment would be required: everything was done out of charity....
STRANGER. I want no charity.
STRANGER. I don’t want charity.
ABBESS. It's more blessed to give than to receive; yet a noble nature can accept and be thankful.
ABBESS. It's better to give than to receive; yet a noble character can take in kindness and be grateful.
STRANGER. I want no charity.
STRANGER. I don't want charity.
ABBESS. Hm!
ABBESS. Hm!
STRANGER. Tell me, why will none of those people sit at the same table with me? They're getting up... going....
STRANGER. Tell me, why won’t any of those people sit at the same table with me? They’re getting up... leaving...
ABBESS. They seem to fear you.
ABBESS. They appear to be afraid of you.
STRANGER. Why?
Why?
ABBESS. You look so....
ABBESS. You look so...
STRANGER. I? But what of them? Are they real?
STRANGER. Me? But what about them? Are they real?
ABBESS. If you mean true, they've a terrible reality. It may be they look strange to you, because you're still feverish. Or there may be another reason.
STRANGER. I seem to know them, all of them! I see them as if in a mirror: they only make as if they were eating.... Is this some drama they're performing? Those look like my parents, rather like... (Pause.) Hitherto I've feared nothing, because life was useless to me.... Now I begin to be afraid.
STRANGER. I feel like I know all of them! I see them as if in a mirror: they just pretend to be eating.... Is this some kind of act they're putting on? Those look like my parents, kind of like... (Pause.) Until now, I haven't been afraid of anything, because life seemed pointless to me.... But now I'm starting to feel fear.
ABBESS. If you don't believe them real, I'll ask the Confessor to introduce you. (She signs to the CONFESSOR who approaches.)
ABBESS. If you don't think they're real, I'll have the Confessor introduce you. (She signals to the CONFESSOR who comes over.)
CONFESSOR (dressed in a black-and-white habit of Dominicans). Sister!
CONFESSOR (dressed in a black-and-white Dominican habit). Sister!
ABBESS. Tell the patient who are at that table.
ABBESS. Tell the people who are at that table.
CONFESSOR. That's soon done.
CONFESSOR. That'll be done soon.
STRANGER. Permit a question first. Haven't we met already?
STRANGER. Can I ask you something first? Haven't we met before?
CONFESSOR. Yes. I sat by your bedside, when you were delirious. At your desire, I heard your confession.
CONFESSOR. Yes. I sat by your bedside when you were out of it. At your request, I listened to your confession.
STRANGER. What? My confession?
STRANGER: What? My confession?
CONFESSOR. Yes. But I couldn't give you absolution; because it seemed that what you said was spoken in fever.
CONFESSOR. Yes. But I couldn't grant you absolution because it seemed that what you said was said in a state of fever.
STRANGER. Why?
Why?
CONFESSOR. There was hardly a sin or vice you didn't take upon yourself—things so hateful you'd have had to undergo strict penitence before demanding absolution. Now you're yourself again I can ask whether there are grounds for your self-accusations.
CONFESSOR. There was barely a sin or vice you didn’t claim for yourself—things so detestable you would have needed to do serious penance before asking for forgiveness. Now that you’re back to yourself, I can ask if there’s any truth to your self-accusations.
(The ABBESS leaves them.)
(The ABBESS exits.)
STRANGER. Have you the right?
STRANGER. Do you have the right?
CONFESSOR. No. In truth, no right. (Pause.) But you want to know in whose company you are! The very best. There, for instance, is a madman, Caesar, who lost his wits through reading the works of a certain writer whose notoriety is greater than his fame. There's a beggar, who won't admit he's a beggar, because he's learnt Latin and is free. There, a doctor, called the werewolf, whose history's well known. There, two parents, who grieved themselves to death over a son who raised his hand against theirs. He must be responsible for refusing to follow his father's bier and desecrating his mother's grave. There's his unhappy sister, whom he drove out into the snow, as he himself recounts, with the best intentions. Over there's a woman who's been abandoned with her two children, and there's another doing crochet work.... All are old acquaintances. Go and greet them!
CONFESSOR. No. Honestly, there’s no right. (Pause.) But you want to know who you’re with! The very best. For example, there’s a madman, Caesar, who lost his mind from reading the works of some writer whose infamy is greater than his acclaim. There’s a beggar who won’t admit he’s a beggar because he learned Latin and considers himself free. There’s a doctor, known as the werewolf, whose story is well-known. Over there are two parents who grieved themselves to death over a son who turned against them. He should be held accountable for refusing to follow his father’s bier and for desecrating his mother’s grave. There’s his unfortunate sister, whom he drove out into the snow, as he himself claims, with the best intentions. Over there’s a woman abandoned with her two kids, and there’s another one doing crochet... They’re all old acquaintances. Go and say hi to them!
(The STRANGER has turned his back on the company: he now goes to the table, left, and sits down with his back to them. He raises his head, sees the picture of the Archangel Michael and lowers his eyes. The CONFESSOR stands behind the STRANGER. A Catholic Requiem can be heard from the chapel. The CONFESSOR speaks to the STRANGER in a low voice while the music goes on.)
(The STRANGER has turned his back on the group: he now walks to the table on the left and sits down with his back to them. He lifts his head, sees the picture of the Archangel Michael, and lowers his gaze. The CONFESSOR stands behind the STRANGER. A Catholic Requiem can be heard from the chapel. The CONFESSOR speaks to the STRANGER softly as the music continues.)
Quantus tremor est futurus
Quando judex est venturus
Cuncta stricte discussurus,
Tuba mirum spargens sonum
Per sepulchra regionum
Coget omnes ante thronum.
Mors stupebit et natura,
Cum resurget creatura
Judicanti responsura
Liber scriptus proferetur
In quo totum continetur
Unde mundus judicetur.
Judex ergo cum sedebit
Quidquid latet apparebit
Nil inultum remanebit.
How much will the tremor be
When the judge comes
To strictly examine everything?
The trumpet will sound a wondrous sound
Through the graves of the regions
To gather all before the throne.
Death will be amazed and nature,
When the creation rises again
To answer the one judging.
A written book will be brought forth
In which everything is contained
From which the world will be judged.
Therefore, when the judge sits,
Whatever is hidden will be revealed,
Nothing will remain unavenged. (He goes to the desk by the table, right, and opens his breviary. The music ceases.)
(He walks over to the desk by the table on the right and opens his prayer book. The music stops.)
We will continue the reading.... 'But if thou wilt not hearken unto the voice of the Lord thy God all these curses shall overtake thee. Cursèd shalt thou be in the city, and cursèd shalt thou be in the field; cursèd shalt thou be when thou comest in, and cursèd when thou goest out.'
We will continue the reading.... 'But if you do not listen to the voice of the Lord your God, all these curses will come upon you. You will be cursed in the city and cursed in the field; you will be cursed when you go in and cursed when you go out.'
OMNES (in a low voice). Cursèd!
OMNES (in a low voice). Cursed!
CONFESSOR. 'The Lord shall send upon thee vexation and rebuke in all that thou settest thy hand for to do, until thou be destroyed, and until thou perish quickly, because of the wickedness of thy doings, whereby thou hast forsaken me.'
CONFESSOR. 'The Lord will send frustration and reprimand on everything you try to accomplish, until you are destroyed and perish quickly, because of the evil of your actions, through which you have abandoned me.'
OMNES (loudly). Cursèd!
OMNES (loudly). Cursed!
CONFESSOR. 'The Lord shall cause thee to be smitten before thine enemies: thou shalt go out one way against them, and flee seven ways before them, and shalt be moved into all the kingdoms of the earth. And thy carcase shall be meat unto all fowls of the air, and unto the beasts of the earth, and no man shall fray them away. The Lord will smite thee with the botch of Egypt, the scab and the itch, with madness and blindness, that thou shalt grope at noonday, as the blind gropeth in darkness. Thou shalt not prosper in thy ways, and thou shalt be only oppressed and spoiled evermore, and no man shall save thee. Thou shalt betroth a wife, and another man shall lie with her: thou shalt build an house, and thou shalt not dwell therein: thou shalt plant a vineyard, and shalt not gather the grapes thereof. Thy sons and thy daughters shall be given unto another people, and thine eyes fail with longing for them; and there shall be no might in thy hand. And thou shalt find no ease on earth, neither shall the sole of thy foot have rest: the Lord shall give thee a trembling heart, and failing of eyes and sorrow of mind. And thy life shall hang in doubt before thee; and thou shalt fear day and night. In the morning thou shalt say, would God it were even! And at even thou shalt say, would God it were morning! And because thou servedst not the Lord thy God when thou livedst in security, thou shalt serve him in hunger, in thirst, in nakedness and in want; and He shall put a yoke of iron upon thy neck, until He have destroyed thee!'
CONFESSOR. 'The Lord will make you vulnerable before your enemies: you will flee from them in every direction after confronting them, and you will be scattered among all the kingdoms of the earth. Your body will become food for all the birds in the air and the beasts on the ground, and no one will scare them away. The Lord will strike you with the diseases of Egypt, causing you sores, scabs, and itching, along with madness and blindness, so that you will stumble in the daylight like a blind person in the dark. You won’t succeed in your efforts, and you will continuously be oppressed and taken advantage of, with no one to rescue you. You will propose to marry, but another man will sleep with her; you will build a house, but you won’t live in it; you will plant a vineyard, but you won’t harvest its grapes. Your sons and daughters will be taken by another people, and you will long for them in vain, with no strength to act. You will find no relief on earth, and the soles of your feet will not know rest: the Lord will give you a restless heart, failing eyesight, and despair. Your life will feel uncertain, and you will be fearful day and night. In the morning, you will wish it were evening, and in the evening, you will wish it were morning! And because you did not serve the Lord your God when you were living in peace, you will have to serve Him in hunger, thirst, nakedness, and need; and He will put an iron yoke around your neck until He has destroyed you!'
OMNES. Amen!
OMNES. Amen!
(The CONFESSOR has read the above loudly and rapidly, without turning to the STRANGER. All those present, except the LADY, who is working, have been listening and have joined in the curse, though they have feigned not to notice the STRANGER, who has remained with his back to them, sunk in himself. The STRANGER now rises as if to go. The CONFESSOR goes towards him.)
(The CONFESSOR has read the above aloud and quickly, without facing the STRANGER. Everyone present, except the LADY, who is busy working, has been listening and has joined in the curse, even though they've pretended not to notice the STRANGER, who has been turned away from them, lost in his thoughts. The STRANGER now stands up as if to leave. The CONFESSOR approaches him.)
STRANGER. What was that?
STRANGER: What was that?
CONFESSOR. The Book of Deuteronomy.
CONFESSOR. The Book of Deut.
STRANGER. Of course. But I seem to remember blessings in it, too.
STRANGER. Of course. But I also remember some good things about it, too.
CONFESSOR. Yes, for those who keep His commandments.
CONFESSOR. Yes, for those who follow His commandments.
STRANGER. Hm.... I can't deny that, for a moment, I felt shaken. Are they temptations to be resisted, or warnings to be obeyed? (Pause.) Anyhow I'm certain now that I have fever. I must go to a real doctor.
STRANGER. Hm.... I can’t deny that, for a moment, I felt unsettled. Are they temptations to resist, or warnings to heed? (Pause.) Anyway, I’m sure now that I have a fever. I need to see a real doctor.
CONFESSOR. See he is the right one!
CONFESSOR. Look, he is the one!
STRANGER. Of course!
STRANGER. Totally!
CONFESSOR. Who can heal 'delightful scruples of conscience'!
CONFESSOR. Who can heal 'those delightful scruples of conscience'!
ABBESS. Should you need charity again, you now know where to find it.
ABBESS. If you need help again, you know where to find it now.
STRANGER. No. I do not.
STRANGER. Nah. I don’t.
ABBESS (in a low voice). Then I'll tell you. In a 'rose' room, near a certain running stream.
ABBESS (in a low voice). Then I'll tell you. In a 'rose' room, near a certain running stream.
STRANGER. That's the truth! In a 'rose' room. Wait; how long have I been here?
STRANGER. That's the truth! In a 'rose' room. Wait; how long have I been here?
ABBESS. Three months to-day.
ABBESS. Three months today.
STRANGER. Three months! Have I been sleeping? Or where have I been? (Looking out of the window.) It's autumn. The trees are bare; the clouds look cold. Now it's coming back to me! Can you hear a mill grinding? The sound of a horn? The rushing of a river? A wood whispering—and a woman weeping? You're right. Only there can charity be found. Farewell. (Exit.)
STRANGER. Three months! Have I been asleep? Or where have I been? (Looking out of the window.) It's autumn. The trees are bare; the clouds look chilly. Now it's coming back to me! Can you hear a mill grinding? The sound of a horn? The rushing of a river? A forest whispering—and a woman crying? You're right. Only there can kindness be found. Goodbye. (Exit.)
CONFESSOR (to the Abbess). The fool! The fool!
CONFESSOR (to the Abbess). What a fool! What a fool!
Curtain.
Curtain.
[The curtains have been taken down. The windows gape into the darkness outside. The furniture has been covered in brown loose-covers and pulled forward. The flowers have been taken away, and the large black stove lit. The MOTHER is standing ironing white curtains by the light of a single lamp. There is a knock at the door.]
[The curtains have been removed. The windows open into the darkness outside. The furniture is covered with brown slipcovers and pushed forward. The flowers are gone, and the large black stove is lit. The MOTHER is ironing white curtains by the light of a single lamp. There's a knock at the door.]
MOTHER. Come in!
MOM. Come in!
STRANGER (doing so). Where's my wife?
STRANGER (doing so). Where's my wife?
MOTHER. Where do you come from?
MOTHER. Where are you coming from?
STRANGER. I think, from hell. But where's my wife?
STRANGER. I think, from hell. But where's my wife?
MOTHER. Which of them do you mean?
MOTHER. Which one are you talking about?
STRANGER. The question's justified. Everything is, except to me.
STRANGER. That question makes sense. Everything does, except for me.
MOTHER. There may be a reason: I'm glad you've seen it. Where have you been?
MOTHER. There might be a reason: I'm glad you noticed it. Where have you been?
STRANGER. Whether in a poorhouse, a madhouse or a hospital, I don't know. I should like to think it all a feverish dream. I've been ill: I lost my memory and can't believe three months have passed. But where's my wife?
STRANGER. I don't know if I'm in a homeless shelter, a mental hospital, or a medical facility. I wish I could just think of it as a bad dream. I've been sick: I lost my memory and can't believe that three months have gone by. But where's my wife?
MOTHER. I ought to ask you that. When you deserted her, she went away—to look for you. Whether she's tired of looking, I can't say.
MOTHER. I should be asking you that. When you left her, she went off—to look for you. I can't say if she's tired of searching.
STRANGER. Something's amiss here. Where's the Old Man?
STRANGER. Something's not right here. Where's the Old Man?
MOTHER. Where there's no more suffering.
MOTHER. Where there’s no more pain.
STRANGER. You mean he's dead?
STRANGER. You mean he's gone?
MOTHER. Yes. He's dead.
MOTHER. Yes. He's gone.
STRANGER. You say it as if you wanted to add him to my victims.
STRANGER. You say it like you want to add him to my list of victims.
MOTHER. Perhaps I'm right to do so.
MOTHER. Maybe I'm right to do this.
STRANGER. He didn't look sensitive: he was capable of steady hatred.
STRANGER. He didn't seem sensitive; he was capable of consistent hatred.
MOTHER. No. He hated only what was evil, in himself and others.
MOTHER. No. He only hated what was evil, in himself and in others.
STRANGER. So I'm wrong there, too! (Pause.)
STRANGER. So I'm wrong about that, too! (Pause.)
MOTHER. What do you want here?
MOTHER. What do you want here?
STRANGER. Charity!
Stranger. Donation!
MOTHER. At last! How was it at the hospital! Sit down and tell me.
MOTHER. Finally! How was it at the hospital? Take a seat and fill me in.
STRANGER (sitting). I don't want to think of it. I don't even know if it was a hospital.
STRANGER (sitting). I don’t want to think about it. I’m not even sure if it was a hospital.
MOTHER. Strange. Tell me what happened after you left here.
MOTHER: That's odd. What happened after you left?
STRANGER. I fell in the mountains, hurt my hip and lost consciousness. If you'll speak kindly to me you shall know more.
STRANGER. I fell in the mountains, hurt my hip, and passed out. If you talk to me nicely, I'll tell you more.
MOTHER. I will.
MOM. I will.
STRANGER. When I woke I was in a red iron bedstead. Three men were pulling a cord that ran through two blocks. Every time they pulled I felt I grew two feet taller....
STRANGER. When I woke up, I was in a red iron bed. Three men were pulling a rope that went through two pulleys. Every time they pulled, I felt like I was getting two feet taller....
MOTHER. They were putting in your hip.
MOTHER. They were putting in your hip.
STRANGER. I hadn't thought of that. Then... I lay watching my past life unroll before me like a panorama, through childhood, youth.... And when the roll was finished it began again. All the time I heard a mill grinding.... I can hear it still. Yes, here too!
STRANGER. I hadn’t thought of that. Then... I lay there watching my past life unfold before me like a movie, through childhood, youth... And when it ended, it started over again. The whole time I heard a mill grinding... I can still hear it. Yes, even here!
MOTHER. Those were not pleasant visions.
MOTHER. Those were not nice visions.
STRANGER. No. At last I came to the conclusion... that I was a thoroughgoing scamp.
STRANGER. No. Finally, I realized... that I was a complete troublemaker.
MOTHER. Why call yourself that?
MOM. Why call yourself that?
STRANGER. I know you'd like to hear me say I was a scoundrel. But that would seem to me like boasting. It would imply a certainty about myself to which I've not attained.
STRANGER. I know you want me to say I was a jerk. But that feels like bragging to me. It would suggest a confidence about myself that I haven’t reached.
MOTHER. You're still in doubt?
MOTHER. Are you still unsure?
STRANGER. Of a great deal. But I've begun to have an inkling.
STRANGER. A lot. But I’m starting to get an idea.
MOTHER. That....?
MOM. That....?
STRANGER. That there are forces which, till now, I've not believed in.
STRANGER. There are forces that I didn't believe in until now.
MOTHER. You've come to see that neither you, nor any other man, directs your destiny?
MOTHER. Do you realize that neither you nor any other guy controls your fate?
STRANGER. I have.
I have.
MOTHER. Then you've already gone part of the way.
MOTHER. So you’ve already made some progress.
STRANGER. But I myself have changed. I'm ruined; for I've lost all aptitude for writing. And I can't sleep at night.
STRANGER. But I’ve changed. I’m a mess; I’ve lost all ability to write. And I can’t sleep at night.
MOTHER. Indeed!
MOM. Definitely!
STRANGER. What are called nightmares stop me. Last and worst: I daren't die; for I'm no longer sure my miseries will end, with my end.
STRANGER. Nightmares hold me back. The last and worst: I'm afraid to die because I'm no longer sure my suffering will end when I do.
MOTHER. Oh!
MOM. Oh!
STRANGER. Even worse: I've grown so to loathe myself that I'd escape from myself, if I knew how. If I were a Christian, I couldn't obey the first commandment, to love my neighbour as myself, for I should have to hate him as I hate myself. It's true that I'm a scamp. I've always suspected it; and because I never wanted life to fool me, I've observed 'others' carefully. When I saw they were no better than I, I resented their trying to browbeat me.
STRANGER. Even worse: I’ve come to hate myself so much that I’d run away from myself if I knew how. If I were a Christian, I couldn’t follow the first commandment, to love my neighbor as myself, because I’d have to hate him just like I hate myself. It's true that I'm a troublemaker. I’ve always suspected it; and because I never wanted life to trick me, I’ve watched 'others' closely. When I realized they were no better than me, I got angry at their attempts to intimidate me.
MOTHER. You've been wrong to think it a matter between you and others. You have to deal with Him.
MOTHER. You've been mistaken to see it just as a problem between you and others. You need to face Him.
STRANGER. With whom?
STRANGER. Who with?
MOTHER. The Invisible One, who guides your destiny.
MOTHER. The Invisible One, who directs your fate.
STRANGER. Would I could see Him.
STRANGER. I wish I could see Him.
MOTHER. It would be your death.
MOM. It would kill you.
STRANGER. Oh no!
STRANGER. Oh no!
MOTHER. Where do you get this devilish spirit of rebellion? If you won't bow your neck like the rest, you must be broken like a reed.
MOTHER. Where do you get this rebellious attitude? If you won't conform like everyone else, you'll just end up getting broken.
STRANGER. I don't know where this fearful stubbornness comes from. It's true an unpaid bill can make me tremble; but if I were to climb Mount Sinai and face the Eternal One, I should not cover my face.
STRANGER. I have no idea where this awful stubbornness comes from. It's true that an unpaid bill can make me nervous; but if I were to climb Mount Sinai and confront the Eternal One, I wouldn’t hide my face.
MOTHER. Jesus and Mary! Don't say such things. You'll make me think you're a child of the Devil.
MOTHER. Jesus and Mary! Don’t say things like that. You’re going to make me think you’re a child of the Devil.
STRANGER. Here that seems the general opinion. But I've heard that those who serve the Evil One get honours, goods and gold as their reward. Gold especially. Do you think me suspect?
STRANGER. It looks like that's the common view here. But I've heard that those who serve the Evil One get rewards like honors, wealth, and gold. Especially gold. Do you think I'm untrustworthy?
MOTHER. You'll bring a curse on my house.
MOTHER. You'll bring bad luck to my home.
STRANGER. Then I'll leave it.
STRANGER. Then I'll drop it.
MOTHER. And go into the night. Where?
MOTHER. And go into the night. Where to?
STRANGER. To seek the only one that I don't hate.
STRANGER. To find the only person I don’t dislike.
MOTHER. Are you sure she'll receive you?
MOTHER. Are you sure she'll see you?
STRANGER. Quite sure.
STRANGER. Pretty sure.
MOTHER. I'm not.
MOM. I'm not.
STRANGER. I am.
I am.
MOTHER. Then I must raise your doubts.
MOTHER. Then I need to address your concerns.
STRANGER. You can't.
STRANGER. You can't do that.
MOTHER. Yes, I can.
MOM. Yes, I can.
STRANGER. It's a lie.
STRANGER. That's a lie.
MOTHER. We're no longer speaking kindly. We must stop. Can you sleep in the attic?
MOTHER. We're not being nice anymore. We need to put an end to this. Can you sleep in the attic?
STRANGER. I can't sleep anywhere.
STRANGER. I can't sleep at all.
MOTHER. Still, I'll say good-night to you, whether you think I mean it, or not.
MOTHER. Still, I’ll say goodnight to you, whether you believe I mean it or not.
STRANGER. You're sure there are no rats in the attic? I don't fear ghosts, but rats aren't pleasant.
STRANGER. Are you sure there are no rats in the attic? I’m not afraid of ghosts, but rats are definitely not nice.
MOTHER. I'm glad you don't fear ghosts, for no one's slept a whole night there... whatever the cause may be.
MOTHER. I'm glad you’re not afraid of ghosts, because no one has managed to sleep a full night there... for whatever reason.
STRANGER (after a moment's hesitation). Never have I met a more wicked woman than you. The reason is: you have religion.
STRANGER (after a brief pause). I've never met a more evil woman than you. The reason is: you have faith.
MOTHER. Good-night!
MOM. Good night!
Curtain.
Curtains.
[It is dark, but the moon outside throws moving shadows of the window lattices on to the floor, as the storm clouds race by. In the corner, right, under the crucifix, where the OLD MAN used to sit, a hunting horn, a gun and a game bag hang on the wall. On the table a stuffed bird of prey. As the windows are open the curtains are flapping in the wind; and kitchen cloths, aprons and towels, that are hung on a line by the hearth, move in the wind, whose sighing can be heard. In the distance the noise of a waterfall. There is an occasional tapping on the wooden floor.]
[It’s dark, but the moon outside casts moving shadows of the window grids onto the floor, while the storm clouds race by. In the corner on the right, under the crucifix where the OLD MAN used to sit, a hunting horn, a gun, and a game bag hang on the wall. On the table is a stuffed bird of prey. With the windows open, the curtains are flapping in the wind, and the kitchen cloths, aprons, and towels hung on a line by the hearth are swaying in the breeze, which can be heard sighing. In the distance, you can hear the noise of a waterfall. Occasionally, there’s a tapping sound on the wooden floor.]
STRANGER (entering, half-dressed, a lamp in his hand). Is anyone here? No. (He comes forward with a light, which makes the play of shadow less marked.) What's moving on the floor? Is anyone here? (He goes to the table, sees the stuffed bird and stands riveted to the spot.) God!
STRANGER (entering, half-dressed, holding a lamp). Is anyone here? No. (He moves closer with the light, which softens the shadows.) What's that moving on the floor? Is anyone here? (He approaches the table, sees the stuffed bird, and freezes in place.) Oh my God!
MOTHER (coming in with a lamp). Still up?
MOTHER (entering with a lamp). You're still awake?
STRANGER. I couldn't sleep.
I couldn't sleep.
MOTHER (gently). Why not, my son?
MOTHER (gently). Why not, my son?
STRANGER. I heard someone above me.
STRANGER. I heard someone upstairs.
MOTHER. Impossible. There's nothing over the attic.
MOTHER. No way. There's nothing in the attic.
STRANGER. That's why I was uneasy! What's moving on the floor like snakes?
STRANGER. That’s why I felt uneasy! What’s slithering on the floor like snakes?
MOTHER. Moonbeams.
Mom. Moonlight.
STRANGER. Yes. Moonbeams. That's a stuffed bird. And those are cloths. Everything's natural; that's what makes me uneasy. Who was knocking during the night? Was anyone locked out?
STRANGER. Yeah. Moonbeams. That's a stuffed bird. And those are cloths. Everything feels natural; that's what makes me uncomfortable. Who was knocking last night? Was anyone locked out?
MOTHER. It was a horse in the stable.
MOTHER. It was a horse in the barn.
STRANGER. Why should it make that noise?
STRANGER. Why does it make that noise?
MOTHER. Some animals have nightmares.
MOTHER. Some animals experience nightmares.
STRANGER. What are nightmares?
What are nightmares?
MOTHER. Who knows?
MOM. Who knows?
STRANGER. May I sit down?
STRANGER. Can I sit here?
MOTHER. Do. I want to speak seriously to you. I was malicious last night; you must forgive me. It's because of that I need religion; just as I need the penitential garment and the stone floor. To spare you, I'll tell you what nightmares are to me. My bad conscience! Whether I punish myself or another punishes me, I don't know. I don't permit myself to ask. (Pause.) Now tell me what you saw in your room.
MOTHER. Listen. I need to talk to you seriously. I was awful last night; you have to forgive me. That's why I need faith, just like I need the sackcloth and the stone floor. To protect you, I'll share what nightmares mean to me. My guilty conscience! I can't tell if I'm punishing myself or if someone else is punishing me. I don't let myself ask. (Pause.) Now, tell me what you saw in your room.
STRANGER. I hardly know. Nothing. When I went in I felt as if someone were there. Then I went to bed. But someone started pacing up and down above me with a heavy tread. Do you believe in ghosts?
STRANGER. I hardly know. Nothing. When I went in, it felt like someone was there. Then I went to bed. But someone started walking back and forth above me with a heavy step. Do you believe in ghosts?
MOTHER. My religion won't allow me to. But I believe our sense of right and wrong will find a way to punish us.
MOTHER. My beliefs won't let me do that. But I think our sense of right and wrong will eventually catch up with us.
STRANGER. Soon I felt cold air on my breast—it reached my heart and forced me to get up.
STRANGER. Soon I felt a chill on my chest—it hit me deep and compelled me to get up.
MOTHER. And then?
MOM. What's next?
STRANGER. To stand and watch the whole panorama of my life unroll before me. I saw everything—that was the worst of it.
STRANGER. To stand and watch the entire panorama of my life unfold before me. I saw everything—that was the worst part.
MOTHER. I know. I've been through it. There's no name for the malady, and only one cure.
MOTHER. I get it. I’ve experienced it. There’s no label for this struggle, and only one solution.
STRANGER. What is it?
STRANGER. What's going on?
MOTHER. You know what children do when they've done wrong?
MOTHER. You know what kids do when they've done something wrong?
STRANGER. What?
Huh?
MOTHER. First ask forgiveness!
MOTHER. First, seek forgiveness!
STRANGER. And then?
STRANGER. What's next?
MOTHER. Try to make amends.
MOTHER. Try to make things right.
STRANGER. Isn't it enough to suffer according to one's deserts?
STRANGER. Isn't it enough to suffer for what one deserves?
MOTHER. No. That's revenge.
MOTHER. No. That's payback.
STRANGER. Then what must one do?
STRANGER. So what should one do?
MOTHER. Can you mend a life you've destroyed? Undo a bad action?
MOTHER. Can you fix a life you've ruined? Take back a bad action?
STRANGER. Truly, no. But I was forced into it! Forced to take, for no one gave me the right. Accursèd be He who forced me! (Putting his hand to his heart.) Ah! He's here, in this room. He's plucking out my heart!
STRANGER. No, definitely not. But I was pushed into it! I had to take it, since no one gave me permission. Curse the one who made me do this! (Putting his hand to his heart.) Ah! He's here, in this room. He's tearing out my heart!
MOTHER. Then bow your head.
MOTHER. Then lower your head.
STRANGER. I cannot.
STRANGER. I can't.
MOTHER. Down on your knees.
MOM. Get down on your knees.
STRANGER. I will not.
STRANGER. I won't.
MOTHER. Christ have mercy! Lord have mercy on you! On your knees before Him who was crucified! Only He can wipe out what's been done.
MOTHER. Christ have mercy! Lord have mercy on you! Get on your knees before Him who was crucified! Only He can erase what's been done.
STRANGER. Not before Him! If I were forced, I'll recant... afterwards.
STRANGER. Not before Him! If I have to, I'll take it back... later.
MOTHER. On your knees, my son!
MOTHER. Get down on your knees, my son!
STRANGER. I cannot bow the knee. I cannot. Help me, God Eternal. (Pause.)
STRANGER. I can’t bend my knee. I just can’t. Help me, Eternal God. (Pause.)
MOTHER (after a hasty prayer). Do you feel better?
MOTHER (after a quick prayer). Are you feeling better?
STRANGER. Yes.... It was not death. It was annihilation!
STRANGER. Yes.... It wasn't death. It was complete destruction!
MOTHER. The annihilation of the Divine. We call it spiritual death.
MOTHER. The destruction of the Divine. We refer to it as spiritual death.
STRANGER. I see. (Without irony.) I begin to understand.
STRANGER. I get it. (Not sarcastically.) I'm starting to understand.
MOTHER. My son! You have left Jerusalem and are on the road to Damascus. Go back the same way you came. Erect a cross at every station, and stay at the seventh. For you, there are not fourteen, as for Him.
MOTHER. My son! You’ve left Jerusalem and are on your way to Damascus. Go back the same way you came. Set up a cross at every stop, and stay at the seventh. For you, there aren’t fourteen like there are for Him.
STRANGER. You speak in riddles.
STRANGER. You talk in riddles.
MOTHER. Then go your way. Search out those to whom you have something to say. First, your wife.
MOTHER. Then go ahead. Find those who need to hear what you have to say. Start with your wife.
STRANGER. Where is she?
STRANGER. Where is she at?
MOTHER. You must find her. On your way don't forget to call on him you named the werewolf.
MOTHER. You have to find her. On your way, don't forget to check in on the guy you called the werewolf.
STRANGER. Never!
STRANGER. No way!
MOTHER. You'd have said that, as you came here. As you know, I expected your coming.
MOTHER. You would have said that when you got here. As you know, I was expecting you.
STRANGER. Why?
Why?
MOTHER. For no one reason.
MOTHER. For no particular reason.
STRANGER. Just as I saw this kitchen... in a trance....
STRANGER. Just as I was looking at this kitchen... in a daze....
MOTHER. That's why I now regret trying to separate you and Ingeborg. Go and search for her. If you find her, well and good. If not, perhaps that too has been ordained. (Pause.) Dawn's now at hand. Morning has come and the night has passed.
MOTHER. That's why I regret trying to keep you away from Ingeborg. Go find her. If you locate her, great. If not, maybe that was meant to be. (Pause.) Dawn is here. Morning has arrived, and the night is over.
STRANGER. Such a night!
STRANGER. What a night!
MOTHER. You'll remember it.
MOTHER. You’ll remember.
STRANGER. Not all of it... yet something.
STRANGER. Not everything... but some.
MOTHER (looking out of the window, as if to herself). Lovely morning star—how far from heaven have you fallen!
MOTHER (looking out of the window, as if to herself). Beautiful morning star—how far from heaven have you fallen!
STRANGER (after a pause). Have you noticed that, before the sun rises, a feeling of awe takes hold of mankind? Are we children of darkness, that we tremble before the light?
STRANGER (after a pause). Have you noticed that, before the sun rises, a feeling of wonder grips humanity? Are we kids of the night, that we shiver before the light?
MOTHER. Will you never be tired of questioning?
MOTHER. Will you ever get tired of asking questions?
STRANGER. Never. Because I yearn for light.
STRANGER. Never. Because I long for light.
MOTHER. Go then, and search. And peace be with you!
MOTHER. Go ahead and look. And I wish you peace!
[The same landscape as before, but in autumn colouring. The trees have lost their leaves. Work is going on at the smithy and the mill. The SMITH stands, left, in the doorway; the MILLER'S wife, right. The LADY dressed in a jacket with a hat of patent leather; but she is in mourning. The STRANGER is in Bavarian alpine kit: short jacket of rough material, knickers, heavy boots and alpenstock, green hat with heath-cock feather. Over this he wears a brown cloak with a cape and hood.]
[The same landscape as before, but now with autumn colors. The trees have lost their leaves. Work is happening at the blacksmith's and the mill. The BLACKSMITH stands on the left in the doorway; the MILLER'S wife is on the right. The LADY is dressed in a jacket with a patent leather hat; however, she is in mourning. The STRANGER is wearing Bavarian alpine gear: a short jacket made of rough material, knickers, heavy boots, and an alpenstock, along with a green hat featuring a heath-cock feather. Over this, he has a brown cloak with a cape and hood.]
LADY (entering tired and dispirited). Did a man pass here in a long cloak, with a green hat? (The SMITH and the MILLER'S WIFE shake their heads.) Can I lodge here for the night? (The SMITH and the MILLER'S WIFE again shake their heads: to the SMITH.) May I stand in the doorway for a moment and warm myself? (The SMITH pushes her away.) God reward you according to your deserts!
LADY (entering tired and downcast). Did a man walk by here wearing a long cloak and a green hat? (The SMITH and the MILLER'S WIFE shake their heads.) Can I stay here for the night? (The SMITH and the MILLER'S WIFE shake their heads again: to the SMITH.) Can I stand in the doorway for a moment to warm up? (The SMITH pushes her away.) May God reward you as you deserve!
(Exit. She reappears on the footbridge, and exit once more.)
(Exit. She comes back on the footbridge, and exits again.)
STRANGER (entering). Has a lady in a coat and skirt crossed the brook? (The SMITH and MILLER'S WIFE shake their heads.) Will you give me some bread? I'll pay for it. (The MILLER'S WIFE refuses the money.) No charity!
STRANGER (entering). Has a woman in a coat and skirt crossed the stream? (The SMITH and MILLER'S WIFE shake their heads.) Can you give me some bread? I'll pay for it. (The MILLER'S WIFE refuses the money.) No charity!
ECHO (imitating his voice from afar). Charity.
ECHO (mimicking his voice from a distance). Charity.
(The SMITH and the MILLER'S WIFE laugh so loudly and so long that, at length, ECHO replies.)
(The SMITH and the MILLER'S WIFE laugh so loudly and for so long that eventually, ECHO responds.)
STRANGER. Good! An eye for an eye—a tooth for a tooth. It helps to lighten my conscience! (He enters the ravine.)
STRANGER. Great! An eye for an eye—a tooth for a tooth. It makes me feel better about my conscience! (He enters the ravine.)
[The same landscape as before; but autumn. The BEGGAR is sitting outside a chapel with a lime twig and a bird cage, in which is a starling. The STRANGER enters wearing the same clothes as in the preceding scene.]
[The same landscape as before; but it's autumn. The BEGGAR is sitting outside a chapel with a lime twig and a birdcage, which contains a starling. The STRANGER enters wearing the same clothes as in the previous scene.]
STRANGER. Beggar! Have you seen a lady in a coat and skirt pass this way?
STRANGER. Hey there! Have you seen a woman in a coat and skirt walk by here?
BEGGAR. I've seen five hundred. But, seriously, I must ask you not to call me beggar now. I've found work!
BEGGAR. I've seen five hundred. But, honestly, I need to ask you not to call me a beggar anymore. I've found a job!
STRANGER. Oh! So it's you!
STRANGER. Oh! It's you!
BEGGAR. Ille ego qui quondam....
BEGGAR. I am the one who once....
STRANGER. What kind of work have you?
STRANGER. What kind of job do you have?
BEGGAR. I've a starling, that whistles and sings.
BEGGAR. I have a starling that whistles and sings.
STRANGER. You mean, he does the work?
STRANGER. You mean, he does everything?
BEGGAR. Yes. I'm my own master now.
BEGGAR. Yeah. I'm in charge of my own life now.
STRANGER. Do you catch birds?
STRANGER. Do you catch birds?
BEGGAR. No. The lime twig's merely for appearances.
BEGGAR. No. The lime twig is just for show.
STRANGER. So you still cling to such things?
STRANGER. So you still hold on to that?
BEGGAR. What else should I cling to? What's within us is nothing but pure... nonsense.
BEGGAR. What else am I supposed to hold on to? What's inside us is nothing but pure... nonsense.
STRANGER. Is that the final conclusion of your whole philosophy of life?
STRANGER. Is that your final take on your entire philosophy of life?
BEGGAR. My complete metaphysic. The view mad be rather out of date, but...
BEGGAR. My entire philosophy. My perspective might be a bit outdated, but...
STRANGER. Can you be serious for a moment? Tell me about your past.
STRANGER. Can you be serious for a minute? Tell me about your past.
BEGGAR. Why unravel that old skein? Twist it up rather. Twist it up. Do you think I'm always so merry? Only when I meet you: you're so damnably funny!
BEGGAR. Why go back to that old mess? Just keep it twisted. Do you think I'm always this cheerful? Only when I'm with you: you're just so damn funny!
STRANGER. How can you laugh, with a wrecked life behind you?
STRANGER. How can you laugh when you have a ruined life in your past?
BEGGAR. Now he's getting personal! (Pause.) If you can't laugh at adversity, not even that of others, you're begging of life itself. Listen! If you follow this wheel track you'll come, at last, to the ocean, and there the path will stop. If you sit down there and rest, you'll begin to take another view of things. Here there are so many accidents, religious themes, disagreeable memories that hinder thought as it flies to the 'rose' room. Only follow the track! If it's muddy here and there, spread your wings and flutter. And talking of fluttering: I once heard a bird that sang of Polycrates and his ring; how he'd become possessed of all the marvels of this world, but didn't know what to do with them. So he sent tidings east and west of the great Nothing he'd helped to fashion from the empty universe. I wouldn't assert you were the man, unless I believed it so firmly I could take my oath on it. Once I asked you whether you knew who I was, and you said it didn't interest you. In return I offered you my friendship, but you refused it rudely. However, I'm not sensitive or resentful, so I'll give you good advice on your way. Follow the track!
BEGGAR. Now he’s getting personal! (Pause.) If you can’t laugh at tough times, not even when it’s happening to others, you’re missing out on life itself. Listen! If you follow this path, you’ll eventually reach the ocean, and that’s where the trail will end. If you sit down and take a break there, you’ll start to see things differently. Here, there are so many distractions, religious issues, and unpleasant memories that make it hard to think as you drift towards the 'rose' room. Just keep following the path! If it gets muddy in spots, spread your wings and keep moving. Speaking of wings: I once heard a bird that sang about Polycrates and his ring; how he had obtained all the wonders of the world, but didn’t know what to do with them. So he sent word far and wide about the great Nothing he had helped create from the empty universe. I wouldn’t say you’re that man unless I truly believed it enough to swear on it. Once I asked you if you knew who I was, and you said it didn’t interest you. In return, I offered you my friendship, but you turned it down rudely. Still, I’m not sensitive or bitter, so I’ll give you some good advice for your journey. Keep following the path!
STRANGER (avoiding him). You don't deceive me.
STRANGER (avoiding him). You're not fooling me.
BEGGAR. You believe nothing but evil. That's why you get nothing but evil. Try to believe what is good. Try!
BEGGAR. You only believe in bad things. That’s why all you get is bad things. Try to believe in what’s good. Give it a shot!
STRANGER. I will. But if I'm deceived, I've the right to....
STRANGER. I will. But if I'm tricked, I have the right to....
BEGGAR. You've no right to do that.
Beggar. You can't do that.
STRANGER (as if to himself ). Who is it reads my secret thoughts, turns my soul inside out, and pursues me? Why do you persecute me?
STRANGER (as if to himself). Who is reading my secret thoughts, exposing my soul, and following me? Why are you haunting me?
BEGGAR. Saul! Saul! Why persecutest thou Me?
BEGGAR. Saul! Saul! Why are you persecuting Me?
(The STRANGER goes out with a gesture of horror. The chord of the funeral march is heard again. The LADY enters.)
(The STRANGER exits with a shocked gesture. The sound of a funeral march is heard again. The LADY enters.)
LADY. Have you seen a man pass this way in a long cloak, with a green hat?
LADY. Have you seen a guy walk by here wearing a long coat and a green hat?
BEGGAR. There was a poor devil here, who hobbled off....
BEGGAR. There was a poor guy here, who hobbled away....
LADY. The man I'm searching for's not lame.
LADY. The guy I'm looking for isn't lame.
BEGGAR. Nor was he. It seems he'd hurt his hip; and that made him walk unsteadily. I mustn't be malicious. Look here in the mud.
BEGGAR. No, he wasn't. It looks like he hurt his hip, which made him walk unevenly. I shouldn’t be mean. Look at this in the mud.
LADY. Where?
LADY. Where at?
BEGGAR (pointing). There! At that rut. In it you can see the impression of a boot, firmly planted....
BEGGAR (pointing). Look! At that rut. You can see the footprint of a boot, clearly marked....
LADY (looking at the impression). It's he! His heavy tread.... Can I catch him up?
LADY (looking at the footprint). It's him! His heavy footsteps... Can I catch up to him?
BEGGAR. Follow the track!
BEGGAR. Follow the path!
LADY (taking his hand and kissing it). Thank you, my friend. (Exit.)
LADY (taking his hand and kissing it). Thank you, my friend. (Exits.)
[The same landscape as before, but now winter. The sea is dark blue, and on the horizon great clouds take on the shapes of huge heads. In the distance three bare masts of a wrecked ship, that look like three white crosses. The table and seat are still under the tree, but the chairs have been removed. There is snow on the ground. From time to time a bell-buoy can be heard. The STRANGER comes in from the left, stops a moment and looks out to sea, then goes out, right, behind the cottage. The LADY enters, left, and appears to be following the STRANGER'S footsteps on the snow; she exits in front of the cottage, right. The STRANGER re-enters, right, notices the footprints of the LADY, pauses, and looks back, right. The LADY re-enters, throws herself into his arms, but recoils.]
[The same landscape as before, but now it's winter. The sea is dark blue, and on the horizon, big clouds take on the shapes of enormous heads. In the distance, three bare masts of a wrecked ship look like three white crosses. The table and seat are still under the tree, but the chairs have been removed. There's snow on the ground. Occasionally, a bell buoy can be heard. The STRANGER comes in from the left, stops for a moment, and looks out to sea, then exits to the right, behind the cottage. The LADY enters from the left and seems to be following the STRANGER's footsteps in the snow; she exits in front of the cottage to the right. The STRANGER re-enters from the right, notices the LADY's footprints, pauses, and looks back to the right. The LADY re-enters, throws herself into his arms but then recoils.]
LADY. You thrust me away.
You pushed me away.
STRANGER. No. It seems there's someone between us.
STRANGER. No. It looks like there's someone standing in between us.
LADY. Indeed there is! (Pause.) What a meeting!
LADY. There really is! (Pause.) What a gathering!
STRANGER. Yes. It's winter; as you see.
STRANGER. Yeah. It’s winter; as you can see.
LADY. I can feel the cold coming from you.
LADY. I can feel the chill radiating from you.
STRANGER. I got frozen in the mountains.
STRANGER. I got stuck in the mountains.
LADY. Do you think the spring will ever come?
LADY. Do you think spring will ever arrive?
STRANGER. Not to us! We've been driven from the garden, and must wander over stones and thistles. And when our hands and feet are bruised, we feel we must rub salt in the wounds of the... other one. And then the mill starts grinding. It'll never stop; for there's always water.
STRANGER. Not for us! We've been kicked out of the garden and have to roam over rocks and thorns. And when our hands and feet are hurt, we feel we have to rub salt into the wounds of the... other one. And then the cycle starts again. It'll never end; there's always water.
LADY. No doubt what you say is true.
LADY. There's no doubt that what you say is true.
STRANGER. But I'll not yield to the inevitable. Rather than that we should lacerate each other I'll gash myself as a sacrifice to the gods. I'll take the blame upon me; declare it was I who taught you to break your chains. I who tempted you! Then you can lay all the blame on me: for what I did, and what happened after.
STRANGER. But I won't give in to what's unavoidable. Instead of hurting each other, I'll hurt myself as an offering to the gods. I'll take the blame; I'll say it was me who taught you to break free. I who led you astray! Then you can put all the blame on me for my actions and what happened next.
LADY. You couldn't bear it.
You couldn't handle it.
STRANGER. Yes, I could. There are moments when I feel as if I bore all the sin and sorrow, all the filth and shame of the whole world. There are moments when I believe we are condemned to sin and do bad actions as a punishment! (Pause.) Not long ago I lay sick of a fever, and amidst all that happened to me, I dreamed that I saw a crucifix without the Crucified. And when I asked the Dominican—for there was a Dominican among many others—what it could mean, he said: 'You will not allow Him to suffer for you. Suffer then yourself!' That's why mankind have grown so conscious of their own sufferings.
STRANGER. Yeah, I could. There are times when it feels like I carry all the sin and sorrow, all the dirt and shame of the entire world. There are times when I think we're stuck in a cycle of sin, doing bad things as a sort of punishment! (Pause.) Not long ago, I was sick with a fever, and during all that happened to me, I dreamed that I saw a crucifix without the figure on it. When I asked the Dominican—since there was a Dominican among many others—what it could mean, he said: 'You won't let Him suffer for you. So suffer yourself!' That's why people have become so aware of their own pain.
LADY. And why consciences grow so heavy, if there's no one to help to bear the burden.
LADY. And why do consciences feel so weighed down if there's no one to help carry the load?
STRANGER. Have you also come to think so?
STRANGER. Have you also come to believe that?
LADY. Not yet. But I'm on the way.
LADY. Not yet. But I’m getting there.
STRANGER. Put your hand in mine. From here let us go on together.
STRANGER. Hold my hand. Let's move forward together from here.
LADY. Where?
Where?
STRANGER. Back! The same way we came. Are you weary?
STRANGER. Back! The same way we came. Are you tired?
LADY. Now no longer.
LADY. Not anymore.
STRANGER. Several times I sank exhausted. But I met a strange beggar—perhaps you remember him: he was thought to be like me. And he begged me, as an experiment, to believe his good intentions. I did believe—as an experiment—and....
STRANGER. Several times I collapsed, feeling completely drained. But then I met an unusual beggar—maybe you remember him: people said he was similar to me. He asked me, as a sort of experiment, to trust his good intentions. I did trust him—as an experiment—and....
LADY. Well?
LADY. So?
STRANGER. It went well with me. And since then I feel I've strength to go on my way....
STRANGER. It went well for me. And since then, I feel like I have the strength to continue on my path...
LADY. Let's go together!
Lady. Let's go together!
STRANGER (turning to the sea). Yes. It's growing dark and the clouds are gathering.
STRANGER (turning to the sea). Yes. It's getting dark and the clouds are rolling in.
LADY. Don't look at the clouds.
LADY. Don't stare at the clouds.
STRANGER. And below there? What's that?
STRANGER. What's down there?
LADY. Only a wreck.
LADY. Just a wreck.
STRANGER (whispering). Three crosses! What new Golgotha awaits us?
STRANGER (whispering). Three crosses! What new Golgotha is waiting for us?
LADY. They're white ones. That means good fortune.
LADY. They're white ones. That means good luck.
STRANGER. Can good fortune ever come to us?
STRANGER. Can we ever expect good luck to come our way?
LADY. Yes. But not yet.
LADY. Yes, but not right now.
STRANGER. Let's go!
Let's roll!
[The room is as before. The LADY is sitting by the side of the STRANGER, crocheting.]
[The room looks the same as before. The LADY is sitting next to the STRANGER, crocheting.]
LADY. Do say something.
Lady, please say something.
STRANGER. I've nothing but unpleasant things to say, since we came here.
STRANGER. I don't have anything nice to say since we got here.
LADY. Why were you so anxious to have this terrible room?
LADY. Why were you so eager to get this horrible room?
STRANGER. I don't know. It was the last one I wanted. I began to long for it, in order to suffer.
STRANGER. I don’t know. It was the last thing I wanted. I started to crave it, just so I could feel the pain.
LADY. And are you suffering?
Are you in pain?
STRANGER. Yes. I can no longer listen to singing, or look at anything beautiful. During the day I hear the mill and see that great panorama now expanding to embrace the universe.... And, at night...
STRANGER. Yes. I can’t listen to singing anymore or look at anything beautiful. During the day, I hear the mill and see that huge view now stretching to take in the whole universe... And, at night...
LADY. Why did you cry out in your sleep?
LADY. Why did you shout in your sleep?
STRANGER. I was dreaming.
STRANGER. I was dreaming.
LADY. A real dream?
LADY. A genuine dream?
STRANGER. Terribly real. But you see what a curse is on me. I feel I must describe it, and to no one else but you. Yet I daren't tell you, for it would be rattling at the door of the locked chamber....
STRANGER. So intensely real. But you can see the curse that’s on me. I feel I have to describe it, and only to you. Yet I’m afraid to tell you, because it would be knocking at the door of the locked room....
LADY. The past!
LADY. The past!
STRANGER. Yes.
Yes.
LADY (simply). It's foolish to have any such secret place.
LADY (simply). It's silly to have any secret spot like that.
STRANGER. Yes. (Pause.)
STRANGER. Yeah. (Pause.)
LADY. And now tell me!
LADY. Now tell me!
STRANGER. I'm afraid I must. I dreamed your first husband was married to my first wife.
STRANGER. I’m sorry, but I have to. I dreamed that your first husband was married to my first wife.
LADY. Only you could have thought of such a thing!
LADY. Only you would have come up with something like this!
STRANGER. I wish it were so. (Pause.) I saw how he ill-treated my children. (Getting up.) I put my hands to his throat.... I can't go on.... But I shall never rest till I know the truth. And to know it, I must go to him in his own house.
STRANGER. I wish that were the case. (Pause.) I saw how he mistreated my kids. (Getting up.) I grabbed his throat.... I can't continue.... But I won't rest until I know the truth. And to find out, I need to go to him in his own home.
LADY. It's come to that?
LADY. Is it that time?
STRANGER. It's been coming for some time. Nothing can now prevent it. I must see him.
STRANGER. It’s been building up for a while. Nothing can stop it now. I need to see him.
LADY. But if he won't receive you?
LADY. But what if he won't see you?
STRANGER. I'll go as a patient, and tell him of my sickness....
STRANGER. I'll go as a patient and tell him about my illness....
LADY (frightened). Don't do that!
LADY (scared). Don't do that!
STRANGER. You think he might be tempted to shut me up as mad! I must risk it. I want to risk everything—life, freedom, welfare. I need an emotional shock, strong enough to bring myself into the light of day. I demand this torture, that my punishment may be in just proportion to my sin, so that I shall not be forced to drag myself along under the burden of my guilt. So down into the snake pit, as soon as may be!
STRANGER. You think he might be tempted to silence me because I seem crazy! I have to take that chance. I’m ready to risk everything—my life, my freedom, my well-being. I need a strong emotional shock to wake me up. I need this pain, so my punishment matches my wrongdoing, so I don’t have to carry the weight of my guilt. So let's get down into the snake pit as soon as possible!
LADY. Could I come with you?
LADY. Can I come with you?
STRANGER. There's no need. My sufferings will be enough for both.
STRANGER. There's no need. My pain will be enough for both of us.
LADY. Then I'll call you my deliverer. And the curse I once laid on you will turn into a blessing. Look! It's spring once more.
LADY. Then I'll call you my savior. And the curse I once put on you will become a blessing. Look! It's spring again.
STRANGER. So I see. The Christmas rose there has begun to wither.
STRANGER. I see. The Christmas rose is starting to wilt.
LADY. But don't you feel spring in the air?
LADY. But don't you feel the springtime in the air?
STRANGER. The cold within isn't so great.
STRANGER. The chill inside isn't that intense.
LADY. Perhaps the werewolf will heal you altogether.
LADY. Maybe the werewolf will cure you completely.
STRANGER. We shall see. Perhaps he's not so dangerous, after all.
STRANGER. We'll see. Maybe he’s not as dangerous as we thought.
LADY. He's not so cruel as you.
LADY. He's not as cruel as you are.
STRANGER. But my dream....
STRANGER. But my dream…
LADY. Let's hope it was only a dream. Now my wool's finished; and with it, my useless work. It's grown soiled in the making.
LADY. Let's hope it was just a dream. Now I've finished my wool; and with it, my pointless task. It's become dirty in the process.
STRANGER. It can be washed.
STRANGER. It’s washable.
LADY. Or dyed.
Lady. Or colored.
STRANGER. Rose red.
Stranger. Crimson.
LADY. Never!
LADY. No way!
STRANGER. It's like a roll of manuscript.
STRANGER. It's like a rolled-up manuscript.
LADY. With our story on it.
LADY. With our story about it.
STRANGER. In the filth of the roads, in tears and in blood.
STRANGER. In the grime of the streets, in tears and in blood.
LADY. But the story's nearly done. Go and write the last chapter.
LADY. But the story is almost finished. Go and write the final chapter.
STRANGER. Then we'll meet at the seventh station. Where we began!
STRANGER. Then we'll meet at the seventh station. Where we started!
[The scene is more or less as before. But half the wood-pile has been taken away. On a seat near the verandah surgical instruments, knives, saws, forceps, etc. The DOCTOR is engaged in cleaning these.]
[The scene is pretty much the same as before. However, half of the woodpile has been removed. On a seat near the veranda are surgical instruments, knives, saws, forceps, and so on. The DOCTOR is busy cleaning these.]
SISTER (coming from the verandah). A patient to see you.
SISTER (coming from the porch). Someone is here to see you.
DOCTOR. Do you know who it is?
DOCTOR. Do you know who that is?
SISTER. I've not seen him. Here's his card.
SISTER. I haven't seen him. Here’s his card.
DOCTOR (reading it). This outdoes everything!
DOCTOR (reading it). This exceeds everything!
SISTER. Is it he?
SISTER. Is that him?
DOCTOR. Yes. Courage I respect; but this is cynicism. A kind of challenge. Still, let him come in.
DOCTOR. Yes. I respect courage, but this is just cynicism. It's like a challenge. Still, let him come in.
SISTER. Are you serious?
SISTER. Are you for real?
DOCTOR. Perfectly. But, if you care to talk to him a little, in that straightforward way of yours....
DOCTOR. Absolutely. But, if you want to have a chat with him for a bit, in that direct way of yours...
SISTER. I'd like to.
SIS. I’d love to.
DOCTOR. Very well. Do the heavy work, and leave the final polish to me.
DOCTOR. Alright. Do the tough stuff, and I'll take care of the finishing touches.
SISTER. You can trust me. I'll tell him everything your kindness forbids you to say.
SISTER. You can count on me. I'll share everything your kindness prevents you from saying.
DOCTOR. Enough of my kindness! Make haste, or I'll get impatient. Shut the doors. (His SISTER goes out.) What are you doing at that dustbin, Caesar? (CAESAR comes in.) Listen, Caesar, if your enemy were to come and lay his head in your lap, what would you do?
DOCTOR. I've had enough of being nice! Hurry up, or I’m going to lose my patience. Close the doors. (His SISTER goes out.) What are you doing by that trash can, Caesar? (CAESAR comes in.) Listen, Caesar, if your enemy were to come and rest his head in your lap, what would you do?
CAESAR. Cut it off!
CAESAR. Chop it off!
DOCTOR. That's not what I've taught you.
DOCTOR. That's not what I taught you.
CAESAR. No; you said, heap coals of fire on it. But I think that's a shame.
CAESAR. No; you said to pile on the coals of fire. But I think that's wrong.
DOCTOR. I think so, too; it's more cruel and more cunning. (Pause.) Isn't it better to take some revenge? It heartens the other person, lifts the burden off him.
DOCTOR. I think so too; it's more brutal and more clever. (Pause.) Isn't it better to get some revenge? It strengthens the other person, lightens their load.
CAESAR. As you know more about it than I, why ask?
CAESAR. Since you know more about it than I do, why even ask?
DOCTOR. Quiet! I'm not speaking to you. (Pause.) Very well. First cut off his head, and then.... We'll see.
DOCTOR. Quiet! I'm not talking to you. (Pause.) Alright. First, cut off his head, and then... We'll see.
CAESAR. It all depends on how he behaves.
CAESAR. It all depends on what he does.
DOCTOR. Yes. On how he behaves. Quiet. Get along.
DOCTOR. Yes. It's about how he acts. Calm. He gets along with others.
(The STRANGER comes from the verandah: he seems excited but his manner betrays a certain resignation. CAESAR has gone out.)
(The STRANGER comes from the porch: he seems excited, but his demeanor shows a certain resignation. CAESAR has left.)
STRANGER. You're surprised to see me here?
STRANGER. Are you surprised to see me here?
DOCTOR (seriously). I've long given up being surprised. But I see I must begin again.
DOCTOR (seriously). I've long stopped being surprised. But I see I need to start again.
STRANGER. Will you permit me to speak to you?
STRANGER. Can I talk to you?
DOCTOR. About anything decent people may discuss. Are you ill?
DOCTOR. About anything sensible people might talk about. Are you feeling unwell?
STRANGER (hesitating). Yes.
STRANGER (hesitating). Yeah.
DOCTOR. Why did you come to me—of all people?
DOCTOR. Why did you come to me—of all people?
STRANGER. You must guess!
You have to guess!
DOCTOR. I refuse to. (Pause.) What do you complain of?
DOCTOR. I won't do it. (Pause.) What are you complaining about?
STRANGER (with uncertainty). Sleeplessness.
STRANGER (with uncertainty). Insomnia.
DOCTOR. That's not a disease, but a symptom. Have you already seen a doctor?
DOCTOR. That's not an illness, but a symptom. Have you already seen a doctor?
STRANGER. I've been lying ill in an... institution. I was feverish. I've a strange malady.
STRANGER. I’ve been sick in a... hospital. I had a fever. I have this unusual illness.
DOCTOR. What was so strange about it?
DOCTOR. What was so weird about it?
STRANGER. May I ask this? Can one go about as usual; and yet be delirious?
STRANGER. Can I ask something? Is it possible to go about your day as normal and still be delirious?
DOCTOR. If you're mad; not otherwise. (The STRANGER lets up, but then sits down again.) What was the hospital called?
DOCTOR. If you're crazy; otherwise not. (The STRANGER relaxes, but then sits down again.) What was the name of the hospital?
STRANGER. St. Saviour.
Stranger. St. Savior.
DOCTOR. That's not a hospital.
DOCTOR. That's not a clinic.
STRANGER. A convent, then.
STRANGER. A monastery, then.
DOCTOR. No. It's an asylum. (The STRANGER gets up, the DOCTOR does so, too, and calls.) Sister! Shut the front door. And the gate leading to the road. (To the STRANGER.) Won't you sit down? I have to keep the doors here locked. There are so many tramps.
DOCTOR. No. It’s an asylum. (The STRANGER stands up, and the DOCTOR does too, calling out.) Sister! Close the front door. And the gate to the road. (To the STRANGER.) Will you sit down? I need to keep the doors locked here. There are so many vagrants.
STRANGER (calms himself). Be frank with me: do you think me... insane?
STRANGER (calms himself). Be honest with me: do you think I'm... crazy?
DOCTOR. No one ever gets a frank answer to that question, as you know. And no one who suffers in that way ever believes what he's told. So my opinion must be a matter of indifference to you. (Pause.) But if it's your soul, go to a spiritual healer.
DOCTOR. No one ever gets a straightforward answer to that question, as you know. And no one who suffers like that ever believes what they're told. So my opinion probably doesn’t matter to you. (Pause.) But if it's about your soul, go see a spiritual healer.
STRANGER. Could you take his place for a moment?
STRANGER. Can you step in for him for a minute?
DOCTOR. I haven't the vocation.
DOCTOR. I'm not cut out for this.
STRANGER. But...
STRANGER. But...
DOCTOR (interrupting). Or the time. We're getting ready for a wedding here!
DOCTOR (interrupting). Or the time. We're getting ready for a wedding here!
STRANGER. I dreamed it!
I just dreamed it!
DOCTOR. It may ease your mind to know that I've consoled myself, as it's called. You may be pleased, it would be natural... but I see, on the contrary, it makes you suffer more. There must be a reason. Why, should you be upset at my marrying a widow?
DOCTOR. It might comfort you to know that I've found a way to cope, as they say. You might feel relieved, which would be understandable... but I see, on the contrary, it causes you more pain. There must be a reason. Are you upset about my marrying a widow?
STRANGER. With two children?
STRANGER. Got two kids?
DOCTOR. Two children! Now we have it! A damnable supposition worthy of you. If there were a hell, you should be hell's overseer, for your skill in finding means of punishment exceeds my wildest inventions. Yet I'm called a werewolf!
DOCTOR. Two kids! Now we’ve got it! A ridiculous idea just for you. If there were a hell, you’d be the one in charge, because your talent for coming up with ways to punish people surpasses my craziest ideas. And still, I’m the one called a werewolf!
STRANGER. It might happen that...
STRANGER. It could happen that...
DOCTOR (cutting him short). For a long time, I hated you, because by an unforgiveable action you cheated me of my good name. But when I grew older and wiser I saw that, although the punishment wasn't earned, I deserved it for other things that had never been discovered. Besides, you were a boy with enough conscience to be able to punish yourself. So you need worry no more about the whole thing. Is that what you wanted to speak of?
DOCTOR (interrupting him). For a long time, I hated you because you did something unforgivable that ruined my reputation. But as I got older and wiser, I realized that even though the punishment wasn’t deserved, I had done other things that I never got caught for. Besides, you were a kid with enough conscience to punish yourself. So you don't need to worry about it anymore. Is that what you wanted to talk about?
STRANGER. Yes.
STRANGER. Yeah.
DOCTOR. Then you'll be content, if I let you go? (The STRANGER is about to ask a question.) Did you think I'd shut you up? Or cut you in pieces with those instruments? Kill you? 'Perhaps such poor devils ought to be put out of their misery!' (The STRANGER looks at his watch.) You can still catch the boat.
DOCTOR. So, you’ll be happy if I let you go? (The STRANGER is about to ask a question.) Did you think I’d keep you quiet? Or chop you up with those tools? Kill you? 'Maybe we should put these poor souls out of their misery!' (The STRANGER looks at his watch.) You can still make the boat.
STRANGER. Will you give me your hand?
STRANGER. Will you give me your hand?
DOCTOR. Impossible. And what is the use of my forgiving you, if you lack the strength to forgive yourself? (Pause.) Some things can only be cured by making them undone. So this never can be.
DOCTOR. That's impossible. And what good is my forgiveness if you can't even forgive yourself? (Pause.) Some things can only be fixed by reversing them. So this can never be.
STRANGER. St. Saviour...
STRANGER. St. Saviour...
DOCTOR. Helped you. You challenged destiny and were broken. There's no shame in losing such a fight. I did the same; but, as you see, I've got rid of my woodpile. I want no thunder in my home. And I shall play no more with the lightning.
DOCTOR. I helped you. You stood up to fate and got hurt. There’s no shame in losing that battle. I went through it too; but, as you can see, I’ve cleared out my woodpile. I don’t want any storms in my life. And I won’t play with lightning anymore.
STRANGER. One station more, and I shall reach my goal.
STRANGER. Just one more stop, and I’ll reach my destination.
DOCTOR. You'll never reach your goal. Farewell!
DOCTOR. You'll never achieve your goal. Goodbye!
STRANGER. Farewell!
STRANGER. Goodbye!
[The same as Scene I. The STRANGER is sitting on the seat beneath the tree, drawing in the sand.]
[The same as Scene I. The STRANGER is sitting on the bench under the tree, sketching in the sand.]
LADY (entering). What are you doing?
LADY (entering). What are you up to?
STRANGER. Writing in the sand... still.
STRANGER. Still writing in the sand...
LADY. Can you hear singing?
Can you hear singing?
STRANGER (pointing to the church). Yes. But from there! I've been unjust to someone, unwittingly.
STRANGER (pointing to the church). Yes. But from there! I’ve treated someone unfairly without realizing it.
LADY. I think our wanderings must be over, now we've come back here.
LADY. I think our adventures are done now that we've returned here.
STRANGER. Where we began... at the street corner, between the inn, the church and the post office. By the way... isn't there a registered letter for me there, that I never fetched?
STRANGER. Where we started... at the street corner, between the inn, the church, and the post office. By the way... is there a registered letter for me there that I never picked up?
LADY. Yes. Because there was nothing but unpleasantness in it.
LADY. Yes. Because it was nothing but negativity.
STRANGER. Or legal matters. (Striking his forehead.) Then that's the explanation.
STRANGER. Or legal issues. (Rubbing his forehead.) Then that's the explanation.
LADY. Fetch it then. In the belief that what it contains is good.
LADY. Go get it then. I believe that what’s inside is good.
STRANGER (ironically). Good!
STRANGER (ironically). Great!
LADY. Believe it. Imagine it!
LADY. Believe it. Picture it!
STRANGER (going to the post office). I'll make the attempt.
STRANGER (heading to the post office). I'll give it a shot.
(The LADY waits on the pavement. The STRANGER comes back with a letter.)
(The LADY stands on the sidewalk. The STRANGER returns with a letter.)
LADY. Well?
LADY. So?
STRANGER. I feel ashamed of myself. It's the money.
STRANGER. I'm ashamed of myself. It's the money.
LADY. You see! All these sufferings, all these tears... in vain!
LADY. You see! All this pain, all these tears... for nothing!
STRANGER. Not in vain! It looks like spite, what happens here, but it's not that. I wronged the Invisible when I mistook...
STRANGER. Not for nothing! It seems like there's some bitterness going on here, but that's not the case. I messed up with the Invisible when I misunderstood...
LADY. Enough! No accusations.
LADY. Enough! No blaming.
STRANGER. No. It was my own stupidity or wickedness. I didn't want to be made a fool of by life. That's why I was! It was the elves...
STRANGER. No. It was my own foolishness or malice. I didn't want to be made a fool by life. That's exactly why I was! It was the elves...
LADY. Who made the change in you. Come. Let's go.
LADY. Who caused this change in you? Come on. Let's go.
STRANGER. And hide ourselves and our misery in the mountains.
STRANGER. And let's hide ourselves and our misery in the mountains.
LADY. Yes. The mountains will hide us! (Pause.) But first I must go and light a candle to my good Saint Elizabeth. Come. (The STRANGER shakes his head.) Come!
LADY. Yes. The mountains will protect us! (Pause.) But first, I need to go light a candle for my good Saint Elizabeth. Come on. (The STRANGER shakes his head.) Come on!
STRANGER. Very well. I'll go through that way. But I can't stay.
STRANGER. Alright. I'll go that way. But I can't stick around.
LADY. How can you tell? Come. In there you shall hear new songs.
LADY. How can you tell? Come on. In there you'll hear new songs.
(The STRANGER follows her to the door of the church.)
(The STRANGER follows her to the church door.)
STRANGER. It may be!
STRANGER. It could be!
LADY. Come!
Lady, come!
PART II
CHARACTERS
THE STRANGER
THE LADY
THE MOTHER
THE FATHER
THE CONFESSOR
THE DOCTOR
CAESAR
less important figures
MAID
PROFESSOR
RAGGED PERSON
ANOTHER RAGGED PERSON
FIRST WOMAN
SECOND WOMAN
WAITRESS
POLICEMAN
THE STRANGER
THE LADY
THE MOTHER
THE FATHER
THE CONFESSOR
THE DOCTOR
CAESAR
less important figures
MAID
PROFESSOR
RAGGED PERSON
ANOTHER RAGGED PERSON
FIRST WOMAN
SECOND WOMAN
WAITRESS
POLICEMAN
ACT I Outside the House
ACT II SCENE I Laboratory
SCENE II The 'Rose' Room
ACT III SCENE I The Banqueting Hall
SCENE II A Prison Cell
SCENE III The 'Rose' Room
ACT IV SCENE I The Banqueting Hall
SCENE II In a Ravine
SCENE III The 'Rose' Room
ACT I Outside the House
ACT II SCENE I Laboratory
SCENE II The 'Rose' Room
ACT III SCENE I The Banqueting Hall
SCENE II A Prison Cell
SCENE III The 'Rose' Room
ACT IV SCENE I The Banqueting Hall
SCENE II In a Ravine
SCENE III The 'Rose' RoomACT I
OUTSIDE THE HOUSE
[On the right a terrace, on which the house stands. Below it a road runs towards the back, where there is a thick pine wood with heights beyond, whose outlines intersect. On the left there is a suggestion of a river bank, but the river itself cannot be seen. The house is white and has small, mullioned windows with iron bars. On the wall vines and climbing roses. In front of the house, on the terrace, a well; at the end of the terrace pumpkin plants, whose large yellow flowers hang dozen over the edge. Fruit trees are planted along the road, and a memorial cross can be seen erected at a spot where an accident occurred. Steps lead down from the terrace to the road, and there are flower-pots on the balustrade. In front of the steps there is a seat. The road reaches the foreground from the right, curving past the terrace, which projects like a promontory, and then loses itself in the background. Strong sunlight from the left. The MOTHER is sitting on the seat below the steps. The DOMINICAN is standing in front of her.]
[On the right, there’s a terrace with the house on it. Below, a road leads toward the back, where there’s a dense pine forest rising up in the distance, its outlines blurred. On the left, you can see hints of a riverbank, but the river itself is out of sight. The house is white and features small, divided windows with iron bars. Vines and climbing roses climb the walls. In front of the house on the terrace, there’s a well, and at the end of the terrace, pumpkin plants with large yellow flowers dangle over the edge. Fruit trees line the road, and a memorial cross stands at a spot where an accident happened. Steps lead down from the terrace to the road, and there are flower pots on the balustrade. In front of the steps, there’s a bench. The road curves from the right, past the terrace, which juts out like a promontory, and then fades into the background. Strong sunlight comes in from the left. The MOTHER is sitting on the bench below the steps. The DOMINICAN stands in front of her.]
DOMINICAN [Note: The same character as the CONFESSOR and BEGGAR.]. You called me to discuss a family matter of importance to you. Tell me what it is.
DOMINICAN [Note: The same character as the CONFESSOR and BEGGAR.]. You called me to talk about an important family issue. What is it?
MOTHER. Father, life has treated me hardly. I don't know what I've done to be so frowned upon by Providence.
MOTHER. Dad, life has been really tough on me. I have no idea what I did to deserve this kind of treatment from fate.
DOMINICAN. It's a mark of favour to be tried by the Eternal One, and triumph awaits the steadfast.
DOMINICAN. It's a privilege to be tested by the Eternal One, and victory comes to those who persevere.
MOTHER. That's what I've often said to myself; but there are limits to the suffering one can bear....
MOTHER. That's what I've often told myself; but there are limits to how much pain one can endure....
DOMINICAN. There are no limits. Suff'ering's as boundless as grace.
DOMINICAN. There are no limits. Suffering is as endless as grace.
MOTHER. First my husband leaves me for another woman.
MOTHER. First, my husband leaves me for someone else.
DOMINICAN. Then let him go. He'll come crawling back again on his bare knees!
DOMINICAN. Then let him go. He'll come crawling back again on his knees!
MOTHER. And as you know, Father, my only daughter was married to a doctor. But she left him and came home with a stranger, whom she presented to me as her new husband.
MOTHER. And as you know, Dad, my only daughter was married to a doctor. But she left him and came home with a stranger, who she introduced to me as her new husband.
DOMINICAN. That's not easy to understand. Divorce isn't recognised by our religion.
DOMINICAN. That's hard to grasp. Our religion doesn't recognize divorce.
MOTHER. No. But they'd crossed the frontier, to a land where there are other laws. He's an Old Catholic, and he found a priest to marry them.
MOTHER. No. But they crossed the border into a place with different rules. He's an Old Catholic, and he found a priest to marry them.
DOMINICAN. That's no real marriage, and can't be dissolved because it never existed. But it can be nullified. Who is your present son-in-law?
DOMINICAN. That's not a real marriage, so it can’t be dissolved since it never actually existed. But it can be annulled. Who is your current son-in-law?
MOTHER. Truly, I wish I knew! One thing I do know, and that's enough to fill my cup of sorrow. He's been divorced and his wife and children live in wretched circumstances.
MOTHER. Honestly, I wish I knew! One thing I do know, and that's enough to fill my heart with sorrow. He's gotten divorced, and his ex-wife and kids are living in terrible conditions.
DOMINICAN. A difficult case. But we'll find a way to put it right. What does he do?
DOMINICAN. A tough situation. But we'll figure out how to fix it. What does he do?
MOTHER. He's a writer; said to be famous at home.
MOTHER. He's a writer; supposedly famous back home.
DOMINICAN. Godless, too, I suppose?
DOMINICAN. Godless, I guess?
MOTHER. Yes. At least he used to be; but since his second marriage he's not known a happy hour. Fate, as he calls it, seized him with an iron hand and drove him here in the shape of a ragged beggar. Ill-fortune struck him blow after blow, so that I pitied him at the very moment he fled from here. Then he wandered in the woods and, later, lay out in the fields where he fell, till he was found by merciful folk and taken to a convent. There he lay ill for three months, without our knowing where he was.
MOTHER. Yes. He used to be; but since his second marriage, he hasn’t had a happy moment. Fate, as he calls it, grabbed him with an iron fist and brought him here in the form of a ragged beggar. Bad luck hit him repeatedly, so I felt sorry for him the very moment he ran away from here. Then he roamed the woods and eventually collapsed in the fields where he was later discovered by kind people and taken to a convent. He was sick there for three months, without us knowing where he was.
DOMINICAN. Wait! Last year a man was brought to the Convent of St. Saviour, where I'm Confessor, under the circumstances you describe. Whilst he was feverish he opened his heart to me, and there was scarcely a sin of which he didn't confess his guilt. But when he came to himself again, he said he remembered nothing. So to prove him in heart and reins I used the secret apostolic powers that are given us; and, as a trial, employed the lesser curse. For when a crime's been done in secret, the curse of Deuteronomy is read over the suspected man. If he's innocent, he goes his way unscathed. But if he's struck by it, then, as Paul relates, 'he is delivered unto Satan for the destruction of the flesh, that his spirit may be saved.'
DOMINICAN. Wait! Last year, a man was brought to the Convent of St. Saviour, where I serve as Confessor, under the circumstances you described. While he was feverish, he opened up to me, confessing almost every sin he could think of. But when he regained his senses, he claimed he remembered nothing. So, to test his heart and intentions, I used the secret apostolic powers granted to us; and, as a trial, I employed the lesser curse. When a crime is committed in secret, the curse of Deuteronomy is read over the suspect. If he’s innocent, he walks away unharmed. But if he’s affected by it, then, as Paul says, 'he is delivered unto Satan for the destruction of the flesh, that his spirit may be saved.'
MOTHER. O God! It must be he!
MOTHER. Oh God! It has to be him!
DOMINICAN. Yes, it is he. Your son-in-law! The ways of Providence are inscrutable. Was he heavily struck by the curse?
DOMINICAN. Yes, it is him. Your son-in-law! The ways of Providence are mysterious. Was he deeply affected by the curse?
MOTHER. Yes. That night he slept here, and was torn from his sleep by an unexplained power that, as he told me, turned his heart to ice....
MOTHER. Yes. That night he stayed here, and was jolted from his sleep by an unknown force that, as he told me, froze his heart....
DOMINICAN. Did he have fearful visions?
DOMINICAN. Did he have terrifying visions?
MOTHER. Yes.
MOM. Yes.
DOMINICAN. And was he harried by those terrible thoughts, of which Job says, 'When I say, my bed shall comfort me, then Thou scarest me with dreams and terrifiest me with visions; so that my soul chooseth strangling, and death rather than life.' That's as it should be. Did it open his eyes?
DOMINICAN. And was he troubled by those awful thoughts, like Job says, 'When I say, my bed will comfort me, then You scare me with dreams and terrify me with visions; so that my soul chooses strangling and death rather than life.' That's how it should be. Did it make him see things differently?
MOTHER. Yes. But only so that his sight was blinded. For his sufferings grew so great that he could no longer find a natural explanation for them, and as no doctor could cure him, he began to see that he was fighting higher conscious powers.
MOTHER. Yes. But only because his vision was clouded. His pain became so intense that he could no longer understand it naturally, and since no doctor could help him, he started to realize that he was battling greater forces of awareness.
DOMINICAN. Powers that meant him ill, and were therefore themselves evil. That's the usual course of things. And then?
DOMINICAN. Forces that wished him harm, and were thus themselves corrupt. That's how things usually go. So what happens next?
MOTHER. He came upon books that taught him that such evil powers could be fought.
MOTHER. He found books that showed him that such evil forces could be battled.
DOMINICAN. Oh! So he looked for what's hidden, and should remain so! Did he succeed in exorcising the spirits that chastised him?
DOMINICAN. Oh! So he searched for what’s concealed and should stay that way! Did he manage to drive away the spirits that tormented him?
MOTHER. He says he did. And it seems now that he can sleep again.
MOTHER. He says he did. And it looks like he can sleep again now.
DOMINICAN. Yes, and he believes what he says. Yet, since he hasn't truly accepted the love of truth, God will trouble him with great delusion, so that he'll believe what is false.
DOMINICAN. Yes, and he genuinely believes what he says. However, since he hasn't really embraced the love of truth, God will send him a strong delusion, causing him to believe what is false.
MOTHER. The fault's his own. But he's changed my daughter: in other days she was neither hot nor cold; but now she's on the way to becoming evil.
MOTHER. It's his fault. But he's changed my daughter: before, she was indifferent; now she's heading toward being wicked.
DOMINICAN. How do the two of them get on?
DOMINICAN. How do they get along?
MOTHER. Half the time, happily; the other half they plague one another like devils.
MOTHER. Half the time, it’s all good; the other half, they annoy each other like crazy.
DOMINICAN. That's the way they must go. Plague one another till they come to the Cross.
DOMINICAN. That's how they have to go. Torment each other until they come to the Cross.
MOTHER. If they don't part again.
MOTHER. If they don’t separate again.
DOMINICAN. What? Have they done so?
DOMINICAN. What? Have they actually done that?
MOTHER. They've left one another four times, but have always come back. It seems as if they're chained together. It would be a good thing if they were, for a child's on the way.
MOTHER. They've broken up four times, but they always return to each other. It feels like they're tied together. It would be better if they were, because a baby is on the way.
DOMINICAN. Let the child come. Children bring gifts that are refreshing to tired souls.
DOMINICAN. Let the child come. Kids bring gifts that refresh tired souls.
MOTHER. I hope it may be so. But it looks as if this one will be an apple of discord. They're already quarrelling over its name; they're quarrelling over its baptism; and the mother's already jealous of her husband's children by his first wife. He can't promise to love this child as much as the others, and the mother absolutely insists that he shall! So there's no end to their miseries.
MOTHER. I hope that's true. But it seems like this one will cause a lot of tension. They're already fighting over its name; they’re arguing about the baptism; and the mother is already jealous of her husband's kids from his first marriage. He can't promise to love this child as much as the others, and the mother is insisting that he has to! So there’s no end to their problems.
DOMINICAN. Oh yes, there is. Wait! He's had dealings with higher powers, so that we've gained a hold on him; and our prayers will be more, powerful than his resistance. Their effect is as extraordinary as it is mysterious. (The STRANGER appears on the terrace. He is in hunting costume and wears a tropical helmet. In his hand he has an alpenstock.) Is that him, up there?
DOMINICAN. Oh yes, there is. Wait! He's had interactions with higher powers, so we’ve managed to gain an upper hand on him; and our prayers will be stronger than his resistance. Their impact is as incredible as it is mysterious. (The STRANGER appears on the terrace. He is dressed for hunting and wearing a tropical helmet. He has an alpenstock in his hand.) Is that him up there?
MOTHER. Yes. That's my present son-in-law.
MOTHER. Yes. That's my current son-in-law.
DOMINICAN. Singularly like the first! But watch how he's behaving. He hasn't seen me yet, but he feels I'm here. (He makes the sign of the cross in the air.) Look how troubled he grows.... Now he stiffens like an icicle. See! In a moment he'll cry out.
DOMINICAN. Just like the first one! But check out how he's acting. He hasn't spotted me yet, but he senses I'm here. (He makes the sign of the cross in the air.) Look how anxious he gets.... Now he freezes like an icicle. See! In a moment, he'll shout out.
STRANGER (who has suddenly stopped, grown rigid, and clutched his heart). Who's down there?
STRANGER (who has suddenly stopped, tensed up, and grabbed his heart). Who's down there?
MOTHER. I am.
MOM. I am.
STRANGER. You're not alone.
You're not alone.
MOTHER. No. I've someone with me.
MOTHER. No. I have someone with me.
DOMINICAN (making the sign of the cross). Now he'll say nothing; but fall like a felled tree. (The STRANGER crumples up and falls to the ground.) Now I shall go. It would be too much for him if he were to see me, But I'll come back soon. You'll see, he's in good hands! Farewell and peace be with you. (He goes out.)
DOMINICAN (making the sign of the cross). Now he won’t say anything; he’ll just drop like a tree that's been cut down. (The STRANGER crumples up and falls to the ground.) Now I’ll leave. It would be too much for him to see me, but I’ll be back soon. You’ll see, he’s in good hands! Goodbye and take care. (He goes out.)
STRANGER (raising himself and coming down the steps). Who was that?
STRANGER (standing up and coming down the steps). Who was that?
MOTHER. A traveller. Sit down; you look so pale.
MOTHER. A traveler. Sit down; you look so pale.
STRANGER. It was a fainting fit.
STRANGER. It was a fainting spell.
MOTHER. You've always new names for it; but they mean nothing fresh. Sit down here, on the seat.
MOTHER. You always come up with new names for it, but they don’t really mean anything different. Sit down here on the seat.
STRANGER. No; I don't like sitting there. People are always passing.
STRANGER. No; I don't like sitting there. People are always walking by.
MOTHER. Yet I've been sitting here since I was a child, watching life glide past as the river does below. Here, on the road, I've watched the children of men go by, playing, haggling, begging, cursing and dancing. I love this seat and I love the river below, though it does much damage every year and washes away the property we inherited. Last spring it carried our whole hay crop off, so that we had to sell our beasts. The property's lost half its value in the last few years, and when the lake in the mountains has reached its new level and the swamp's been drained into the river, the water will rise till it washes the house away. We've been at law about it for ten years, and we've lost every appeal; so we shall be destroyed. It's as inevitable as fate.
MOTHER. I've been sitting here since I was a kid, watching life pass by like the river below. Here, on the road, I've seen people come and go—kids playing, people bargaining, begging, swearing, and dancing. I love this spot and I love the river down there, even though it causes a lot of damage every year and washes away the property we inherited. Last spring, it took our entire hay crop, so we had to sell our animals. The property's lost half its value in the past few years, and when the lake in the mountains reaches its new level and the swamp drains into the river, the water will rise until it washes the house away. We've been in legal battles about it for ten years and we've lost every appeal; so we are doomed. It's as unavoidable as fate.
STRANGER. Fate's not inevitable.
STRANGER. Fate isn't inevitable.
MOTHER. Beware, if you think to fight it.
MOTHER. Be careful if you plan to fight it.
STRANGER. I've done so already.
STRANGER. I've already done that.
MOTHER. There you go again! You learn nothing from the chastisement of Providence.
MOTHER. There you go again! You don't learn anything from the consequences of fate.
STRANGER. Oh yes. I've learned to hate. Can one love what does evil?
STRANGER. Oh yes. I've learned to hate. Can you really love someone who does evil?
MOTHER. I've little learning, as you know; but I read yesterday in an encyclopaedia that the Eumenides are not evilly disposed.
MOTHER. I don't have much knowledge, as you know; but I read yesterday in an encyclopedia that the Eumenides aren't actually bad.
STRANGER. That's true; but it's a lie they're friendly. I only know one friendly fury. My own!
STRANGER. That's true; but it's a lie that they're friendly. The only friendly fury I know is my own!
MOTHER. Can you call Ingeborg a fury?
MOTHER. Can you really call Ingeborg a rage-filled woman?
STRANGER. Yes. She is one; and as a fury, she's remarkable. Her talent for making me suffer excels my most infernal inventions; and if I escape from her hands with my life, I'll come out of the fire as pure as gold.
STRANGER. Yes. She is one; and as a fury, she's impressive. Her ability to make me suffer surpasses my most terrible schemes; and if I manage to escape from her grip with my life, I'll come out of the experience as pure as gold.
MOTHER. You've got what you deserve. You wanted to mould her as you wished, and you've succeeded.
MOTHER. You've gotten what you wanted. You wanted to shape her to your liking, and you did.
STRANGER. Completely. But where is this fury?
STRANGER. Completely. But where is this anger?
MOTHER. She went down the road a few minutes ago.
MOTHER. She just went down the road a few minutes ago.
STRANGER. Down there? Then I'll go to meet my own destruction. (He goes towards the back.)
STRANGER. Down there? Then I'll just head straight to my own doom. (He walks toward the back.)
MOTHER. So you can still joke about it? Wait! (The MOTHER is left alone for a moment, until the STRANGER has disappeared. The LADY then enters from the right. She is wearing a summer frock, and is carrying a post bag and some opened letters in her hand.)
MOTHER. So you can still make jokes about it? Wait! (The MOTHER is left alone for a moment, until the STRANGER has disappeared. The LADY then enters from the right. She is wearing a summer dress and carrying a mail bag and some opened letters in her hand.)
LADY. Are you alone, Mother?
LADY. Are you by yourself, Mom?
MOTHER. I've just been left alone.
MOTHER. I’ve just been left by myself.
LADY. Here's the post. This is for job.
LADY. Here's the mail. This is for a job.
MOTHER. What? Do you open his letters?
MOTHER. What? You read his letters?
LADY. All of them, because I want to know who it is I've linked my life to. And I want to suppress everything that might minister to his pride. In a word, I isolate him, so that he has to keep his own electricity and run the danger of being broken to pieces.
LADY. All of them, because I want to know who I’ve tied my life to. And I want to shut down anything that might feed his pride. In short, I isolate him, so he has to keep his own energy and risks being shattered.
MOTHER. How learnèd you've grown?
MOTHER. How much you've grown?
LADY. Yes. If he's unwise enough to confide almost everything to me, I'll soon hold his fate in my hand. Now, if you please, he's making electrical experiments and claims he'll be able to harness the lightning, so that it'll give him light, warmth and power. Well, let him do as he likes! From a letter that came to-day I see he's even corresponding with alchemists.
LADY. Yes. If he's foolish enough to share almost everything with me, I'll quickly have control over his future. Now, if you don’t mind, he’s conducting electrical experiments and insists he can capture lightning to provide him with light, heat, and power. Well, let him do what he wants! From a letter I received today, I see he’s even in touch with alchemists.
MOTHER. Does he want to make gold? Is the man sane?
MOTHER. Does he want to make gold? Is he even sane?
LADY. That's the important question. Whether he's a charlatan doesn't matter so much.
LADY. That's the key question. Whether he's a fraud isn't that important.
MOTHER. Do you suspect it?
MOTHER. Do you think so?
LADY. I'd believe any evil of him, and any good, on the same day.
LADY. I could believe anything bad about him and anything good about him, all in one day.
MOTHER. Is there any other news?
MOTHER: Is there any other news?
LADY. The plans my divorced husband made for a new marriage have gone wrong; he's grown melancholic, abandoned his practice and is tramping the roads.
LADY. The plans my ex-husband made for a new marriage have fallen apart; he's become depressed, quit his job, and is wandering the streets.
MOTHER. Oh! He was always my son-in-law. He had a kind heart under his rough manner.
MOTHER. Oh! He was always my son-in-law. He had a kind heart beneath his tough exterior.
LADY. Yes. I only called him a werewolf in his rôle as my husband and master. As long as I knew he was at peace, and on the way to find consolation, Ì was content. But now he'll torment me like a bad conscience.
LADY. Yes. I only referred to him as a werewolf in his role as my husband and master. As long as I knew he was at peace and on his way to finding comfort, I was fine. But now he'll haunt me like a guilty conscience.
MOTHER. Have you a conscience?
MOTHER. Do you have a conscience?
LADY. I never used to have one. But my eyes have been opened since I read my husband's works, and I know the difference between good and evil.
LADY. I never used to have one. But my eyes have been opened since I read my husband's work, and I know the difference between right and wrong.
MOTHER. But he forbade you to read them, and never foresaw you wouldn't obey him.
MOTHER. But he told you not to read them, and he never expected that you would disobey him.
LADY. Who can foresee all the results of any action?
LADY. Who can predict all the outcomes of any action?
MOTHER. Have you more bad news in your pocket, Pandora?
MOTHER. Do you have more bad news tucked away, Pandora?
LADY. The worst of all! Think of it, Mother, his divorced wife's going to marry again.
LADY. The worst of all! Can you believe it, Mom? His ex-wife is getting married again.
MOTHER. That ought to be reassuring, to you and to him.
MOTHER. That should be comforting for both you and him.
LADY. Didn't you know it was his worst nightmare? That his wife would marry again and his children have a stepfather?
LADY. Didn't you know it was his biggest fear? That his wife would marry someone else and his kids would have a stepdad?
MOTHER. If he can bear that alone, I shall think him a strange man.
MOTHER. If he can handle that by himself, I’ll think he’s a weird guy.
LADY. You believe he's too sensitive? But didn't he say himself that an educated man of the world at the end of the nineteenth century never lets himself be put out of countenance!
LADY. You think he’s too sensitive? But didn’t he say himself that an educated man of the world at the end of the nineteenth century never lets himself get flustered!
MOTHER. It's easy to say so; but when things really happen....
MOTHER. It’s easy to say that; but when things actually happen....
LADY. Yet there was a gift at the bottom of Pandora's box that was no misfortune. Look, Mother! A portrait of his six-year-old son.
LADY. But there was one gift at the bottom of Pandora's box that wasn't a misfortune. Look, Mom! A portrait of his six-year-old son.
MOTHER (looking at the picture). A lovely child.
MOTHER (looking at the picture). What a beautiful child.
LADY. It does one good to see such a charming and expressive picture. Tell me, do you think my child will be as beautiful? Well, what do you say? Answer, or I'll be unhappy! I love this boy already, but I feel I'd hate him if my child's not as lovely as he. Yes, I'm jealous already.
LADY. It’s so nice to see such a beautiful and expressive portrait. Tell me, do you think my child will be as beautiful? So, what do you think? Answer me, or I’ll be upset! I already love this boy, but I feel like I’d resent him if my child isn’t as lovely as he is. Yes, I’m already feeling jealous.
MOTHER. When you came here after your unlucky honeymoon, I'd hoped you'd have got over the worst. But now I see it was only a foretaste of what was to come.
MOTHER. When you got here after your unfortunate honeymoon, I had hoped you’d be over the worst of it. But now I realize it was just a preview of what was ahead.
LADY. I'm ready for anything; and I don't think this knot can ever be undone. It must be cut!
LADY. I'm ready for anything; and I don’t think this knot can ever be untied. It has to be cut!
MOTHER. But you're only making more difficulties for yourself by suppressing his letters.
MOTHER. But you're just complicating things for yourself by ignoring his letters.
LADY. In days gone by, when I went through life like a sleep-walker, everything seemed easy to me, but I begin to be uncertain now he's started to waken thoughts in me. (She puts the letters into the post-bag.) Here he is. 'Sh!
LADY. Back in the day, when I moved through life like a sleepwalker, everything felt simple to me. But now that he’s starting to stir thoughts inside me, I’m feeling unsure. (She puts the letters into the post-bag.) Here he is. 'Sh!
MOTHER. One thing more. Why do you let him wear that suit of your first husband's?
MOTHER. One more thing. Why do you allow him to wear that suit of your first husband?
LADY. I like torturing and humiliating him. I've persuaded him it fits him and belonged to my father. Now, when I see him in the werewolf's things, I feel I've got both of them in my clutches.
LADY. I enjoy tormenting and humiliating him. I've convinced him that it suits him and that it belonged to my father. Now, when I see him in the werewolf's clothes, I feel like I have both of them right where I want them.
MOTHER. Heaven defend us! How spiteful you've grown!
MOTHER. Oh my gosh! You've become so spiteful!
LADY. Perhaps that was my rôle, if I have one in this man's life!
LADY. Maybe that's my role, if I even have one in this guy's life!
MOTHER. I sometimes wish the river would rise and carry us all away whilst we're asleep at night. If it were to flow here for a thousand years perhaps it would wash out the sin on which this house is built.
MOTHER. I sometimes wish the river would flood and sweep us all away while we’re sleeping at night. If it flowed here for a thousand years, maybe it would wash away the sins this house is built on.
LADY. Then it's true that my grandfather, the notary, illegally seized property not his own? It's said this place was built with the heritage of widows and orphans, the funds of ruined men, the property of dead ones and the bribes of litigants.
LADY. So it's true that my grandfather, the notary, illegally took property that wasn't his? I've heard this place was built with the money from widows and orphans, the funds of broke men, the property of the deceased, and the bribes of people in court.
MOTHER. Don't speak of it any more. The tears of those still living have run together and formed a lake. And it's that lake, people say, that's being drained now, and that'll cause the river to wash us away.
MOTHER. Stop talking about it. The tears of those who are still alive have merged into a lake. And it’s that lake, people say, that’s being drained now, and that will cause the river to sweep us away.
LADY. Can't it be stopped by taking legal action? Is there no justice on earth?
LADY. Can’t we stop it with a lawsuit? Is there really no justice in the world?
MOTHER. Not on earth. But there is in heaven. And heaven will drown us, for we're the children of evildoers. (She goes up the steps.)
MOTHER. Not here on earth. But there is in heaven. And heaven will drown us, because we're the children of wrongdoers. (She goes up the steps.)
LADY. Isn't it enough to put up with one's own tears? Must one inherit other people's?
LADY. Isn't it enough to deal with your own tears? Do you have to take on other people's too?
(The STRANGER comes back.)
(The STRANGER returns.)
STRANGER. Did you call me?
STRANGER. Did you just call me?
LADY. No. I only tried to draw you to me, without really wanting you.
LADY. No. I just tried to pull you closer to me, without actually wanting you.
STRANGER. I felt you meddling with my destiny in a way that made me uneasy. Soon you'll have learnt all I know.
STRANGER. I sensed you interfering with my fate in a way that made me uncomfortable. Soon you’ll know everything I do.
LADY. And more.
LADY. And more.
STRANGER. But I must ask you not to lay rough hands on my fate. I am Cain, you see, and am under the ban of mysterious powers, who permit no mortals to interfere with their work of vengeance. You see this mark on my brow? (He removes his hat.) It means: Revenge is mine, saith the Lord.
STRANGER. But I have to ask you not to interfere with my fate. I am Cain, you see, and I’m cursed by mysterious forces that don’t allow any mortals to mess with their work of vengeance. Do you see this mark on my forehead? (He takes off his hat.) It means: Revenge is mine, says the Lord.
LADY. Does your hat press....
LADY. Does your hat fit....
STRANGER. No. It chafes me. And so does the coat. If it weren't that I wanted to please you, I'd have thrown them all into the river. When I walk here in the neighbourhood, do you know that people call me the doctor? They must take me for your husband, the werewolf. And I'm unlucky. If I ask who planted some tree: they say, the doctor. If I ask to whom the green fish basket belongs: they say, the doctor. And if it isn't his then it belongs to the doctor's wife. That is, to you! This confusion between him and me makes my visit unbearable. I'd like to go away....
STRANGER. No. It annoys me. And so does the coat. If I didn't want to please you, I would have thrown them all into the river. When I walk around here, do you know that people call me the doctor? They must think I'm your husband, the werewolf. And I'm unlucky. If I ask who planted a tree, they say, the doctor. If I ask whose green fish basket it is, they say, the doctor. And if it isn't his, then it belongs to the doctor's wife. That is, to you! This mix-up between him and me makes my visit unbearable. I’d like to leave....
LADY. Haven't you tried in vain to leave this place six times?
LADY. Haven't you tried to leave this place six times without success?
STRANGER. Yes. But the seventh, I'll succeed.
STRANGER. Yeah. But the seventh time, I’ll nail it.
LADY. Then try!
Go for it!
STRANGER. You say that as if you were convinced I'd fail.
STRANGER. You say that like you believe I’m going to fail.
LADY. I am.
I am.
STRANGER. Plague me in some other way, dear fury.
STRANGER. Annoy me in some other way, dear anger.
LADY. Well, I can.
LADY. Sure, I can.
STRANGER. A new way! Try to say something ill-natured that 'the other one's' not said already.
STRANGER. A new approach! Try to say something mean that the other person hasn’t said already.
LADY. Your first wife's 'the other one.' How tactful to remind me of her.
LADY. Your first wife is 'the other one.' How considerate of you to bring her up.
STRANGER. Everything that lives and moves, everything that's dead and cold, reminds me of what's gone....
STRANGER. Everything that lives and moves, everything that's dead and cold, reminds me of what's gone....
LADY. Until the being comes, who can wipe out the darkness of the past and bring light.
LADY. Until the one arrives who can erase the darkness of the past and bring light.
STRANGER. You mean the child we're expecting!
STRANGER. You mean the baby we're expecting!
LADY. Our child!
Our kid!
STRANGER. Do you love it?
STRANGER. Do you love it?
LADY. I began to to-day.
LADY. I started today.
STRANGER. To-day? Why, what's happened? Five months ago you wanted to run off to the lawyers and divorce me; because I wouldn't take you to a quack who'd kill your unborn child.
STRANGER. Today? What happened? Five months ago, you wanted to rush off to the lawyers and divorce me because I wouldn’t take you to a quack who would harm our unborn child.
LADY. That was some time ago. Things have changed now.
LADY. That was a while ago. Things are different now.
STRANGER. Why now? (He looks round as if expecting something.) Now? Has the post come?
STRANGER. Why now? (He looks around as if expecting something.) Now? Has the mail arrived?
LADY. You're still more cunning than I am. But the pupil will outstrip the master.
LADY. You're still smarter than I am. But the student will surpass the teacher.
STRANGER. Were there any letters for me?
STRANGER. Were there any letters for me?
LADY. No.
LADY. Nope.
STRANGER. Then give me the wrapper?
STRANGER. Then hand me the wrapper?
LADY. What made you guess?
LADY. What gave it away?
STRANGER. Give the wrapper, if your conscience can make such fine distinctions between it and the letter.
STRANGER. Hand over the wrapper, if your conscience can tell the difference between it and the letter.
LADY (picking up the letter-bag, which she has hidden behind the seat). Look at this! (The STRANGER takes the photograph, looks at it carefully, and puts it in his breast-pocket.) What was it?
LADY (picking up the letter-bag, which she has hidden behind the seat). Check this out! (The STRANGER takes the photograph, examines it closely, and puts it in his pocket.) What was it?
STRANGER. The past.
STRANGER. The past.
LADY. Was it beautiful?
LADY. Was it nice?
STRANGER. Yes. More beautiful than the future can ever be.
STRANGER. Yes. More beautiful than the future could ever be.
LADY (darkly). You shouldn't have said that.
LADY (darkly). You shouldn't have said that.
STRANGER. No, I admit it. And I'm sorry....
STRANGER. No, I admit it. And I'm sorry....
LADY. Tell me, are you capable of suffering?
LADY. Tell me, can you feel pain?
STRANGER. Now, I suffer twice; because I feel when you're suffering. And if I wound you in self-defence, it's I who gets fever from the wound.
STRANGER. Now, I suffer double; because I feel your pain. And if I hurt you to protect myself, it's me who gets sick from the injury.
LADY. That means you're at my mercy?
LADY. So that means you're at my mercy?
STRANGER. No. Less now than ever, because you're protected by the innocent being you carry beneath your heart.
STRANGER. No. Even less now, because you're protected by the innocent life you carry inside you.
LADY. He shall be my avenger.
LADY. He will be my avenger.
STRANGER. Or mine!
STRANGER. Or my friend!
LADY (tearfully). Poor little thing. Conceived in sin and shame, and born to avenge by hate.
LADY (tearfully). Poor little thing. Brought into the world in sin and shame, and destined to seek revenge through hate.
STRANGER. It's a long time since I've heard you speak like that.
STRANGER. It's been a while since I heard you talk like that.
LADY. I dare say.
Lady, I must say.
STRANGER. That was the voice that first drew me to you; it was like that of a mother speaking to her child.
STRANGER. That was the voice that first attracted me to you; it was like a mother talking to her child.
LADY. When you say 'mother' I feel I can only believe good of you; but a moment after I say to myself: it's only one more of your ways of deceiving me.
LADY. When you say 'mother,' I want to believe the best about you; but then I remind myself that it might just be another one of your tricks to fool me.
STRANGER. What ill have I ever really done you? (The LADY is uncertain what to reply.) Answer me. What ill have I done you?
STRANGER. What harm have I ever truly done to you? (The LADY is unsure how to respond.) Answer me. What harm have I done to you?
LADY. I don't know.
LADY. I don't know.
STRANGER. Then invent something. Say to me: I hate you, because I can't deceive you.
STRANGER. Then create something. Tell me: I hate you because I can't trick you.
LADY. Can't I? Oh, I'm sorry for you.
LADY. Can’t I? Oh, I feel sorry for you.
STRANGER. You must have poison in the pocket of your dress.
STRANGER. You must have poison in the pocket of your dress.
LADY. Well, I have!
LADY. Well, I have!
STRANGER. What can it be? (Pause.) Who's that coming down the road?
STRANGER. What could it be? (Pause.) Who's that walking down the road?
LADY. A harbinger.
LADY. A sign of things to come.
STRANGER. Is it a man, or a spectre?
STRANGER. Is it a man or a ghost?
LADY. A spectre from the past.
LADY. A ghost from the past.
STRANGER. He's wearing a black coat and a laurel crown. But his feet are bare.
STRANGER. He's wearing a black coat and a laurel crown. But his feet are bare.
LADY. It's Caesar.
It's Caesar.
STRANGER (confused). Caesar? That was my nickname at school.
STRANGER (confused). Caesar? That was my nickname in school.
LADY. Yes. But it's also the name of the madman whom my... first husband used to look after. Forgive me speaking of him like that.
LADY. Yes. But it's also the name of the crazy person my... first husband used to take care of. Sorry for referring to him like that.
STRANGER. Has this madman got away?
STRANGER. Has this crazy person escaped?
LADY. It looks like it, doesn't it?
LADY. It really does, doesn’t it?
(CAESAR comes in from the back; he wears a black frock coat and is without a collar; he has a laurel crown on his head and his feet are bare. His general appearance is bizarre.)
(CAESAR comes in from the back; he’s wearing a black coat and no collar; he has a laurel crown on his head and he’s barefoot. His overall look is strange.)
CAESAR. Why don't you greet me? You ought to say: Ave, Caesar! For now I'm the master. The werewolf, you must know, has gone out of his mind since the Great Man went off with his wife, whom he himself snatched from her first lover, or bridegroom, or whatever you call him.
CAESAR. Why aren’t you greeting me? You should say: Hi, Caesar! Because right now, I’m in charge. The werewolf, just so you know, has lost his mind ever since the Great Man left with his wife, whom he took from her first love, or fiancé, or whatever you want to call him.
STRANGER (to the LADY). That was strychnine for two adults! (To CAESAR) Where's your master now—or your slave, or doctor, or warder?
STRANGER (to the LADY). That was strychnine for two adults! (To CAESAR) Where's your master now—or your servant, or doctor, or guard?
CAESAR. He'll be here soon. But you needn't be frightened of him. He won't use daggers or poison. He only has to show himself, for all living things to fly from him; for trees to drop their leaves, and the very dust of the highway to run before him in a whirlwind like the pillar of cloud before the Children of Israel....
CAESAR. He'll be here soon. But you don't have to be afraid of him. He won't use daggers or poison. He just has to show up, and all living things will scatter; trees will shed their leaves, and even the dust on the road will swirl away from him like the pillar of cloud before the Children of Israel....
STRANGER. Listen....
STRANGER. Hey, listen....
CAESAR. Quiet, whilst I'm speaking.... Sometimes he believes himself to be a werewolf, and says he'd like to eat a little child that's not yet born, and that's really his according to the right of priority.... (He goes on his way.)
CAESAR. Quiet while I’m talking.... Sometimes he thinks he’s a werewolf and says he wants to eat a baby that hasn’t been born yet, and that’s actually his by right of first claim.... (He continues on his way.)
LADY (to the STRANGER). Can you exorcise this demon?
LADY (to the STRANGER). Can you get rid of this demon?
STRANGER. I can do nothing against devils who brave the sunshine.
STRANGER. I can’t do anything against demons who face the sunlight.
LADY. Yesterday you made an arrogant remark, and now you shall have it back. You said it wasn't fair for invisible ones to creep in by night and strike in the darkness, they should come by day when the sun's shining. Now they've come!
LADY. Yesterday you made a cocky comment, and now you’re getting it back. You said it wasn’t fair for the unseen to sneak in at night and attack in the dark; they should show up during the day when the sun’s out. Well, now they’re here!
STRANGER. And that pleases you!
STRANGER. And that makes you happy!
LADY. Yes. Almost.
LADY. Yeah. Almost.
STRANGER. What a pity it gives me no pleasure when it's you who's struck! Let's sit down on the seat—the bench for the accused. For more are coming.
STRANGER. What a shame it doesn't make me happy when you're the one who's hit! Let's sit down on the bench—the one for the accused. More people are coming.
LADY. I'd rather we went.
LADY. I'd prefer we leave.
STRANGER. No, I want to see how much I can bear. You see, at every stroke of the lash I feel as if a debit entry had been erased from my ledger.
STRANGER. No, I want to see how much I can handle. You see, with every strike of the whip, it feels like a negative entry has been removed from my account.
LADY. But I can stand no more. Look, there he comes himself. Heavens! This man, whom I once thought I loved!
LADY. But I can't take it anymore. Look, he's coming right now. Oh my gosh! This man, whom I once thought I loved!
STRANGER. Thought? Yes, because everything's merely delusion. And that means a great deal. You go! I'll take the duty on myself of confronting him alone.
STRANGER. Thinking? Yes, because everything is just an illusion. And that means a lot. You go! I'll take it upon myself to confront him alone.
(The LADY goes up the steps, but does not reach the toy before the DOCTOR becomes visible at the back of the stage. The DOCTOR comes in, his grey hair long and unkempt. He is wearing a tropical helmet and a hunting coat, which are exactly similar to the clothes of the STRANGER. He behaves as though he doesn't notice the STRANGER'S presence, and sits down on a stone on the other side of the road, opposite the STRANGER, who is sitting on the seat. He takes of his hat and mops the sweat from his brow. The STRANGER grows impatient.) What do you want?
(The LADY goes up the steps but doesn’t reach the toy before the DOCTOR appears at the back of the stage. The DOCTOR enters, his grey hair long and messy. He’s wearing a tropical helmet and a hunting coat, which are exactly like the clothes of the STRANGER. He acts as if he doesn’t notice the STRANGER and sits down on a stone across the road, opposite the STRANGER, who is sitting on a bench. He takes off his hat and wipes the sweat from his forehead. The STRANGER gets impatient.) What do you want?
DOCTOR. Only to see this house again, where my happiness once dwelt and my roses blossomed....
DOCTOR. Just to see this house again, where my happiness once lived and my roses bloomed....
STRANGER. An intelligent man of the world would have chosen a time when the present inhabitants of the house were away for a short while; even on his own account, so as not to make himself ridiculous.
STRANGER. A smart, worldly person would have picked a time when the current residents of the house were gone for a bit; even for his own sake, so he wouldn’t look foolish.
DOCTOR. Ridiculous? I'd like to know which of us two's the more ridiculous?
DOCTOR. Ridiculous? I'd like to know who's more ridiculous between us.
STRANGER. For the moment, I suppose I am.
STRANGER. For now, I guess I am.
DOCTOR. Yes. But I don't think you know the whole extent of your wretchedness.
DOCTOR. Yes. But I don't think you fully understand how miserable you really are.
STRANGER. What do you mean?
STRANGER. What do you mean?
DOCTOR. That you want to possess what I used to possess.
DOCTOR. That you want to have what I once had.
STRANGER. Well, go on.
STRANGER. Go ahead.
DOCTOR. Have you noticed that we're wearing similar clothes? Good! Do you know the reason? It's this: you're wearing the things I forgot to fetch when the catastrophe took place. No intelligent man of the world at the end of the nineteenth century would ever put himself into such a position.
DOCTOR. Have you noticed that we're wearing similar clothes? Good! Do you know why? It's because you're wearing the things I forgot to grab when the disaster happened. No sensible person at the end of the nineteenth century would ever find themselves in such a situation.
STRANGER (throwing down his hat and coat). Curse the woman!
STRANGER (throwing down his hat and coat). Damn the woman!
DOCTOR. You needn't complain. Cast-off male attire has always been fatal ever since the celebrated shirt of Nessus. Go in now and change. I'll sit out here and watch, and listen, how you settle the matter alone with that accursèd woman. Don't forget your stick! (The LADY, who is hurrying towards the house, trips in front of the steps. The STRANGER stays where he is in embarrassment.) The stick! The stick!
DOCTOR. You don't need to complain. Men's discarded clothes have always been a disaster, ever since the famous shirt of Nessus. Go inside and change. I'll stay out here and watch, and listen, as you handle things alone with that cursed woman. Don't forget your cane! (The LADY, hurrying towards the house, trips in front of the steps. The STRANGER remains where he is, feeling awkward.) The cane! The cane!
STRANGER. I don't ask mercy for the woman's sake, but for the child's.
STRANGER. I'm not asking for mercy for the woman, but for the child.
DOCTOR (wildly). So there's a child, too. Our house, our roses, our clothes, the bed-clothes not forgotten, and now our child! I'm within your doors, I sit at your table, I lie in your bed; I exist in your blood; in your lungs, in your brain; I am everywhere and yet you can't get hold of me. When the pendulum strikes the hour of midnight, I'll blow cold, on your heart, so that it stops like a clock that's run down. When you sit at your work, I shall come with a poppy, invisible to you, that will put your thoughts to sleep, and confuse your mind, so that you'll see visions you can't distinguish from reality. I shall lie like a stone in your path, so that you stumble; I shall be the thorn that pricks your hand when you go to pluck the rose. My soul shall spin itself about you like a spider's web; and I shall guide you like an ox by means of the woman you stole from me. Your child shall be mine and I shall speak through its mouth; you shall see my look in its eyes, so that you'll thrust it from you like a foe. And now, belovèd house, farewell; farewell, 'rose' room—where no happiness shall dwell that I could envy. (He goes out. The STRANGER has been sitting on the seat all this time, without being able to answer, and has been listening as if he were the accused.)
DOCTOR (wildly). So there’s a child too. Our home, our roses, our clothes, the bedding not forgotten, and now our child! I’m inside your doors, I sit at your table, I lie in your bed; I exist in your blood, in your lungs, in your brain; I’m everywhere and yet you can’t grasp me. When the clock strikes midnight, I’ll chill your heart until it stops like a clock that’s wound down. When you're working, I’ll appear with a poppy, invisible to you, that will put your thoughts to sleep and confuse your mind so that you'll see visions you can’t tell apart from reality. I’ll lie like a stone in your way, causing you to trip; I’ll be the thorn that pricks your hand when you try to pick the rose. My soul will wrap around you like a spider's web; I’ll guide you like an ox by the woman you took from me. Your child will be mine and I’ll speak through its mouth; you’ll see my look in its eyes, so you’ll reject it like an enemy. And now, beloved house, goodbye; goodbye, 'rose' room—where no happiness will dwell that I could envy. (He exits. The STRANGER has been sitting there all this time, unable to respond, listening as if he were the accused.)
Curtain.
Curtain.
ACT II
SCENE I
LABORATORY[A Garden Pavilion in rococo style with high windows. In the middle of the room there is a large writing desk on which are various pieces of chemical and physical apparatus. Two copper wires are suspended from the ceiling to an electroscope that is standing on the middle of the table and which is provided with a number of bells, intended to record the tension of atmospheric electricity.]
[A Garden Pavilion in rococo style with tall windows. In the center of the room, there is a large writing desk that holds various pieces of chemical and physical equipment. Two copper wires hang from the ceiling to an electroscope that stands in the middle of the table and is fitted with several bells to record the levels of atmospheric electricity.]
[On the table to the left a large old-fashioned frictional electric generating machine, with glass plates, brass conductors, and Leyden battery. The stands are lacquered red and white. On the right a large old-fashioned open fireplace with tripods, crucibles, pincers, bellows, etc.]
[On the table to the left, there's a large vintage electric generator with glass plates, brass conductors, and a Leyden battery. The stands are painted red and white. On the right, there’s a big old-fashioned open fireplace with tripods, crucibles, tongs, bellows, and more.]
[In the background a door with a view of the country beyond; it is dark and cloudy weather, but the red rays of the sun occasionally shine into the room. A brown cloak with a cape and hood is hanging up by the fireplace; nearby a travelling bag and an alpenstock. The STRANGER and the MOTHER are discovered together.]
[In the background, a door opens to a view of the countryside outside; the weather is dark and cloudy, but the sun’s red rays occasionally shine into the room. A brown cloak with a cape and hood hangs by the fireplace; next to it is a travel bag and a hiking stick. The STRANGER and the MOTHER are seen together.]
STRANGER. Where is... Ingeborg?
STRANGER. Where is Ingeborg?
MOTHER. You know that better than I.
MOTHER: You know that better than I do.
STRANGER. With the lawyer, arranging a divorce....
STRANGER. With the lawyer, sorting out a divorce....
MOTHER. Why?
MOM. Why?
STRANGER. I told you. No, it's so far-fetched, you'll think I'm lying to you.
STRANGER. I told you. No, it's so unbelievable, you'll think I'm making it up.
MOTHER. Well, tell me!
MOM. So, what’s up?
STRANGER. She wants a divorce, because I've refused to turn this man out, although he's deranged. She says it's cowardly of me....
STRANGER. She wants a divorce because I won't kick this guy out, even though he's crazy. She says I'm being cowardly...
MOTHER. I don't believe it.
MOM. I can't believe it.
STRANGER. You see! You only believe what you wish; all the rest is lies. Well, can you find it in accordance with your interests to believe that she's been stealing my letters?
STRANGER. You see! You only believe what you want; everything else is a lie. So, do you think it suits your interests to believe that she's been stealing my letters?
MOTHER. I know nothing of that.
MOTHER. I don't know anything about that.
STRANGER. I'm not asking you whether you know of it, but whether you believe it.
STRANGER. I'm not asking if you know about it, but if you believe it.
MOTHER (changing the subject). What are you trying to do here?
MOTHER (changing the subject). What are you trying to accomplish here?
STRANGER. I'm making experiments concerning atmospheric electricity.
STRANGER. I'm experimenting with atmospheric electricity.
MOTHER. And that's the lighting conductor, that you've connected to the desk!
MOTHER. And that's the lightning rod that you've hooked up to the desk!
STRANGER. Yes. But there's no danger; for the bells would ring if there were an atmospheric disturbance.
STRANGER. Yes. But there's no danger; the bells would ring if there was any kind of atmospheric disturbance.
MOTHER. That's blasphemy and black magic. Take care! And what are you doing there, in the fireplace?
MOTHER. That's blasphemy and dark magic. Be careful! And what are you doing there, in the fireplace?
STRANGER. Making gold.
STRANGER. Creating gold.
MOTHER. You think it possible?
MOTHER. Do you think it's possible?
STRANGER. You take it for granted I'm a charlatan? I shan't blame you for that; but don't judge too quickly. At any moment I expect to get a sworn statement of analysis.
STRANGER. You assume I'm a fraud? I can’t fault you for that; but don’t jump to conclusions too quickly. I expect to receive a sworn statement of analysis at any moment.
MOTHER. I dare say. But what are you going to do if Ingeborg doesn't come back?
MOTHER. I must say. But what will you do if Ingeborg doesn't come back?
STRANGER. She will, this time. Later, perhaps, when the child's here, she'll cut herself adrift.
STRANGER. She will this time. Later, maybe, when the child's here, she'll set herself free.
MOTHER. You seem very sure.
MOTHER. You seem confident.
STRANGER. Yes. As I said, I still am. So long as the bond's not broken you can feel it. When it is, you'll feel that unpleasantly clearly, too.
STRANGER. Yes. Like I said, I still am. As long as the bond isn’t broken, you can sense it. When it is, you’ll feel that really clearly too.
MOTHER. But when you've parted from one another, you may yet both be bound to the child. You can't tell in advance.
MOTHER. But when you separate from each other, you might still both be tied to the child. You never know in advance.
STRANGER. I've been providing against that by a great interest, that I hope will fill my empty life.
STRANGER. I've been working hard on that with a strong motivation, which I hope will bring purpose to my empty life.
MOTHER. You mean gold. And honour!
MOTHER. You mean gold and honor!
STRANGER. Precisely! For a man the most enduring of all illusions.
STRANGER. Exactly! For a man, it's the most lasting of all illusions.
MOTHER. So you'd build on illusions?
MOTHER. So you want to rely on illusions?
STRANGER. On what else should I build, when everything's illusion?
STRANGER. What else can I build when everything is an illusion?
MOTHER. If you ever awake from your dream, you'll find a reality of which you've never been able to dream.
MOTHER. If you ever wake up from your dream, you'll discover a reality you could never have imagined.
STRANGER. Then I'll wait till that happens.
STRANGER. Then I'll wait until that happens.
MOTHER. Wait then. Now I'll go and shut the window, before the thunderstorm breaks.
MOTHER. Hang on. I'm going to close the window now, before the thunderstorm hits.
STRANGER (going towards the back of the stage). That's going to be interesting. (A hunting horn is heard in the distance.) Who's sounding that horn?
STRANGER (walking to the back of the stage). This should be interesting. (A hunting horn is heard in the distance.) Who's blowing that horn?
MOTHER. No one knows; and it means nothing good. (She goes out.)
MOTHER. Nobody knows, and it doesn’t mean anything good. (She exits.)
STRANGER (busying himself with the electroscope, and turning his back on the open window as he does so; then taking up a book and reading aloud.) 'When Adam's race of giants had increased enough for them to consider their number sufficient to risk an attack on those above, they began to build a tower that was to reach up to Heaven. Those above were then seized with fear and, in order to protect themselves, broke up the assembled multitude by so confusing their tongues and their minds that two people who met could not understand one another, even if they spoke the same language Since then, those above rule by discord: divide and rule. And the discord is upheld by the belief that the truth has been found; but when one of the prophets is believed, he is a lying prophet. If on the other hand a mortal succeeds in penetrating the secret of those above, no one believes him, and he is struck with madness so that no one ever shall. Since then mortals have been more or less demented, particularly those who are held to be wise, but madmen are in reality the only wise men; for they can see, hear and feel the invisible, the inaudible and the intangible, though they cannot relate their experiences to others.' Thus Zohar, the wisest of all the books of wisdom, and therefore one that no one believes. I shall build no tower of Babel, but I shall tempt the Powers into my mousetrap, and send them to the Powers below, the subterranean ones, so that they can be neutralised. It is the higher Schedim, who have come between mortal men and the Lord Zabaoth; and that is why joy, peace and happiness have vanished from the earth.
STRANGER (busy with the electroscope, turning his back to the open window; then picking up a book and reading aloud.) 'When humanity's race of giants had grown large enough to think they could challenge those above, they started building a tower meant to reach Heaven. Those above became fearful and, to protect themselves, scattered the gathered masses by confusing their languages and thoughts, so much so that two people who met could not understand each other, even if they spoke the same language. Since then, those above have ruled through discord: divide and conquer. This discord continues because many believe they have found the truth; but when someone believes in one of the prophets, that prophet is often a false one. Conversely, if a mortal manages to uncover the secret of those above, no one believes him, and he is doomed to madness so that he can never share it. Since that time, mortals have been more or less insane, especially those deemed wise, but the truly insane are actually the wisest; they can perceive the invisible, hear the inaudible, and feel the intangible, even if they cannot convey their experiences to others.' Thus speaks Zohar, the wisest of all wisdom texts, and yet one that no one believes. I won’t build a tower of Babel, but I will lure the Powers into my trap and send them down to the darker ones below, so they can be neutralized. It is the higher Schedim that stand between humanity and the Lord Zabaoth; that is why joy, peace, and happiness have disappeared from the earth.
LADY (coming back in despair, throwing herself down in front of the STRANGER and putting her arms round his feet and her head on the ground.) Help me! Help me! And forgive me.
LADY (returning in despair, collapsing in front of the STRANGER and wrapping her arms around his feet, her head on the ground.) Help me! Help me! And please forgive me.
STRANGER. Get up. In God's name! Get up. Don't do that. What's happened?
STRANGER. Get up. For God's sake! Get up. Don't do that. What happened?
LADY. In my anger I've behaved foolishly. I've been caught in my own net.
LADY. In my anger, I've acted stupidly. I've gotten trapped in my own web.
STRANGER (lifting her up). Stand up, foolish child; and tell me what's happened.
STRANGER (lifting her up). Get up, silly child; and tell me what happened.
LADY. I went to the public prosecutor.
LADY. I went to the district attorney.
STRANGER.... and asked for a divorce....
STRANGER.... and asked for a divorce....
LADY.... that was my intention; but when I got there, I laid information against the werewolf for a breach of the peace and attempted murder.
LADY.... that was my plan; but when I arrived, I reported the werewolf for disturbing the peace and attempted murder.
STRANGER. But he's guilty of neither!
STRANGER. But he hasn't done anything wrong!
LADY. No, but I laid the information all the same.... And when I was there, he came himself to lay information against me for bearing false witness. Then I went to the lawyer and he told me that I could expect a sentence of at least a month. Think of it, my child will be born in prison! How can I escape from that? Help me. You can. Speak!
LADY. No, but I reported it anyway.... And while I was there, he came himself to report me for perjury. Then I went to the lawyer, and he told me I could expect at least a month in prison. Just think, my child will be born in jail! How can I get out of this? Help me. You can. Please, speak!
STRANGER. Yes, I can help you. But, if I do, don't revenge yourself on me afterwards.
STRANGER. Yes, I can help you. But if I do, please don’t take revenge on me later.
LADY. How little you know me. But tell me quickly.
LADY. You really don't know me at all. But tell me fast.
STRANGER. I must take the blame on myself, and say I sent you.
STRANGER. I have to take the blame for this and say that I sent you.
LADY. How generous you are! Am I rid of the whole business now?
LADY. You're so generous! Am I done with this whole thing now?
STRANGER. Dry your eyes, my child, and take comfort. But tell me about something else, that's nothing to do with this. Did you leave this purse here? (The LADY is embarrassed.) Tell me!
STRANGER. Wipe your tears, my child, and find some peace. But let’s talk about something else, something unrelated. Did you leave this purse here? (The LADY feels awkward.) Please, tell me!
LADY. Has such a thing ever happened before?
LADY. Has this ever happened before?
STRANGER. Yes. The 'other one' wanted to discover, in this way, whether I stole. The first time it happened I wept, because I was still young and innocent.
STRANGER. Yes. The 'other one' wanted to find out if I was stealing. The first time it happened, I cried because I was still young and innocent.
LADY. Oh no!
LADY. Oh no!
STRANGER. Now you seem to me the most wretched creature on earth.
STRANGER. Right now, you look like the most miserable person on earth.
LADY. Is that why you love me?
LADY. Is that the reason you love me?
STRANGER. No. You've been stealing my letters, too! Answer, yes! And that's why you wanted to prove me a thief with this purse.
STRANGER. No. You've been taking my letters, too! Admit it, yes! And that’s why you wanted to frame me as a thief with this purse.
LADY. What have you got there, on the table.
LADY. What do you have there on the table?
STRANGER. Lightning!
STRANGER. Wow, lightning!
(There is a flash of lightning, but no thunder.)
(There’s a flash of lightning, but no thunder.)
LADY. Aren't you afraid?
LADY. Aren't you scared?
STRANGER. Yes, sometimes; but not of what you fear.
STRANGER. Yeah, sometimes; but not of what you're afraid of.
(The contorted face of the DOCTOR appears outside the window.)
(The twisted face of the DOCTOR appears outside the window.)
LADY. Is there a cat in the room? I feel uneasy.
LADY. Is there a cat in the room? I feel a bit on edge.
STRANGER. I don't think so. Yet I too have a feeling that there's someone here.
STRANGER. I don't think so. Still, I have a sense that someone's here.
LADY (turning and seeing the DOCTOR's face; then screaming and hurrying to the STRANGER for protection.) Oh! There he is!
LADY (turning and seeing the DOCTOR's face; then screaming and rushing to the STRANGER for safety.) Oh! There he is!
STRANGER. Where? Who?
STRANGER. Where? Who's there?
(The DOCTOR'S face disappears.)
(The DOCTOR'S face vanishes.)
LADY. There, at the window. It's he!
LADY. Look, at the window. It’s him!
STRANGER. I can see no one. You must be wrong.
STRANGER. I don't see anyone. You must be mistaken.
LADY. No, I saw him. The werewolf! Can't we be rid of him?
LADY. No, I saw him. The werewolf! Can't we just get rid of him?
STRANGER. Yes, we could. But it'd be useless, because he has an immortal soul, which is bound to yours.
STRANGER. Yes, we could. But it wouldn't matter, because he has an immortal soul that's connected to yours.
LADY. If I'd only known that before!
LADY. If I had only known that earlier!
STRANGER. It's surely in the Catechism.
STRANGER. It's definitely in the Catechism.
LADY. Then let us die!
LADY. Then let's die!
STRANGER. That was once my religion; but as I no longer believe that death's the end, nothing remains but to bear everything—to fight, and to suffer!
STRANGER. That used to be my belief; but since I no longer think that death is the end, all that's left is to endure everything—to struggle and to endure pain!
LADY. For how long must we suffer?
LADY. How long do we have to endure this?
STRANGER. As long as he suffers and our consciences plague us.
STRANGER. As long as he endures pain and our consciences bother us.
LADY. Then we must try and justify ourselves to our consciences; find excuses for our frivolous actions, and discover his weaknesses.
LADY. Then we need to try and justify ourselves to our consciences; come up with reasons for our silly actions, and uncover his flaws.
STRANGER. Well, you can try!
STRANGER. Go for it!
LADY. You say that! Since I've known he's unhappy I can see nothing but his qualities, and you lose when I compare you with him.
LADY. You say that! Ever since I found out he’s unhappy, I only see his good qualities, and when I compare you to him, you come up short.
STRANGER. See how well it's arranged! His sufferings sanctify him, but mine make me abhorrent and laughable! We must face the immutable. We've destroyed a soul, so we are murderers.
STRANGER. Look how well it's organized! His suffering makes him noble, but mine makes me repulsive and ridiculous! We have to confront the unchangeable. We've destroyed a soul, so we're murderers.
LADY. Who is to blame?
LADY. Who's to blame?
STRANGER. He who's so mismanaged the fate of men.
STRANGER. The one who's messed up the fate of humanity.
(There is a flash of lightning; the electric bells begin to ring.)
(There is a flash of lightning; the electric bells start to ring.)
LADY. O God! What's that?
LADY. Oh God! What's that?
STRANGER. The answer.
STRANGER. The solution.
LADY. Is there a lightning conductor here?
LADY. Is there a lightning rod here?
STRANGER. The priest of Baal wishes to coax the lightning from heaven....
STRANGER. The priest of Baal wants to draw the lightning down from the sky....
LADY. Now I'm frightened, frightened of you. You're terrifying.
LADY. Now I'm scared, scared of you. You're really scary.
STRANGER. You see!
STRANGER. You see!
LADY. Who are you to defy Heaven, and to dare to play with the destinies of men?
LADY. Who are you to challenge fate and risk messing with people's destinies?
STRANGER. Get up and collect your thoughts. Listen to me, believe me, and pay me the respect that's my due; and I'll lift both of us high above this frog pond, to which we've both descended. I'll breathe on your sick conscience so that it heals like a wound. Who am I? A man who has done what no one else has ever done; who will overthrow the Golden Calf and upset the tables of the money-changers. I hold the fate of the world in my crucible; and in a week I can make the richest of the rich a poor man. Gold, the most false of all standards, has ceased to rule; every man will now be as poor as his neighbour, and the children of men will hurry about like ants whose heap has been disturbed.
STRANGER: Get up and gather your thoughts. Listen to me, trust me, and give me the respect I deserve; I’ll help both of us rise above this miserable situation we find ourselves in. I’ll breathe life into your troubled conscience so it heals like a wound. Who am I? I’m someone who has accomplished what no one else has done; I’ll bring down the Golden Calf and overturn the tables of the money-changers. I hold the world’s future in my hands; in a week, I can turn the wealthiest person into a beggar. Gold, the most deceptive standard of all, is no longer in charge; everyone will be as poor as their neighbor, and people will move around like ants whose nest has been disturbed.
LADY. What good will that be to us?
LADY. How is that going to help us?
STRANGER. Do you think I'll make gold in order to enrich ourselves and others? No. I'll do it to paralyse the present order, to disrupt it, as you'll see! I am the destroyer, the dissolver, the world incendiary; and when all lies in ashes, I shall wander hungrily through the heaps of ruins, rejoicing at the thought that it is all my work: that I have written the last page of world history, which can then be held to be ended.
STRANGER. Do you really think I'm going to make gold just to make us and others wealthy? No. I'm doing it to shake up the current system, to throw it into chaos, just wait and see! I'm the one who destroys, who breaks things down, the one who sets the world ablaze; and when everything is in ruins, I'll roam through the piles of debris, thrilled by the thought that it's all my doing: that I've written the final chapter of world history, which can then be considered closed.
(The face of the DOMINICAN appears at the open window, without being seen by those on the stage.)
(The face of the DOMINICAN appears at the open window, unnoticed by those on stage.)
LADY. Then that was the real meaning of your last book! It was no invention!
LADY. So that was the true meaning of your last book! It wasn't made up!
STRANGER. No. But in order to write it, I had to link myself with the self of another, who could take everything from me that fettered my soul. So that my spirit could once more find a fiery blast, on which to mount to the ether, elude the Powers, and reach the Throne, in order to lay the lamentations of mankind at the feet of the Eternal One.... (The DOMINICAN makes the sign of the cross in the air and disappears.) Who's here? Who is the Terrible One who follows me and cripples my thoughts? Did you see no one?
STRANGER. No. But to write it, I had to connect with another version of myself, someone who could take away everything that was holding my soul back. So my spirit could once again find a fierce surge, to rise up to the heavens, evade the Powers, and reach the Throne, to lay the sorrows of humanity at the feet of the Eternal One.... (The DOMINICAN makes the sign of the cross in the air and disappears.) Who's here? Who is the Terrible One that follows me and cripples my thoughts? Did you see anyone?
LADY. No. No one.
LADY. No. Nobody.
STRANGER. But I can feel his presence. (He puts his hand to his heart.) Can't you hear, far, far away, someone saying a rosary?
STRANGER. But I can sense he's here. (He places his hand on his heart.) Can't you hear, from far away, someone saying a rosary?
LADY. Yes, I can hear it. But it's not the Angels' Greeting. It's the Curse of Deuteronomy! Woe unto us!
LADY. Yes, I can hear it. But it's not the Angels' Greeting. It's the Curse of Deuteronomy! Woe to us!
STRANGER. Then it must be in the convent of St. Saviour.
STRANGER. Then it has to be at the convent of St. Saviour.
LADY. Woe! Woe!
Oh no! Oh no!
STRANGER. Beloved. What is it?
STRANGER. Beloved. What’s that about?
LADY. Belovèd! Say that word again.
LADY. Beloved! Say that word again.
STRANGER. Are you ill?
STRANGER. Are you sick?
LADY. No, but I'm in pain, and yet glad at the same time. Go and ask my mother to make up my bed. But first give me your blessing.
LADY. No, but I'm hurting, and yet I feel happy at the same time. Please go ask my mother to make my bed. But first, give me your blessing.
STRANGER. Shall I...?
STRANGER. Should I...?
LADY. Say you forgive me; I may die, if the child takes my life. Say that you love me.
LADY. Please say you forgive me; I might die if the child takes my life. Just say that you love me.
STRANGER. Strange: I can't get the word to cross my lips.
STRANGER. It's weird: I can't seem to say the word.
LADY. Then you don't love me?
LADY. So you don’t love me?
STRANGER. When you say so, it seems so to me. It's terrible, but I fear I hate you.
STRANGER. When you put it that way, I feel the same. It's awful, but I'm afraid I hate you.
LADY. Then at least give me your hand; as you'd give it to someone in distress.
LADY. Then at least give me your hand; just like you would to someone in trouble.
STRANGER. I'd like to, but I can't. Someone in me takes pleasure in your agony; but it's not I. I'd like to carry you in my arms and bear your suffering for you. But I may not. I cannot!
STRANGER. I'd love to, but I can't. There's a part of me that finds pleasure in your pain; but it's not the real me. I wish I could hold you and take on your suffering for you. But I can't. I just can't!
LADY. You're as hard as stone.
LADY. You're as tough as nails.
STRANGER (with restrained emotion). Perhaps not. Perhaps not.
STRANGER (with controlled emotion). Maybe not. Maybe not.
LADY. Come to me!
Lady, come here!
STRANGER. I can't stir from here. It's as if someone had taken possession of my soul; and I'd like to kill myself so as to take the life of the other.
STRANGER. I can’t move from here. It feels like someone has taken over my soul; and I’d like to end my life to take the life of the other.
LADY. Think of your child with joy....
LADY. Think of your child with happiness....
STRANGER. I can't even do that, for it'll bind me to earth.
STRANGER. I can’t even do that, because it will tie me to the ground.
LADY. If we've sinned, we've been punished! Haven't we suffered enough?
LADY. If we’ve made mistakes, we’ve paid the price! Haven’t we been through enough?
STRANGER. Not yet. But one day we shall have.
STRANGER. Not yet. But one day we will have.
LADY (sinking down). Help me. Mercy! I shall faint!
LADY (sinking down). Help me. Please! I'm going to faint!
(The STRANGER extends his hand, as if he had recovered from a cramp. The LADY kisses it. The STRANGER lifts her up and leads her to the door of the house.)
(The STRANGER extends his hand, as if he had recovered from a cramp. The LADY kisses it. The STRANGER lifts her up and leads her to the door of the house.)
Curtain.
Curtains.
[A room with rose-coloured walls; it has small windows with iron lattices and plants in pots. The curtains are rose red; the furniture is white and red. In the background a door leading to a white bed-chamber; when this door is opened, a large bed can be seen with a canopy and white hangings. On the right the door leading out of the house. On the left a fireplace with a coal fire. In front of it a bath tub, covered with a white towel. A cradle covered with white, rose-coloured and light-blue stuff. Baby clothes are spread out here and there. A green dress hangs on the right-hand wall. Four Sisters of Mercy are on their knees, facing the door at the back, dressed in the black and white of Augustinian nuns. The midwife, who is in black, is by the fireplace. The child's nurse wears a peasant's dress, of black and white, from Brittany. The MOTHER is standing listening by the door at the back. The STRANGER is sitting on a chair right and is trying to read a book. A hat and a brown cloak with a cape and hood hang nearby, and on the floor there is a small travelling bag. The Sisters of Mercy are singing a psalm. The others join in from time to time, but not the STRANGER.]
[A room with pink walls; it has small windows with iron grills and potted plants. The curtains are bright red; the furniture is white and red. In the background, a door leads to a white bedroom; when this door is opened, a large bed with a canopy and white drapes can be seen. On the right, there's a door leading out of the house. On the left, a fireplace with a coal fire. In front of it, a bathtub covered with a white towel. A cradle draped with white, pink, and light blue fabric. Baby clothes are scattered here and there. A green dress hangs on the right wall. Four Sisters of Mercy are kneeling, facing the back door, dressed in the black and white of Augustinian nuns. The midwife, dressed in black, is by the fireplace. The child's nurse wears a black and white peasant dress from Brittany. The MOTHER stands listening by the back door. The STRANGER sits on a chair to the right, trying to read a book. A hat and a brown cloak with a cape and hood hang nearby, and on the floor, there's a small travel bag. The Sisters of Mercy are singing a psalm. The others join in from time to time, but not the STRANGER.]
SISTERS. Salve, Regina, mater misericordiae;
SISTERS. Hail, Queen, mother of mercy;
Vita, dulcedo, et spes nostra, salve.
Ad to clamamus, exules filii Evae;
Ad to suspiramus gementes et flentes
In hac lacrymarum valle.
Life, sweetness, and our hope, rejoice.
To you we cry out, exiled children of Eve;
To you we sigh, mourning and weeping
In this valley of tears.(The STRANGER rises and goes to the MOTHER.)
(The STRANGER stands up and walks over to the MOTHER.)
MOTHER. Stay where you are! A human being's coming into the world; another's dying. It's all the same to you.
MOTHER. Stay put! A new person is being born; another is dying. It's all the same to you.
STRANGER. I'm not so sure! If I want to go in, I'm not allowed to. And when I don't want to, you wish it. I'd like to now.
STRANGER. I'm not really sure! When I want to go in, I'm not allowed to. And when I don’t want to, you hope I do. But now, I actually would like to.
MOTHER. She doesn't want to see you. Besides, presence here's no longer needed. The child matters most now.
MOTHER. She doesn't want to see you. Besides, your presence isn't needed anymore. The child is what matters most now.
STRANGER. For you, yes; but I'm still of most importance to myself.
STRANGER. For you, sure; but I'm still the most important person to me.
MOTHER. The doctor's forbidden anyone to go in, whoever they may be, because she's in danger.
MOTHER. The doctor has barred everyone from going in, no matter who they are, because she's in danger.
STRANGER. What doctor?
What doctor?
MOTHER. So your thoughts are there again!
MOTHER. So you're thinking about that again!
STRANGER. Yes. And it's you who led them! An hour ago you gave me to understand that the child couldn't be mine. With that you branded your daughter a whore; but that means nothing to you, if you can only strike me to the heart! You are almost the most contemptible creature I know!
STRANGER. Yes. And it’s you who led them! An hour ago, you made me believe that the child couldn’t be mine. With that, you labeled your daughter a whore; but that doesn’t matter to you, as long as you can hurt me! You’re almost the most despicable person I know!
MOTHER (to the SISTERS). Sisters! Pray for this unhappy man.
MOTHER (to the SISTERS). Sisters! Please pray for this troubled man.
STRANGER. Make way for me to go in. For the last time—out of the way.
STRANGER. Move aside so I can get in. This is the last time—get out of my way.
MOTHER. Leave this room, and this house too.
MOTHER. Get out of this room, and this house as well.
STRANGER. If I were to do as you ask, in ten minutes you'd send the police after me, for abandoning my wife and child!
STRANGER. If I did what you want, in ten minutes you'd call the police on me for leaving my wife and kid!
MOTHER. I'd only do that to have you taken to a convent you know of.
MOTHER. I'd only do that to get you sent to a convent you know about.
MAID (entering at the back). The Lady's asking you to do something for her.
MAID (entering from the back). The Lady is asking you to do something for her.
STRANGER. What is it?
STRANGER. What's that?
MAID. There's supposed to be a letter in the dress she left hanging here.
MAID. There's supposed to be a letter in the dress she left hanging here.
STRANGER (looks round and notices the green dress; he goes over to it and takes a letter from the pocket). This is addressed to me, and was opened two days ago. Broken open! That's good!
STRANGER (looks around and spots the green dress; he walks over to it and takes a letter from the pocket). This is for me, and it was opened two days ago. Torn open! That's great!
MOTHER. You must forgive someone who's as ill as your wife.
MOTHER. You have to forgive someone who's as sick as your wife.
STRANGER. She wasn't ill two days ago.
STRANGER. She wasn't sick two days ago.
MOTHER. No. But she is now.
MOTHER. No. But she is now.
STRANGER. But not two days ago! (Reading the letter.) Well, I'll forgive her now, with the magnanimity of the victor.
STRANGER. But it was only two days ago! (Reading the letter.) Well, I'll forgive her now, with the generosity of the winner.
MOTHER. Of the victor?
MOTHER. Of the winner?
STRANGER. Yes. For I've done something no one's ever done before.
STRANGER. Yes. Because I've done something that nobody has ever done before.
MOTHER. You mean the gold....?
MOTHER. You mean the gold...?
STRANGER. Here's a certificate from the greatest living authority. Now I'll go and see him myself.
STRANGER. Here's a certificate from the top expert around. Now I’ll go and talk to him myself.
MOTHER. Now!
Mom. Now!
STRANGER. At your request.
STRANGER. As you requested.
MAID (to the STRANGER). The Lady asks you to come in.
MAID (to the STRANGER). The Lady wants you to come in.
MOTHER. You hear?
Mom. You hear?
STRANGER. No, now I don't want to! You've made your own daughter, my wife, into a whore; and branded my unborn child a bastard. You can keep them both. You've murdered my honour. There's nothing for me to do but to revive it elsewhere.
STRANGER. No, I really don’t want to anymore! You’ve turned your own daughter, my wife, into a slut; and you’ve labeled my unborn child a bastard. You can keep them both. You’ve killed my honor. There's nothing left for me to do but to restore it somewhere else.
MOTHER. You can never forgive!
MOTHER. You'll never forgive!
STRANGER. I can. I forgive you—and I shall leave you. (He puts on the brown cloak and hat, picks up his stick and travelling bag.) For if I were to stay, I'd soon grow worse than I am now. The innocent child, whose mission was to ennoble our warped relationship, has been defiled by you in his mother's womb and made an apple of discord and a source of punishment a revenge. Why should I stay here to be torn to pieces?
STRANGER. I can. I forgive you—and I'm going to leave. (He puts on the brown cloak and hat, grabs his stick and travel bag.) Because if I stayed, I’d only get worse than I am now. The innocent child, who was meant to elevate our twisted relationship, has been corrupted by you in his mother's womb and turned into a source of conflict and suffering. Why should I stick around to be ripped apart?
MOTHER. For you, duties don't exist.
MOTHER. To you, responsibilities don't matter.
STRANGER. Oh yes, they do! And the first of them's this: To protect myself from total destruction. Farewell!
STRANGER. Oh yeah, they do! And the first one is this: To keep myself from being completely destroyed. Goodbye!
Curtain.
Curtains.
ACT III
SCENE I
THE BANQUETING HALL[Room in a hotel prepared for a banquet. There are long tables laden with flowers and candelabra. Dishes with peacocks, pheasants in full plumage, boars' heads, entire lobsters, oysters, salmon, bundles of asparagus, melons and grapes. There is a musicians' gallery with eight players in the right-hand corner at the back.]
[Room in a hotel set up for a banquet. There are long tables filled with flowers and candelabras. Dishes featuring peacocks, fully plumed pheasants, boar's heads, whole lobsters, oysters, salmon, bunches of asparagus, melons, and grapes. There's a musicians' gallery with eight performers in the right corner at the back.]
[At the high table: the STRANGER in a frock coat; next to him a Civil Uniform with orders; a professorial Frock Coat with an order; and other black Frock Coats with orders of a more or less striking kind. At the second table a few Frock Coats between black Morning Coats. At the third table clean every-day costumes. At the fourth table dirty and ragged figures of strange appearance.]
[At the high table: the STRANGER in a formal coat; next to him, someone in a military uniform with medals; a professor in a formal coat with an award; and other formal coats with various decorations. At the second table, a few formal coats mixed with black morning coats. At the third table, casual everyday outfits. At the fourth table, dirty and ragged figures of unusual appearance.]
[The tables are so arranged that the first is furthest to the left and the fourth furthest to the right, so that the people sitting at the fourth table cannot be seen by the STRANGER. At the fourth table CAESAR and the DOCTOR are seated, in shabby clothes. They are the farthest down stage. Dessert has just been handed round and the guests have golden goblets in front of them. The band is playing a passage in the middle of Mendelssohn's Dead March pianissimo. The guests are talking to one another quietly.]
[The tables are arranged so that the first one is farthest to the left and the fourth one is farthest to the right, making it impossible for the STRANGER to see the people at the fourth table. At the fourth table, CAESAR and the DOCTOR are sitting in worn-out clothes. They are at the back of the stage. Dessert has just been served, and the guests have golden goblets in front of them. The band is playing a soft part of Mendelssohn's Dead March. The guests are quietly chatting with each other.]
DOCTOR (to CAESAR). The company seems rather depressed and the dessert came too soon!
DOCTOR (to CAESAR). The group seems pretty down, and the dessert arrived way too early!
CAESAR. By the way, the whole thing look's like a swindle! He hasn't made any gold, that's merely a lie, like everything else.
CAESAR. By the way, this whole thing looks like a scam! He hasn't made any gold; that's just a lie, like everything else.
DOCTOR. I don't know, but that's what's being said. But in our enlightened age anything whatever may be expected.
DOCTOR. I don't know, but that's what people are saying. But in our modern world, anything can happen.
CAESAR. There's a professor at the high table, who's supposed to be an authority. But what subject is he professor of?
CAESAR. There's a professor at the top table who's supposed to be an expert. But what subject does he teach?
DOCTOR: I've no idea. It must be metallurgy and applied chemistry.
DOCTOR: I have no clue. It has to be metallurgy and applied chemistry.
CAESAR. Can you see what order he's wearing?
CAESAR. Can you see what outfit he's wearing?
DOCTOR. I don't know it. I expect it's some tenth rate foreign order.
DOCTOR. I have no idea. I guess it's some low-level foreign order.
CAESAR. Well, at a subscription dinner like this the company's always rather mixed.
CAESAR. Well, at a subscription dinner like this, the guests are usually a bit of a mix.
DOCTOR. Hm!
DOCTOR. Hmm!
CAESAR. You mean, that we... hm.... I admit we're not well dressed, but as far as intelligence goes....
CAESAR. You mean that we... hm... I get that we’re not dressed well, but when it comes to intelligence...
DOCTOR. Listen, Caesar, you're a lunatic in my charge, and you must avoid speaking about intelligence as much as you can.
DOCTOR. Listen, Caesar, you're acting crazy and I'm responsible for you, so you need to stop talking about smart stuff as much as possible.
CAESAR. That's the greatest impertinence I've heard for a long time. Don't you realise, idiot, that I've been engaged to look after you, since you lost your wits?
CAESAR. That's the most outrageous thing I've heard in a while. Don't you get it, fool, that I've been responsible for taking care of you, ever since you lost your mind?
PROFESSOR (taping his goblet). Gentlemen!
PROFESSOR (tapping his glass). Gentlemen!
CAESAR. Hear, hear!
CAESAR. Amen!
PROFESSOR. Gentlemen! Our small society is to-day honoured by the presence of the great man, who is our guest of honour, and when the committee...
PROFESSOR. Gentlemen! Our small society is honored today by the presence of the great man who is our guest of honor, and when the committee...
CAESAR (to the DOCTOR). That's the government, you know!
CAESAR (to the DOCTOR). That's the government, you see!
PROFESSOR.... and when the committee asked me to act as interpreter and to explain the motives that prompted them I was at first doubtful whether I could accept the honour. But when I compared my own incapacity with that of others, I discovered that neither lost in the comparison.
PROFESSOR.... and when the committee asked me to be the interpreter and explain the reasons behind their decisions, I was initially unsure if I could accept this honor. But when I compared my own limitations to those of others, I found that neither of us came up short in the comparison.
VOICES. Bravo!
VOICES. Awesome!
PROFESSOR. Gentlemen! A century of discovery is ending with the greatest of all discoveries—foreseen by Pythagoras, prepared for by Albertus and Paracelsus and first carried out by our guest of honour. You will permit me to give this feeble expression of our admiration for the greatest man of a great century. A laurel crown from the society! (He places a laurel frown on the STRANGER'S head.) And from the committee: this! (He hangs a shining order round the STRANGER'S neck.) Gentlemen! Three cheers for the Great Man who has made gold!
PROFESSOR: Gentlemen! A century of discovery is coming to a close with the greatest of all discoveries—anticipated by Pythagoras, prepared for by Albertus and Paracelsus, and first achieved by our guest of honor. Allow me to offer this humble expression of our admiration for the greatest man of a remarkable century. A laurel crown from the society! (He places a laurel crown on the STRANGER'S head.) And from the committee: this! (He hangs a shining medal around the STRANGER'S neck.) Gentlemen! Three cheers for the Great Man who has created gold!
ALL (with the exception of the STRANGER). Hurrah!
ALL (except for the STRANGER). Hooray!
(The band plays chords from Mendelssohn's Dead March. During the last part of the foregoing speech servants have exchanged the golden goblets for dull tin ones, and they now begin to take away the pheasants, peacocks, etc. The music plays softly. General conversation.)
(The band plays chords from Mendelssohn's Dead March. During the last part of the previous speech, the servants have swapped the golden goblets for dull tin ones, and they now start to take away the pheasants, peacocks, etc. The music plays softly. General conversation.)
CAESAR. Oughtn't we to taste these things before they take them away?
CAESAR. Shouldn't we try these things before they take them away?
DOCTOR. It all seems humbug, except that about making gold.
DOCTOR. It all seems like nonsense, except for the part about making gold.
STRANGER (knocking on the table). Gentlemen! I've always been proud of the fact that I'm not easy to deceive...
STRANGER (knocking on the table). Guys! I've always taken pride in the fact that I'm not easily fooled...
CAESAR. Hear, hear!
CAESAR. Hear, hear!
STRANGER.... that I'm not easily carried away, but I am touched at the sincerity so obvious in the great tribute you've just paid me; and when I say touched, I mean it.
STRANGER.... that I'm not easily swayed, but I am genuinely moved by the sincerity so apparent in the great tribute you've just given me; and when I say moved, I really mean it.
CAESAR. Bravo!
Caesar. Awesome!
STRANGER. There are always sceptics; and moments in the life of every man, when doubts creep into the hearts of even the strongest. I'll confess that I myself have doubted; but after finding myself the object this sincere and hearty demonstration, and after taking part in this royal feast, for it is royal; and seeing that, finally, the government itself...
STRANGER. There will always be skeptics, and there are times in every person's life when doubts invade even the strongest hearts. I’ll admit that I’ve doubted too; but after experiencing this genuine and enthusiastic display, and after joining in this grand feast—because it truly is grand—and seeing that, ultimately, the government itself...
VOICE. The committee!
The committee!
STRANGER.... the committee, if you like, has so signally recognised my modest merits, I doubt no longer, but believe! (The Civil Uniform creeps out.) Yes, gentlemen, this is the greatest and most satisfying moment of my life, because it has given me back the greatest thing any man can possess, the belief in himself.
STRANGER.... the committee, if you want, has clearly acknowledged my modest merits, I no longer doubt, but truly believe! (The Civil Uniform appears.) Yes, gentlemen, this is the greatest and most fulfilling moment of my life because it has restored to me the greatest thing anyone can have, the belief in oneself.
CAESAR. Splendid! Bravo!
Caesar. Awesome! Well done!
STRANGER. I thank you. Your health!
STRANGER. Thank you. Cheers to your health!
(The PROFESSOR gets up. Everyone rises and the company begins to mix. Most of the musicians go out, but two remain.)
(The PROFESSOR gets up. Everyone stands and the group starts to mingle. Most of the musicians leave, but two stay behind.)
GUEST (to the STRANGER). A delightful evening!
GUEST (to the STRANGER). What a lovely evening!
STRANGER. Wonderful.
Awesome.
(All the Frock Coats creep away.)
(All the Frock Coats creep away.)
FATHER (an elderly, overdressed man with an eye-glass and military bearing crosses to the doctor). What? Are you here?
FATHER (an elderly man in fancy clothes with glasses and a military posture crosses to the doctor). What? You're here?
DOCTOR. Yes, Father-in-law. I'm here. I go everywhere he goes.
DOCTOR. Yes, Father-in-law. I'm here. I go wherever he goes.
FATHER. It's too late in the day to call me father-in-law. Besides, I'm his father-in-law now.
FATHER. It's too late in the day to call me father-in-law. Besides, I'm his father-in-law now.
DOCTOR. Does he know you?
DOCTOR. Does he know you yet?
FATHER. No. He's not had that honour; and I must ask you to preserve my incognito. Is it true he's made gold?
FATHER. No. He hasn't had that honor, and I must ask you to keep my identity a secret. Is it true he's created gold?
DOCTOR. So it's said. But it's certain he left his wife while she was in childbed.
DOCTOR. So they say. But it's clear he abandoned his wife while she was giving birth.
FATHER. Does that mean I can expect a third son-in-law soon? I don't like the idea! The uncertainty of my position makes me hate being a father-in-law at all. Of course, I've nothing to say against it, since....
FATHER. Does that mean I should expect another son-in-law soon? I really don’t like that idea! The uncertainty of my situation makes me dread being a father-in-law altogether. Of course, I have nothing against it, since…
(The tables have now been cleared; the cloths and the candelabra have been removed, so that the tables themselves, which are merely boards supported on trestles, are all that remain. A big stoneware jug has been brought in and small jugs of simple form have been put on the high table. The people in rags sit down next to the STRANGER at the high table; and the FATHER sits astride a chair and stares at him.)
(The tables have now been cleared; the tablecloths and candleholders have been taken away, leaving just the tables themselves, which are just wooden boards supported by sawhorses. A large stone jug has been brought in, and small, simple jugs have been placed on the high table. The ragged people sit down next to the STRANGER at the high table, while the FATHER sits on a chair, straddling it, and stares at him.)
CAESAR (knocking on the table). Gentlemen! This feast has been called royal, not on account of the excellence of the service which, on the contrary, has been wretched; but because the man, whom we have honoured, is a king, a king in the realm of the Intellect. Only I am able to judge of that. (One of the people in rags laughs.) Quiet. Wretch! But he's more than a king, he's a man of the people, of the humblest. A friend of the oppressed, the guardian of fools, the bringer of happiness to idiots. I don't know whether he's succeeded in making gold. I don't worry about that, and I hardly believe it... (There is a murmur. Two policemen come in and sit by the door; the musicians come down and take seats at the tables.)... but supposing he has, he has answered all the questions that the daily press has been trying to solve for the last fifty years.... It's only an assumption—
CAESAR (knocking on the table). Gentlemen! This banquet has been labeled royal, not because of the terrible service, but because the man we are honoring is a king, a king in the world of intellect. Only I can assess that. (One of the people in rags laughs.) Quiet. You miserable one! But he's more than a king; he is a man of the people, of the humblest background. A friend to the oppressed, a protector of fools, the one who brings happiness to the simple-minded. I don’t know if he’s succeeded in creating gold. I'm not concerned with that, and I hardly believe it... (There’s a murmur. Two policemen enter and sit by the door; the musicians come down and take seats at the tables.)... but even if he has, he has answered all the questions that the daily news has been trying to solve for the last fifty years.... It's just a theory—
STRANGER. Gentlemen!
Hey, everyone!
RAGGED PERSON. No. Don't interrupt him.
RAGGED PERSON. No. Don't cut him off.
CAESAR. A mere assumption without real foundation, and the analysis may be wrong!
CAESAR. Just a guess with no real basis, and the analysis might be wrong!
ANOTHER RAGGED PERSON. Don't talk nonsense!
ANOTHER RAGGED PERSON. Stop talking nonsense!
STRANGER. Speaking in my capacity as guest of honour at this gathering I should say that it would be of interest to those taking part to hear the grounds on which I've based my proof....
STRANGER. As the guest of honor at this gathering, I’d like to share the reasons behind my proof, which I believe will be interesting to everyone involved...
CAESAR. We don't want to hear that. No, no.
CAESAR. We don't want to hear that. No way.
FATHER. Wait! I think justice demands that the accused should be allowed to explain himself. Couldn't our guest of honour tell the company his secret in a few words?
FATHER. Hold on! I believe it's only right that the accused gets a chance to explain himself. Could our guest of honor share his secret with everyone in just a few words?
STRANGER. As the discoverer I can't give away my secret. But that's not necessary, because I've submitted my results to an authority under oath.
STRANGER. As the one who discovered it, I can't reveal my secret. But that's not needed, since I've shared my findings with an authority under oath.
CAESAR. Then the whole thing's nonsense, the whole thing! We don't believe authorities—we're free-thinkers. Did you ever hear anything so impudent? That we should honour a mystery man, an arch-swindler, a charlatan, in good faith.
CAESAR. So, it’s all nonsense, the whole thing! We don’t trust the authorities—we’re free-thinkers. Have you ever heard anything so outrageous? That we should respect a mystery man, a total con artist, a fraud, sincerely.
FATHER. Wait a little, my good people!
FATHER. Hold on a moment, everyone!
(During this scene a wall screen, charmingly decorated with palm trees and birds of paradise, has been taken away, disclosing a wretched serving-counter and stand for beer mugs, behind which a waitress is seen dispensing tots of spirits. Scavengers and dirty-looking women go over to the counter and start drinking.)
(During this scene, a wall screen, beautifully decorated with palm trees and birds of paradise, has been removed, revealing a shabby serving-counter and a stand for beer mugs, behind which a waitress is seen pouring shots of liquor. Scavengers and disheveled women approach the counter and begin to drink.)
STRANGER. Was I asked here to be insulted?
STRANGER. Was I called here to be insulted?
FATHER. Not at all. My friend's rather loquacious, but he's not said anything insulting yet.
FATHER. Not at all. My friend's pretty chatty, but he hasn't said anything insulting yet.
STRANGER. Isn't it insulting to be called a charlatan?
STRANGER. Isn’t it offensive to be called a fraud?
FATHER. He didn't mean it seriously.
DAD. He wasn't serious.
STRANGER. Even as a joke I think the word arch-swindler slanderous.
STRANGER. I find the term arch-swindler slanderous, even as a joke.
FATHER. He didn't use that word.
FATHER. He didn't say that.
STRANGER. What? I appeal to the company: wasn't the word he used arch-swindler?
STRANGER. What? I ask everyone here: wasn't the term he used arch-swindler?
ALL. No. He never said that!
ALL. No. He never said that!
STRANGER. Then I don't know where I am—or what company I've got into.
STRANGER. Then I have no idea where I am—or who I'm with.
RAGGED PERSON. Is there anything wrong with it?
RAGGED PERSON. Is there something wrong with it?
(The people murmur.)
(The people whisper.)
BEGGAR (comes forward, supporting himself on crutches; he strikes the table so hard with his crutch, that some mugs are broken.) Mr. Chairman! May I speak? (He breaks some more crockery.) Gentlemen, in this life I've not allowed thyself to be easily deceived, but this time I have been. My friend in the chair there has convinced me that I've been completely deceived on the question of his power of judgment and sound understanding, and I feel touched. There are limits to pity and limits also to cruelty. I don't like to see real merit being dragged into the dust, and this man's worth a better fate than his folly's leading him to.
BEGGAR (comes forward, leaning on crutches; he slams the table with his crutch, breaking some mugs.) Mr. Chairman! Can I speak? (He breaks more dishes.) Gentlemen, I haven’t easily been fooled in this life, but this time I have been. My friend in the chair over there has made me realize that I’ve completely misjudged his judgment and understanding, and it really affects me. There are limits to compassion and also to cruelty. I don’t like to see real talent being brought low, and this man deserves a better outcome than what his foolishness is leading him to.
STRANGER. What does this mean?
STRANGER. What's this about?
(The FATHER and the DOCTOR have gone out during this scene without attracting attention. Only beggars remain at the high table. Those who are drinking gather into groups and stare at the STRANGER.)
(The FATHER and the DOCTOR have left during this scene without drawing attention. Only beggars are left at the high table. Those who are drinking form groups and watch the STRANGER.)
BEGGAR. You take yourself to be the man of the century, and accept the invitation of the Drunkards' Society, in order to have yourself fêted as a man of science....
BEGGAR. You think you're the man of the century and accept the invitation from the Drunkards' Society just to be celebrated as a man of science....
STRANGER (rising). But the government....
STRANGER (rising). But the government...
BEGGAR. Oh yes, the Committee of the Drunkards' Society have given you their highest distinction—that order you've had to pay for yourself....
BEGGAR. Oh yes, the Committee of the Drunkards' Society has given you their top honor—that award you've had to buy for yourself....
STRANGER. What about the professor?
STRANGER: What about the professor?
BEGGAR. He only calls himself that; he's no professor really, though he does give lessons. And the uniform that must have impressed you most was that of a lackey in a chancellery.
BEGGAR. He just refers to himself that way; he's not really a professor, although he does teach lessons. And the uniform that probably caught your attention the most was that of a servant in an office.
STRANGER (tearing of the wreath and the ribbon of the order). Very well! But who was the elderly man with the eyeglass?
STRANGER (tearing apart the wreath and the ribbon of the order). Alright! But who was the old man with the eyeglass?
BEGGAR. Your father-in-law!
BEGGAR. Your father-in-law!
STRANGER. Who got up this hoax?
STRANGER. Who started this joke?
BEGGAR. It's no hoax, it's quite serious. The professor came on behalf of the Society, for so they call themselves, and asked you whether you'd accept the fête. You accepted it; so it became serious!
BEGGAR. It's not a joke, it's very real. The professor came on behalf of the Society, as they call themselves, and asked you if you'd accept the event. You accepted it; so it got serious!
(Two dirty-looking women carry in a dust-bin suspended from a stick and set it down on the high table.)
(Two scruffy-looking women bring in a trash bin hanging from a stick and place it on the tall table.)
FIRST WOMAN. If you're the man who makes gold, you might buy two brandies for us.
FIRST WOMAN. If you're the guy who produces gold, you could get us two brandies.
STRANGER. What's this mean?
STRANGER. What does this mean?
BEGGAR. It's the last part of the reception; and it's supposed to mean that gold's mere rubbish.
BEGGAR. It's the final part of the reception, and it's meant to signify that gold is just worthless garbage.
STRANGER. If only that were true, rubbish could be exchanged for gold.
STRANGER. If only that were the case, trash could be traded for gold.
BEGGAR. Well, it's only the philosophy of the Society of Drunkards. And you've got to take your philosophy where you find it.
BEGGAR. Well, it's just the philosophy of the Society of Drunkards. And you have to take your philosophy wherever you can find it.
SECOND WOMAN (sitting down next to the STRANGER). Do you recognise me?
SECOND WOMAN (sitting down next to the STRANGER). Do you remember me?
STRANGER. No.
No way.
SECOND WOMAN. Oh, you needn't be embarrassed so late in the evening as this!
SECOND WOMAN. Oh, you don't have to be embarrassed this late in the evening!
STRANGER. You believe you're one of my victims? That I was amongst the first hundred who seduced you?
STRANGER. You think you're one of my victims? That I was one of the first hundred who seduced you?
SECOND WOMAN. No. It's not what you think. But I once came across a printed paper, when I was about to be confirmed, which said that it was a duty to oneself to give way to all desires of the flesh. Well, I grew free and blossomed; and this is the fruit of my highly developed self!
SECOND WOMAN. No. It’s not what you think. But I once found a printed paper, when I was about to be confirmed, that said it was a duty to yourself to give in to all desires of the flesh. Well, I became free and thrived; and this is the result of my self-empowerment!
STRANGER (rising). Perhaps I may go now?
STRANGER (getting up). Maybe I can leave now?
WAITRESS (coming over with a bill). Yes. But the bill must be paid first.
WAITRESS (walking over with a bill). Yeah. But you need to pay the bill first.
STRANGER. What? By me? I haven't ordered anything.
STRANGER. What? Me? I haven't ordered anything.
WAITRESS. I know nothing of that; but you're the last of the company to have had anything.
WAITRESS. I don't know anything about that, but you're the last one from the group to have had anything.
STRANGER (to the BEGGAR). Is this all a part of the reception?
STRANGER (to the BEGGAR). Is this all part of the welcome?
BEGGAR. Yes, certainly. And, as you know, everything costs money, even honour....
BEGGAR. Yes, of course. And, as you know, everything costs money, even honor....
STRANGER (taking a visiting card and handing it to the waitress). There's my card. You'll be paid to-morrow.
STRANGER (picking up a business card and giving it to the waitress). Here’s my card. You’ll get paid tomorrow.
WAITRESS (putting the card in the dust-bin). Hm! I don't know the name; and I've put a lot of such cards into the dust-bin. I want the money.
WAITRESS (throwing the card in the trash). Hm! I don’t know the name; and I’ve tossed a lot of those cards in the trash. I just want the money.
BEGGAR. Listen, madam, I'll guarantee this man will pay.
BEGGAR. Hey, ma'am, I promise this guy will pay.
WAITRESS. So you'd like to play tricks on me too! Officer! One moment, please.
WAITRESS. So you want to mess with me too! Officer! Just a moment, please.
POLICEMAN. What's all this about? Payment, I suppose. Come to the station; we'll arrange things there. (He writes something in his note-book.)
POLICEMAN. What's going on here? I assume it's about payment. Come to the station; we’ll sort it out there. (He writes something in his notebook.)
STRANGER. I'd rather do that than stay here and quarrel.... (To the BEGGAR.) I don't mind a joke, but I never expected such cruel reality as this.
STRANGER. I'd prefer to do that than stick around and argue.... (To the BEGGAR.) I can handle a joke, but I never saw such harsh reality coming.
BEGGAR. Anything's to be expected, once you challenge persons as powerful as you have! Let me tell you this in confidence. You'd better be prepared for worse, for the very worst!
BEGGAR. Anything can happen when you challenge people as powerful as you have! Let me tell you this in confidence. You better be ready for the worst, the absolute worst!
STRANGER. To think I've been so duped... so...
STRANGER. To think I've been so deceived... so...
BEGGAR. Feasts of Belshazzar always end in one way a hand's stretched out—and writes a bill. And another hand's laid on the guest's shoulder and leads him to the police station! But it must be done royally!
BEGGAR. Feasts of Belshazzar always end the same way: a hand reaches out and writes a ticket. And another hand is placed on the guest's shoulder and takes him to the police station! But it has to be done in style!
POLICEMAN (laying his hand on the STRANGER). Have you talked enough?
POLICEMAN (putting his hand on the STRANGER). Have you said enough?
THE WOMEN and RAGGED ONES. The alchemist can't pay. Hurrah! He's going to gaol. He's going to gaol!
THE WOMEN and RAGGED ONES. The alchemist can't pay. Hurrah! He's going to jail. He's going to jail!
SECOND WOMAN. Yes, but it's a shame.
SECOND WOMAN. Yeah, but it's a pity.
STRANGER. You're sorry for me? I thank you for that, even if I don't quite deserve it! You felt pity for me!
STRANGER. You feel sorry for me? Thanks for that, even if I don't really deserve it! You felt pity for me!
SECOND WOMAN. Yes. That's also something I learnt from you.
SECOND WOMAN. Yeah. That’s something I learned from you, too.
(The scene is changed without lowering the curtain. The stage is darkened, and a medley of scenes, representing landscapes, palaces, rooms, is lowered and brought forward; so that characters and furniture are no longer seen, but the STRANGER alone remains visible and seems to be standing stiffly as though unconscious. At last even he disappears, and from the confusion a prison cell emerges.)
(The scene changes without lowering the curtain. The stage goes dark, and a mix of scenes showing landscapes, palaces, and rooms is lowered and brought forward, so that the characters and furniture are no longer visible, leaving only the STRANGER, who appears to be standing rigidly as if unaware. Finally, even he disappears, and from the chaos, a prison cell appears.)
[On the right a door; and above it a barred opening, through which a ray of sunlight is shining, throwing a patch of light on the left-hand wall, where a large crucifix hangs.]
[On the right is a door; above it is a barred opening, through which a beam of sunlight is shining, casting a patch of light on the left wall, where a large crucifix hangs.]
[The STRANGER, dressed in a brown cloak and wearing a hat, is sitting at the table looking at the patch of sunlight. The door is opened and the BEGGAR is let in.]
[The STRANGER, wearing a brown cloak and a hat, is sitting at the table, gazing at the patch of sunlight. The door opens, and the BEGGAR is let in.]
BEGGAR. What are you brooding over?
BEGGAR. What are you thinking about?
STRANGER. I'm asking myself why I'm here; and then: where I was yesterday?
STRANGER. I'm wondering why I'm here, and then: where was I yesterday?
BEGGAR. Where do you think?
BEGGAR. Where do you think?
STRANGER. It seems in hell; unless I dreamed everything.
STRANGER. It feels like I'm in hell; unless I dreamed it all.
BEGGAR. Then wake up now, for this is going to be reality.
BEGGAR. So wake up now, because this is about to be real.
STRANGER. Let it come. I'm only afraid of ghosts.
STRANGER. Bring it on. The only thing I fear is ghosts.
BEGGAR (taking out a newspaper). Firstly, the great authority has withdrawn the certificate he gave you for making gold. He says, in this paper, that you deceived him. The result is that the paper calls you a charlatan!
BEGGAR (taking out a newspaper). First off, the major authority has taken back the certificate he gave you for making gold. He states in this paper that you tricked him. As a result, the paper labels you a fraud!
STRANGER. O God! What is it I'm fighting?
STRANGER. Oh God! What am I fighting against?
BEGGAR. Difficulties, like other men.
BEGGAR. Struggles, just like everyone else.
STRANGER. No, this is something else....
STRANGER. No, this is unique....
BEGGAR. Your own credulity, then.
BEGGAR. Your own gullibility, then.
STRANGER. No, I'm not credulous, and I know I'm right.
STRANGER. No, I’m not gullible, and I know I’m correct.
BEGGAR. What's the good of that, if no one else does.
BEGGAR. What's the point of that if no one else cares?
STRANGER. Shall I ever get out of this prison? If I do, I'll settle everything.
STRANGER. Will I ever get out of this prison? If I do, I'll take care of everything.
BEGGAR. The matter's arranged; everything's paid for.
BEGGAR. It's all set; everything's taken care of.
STRANGER. Oh? Who paid, then?
STRANGER. Oh? Who covered it, then?
BEGGAR. The Society, I suppose; or the Drunkard's Government.
BEGGAR. The System, I guess; or the Alcoholic's Government.
STRANGER. Then I can go?
STRANGER. So, I can leave?
BEGGAR. Yes. But there's one thing....
BEGGAR. Yes. But there's one thing....
STRANGER. Well, what is it?
STRANGER: So, what's going on?
BEGGAR. Remember, an enlightened man of the world mustn't let himself be taken by surprise.
BEGGAR. Remember, a truly worldly person shouldn't allow themselves to be caught off guard.
STRANGER. I begin to divine....
STRANGER. I start to sense....
BEGGAR. The announcement's on the front page.
BEGGAR. The announcement is on the front page.
STRANGER. That means: she's already married again, and my children have a stepfather. Who is he?
STRANGER. That means: she's already remarried, and my kids have a stepdad. Who is he?
BEGGAR. Whoever he is, don't murder him; for he's not to blame for taking in a forsaken woman.
BEGGAR. Whoever he is, don't kill him; he's not at fault for looking after a lonely woman.
STRANGER. My children! O God, my children!
STRANGER. My kids! Oh God, my kids!
BEGGAR. I notice you didn't foresee what's happened; but why not look ahead, if you're so old and such an enlightened man of the world.
BEGGAR. I see you didn't anticipate what happened; but why not look forward, if you're so old and such a wise man of the world?
STRANGER (beside himself). O God! My children!
STRANGER (beside himself). Oh God! My kids!
BEGGAR. Enlightened men of the world don't weep! Stop it, my son. When such disasters happen men of the world... either... well, tell me....
BEGGAR. Enlightened people of the world don't cry! Stop it, my son. When such disasters occur, people in the world... either... well, tell me....
STRANGER. Shoot themselves!
Shoot themselves!
BEGGAR. Or?
BEGGAR. Or what?
STRANGER. No, not that!
STRANGER. No, not that one!
BEGGAR. Yes, my son, precisely that! He's throwing out a sheet-anchor as an experiment.
BEGGAR. Yes, my son, exactly that! He's casting out a lifeline as a test.
STRANGER. This is irrevocable. Irrevocable!
STRANGER. This is final. Final!
BEGGAR. Yes, it is. Quite irrevocable. And you can live another lifetime, in order to contemplate your own rascality in peace.
BEGGAR. Yeah, it is. Totally unchangeable. And you can live another lifetime just to reflect on your own mischief in peace.
STRANGER. You should be ashamed to talk like that.
STRANGER. You should be embarrassed to speak like that.
BEGGAR. And you?
BEGGAR. What about you?
STRANGER. Have you ever seen a human destiny like mine?
STRANGER. Have you ever seen a human fate like mine?
BEGGAR. Well, look at mine!
BEGGAR. Look at mine!
STRANGER. I know nothing of yours.
STRANGER. I don't know anything about you.
BEGGAR. It's never occurred to you, in all our long acquaintance, to ask about my affairs. You once scorned the friendship I offered you, and fell straightway into the arms of boon companions. I hope it'll do you good. And so farewell, till the next time.
BEGGAR. You’ve never thought to ask about my life, even after all this time we've known each other. You turned your back on the friendship I gave you and immediately went off with your party pals. I hope that works out for you. So, goodbye, until we meet again.
STRANGER. Don't go.
Don't leave.
BEGGAR. Perhaps you'd like company when you get out of prison?
BEGGAR. Maybe you'd appreciate some company when you get out of jail?
STRANGER. Why not?
STRANGER. Why not?
BEGGAR. It hasn't occurred to you I mightn't want to show myself in your company?
BEGGAR. It hasn’t crossed your mind that I might not want to be seen with you?
STRANGER. It certainly hasn't.
STRANGER. It definitely hasn't.
BEGGAR. But it's true. Do you think I want to be suspected of having been at that immortal banquet in the alchemist's honour, of which there's an account in the morning paper?
BEGGAR. But it’s true. Do you think I want people to suspect that I was at that legendary banquet in honor of the alchemist, which was mentioned in the morning paper?
STRANGER. He doesn't want to be seen with me!
STRANGER. He doesn't want to be seen with me!
BEGGAR. Even a beggar has his pride and fears ridicule.
BEGGAR. Even a beggar has his pride and is afraid of being mocked.
STRANGER. He doesn't want to be seen with me. Am I then sunk to such misery?
STRANGER. He doesn't want to be seen with me. Have I really fallen into such misery?
BEGGAR. You must ask yourself that, and answer it, too.
BEGGAR. You need to ask yourself that and give yourself an answer as well.
(A mournful cradle song is heard in the distance.)
(A sad lullaby can be heard in the distance.)
STRANGER. What's that?
STRANGER. What's that about?
BEGGAR. A song sung by a mother at her baby's cradle.
BEGGAR. A lullaby sung by a mother at her baby's crib.
STRANGER. Why must I be reminded of it just now?
STRANGER. Why do I have to be reminded of it right now?
BEGGAR. Probably so that you can feel really keenly what you've left for a chimera.
BEGGAR. Probably so that you can truly feel how much you've given up for an illusion.
STRANGER. Is it possible I could have been wrong? If so it's the devil's work, and I'll lay down my arms.
STRANGER. Could I have been wrong? If that's the case, it's the devil's work, and I'll put down my weapons.
BEGGAR. You'd better do that as soon as you can....
BEGGAR. You should do that as soon as possible....
STRANGER. Not yet! (A rosary can be heard being repeated in the distance.) What's that? (A sustained note of a horn is heard.) That's the unknown huntsman! (The chord from the Dead March is heard.) Where am I? (He remains where he is as if hypnotised.)
STRANGER. Not yet! (A rosary can be heard being repeated in the distance.) What’s that? (A sustained note of a horn is heard.) That’s the unknown hunter! (The chord from the Dead March is heard.) Where am I? (He stays where he is as if hypnotized.)
BEGGAR. Bow yourself or break!
Beggar. Submit or suffer!
STRANGER. I cannot bow!
STRANGER. I can’t bow!
BEGGAR. Then break.
BEGGAR. Then take a break.
(The STRANGER falls to the ground. The same confused medley of scenes as before.)
(The STRANGER falls to the ground. The same jumbled mix of scenes as before.)
Curtain.
Curtain.
[The same scene as Act I. The kneeling Sisters of Mercy are now reading their prayer books, '... exules filii Evae; Ad to suspiramus et flentes In hac lacrymarum aalle.' The MOTHER is by the door at the back; the FATHER by the door on the right.]
[The same scene as Act I. The kneeling Sisters of Mercy are now reading their prayer books, '... exiles children of Eve; To you we sigh and weep In this valley of tears.' The MOTHER is by the door at the back; the FATHER by the door on the right.]
MOTHER (going towards him). So you've come back again?
MOTHER (walking over to him). So you're back again?
FATHER (humbly). Yes.
DAD (humbly). Yes.
MOTHER. Your lady-love's left you?
MOTHER. Did your girlfriend leave you?
RATHER. Don't be more cruel than you need!
RATHER. Don't be harsher than necessary!
MOTHER. You say that to me, you who gave my wedding presents to your mistress. You, who were so dishonourable as to expect me, your wife, to choose presents for her. You, who wanted my advice about colour and cut, in order to educate her taste in dress! What do you want here?
MOTHER. You say that to me, the one who gave my wedding gifts to your mistress. You, who were so disloyal as to think I, your wife, should pick out gifts for her. You, who wanted my opinion on color and style to help her with her fashion sense! What do you want here?
FATHER. I heard that my daughter...
FATHER. I heard that my daughter...
MOTHER. Your daughter's lying there, between life and death; and you know that her feelings for you have grown hostile. That's why I ask you to go; before she suspects your presence.
MOTHER. Your daughter's lying there, between life and death; and you know that her feelings for you have turned negative. That's why I'm asking you to leave; before she senses you’re here.
FATHER. You're right, and I can't answer you. But let me sit in the kitchen, for I'm tired. Very tired.
FATHER. You're right, and I don't have an answer for you. But can I just sit in the kitchen? I'm really tired. Very tired.
MOTHER. Where were you last night?
MOTHER: Where were you last night?
FATHER. At the club. But I wanted to ask you if the husband weren't here?
FATHER. At the club. But I wanted to ask you, is the husband not here?
MOTHER. Am I to lay bare all this misery? Don't you know your daughter's tragic fate?
MOTHER. Should I really expose all this pain? Don’t you understand your daughter’s tragic destiny?
FATHER. Yes... I do. And what a husband!
FATHER. Yeah... I do. And what a husband!
MOTHER. What men! Go downstairs now and sleep off your liquor.
MOTHER. What a bunch of guys! Go downstairs now and sleep off your alcohol.
FATHER. The sins of the fathers....
FATHER. The mistakes of the parents...
MOTHER. You're talking nonsense.
MOTHER. You're just talking nonsense.
FATHER. Of course I don't mean my sins... but those of our parents. And now they say the lake up there's to be drained, so that the river will rise....
FATHER. Of course I don't mean my mistakes... but those of our parents. And now they say they're going to drain the lake up there, so the river will rise....
MOTHER (pushing him out of the door). Silence. Misfortune will overtake us soon enough, without you calling it up.
MOTHER (pushing him out of the door). Be quiet. Trouble will find us soon enough, without you inviting it in.
MAID (from the bedroom at the back). The lady's asking for the master.
MAID (from the bedroom at the back). The lady is asking for the master.
MOTHER. She means her husband.
MOTHER. She refers to her husband.
MAID. Yes. The master of the house, her husband.
MAID. Yes. The head of the household, her husband.
MOTHER. He went out a little while ago.
MOTHER. He left a little while ago.
(The STRANGER comes in.)
(The STRANGER enters.)
STRANGER. Has the child been born?
STRANGER. Has the baby been born?
MOTHER. No. Not yet.
MOTHER. No. Not yet.
STRANGER (putting his hand to his forehead). What? Can it take so long?
STRANGER (putting his hand to his forehead). What? Can this really take that long?
MOTHER. Long? What do you mean?
MOTHER. Long? What are you talking about?
STRANGER (looking about him). I don't know what I mean. How is it with the mother?
STRANGER (looking around). I’m not sure what I mean. How is the mother doing?
MOTHER. She's just the same.
MOTHER. She's still the same.
STRANGER. The same?
STRANGER. Is it the same?
MOTHER. Don't you want to get back to your gold making?
MOTHER. Don't you want to get back to making your gold?
STRANGER. I can't make head or tail of it! But there's still hope my worst dream was nothing but a dream.
STRANGER. I can't make sense of it! But there's still hope that my worst nightmare was just a dream.
MOTHER. You really look as if you were walking in your sleep.
MOTHER. You seriously look like you're sleepwalking.
STRANGER. Do I? Oh, I wish I were! The one thing I fear I'd fear no longer.
STRANGER. Do I? Oh, I wish I were! That’s the one thing I wouldn't be afraid of anymore.
MOTHER. He who guides your destiny seems to know your weakest spots.
MOTHER. The one who shapes your fate seems to understand your vulnerabilities.
STRANGER. And when there was only one left, he found that too; happily for me only in a dream! Blind Powers! Powerless Ones!
STRANGER. And when there was only one left, he found that too; luckily for me, only in a dream! Blind Powers! Powerless Ones!
MAID (coming in again). The lady asks you to do her a service.
MAID (coming in again). The lady requests your assistance.
STRANGER. There she lies like an electric eel, giving shocks from a distance. What kind of service is it to be now?
STRANGER. There she lies like an electric eel, delivering shocks from afar. What kind of service is that going to be now?
MAID. There's a letter in the pocket of her green coat.
MAID. There's a letter in the pocket of her green coat.
STRANGER. No good will come of that! (He takes the letter out of the green coat, which is hanging near the dress by fireplace.) I must be dead. I dreamed this, and now it's happening. My children have a stepfather!
STRANGER. Nothing good will come of that! (He takes the letter out of the green coat, which is hanging next to the dress by the fireplace.) I must be dreaming. This can’t be real. My kids have a stepdad!
MOTHER. Who are you going to blame?
MOTHER. Who are you going to point fingers at?
STRANGER. Myself! I'd rather blame no one. I've lost my children.
STRANGER. It's me! I'd rather not blame anyone. I've lost my children.
MOTHER. You'll get a new one here.
MOTHER. You'll get a new one here.
STRANGER. He might be cruel to them....
STRANGER. He could be harsh with them....
MOTHER. Then their sufferings will burden your conscience, if you have one.
MOTHER. Then their pain will weigh on your conscience, if you have one.
STRANGER. Supposing he were to beat them?
STRANGER. What if he beats them?
MOTHER. Do you know what I'd do in your place?
MOTHER: Do you know what I would do if I were you?
STRANGER. Yes, I know what you'd do; but I don't know what I'll do.
STRANGER. Yeah, I know what you would do; but I have no idea what I’ll do.
MOTHER (to the Sisters of Mercy). Pray for this man!
MOTHER (to the Sisters of Mercy). Please pray for this man!
STRANGER. No, no. Not that! It'll do no good, and I don't believe in prayer.
STRANGER. No, no. Not that! It won't help, and I don't believe in prayer.
MOTHER. But you believe in your gold?
MOTHER. But you really believe in your gold?
STRANGER. Not even in that. It's over. All over!
STRANGER. Not even that. It’s done. All done!
(The MIDWIFE comes out of the bedroom.)
(The MIDWIFE comes out of the bedroom.)
MIDWIFE. A child's born. Praise the Lord!
MIDWIFE. A baby is born. Thank goodness!
MOTHER. Let the Lord be praised!
Mom. Praise the Lord!
SISTERS. Let the Lord be praised!
SISTERS. Praise God!
MIDWIFE (to the STRANGER). Your wife's given you daughter.
MIDWIFE (to the STRANGER). Your wife has given you a daughter.
MOTHER (to the STRANGER). Don't you want to see your child?
MOTHER (to the STRANGER). Don't you want to see your kid?
STRANGER. No. I no longer want to tie myself anything on earth. I'm afraid I'd get to love her, and then you'd tear the heart from my body. Let me get out of this atmosphere, which is too pure for me. Don' t let that innocent child come near me, for I'm a man already damned, already sentenced, and for me there's no joy, no peace, and no... forgiveness!
STRANGER. No. I don’t want to be tied down to anything on this earth anymore. I’m afraid I’d end up loving her, and then you’d rip my heart out. Just let me escape this atmosphere, which is too good for me. Don’t let that innocent child come near me, because I’m already a condemned man, already sentenced, and there’s no joy, no peace, and no... forgiveness for me!
MOTHER. My son, now you're speaking words of wisdom! Truthfully and without malice: I welcome your decision. There's no place for you here, and amongst us women you'd be plagued to death. So go in peace.
STRANGER. There'll be no more peace, but I'll go. Farewell!
STRANGER. There won’t be any more peace, but I’ll leave. Goodbye!
MOTHER. Exules filii Evae; on earth you shall be a fugitive and a vagabond.
MOTHER. Children of Eve; on earth you will be a fugitive and a wanderer.
STRANGER. Because I have slain my brother.
STRANGER. Because I have killed my brother.
Curtain.
Curtains.
ACT IV
SCENE I
BANQUETING HALL[The room in which the banquet took place in Act III. It is dirty, and furnished with unpainted wooden tables. Beggars, scavengers and loose women. Cripples are seated here and there drinking by the light of tallow dips.]
[The room where the banquet happened in Act III. It's filthy and has unpainted wooden tables. Beggars, scavengers, and loose women are present. Cripples are scattered around, drinking by the light of tallow candles.]
[The STRANGER and the SECOND WOMAN are sitting together drinking brandy, which stands on the table in front of them in a carafe. The STRANGER is drinking heavily.]
[The STRANGER and the SECOND WOMAN are sitting together drinking brandy, which is in a carafe on the table in front of them. The STRANGER is drinking a lot.]
WOMAN. Don't drink so much!
WOMAN. Don't drink that much!
STRANGER. You see. You've scruples, too!
STRANGER. You see? You have your own principles, too!
WOMAN. No. But I don't like to see a man I respect lowering himself so.
WOMAN. No. But I just don't like seeing a man I respect acting like that.
STRANGER. But I came here specially to do so; to take a mud-bath that would harden my skin against the pricks of life. To find immoral support about me. And I chose your company, because you're the most despicable, though you've still retained a spark of humanity. You were sorry for me, when no one else was. Not even myself! Why?
STRANGER. But I came here specifically to do that; to take a mud bath that would toughen my skin against life's challenges. To find some immoral comfort around me. And I chose to be with you because you're the most despicable person I know, yet you still have a spark of humanity. You felt sorry for me when no one else did. Not even I! Why?
WOMAN. Really, I don't know.
WOMAN. Honestly, I have no idea.
STRANGER. But you must know that there are moments when you look almost beautiful.
STRANGER. But you should know that there are times when you look almost beautiful.
WOMAN. Oh, listen to him!
WOMAN. Oh, hear him out!
STRANGER. Yes. And then you resemble a woman who was dear to me.
STRANGER. Yes. And then you look like a woman who was special to me.
WOMAN. Thank you!
WOMAN. Thanks!
WAITRESS. Don't talk so loud, there's a sick man here.
WAITRESS. Please don't speak so loudly; there's a sick person here.
STRANGER. Tell me, have you ever been in love?
STRANGER. Tell me, have you ever fallen in love?
WOMAN. We don't use that word, but I know what you mean. Yes. I had a lover once and we had a child.
WOMAN. We don’t use that word, but I get what you’re saying. Yeah. I had a partner once and we had a kid.
STRANGER. That was foolish!
STRANGER. That was dumb!
WOMAN. I thought so, too, but he said the days liberation were at hand, when all chains would be struck off, all barriers thrown down, and...
WOMAN. I thought the same, but he said that the days of freedom were coming, when all chains would be broken, all barriers removed, and...
STRANGER (tortured). And then...?
STRANGER (tortured). What's next...?
WOMAN. Then he left me.
GIRL. Then he ghosted me.
STRANGER. He was a scoundrel. (He drinks.)
STRANGER. He was a jerk. (He takes a sip.)
WOMAN (looking at him.) You think so?
WOMAN (looking at him.) You really think that?
STRANGER. Yes. He must have been.
STRANGER. For sure, he was.
WOMAN. Now you're so intolerant.
WOMAN. Now you’re so close-minded.
STRANGER (drinking). Am I?
Am I?
WOMAN. Don't drink so much; I want to see you far above me, otherwise you can't raise me up.
WOMAN. Don't drink too much; I want to see you way above me, otherwise you won’t be able to lift me up.
STRANGER. What illusions you must have! Childish! I lift you up! I who am down below. Yet I'm not; it's not I who sit here, for I'm dead. I know that my soul's far away, far, far away.... (He stares in front of him with an absent-minded air)... where a great lake lies in the sunshine like molten gold; where roses blossom on the wall amongst the vines; where a white cot stands under the acacias. But the child's asleep and the mother's sitting beside the cot doing crochet work. There's a long, long strip coming from her mouth and on the strip is written... wait... 'Blessed are the sorrowful, for they shall be comforted.' But that's not so, really. I shall never be comforted. Tell me, isn't there thunder in the air, it's so close, so hot?
STRANGER. You have some wild fantasies! It's so childish! I lift you up! I, who am below. But I'm not; it's not me sitting here, because I'm dead. I know my soul is far away, so far away... (He stares blankly ahead)... where a huge lake glimmers in the sunlight like molten gold; where roses bloom on the walls among the vines; where a white crib stands under the acacias. But the child is asleep and the mother is sitting beside the crib, working on her crochet. There's a long, long thread coming from her mouth, and on the thread it says... wait... 'Blessed are the sorrowful, for they shall be comforted.' But that’s not true, really. I will never be comforted. Tell me, isn’t there thunder in the air? It feels so close and so hot?
WOMAN (looking out of the window). No. I can see no clouds out there....
WOMAN (looking out of the window). No. I don't see any clouds out there....
STRANGER. Strange... that's lightning.
STRANGER. Weird... that's lightning.
WOMAN. No. You're wrong.
WOMAN. No, you're wrong.
STRANGER. One, two, three, four, five... now the thunder must come! But it doesn't. I've never been frightened of a thunderstorm until to-day—I mean, until to-night. But is it day or night?
STRANGER. One, two, three, four, five... now the thunder should be here! But it’s not. I've never been scared of thunderstorms until today—I mean, until tonight. But is it day or night?
WOMAN. My dear, it's night.
WOMAN. My dear, it's nighttime.
STRANGER. Yes. It is night.
STRANGER. Yes. It’s night.
(The DOCTOR has come in during this scene and has sat down behind the STRANGER, without having been seen by him.)
(The DOCTOR has entered during this scene and has taken a seat behind the STRANGER, without being noticed by him.)
WAITRESS. Don't speak so loud, there's a sick person in here.
WAITRESS. Don't talk so loudly, there's someone sick in here.
STRANGER (to the WOMAN). Give me your hand.
STRANGER (to the WOMAN). Hold out your hand.
WOMAN (wiping it on her apron). Oh, why?
WOMAN (wiping it on her apron). Oh, why?
STRANGER. You've a lovely white hand. But... look at mine. It's black. Can't you see it's black?
STRANGER. You have a beautiful white hand. But... look at mine. It's black. Can't you see it's black?
WOMAN. Yes. So it is!
WOMAN. Yes. That's right!
STRANGER. Blackened already, perhaps even rotten? I must see if my heart's stopped. (He puts his hand to his heart.) Yes. It has! So I'm dead, and I know when I died. Strange, to be dead, and yet to be going about. But where am I? Are all these people dead, too? They look as if they'd risen from the sewers of the town, or as if they'd come from prison, poorhouse or lock hospital. They're workers of the night, suffering, groaning, cursing, quarrelling, torturing one another, dishonouring one another, envying one another, as if they possessed anything worthy of envy! The fire of sleep courses through their veins, their tongues cleave to their palates, grown dry through cursing; and then they put out the blaze with water, with fire-water, that engenders fresh thirst. With fire-water, that itself burns with a blue flame and consumes the soul like a prairie fire, that leaves nothing behind it but red sand. (He drinks.) Set fire to it. Put it out again. Set fire to it. Put it out again! But what you can't burn up—unluckily—is the memory of what's past. How can that memory be burned to ashes?
STRANGER. Already blackened, maybe even rotten? I need to check if my heart's stopped. (He puts his hand to his heart.) Yes. It has! So I'm dead, and I know when I died. It's strange to be dead and still be moving around. But where am I? Are all these people dead too? They look like they crawled up from the sewers, or came out of prison, a poorhouse, or a mental hospital. They’re the night workers, suffering, groaning, cursing, fighting with each other, dishonoring one another, envying each other, as if they had anything worth envying! The fire of sleep runs through their veins, their tongues stick to the roofs of their mouths, dried out from cursing; and then they try to quench the fire with water, with alcohol, which just makes them thirstier. With alcohol, that burns with a blue flame and devours the soul like a prairie fire, leaving only red sand behind it. (He drinks.) Set it on fire. Put it out again. Set it on fire. Put it out again! But what you can’t burn away—unfortunately—is the memory of what’s gone. How can that memory be turned to ashes?
WAITRESS. Please don't speak so loud, there's a sick man in here. So ill, that he's already asked to be given the sacrament.
WAITRESS. Please don't talk so loud, there's a sick guy in here. He's so ill that he’s already asked for the sacrament.
STRANGER. May he soon go to hell!
STRANGER. I hope he goes to hell soon!
(Those present murmur at this, resenting it.)
(Those present murmur about this, unhappy with it.)
WAITRESS. Take care! Take care!
Waitress. Be careful! Be careful!
WOMAN (to the STRANGER). Do you know that man who's been sitting behind you, staring at you all the time?
WOMAN (to the STRANGER). Do you know that guy who's been sitting behind you, watching you the whole time?
STRANGER (turning. He and the DOCTOR stare at one another for a moment, without speaking). Yes. I used to know him once.
STRANGER (turning. He and the DOCTOR stare at each other for a moment, without speaking). Yeah. I used to know him once.
WOMAN. He looks as if he'd like to bite you in the back.
WOMAN. He looks like he wants to stab you in the back.
(The DOCTOR sits down opposite the STRANGER and stares at him.)
(The DOCTOR sits down across from the STRANGER and looks at him.)
STRANGER. What are you looking at?
STRANGER. What are you staring at?
DOCTOR. Your grey hairs.
DOC. Your gray hairs.
STRANGER (to the WOMAN). Is my hair grey?
STRANGER (to the WOMAN). Is my hair gray?
WOMAN. Yes. Indeed it is!
WOMAN. Yes, it definitely is!
DOCTOR. And now I'm looking at your fair companion. Sometimes you have good taste. Sometimes not.
DOCTOR. And now I'm looking at your lovely friend. Sometimes you have great taste. Sometimes not.
STRANGER. And sometimes you have the misfortune to have the same taste as I.
STRANGER. And sometimes you end up having the same taste as I do.
DOCTOR. That wasn't a kind remark! But you've killed me twice in your lifetime; so go on.
DOCTOR. That wasn’t a nice thing to say! But you’ve already done me in twice in your life; so just go ahead.
STRANGER (to the WOMAN). Let's get away from here.
STRANGER (to the WOMAN). Let’s leave this place.
DOCTOR. You know when I'm near you. You feel my presence from afar. And I shall reach you, as the thunder will, whether you hide in the depths of the earth or of the sea.... Try to escape me, if you can!
DOCTOR. You know when I'm close by. You sense me from a distance. And I will find you, like thunder does, no matter if you conceal yourself in the depths of the earth or the sea.... Go ahead, try to run from me!
STRANGER (to the WOMAN). Come with me. Lead me... I can't see....
STRANGER (to the WOMAN). Come with me. Guide me... I can't see....
WOMAN. No, I don't want to go yet. I don't want to be bored.
WOMAN. No, I don't want to leave yet. I don't want to be bored.
DOCTOR. You're right there, daughter of joy! Life's hard enough without taking on yourself the sorrows others have brought on themselves. That man won't bear his own sorrows, but makes his wife shoulder the burden for him.
DOCTOR. You're absolutely right, daughter of joy! Life is tough enough without taking on the pain that others have caused themselves. That man won't face his own problems, but he makes his wife carry the weight for him.
STRANGER. What's that? Wait! She bore false witness of a breach of the peace and attempted murder!
STRANGER. What's that? Hold on! She lied about a disturbance and tried to commit murder!
DOCTOR. Now he's putting the blame on her!
DOCTOR. Now he’s accusing her!
STRANGER (resting his head in his hands and letting it sink on to the table. In the far distance a violin and guitar are heard playing the following melody):
STRANGER (resting his head in his hands and letting it drop onto the table. In the far distance, a violin and guitar can be heard playing the following melody):
[See picture road1.jpg]
[See picture road1.jpg]
DOCTOR (to the WOMAN). Is he ill?
DOCTOR (to the WOMAN). Is he sick?
WOMAN. He must be mad; he says he's dead.
WOMAN. He must be crazy; he says he's dead.
(In the distance drums beat the reveille and bugles are blown, but very softly.)
(In the distance, drums play the wake-up call and bugles are sounded, but very softly.)
STRANGER. Is it morning? Night's passing, the sun's rising and ghosts lie down to sleep again in graves. Now I can go. Come!
STRANGER. Is it morning? Night is fading, the sun is rising, and ghosts are settling down to rest in their graves. Now I can leave. Come!
WOMAN (going nearer to the DOCTOR). No. I said no.
WOMAN (moving closer to the DOCTOR). No. I said no.
STRANGER. Even you, the last of all my friends! Am I such a wretched being, that not even a prostitute will bear me company for money?
STRANGER. Even you, the last of all my friends! Am I such a miserable person that not even a sex worker will keep me company for money?
DOCTOR. You must be.
DOCTOR. You have to be.
STRANGER. I don't believe it yet; although everyone tells me so. I don't believe anything at all, for every time I have, I've been deceived. But tell me this hasn't the sun yet risen? A little while ago I heard a cock crow and a dog bark; and now they're ringing the Angelus.... Have they put out the lights, that it's so dark?
STRANGER. I still can't believe it; even though everyone says it's true. I don't trust anything at all, because every time I have, I've been tricked. But tell me, hasn't the sun come up yet? A little while ago, I heard a rooster crow and a dog bark; and now they're ringing the Angelus... Have they turned off the lights because it's so dark?
DOCTOR (to the WOMAN). He must be blind.
DOCTOR (to the WOMAN). He must be blind.
WOMAN. Yes. I think he is.
WOMAN. Yeah. I think he is.
STRANGER. No. I can see you; but I can't see the lights.
STRANGER. No. I can see you, but I can't see the lights.
DOCTOR. For you it's growing dark.... You've played with the lightning, and looked too long at the sun. That is forbidden to men.
DOCTOR. It's getting dark for you... You've danced with lightning and stared too long at the sun. That's off-limits for humans.
STRANGER. We're born with the desire to do it; but may not. That's Envy....
STRANGER. We’re born with the urge to do it, but we might not. That’s Envy...
DOCTOR. What do you possess that's worthy of envy?
DOCTOR. What do you have that's worth envying?
STRANGER. Something you'll never understand, and that only I can value.
STRANGER. It's something you'll never get, and only I can appreciate.
DOCTOR. You mean, the child?
DOCTOR. You mean the kid?
MANGER. You know I didn't mean it. If I had I'd have said that I possessed something you could never let.
MANGER. You know I didn't mean it. If I had, I would've said that I had something you could never let go of.
DOCTOR. So you're back at that! Then I'll express myself as clearly: you took what I'd done with.
DOCTOR. So you’re back to that! Let me be clear: you took what I had worked on.
WOMAN. Oh! I shan't stay in the company of such swine! (She gets up and moves to another seat.)
WOMAN. Oh! I can't stay around people like that! (She gets up and moves to another seat.)
STRANGER. I know we've sunk very low; yet I believe the deeper I sink the nearer I'll come to my goal: the end!
STRANGER. I know we've hit rock bottom; yet I believe the deeper I go, the closer I'll get to my goal: the end!
WAITRESS. Don't speak so loud, there's a dying man in there!
WAITRESS. Don't talk so loudly, there's a dying man in there!
STRANGER. Yes, I believe you. The whole time there's been a smell of corpses here.
STRANGER. Yeah, I believe you. This whole time, there's been a smell of dead bodies here.
DOCTOR. Perhaps that's us?
DOCTOR. Maybe that's us?
STRANGER. Can one be dead, without suspecting it?
STRANGER. Can someone be dead without even realizing it?
DOCTOR. The dead maintain that they don't know the difference.
DOCTOR. The dead say they can't tell the difference.
STRANGER. You terrify me. Is it possible? And all these shadowy figures, whose faces I think I recognise as memories of my youth at school in the swimming bath, the gymnasium.... (He clutches his heart.) Oh! Now he's coming: the Terrible One, who tears the heart out of the breast. The Terrible One, who's been following me for years. He's here!
STRANGER. You scare me. Is that even possible? And all these shadowy figures, whose faces I think I remember from my youth at school in the pool, the gym.... (He clutches his heart.) Oh! Here he comes: the Scary One, who rips the heart right out. The Scary One, who's been chasing me for years. He's here!
(He is beside himself. The doors are thrown open; a choir boy comes in carrying a lantern made of blue glass that throws a blue light on the guests; he rings the silver bell. All present begin to howl like wild beasts. The DOMINICAN then enters with the sacrament. The WAITRESS and the WOMAN throw themselves on their knees, the others howl. The DOMINICAN raises the monstrance; all fall on their knees. The choir boy and the DOMINICAN go into the room on the left.)
(He is beside himself. The doors swing open; a choir boy enters, carrying a lantern made of blue glass that casts a blue light on the guests; he rings the silver bell. Everyone there starts to howl like wild animals. The DOMINICAN then enters with the sacrament. The WAITRESS and the WOMAN drop to their knees, while the others continue howling. The DOMINICAN raises the monstrance; everyone kneels down. The choir boy and the DOMINICAN go into the room on the left.)
BEGGAR (entering and going towards the STRANGER). Come away from here. You're ill. And the bailiffs have a summons for you.
BEGGAR (entering and going towards the STRANGER). Get away from here. You're not well. And the bailiffs have a summons for you.
STRANGER. Summons? From whom?
STRANGER. Who's summoning me?
BEGGAR. Your wife.
Homeless person. Your wife.
DOCTOR. The electric eel strikes at a great distance. She once wanted to bring a charge of slander against me, because she couldn't stay out at night.
DOCTOR. The electric eel can strike from far away. She once tried to accuse me of slander because she couldn't resist going out at night.
STRANGER. Couldn't stay out at night?
STRANGER. Couldn't you stay out at night?
DOCTOR. Yes. Didn't you know who you were married to?
DOCTOR. Yes. Didn't you realize who you were married to?
STRANGER. I heard she'd been engaged before she... married you.
STRANGER. I heard she was engaged before she... married you.
DOCTOR. Yes. That's what it was called, but in reality she'd been the mistress of a married man, whom she denounced for rape, after she'd forced herself into his studio and posed to him naked, as a model.
DOCTOR. Yes. That's what it was called, but in reality, she was the mistress of a married man, whom she accused of rape after she invaded his studio and posed for him naked as a model.
STRANGER. And that was the woman you married?
STRANGER. So that was the woman you married?
DOCTOR. Yes. After she'd seduced me, she denounced me for breach of promise, so I had to marry her. She'd engaged two detectives to see I didn't get away. And that was the woman you married!
DOCTOR. Yes. After she seduced me, she accused me of breaking my promise, so I had to marry her. She hired two detectives to make sure I didn't escape. And that was the woman you married!
STRANGER. I did it because I soon saw it was no good choosing when all were alike.
STRANGER. I did it because I quickly realized it was pointless to choose when they were all the same.
BEGGAR. Come away from here. You'll be sorry if you don't.
BEGGAR. Get away from here. You'll regret it if you don't.
STRANGER (to the DOCTOR). Was she always religious?
STRANGER (to the DOCTOR). Was she always into religion?
DOCTOR. Always.
DOCTOR. Forever.
STRANGER. And tender, good-hearted, self-sacrificing?
STRANGER. And compassionate, kind-hearted, selfless?
DOCTOR. Certainly!
Sure!
STRANGER. Can one understand her?
STRANGER. Can anyone understand her?
DOCTOR. No. But you can go mad thinking about her. That's why one had to accept her as she was. Charming, intoxicating!
DOCTOR. No. But you can drive yourself crazy thinking about her. That's why you had to accept her for who she was. Charming, intoxicating!
STRANGER. Yes, I know. But one's powerless against pity. That's why I don't want to fight this case. I can't defend myself without attacking her; and I don't want to do that.
STRANGER. Yeah, I get it. But you can't help feeling pity. That's why I don't want to take this case to court. I can't defend myself without going after her, and I really don't want to do that.
DOCTOR. You were married before. How was that?
DOCTOR. You were married before. What was that like?
STRANGER. Just the same.
STRANGER. Same as always.
DOCTOR. This love acts like henbane: you see suns, where there are none, and stars where no stars are! But it's pleasant, while it lasts!
DOCTOR. This love is like henbane: you see suns where there are none, and stars where there aren't any! But it feels nice, while it lasts!
STRANGER. And the morning after? Oh, the morning after!
STRANGER. And what about the morning after? Oh, the morning after!
BEGGAR. Come, unhappy man! He's poisoning you, and you don't know it. Come!
BEGGAR. Come on, unfortunate guy! He’s poisoning you, and you’re not even aware of it. Come on!
STRANGER (getting up). Poisoning me, you say? Do you think he's lying?
STRANGER (getting up). Poisoning me, you say? Do you think he's not telling the truth?
BEGGAR. Every word he's said's a lie.
BEGGAR. Everything he’s said is a lie.
STRANGER. I don't believe it.
STRANGER. I can't believe it.
BEGGAR. No. You only believe lies. But that serves you right.
BEGGAR. No. You just believe whatever you're told. But that’s what you deserve.
STRANGER. Has he been lying? Has he?
STRANGER. Has he been lying? Has he?
BEGGAR. How can you believe your enemies?
BEGGAR. How can you trust your enemies?
STRANGER. But he's my friend, because he's told me the bitter truth.
STRANGER. But he's my friend because he's given me the harsh reality.
BEGGAR. Eternal Powers, save his reason! For he believes everything evil's true, and everything good evil. Come, or you'll be lost!
BEGGAR. Eternal Powers, help him keep his sanity! He thinks everything good is bad and everything bad is good. Hurry, or you'll be lost!
DOCTOR. He's lost already! And now he'll be whipped into froth, broken up into atoms, and used as an ingredient in the great pan-cake. Away with you hell! (To those present.) Howl like victims of the pit. (The guests all howl.) And no more womanly pity. Howl, woman! (The WOMAN refuses with a gesture of her hand.)
DOCTOR. He's already lost! Now he'll be whipped into foam, broken into bits, and used as an ingredient in the big pancake. Get away with you, hell! (To those present.) Howl like you're in the pit. (The guests all howl.) And no more feminine pity. Howl, woman! (The WOMAN refuses with a gesture of her hand.)
STRANGER (to the BEGGAR). That man's not lying.
STRANGER (to the BEGGAR). That guy isn't lying.
Curtain.
Curtains.
[A ravine with a stream in the middle, which is crossed by a foot-bridge. In the foreground a smithy and a mill, both of which are in ruins. Fallen trees choke the stream. In the background a starry sky above the pine wood. The constellation of Orion is clearly visible.]
[A ravine with a stream running through it, crossed by a footbridge. In the foreground, there's a blacksmith's shop and a mill, both in ruins. Fallen trees block the stream. In the background, a starry sky looms over the pine forest. The constellation Orion is clearly visible.]
[See picture road2.jpg]
[See picture road2.jpg]
[The STRANGER and the BEGGAR enter. In the foreground there is snow; in the background the green of summer.]
[The STRANGER and the BEGGAR enter. In the foreground, there's snow; in the background, the greenery of summer.]
STRANGER. I feel afraid! To-night the stars seem to hang so low, that I fear they'll fall on me like drops of molten silver. Where are we?
STRANGER. I'm scared! Tonight the stars seem to hang so low that I worry they'll fall on me like drops of molten silver. Where are we?
BEGGAR. In the ravine, by the stream. You must know the place.
BEGGAR. In the valley, by the stream. You know the spot.
STRANGER. Know it? As if I could ever forget it! It reminds me of my honeymoon journey. But where are the smithy and the mill?
STRANGER. Know it? Like I could ever forget it! It takes me back to my honeymoon trip. But where’s the blacksmith and the mill?
BEGGAR. All in ruins! The lake of tears was drained a week ago. The stream rose, then the river, till everything was laid waste—meadows, fields and gardens.
BEGGAR. Everything’s destroyed! The lake of tears was emptied a week ago. The stream rose, then the river, until everything was ruined—meadows, fields, and gardens.
STRANGER. And the quiet house?
STRANGER. What about the quiet house?
BEGGAR. The old sin was washed away, but the walls in left.
BEGGAR. The old sin was wiped clean, but the walls remained.
STRANGER. And those who lived there?
STRANGER. What about the people who lived there?
BEGGAR. They've gone to the colonies; so that the story's now at an end.
BEGGAR. They've gone to the colonies, so the story's over now.
STRANGER. Then my story's at an end too. So thoroughly at an end, that no happy memories remain. The last was fouled by the poisoner....
STRANGER. Well, I guess my story is over too. So completely over, that there are no happy memories left. The last one was ruined by the poisoner....
BEGGAR. Whose poison you prepared! You should declare your bankruptcy.
BEGGAR. Whose poison you made! You should announce your bankruptcy.
STRANGER. Yes. Now I'll have to give in.
STRANGER. Yeah. I guess I’ll have to give in.
BEGGAR. Then the day of reckoning will draw near.
BEGGAR. Then the day of judgment will come soon.
STRANGER. I think we might call it quits; because, if I've sinned, I've been punished.
STRANGER. I think we should just call it a day; because if I've done something wrong, I've paid the price.
BEGGAR. But others certainly won't think so.
BEGGAR. But others definitely won't see it that way.
STRANGER. I've stopped taking account of others, since I saw that the Powers that guide the destinies of mankind brook no accomplices. The crime I committed in this life was that I wanted to set men free....
STRANGER. I've stopped worrying about others since I realized that the Powers that control humanity's destinies allow for no partners. The crime I committed in this life was that I wanted to set people free....
BEGGAR. Set men free from their duties, and criminals from their feeling of guilt, so that they could really become unscrupulous! You're not the first, and not the last to dabble in the Devil's work. Lucifer a non lucendo! But when Reynard grows old, he turns monk—so wisely is it ordained—and then he's forced to split himself in two and drive out Beelzebub with his own penance.
BEGGAR. Let people off from their responsibilities and criminals from their guilt, so they can truly become heartless! You're not the first, and you won't be the last to get involved in the Devil's business. Lucifer in the dark! But when Reynard gets old, he becomes a monk—so wisely it’s set up—and then he has to tear himself in two and banish Beelzebub with his own atonement.
STRANGER. Shall I be driven to that?
STRANGER. Am I going to be forced to do that?
BEGGAR. Yes. Though you don't want it! You'll be forced to preach against yourself from the housetops. To unpick your fabric thread by thread. To flay yourself alive at every street corner, and show what you really are. But that needs courage. All the same, a man who's played with the thunder will not tremble! Yet, sometimes, when night falls and the Invisible Ones, who can only be seen in darkness, ride on his chest, then he will fear—even the stars, and most of all the Mill of Sins, that grinds the past, and grinds it... and grinds it! One of the seven-and-seventeen Wise Men said that the greatest victory he ever won was over himself; but foolish men don't believe it, and that's why they're deceived; because they only credit what nine-and-ninety fools have said a thousand times.
BEGGAR. Yes. Even if you don't want it! You’ll have to shout your flaws from the rooftops. To unravel your own fabric thread by thread. To expose yourself completely at every street corner and reveal who you really are. But that takes courage. Still, a man who has danced with the thunder won’t be afraid! Yet, sometimes, when night falls and the Invisible Ones, who can only be seen in the dark, weigh down on him, then he will fear—even the stars, and especially the Mill of Sins, that grinds the past, and grinds it... and grinds it! One of the seven-and-seventeen Wise Men said the greatest victory he ever achieved was over himself; but foolish people don’t believe it, and that’s why they’re deceived; because they only trust what ninety-nine fools have said a thousand times.
STRANGER. Enough! Tell me; isn't this snow here on the ground?
STRANGER. That's enough! Tell me, isn't this snow on the ground?
BEGGAR. Yes. It's winter here.
BEGGAR. Yes. It's winter now.
STRANGER. But over there it's green.
STRANGER. But over there, it’s green.
BEGGAR. It's summer there.
BEGGAR. It's summer now.
STRANGER. And growing light! (A clear beam of light falls on the foot-bridge.)
STRANGER. And it's getting light! (A clear beam of light shines on the footbridge.)
BEGGAR. Yes. It's light there, and dark here.
BEGGAR. Yes. It's bright over there, and dark here.
STRANGER. And who are they? (Three children, dressed is summer clothing, two girls and a boy, come on to the bridge from the right.) Ho! My children! (The children stop to listen, and then look at the STRANGER without seeming to recognise him. The STRANGER calls.) Gerda! Erik! Thyra! It's your father! (The children appear to recognise him; they turn away to the left.) They don't know me. They don't want to know me.
STRANGER. So, who are they? (Three kids in summer clothes, two girls and a boy, come onto the bridge from the right.) Hey! My kids! (The kids stop to listen, then look at the STRANGER without seeming to recognize him. The STRANGER calls.) Gerda! Erik! Thyra! It's your dad! (The kids seem to recognize him; they turn away to the left.) They don't know me. They don't want to know me.
(A man and a woman enter from the right. The children dance of to the left and disappear. The STRANGER falls on his face on the ground.)
(A man and a woman come in from the right. The children dance off to the left and vanish. The STRANGER collapses face-first onto the ground.)
BEGGAR. Something like that was to be expected. Such things happen. Get up again!
BEGGAR. That was kind of expected. These things happen. Get back up!
STRANGER (raising himself up). Where am I? Where have I been? Is it spring, winter or summer? In what century am I living, in what hemisphere? Am I a child or an old man, male or female, a god or a devil? And who are you? Are you, you; or are you me? Are those my own entrails that I see about me? Are those stars or bundles of nerves in my eye; is that water, or is it tears? Wait! Now I'm moving forward in time for a thousand years, and beginning to shrink, to grow heavier and to crystallise! Soon I'll be re-created, and from the dark waters of Chaos the Lotus flower will stretch up her head towards the sun and say: it is I! I must have been sleeping for a few thousand years; and have dreamed I'd exploded and become ether, and could no longer feel, no longer suffer, no longer be joyful; but had entered into peace and equilibrium. But now! Now! I suffer as much as if I were all mankind. I suffer and have no right to complain....
STRANGER (lifting himself up). Where am I? Where have I been? Is it spring, winter, or summer? What century is it, and what hemisphere am I in? Am I a child or an old person, male or female, a god or a devil? And who are you? Are you you, or are you me? Are those my own insides that I see around me? Are those stars or bundles of nerves in my eye; is that water, or is it tears? Wait! Now I'm moving forward in time by a thousand years, and I'm starting to shrink, get heavier, and crystallize! Soon I'll be re-created, and from the dark waters of Chaos, the Lotus flower will lift its head towards the sun and say: it’s me! I must have been sleeping for a few thousand years; I dreamed that I exploded and became ether, and could no longer feel, no longer suffer, no longer be joyful; but had entered into peace and balance. But now! Now! I suffer as much as if I were all of humanity. I suffer and have no right to complain....
BEGGAR. Then suffer, and the more you suffer the earlier pain will leave you.
BEGGAR. Then endure, and the more you endure, the sooner the pain will go away.
STRANGER. No. Mine are eternal sufferings....
STRANGER. No. My sufferings are eternal....
BEGGAR. And only a minute's passed.
BEGGAR. And only a minute has passed.
STRANGER. I can't bear it.
STRANGER. I can't take it.
BEGGAR. Then you must look for help.
BEGGAR. Then you need to look for help.
STRANGER. What's coming now? Isn't it the end yet?
STRANGER. What’s happening now? Is it not the end yet?
(It grows light above the bridge. CAESAR comes in and throws himself from the parapet; then the DOCTOR appears on the right, with bare head and a wild look. He behaves as if he would throw himself into the stream too.)
(It grows light above the bridge. CAESAR comes in and jumps off the parapet; then the DOCTOR appears on the right, with his head uncovered and a frantic look. He acts as if he is about to jump into the stream as well.)
STRANGER. He's revenged himself so thoroughly, that he awakes no qualms of conscience! (The DOCTOR goes out, left. The SISTER enters, right, as if searching for someone.) Who's that?
STRANGER. He's gotten his revenge so completely that he feels no guilt at all! (The DOCTOR exits left. The SISTER enters from the right, as if looking for someone.) Who's that?
BEGGAR. His unmarried sister, who's unprovided for, and has now no home to go to. She's grown desperate since her brother was driven out of his wits by sorrow and went to pieces.
BEGGAR. His unmarried sister, who has no one to support her, and now has no home to return to. She's become desperate since her brother was driven mad by grief and fell apart.
STRANGER. That's a harder fate. Poor creature, what can one do? Even if I felt her sufferings, would that help her?
STRANGER. That's a tougher situation. Poor thing, what can anyone do? Even if I understood her pain, would that make a difference?
BEGGAR. No. It wouldn't.
BEGGAR. No, it wouldn’t.
STRANGER. Why do qualms of conscience come after, and not beforehand? Can you help me over that?
STRANGER. Why do feelings of guilt come after the fact and not before? Can you help me with that?
BEGGAR. No. No one can. Let us go on.
BEGGAR. No. No one can. Let's move on.
STRANGER. Where to?
STRANGER. Where to next?
BEGGAR. Come with me.
Homeless person. Come with me.
Curtain.
Curtains.
[The LADY, dressed in white, is sitting by the cradle doing crochet work. The green dress is hanging up by the door on the right. The STRANGER comes in, and looks round in astonishment.]
[The LADY, dressed in white, is sitting by the cradle doing crochet work. The green dress is hanging up by the door on the right. The STRANGER comes in and looks around in surprise.]
LADY (simply, mildly, without a trace of surprise). Tread softly and come here, if you'd see something lovely.
LADY (calmly, gently, without any surprise). Walk quietly and come here, if you want to see something beautiful.
STRANGER. Where am I?
STRANGER. Where am I at?
LADY. Quiet! Look at the little stranger who came when you were away.
LADY. Shh! Check out the little visitor who showed up while you were gone.
STRANGER. They told me the river had risen and swept everything off.
STRANGER. They told me the river had flooded and taken everything away.
LADY. Why do you believe everything you're told? The river did rise, but this little creature has someone who protects both her and hers. Wouldn't you like to see your daughter? (The STRANGER goes towards the cradle. The LADY lifts the curtain.) She's lovely! Isn't she? (The STRANGER gazes darkly in front of him.) Won't you look?
LADY. Why do you take everything at face value? The river did flood, but this little one has someone who looks out for her and her family. Don’t you want to see your daughter? (The STRANGER moves toward the cradle. The LADY lifts the curtain.) She’s beautiful! Isn’t she? (The STRANGER stares blankly ahead.) Won’t you take a look?
STRANGER. Everything's poisoned. Everything!
STRANGER. Everything's toxic. Everything!
LADY. Well, perhaps!
LADY. Maybe!
STRANGER. Do you know that he has lost his wits and is wandering in the neighbourhood, followed by his sister, who's searching for him? He's penniless, and drinking....
STRANGER. Do you know that he has lost his mind and is wandering around the neighborhood, with his sister looking for him? He’s broke and drinking....
LADY. Oh, my God!
OMG!
STRANGER. Why don't you reproach me?
STRANGER. Why don't you criticize me?
LADY. You'll reproach yourself enough: I'd rather give you good advice. Go to the Convent of St. Saviour's, there you'll find a man who can free you from the evil you fear.
LADY. You'll blame yourself enough: I'd prefer to give you some good advice. Go to the Convent of St. Saviour's; there you'll find a man who can help you get rid of the trouble you’re afraid of.
STRANGER. What, in the convent, where they curse and bind?
STRANGER. What, in the convent, where they curse and confine?
LADY. And deliver also!
And deliver too!
STRANGER. Frankly, I think you're trying to deceive me; I don't trust you any more.
STRANGER. Honestly, I think you're trying to trick me; I don't trust you anymore.
LADY. Nor I, you! So look on this as your farewell visit.
LADY. Neither do I, you! So think of this as your goodbye visit.
STRANGER. That was my intention; but first I wanted to find out if we're of the same mind....
STRANGER. That was my plan; but first I wanted to see if we think alike….
LADY. You see, we can build no happiness on the sorrows of others; so we must part. That's the only way to lessen his sufferings. I have my child, who'll fill my life for me; and you have the great goal of your ambition....
LADY. You see, we can't find happiness at the expense of others' pain; so we have to say goodbye. That's the only way to ease his suffering. I have my child, who will bring meaning to my life; and you have the important goal of your ambition....
STRANGER. Will you still mock me?
STRANGER. Will you keep mocking me?
LADY. No, why? You've solved the great problem.
LADY. No, why? You've figured out the big issue.
STRANGER. Be quiet! No more of that, even if you believe it.
STRANGER. Quiet! Stop that, even if you think it's true.
LADY. But if all the rest believe it too....
LADY. But if everyone else believes it too....
STRANGER. No one believes it now.
STRANGER. No one believes it anymore.
LADY. It says in the paper to-day that gold's been made in England. That it's been proved possible.
LADY. It says in today's paper that gold has been created in England. That it's been proven possible.
STRANGER. You've been deceived.
STRANGER. You've been fooled.
LADY. No! Oh, heaven, he won't believe his own good fortune.
LADY. No! Oh my gosh, he won't believe how lucky he is.
STRANGER. I no longer believe anything.
STRANGER. I don't believe anything anymore.
LADY. Get the newspaper from the pocket of my dress over there.
LADY. Grab the newspaper from the pocket of my dress over there.
STRANGER. The green witch's dress, that laid a spell on me one Sunday afternoon, between the inn and the church door! That'll bring no good.
STRANGER. The green witch's dress, that cast a spell on me one Sunday afternoon, between the inn and the church door! That won't bring any good.
LADY (fetching the paper herself and also a large parcel that is in the pocket of the dress). See for yourself.
LADY (retrieving the paper herself along with a large package from the pocket of her dress). Check it out for yourself.
STRANGER (tearing up the paper). No need for me to look!
STRANGER (tearing up the paper). No need for me to check!
LADY. He won't believe it. He won't. Yet the chemists want to give a banquet in your honour next Saturday.
LADY. He won't believe it. He just won't. But the chemists want to throw a banquet in your honor next Saturday.
STRANGER. Is that in the paper too? About the banquet?
STRANGER. Is that in the newspaper as well? About the banquet?
LADY (handing him the packet). And here's the diploma of honour. Read it!
LADY (handing him the packet). And here’s the diploma of honor. Read it!
STRANGER (tearing up the packet). Perhaps there's a Government Order too!
STRANGER (ripping open the packet). Maybe there's a Government Order too!
LADY. Those whom the gods would destroy they first make blind! You made your discovery with no good intentions, and therefore you weren't permitted to be the only one to succeed.
LADY. Those whom the gods want to ruin, they first make blind! You found out the truth without any good intentions, and so you weren’t allowed to be the only one to succeed.
STRANGER. Now I shall go. For I won't stay here and lay bare my shame! I've become a laughing-stock, so I'll go and hide myself—bury myself alive, because I don't dare to die.
STRANGER. I'm leaving now. I can't stay here and expose my shame! I've become a joke, so I'm going to go hide—just bury myself alive because I'm too scared to die.
LADY. Then go! We start for the colonies in a few days.
LADY. Then go! We're leaving for the colonies in a few days.
STRANGER. That's frank at least! Perhaps we're nearing a solution.
STRANGER. That’s honest at least! Maybe we’re getting closer to a solution.
LADY. Of the riddle: why we had to meet?
LADY. About the riddle: why did we have to meet?
STRANGER. Why did we have to?
STRANGER. Why did we have to?
LADY. To torture one another.
To hurt each other.
STRANGER. Is that all?
Is that everything?
LADY. You thought you could save me from a werewolf, who really was no such thing, and so you become one yourself. And then I was to save you from evil by taking all the evil in you on myself, and I did so; but the result was that you only became more evil. My poor deliverer! Now you're bound hand and foot and no magician can set you free.
LADY. You thought you could rescue me from a werewolf, which wasn't even real, and in doing so, you turned into one yourself. Then I was supposed to save you from evil by taking all the evil inside you onto myself, and I did; but all that happened was that you became even more evil. My poor rescuer! Now you’re tied up and no magician can help you escape.
STRANGER. Farewell, and thank you for all you've done.
STRANGER. Goodbye, and thanks for everything you've done.
LADY. Farewell, and thank you... for this! (She points to the cradle.)
LADY. Goodbye, and thank you... for this! (She points to the crib.)
STRANGER (going towards the back). First perhaps I ought to take my leave in there.
STRANGER (heading to the back). Maybe I should say goodbye in there first.
LADY. Yes, my dear. Do!
Sure, darling. Go for it!
(The STRANGER goes out through the door at the back. The LADY crosses to the door on the right and lets in the DOMINICAN—who is also the BEGGAR.)
(The STRANGER exits through the door at the back. The LADY walks over to the door on the right and lets in the DOMINICAN—who is also the BEGGAR.)
CONFESSOR. Is he ready now?
CONFESSOR. Is he ready yet?
LADY. Nothing remains for this unhappy man but to leave the world and bury himself in a monastery.
LADY. Nothing is left for this unfortunate man but to leave the world and hide away in a monastery.
CONFESSOR. So he doesn't believe he's the great inventor he undoubtedly is?
CONFESSOR. So he doesn't think he's the amazing inventor that he definitely is?
LADY. No. He can believe good of no one, not even of himself.
LADY. No. He can't believe anything good about anyone, not even himself.
CONFESSOR. That is the punishment Heaven sent him: to believe lies, because he wouldn't listen to the truth.
CONFESSOR. That’s the punishment Heaven gave him: to believe lies, because he wouldn’t heed the truth.
LADY. Lighten his guilty burden for him, if you can.
LADY. Ease his guilty burden for him, if you can.
CONFESSOR. No. If I did he'd only grow insolent and accuse God of malice and injustice. This man is a demon, who must be kept confined. He belongs to the dangerous race of rebels; he'd misuse his gifts, if he could, to do evil. And men's power for evil is immeasurable.
CONFESSOR. No. If I did, he’d just become arrogant and blame God for being cruel and unfair. This guy is a demon who needs to be locked up. He’s part of that dangerous group of rebels; if he could, he’d misuse his abilities to do harm. And the capacity for evil in people is limitless.
LADY. For the sake of the... attachment you've shown me, can't you ease his burden a little; where it presses on him most and where he's least to blame?
LADY. Because of the... affection you've shown me, can't you lighten his load a bit; especially where it weighs on him the most and where he’s least at fault?
CONFESSOR. You must do that, not I; so that he can leave you in the belief that you've a good side, and that you're not what your first husband told him you were. If he believes you, I'll deliver him later, just as I once bound him when he confessed to me, during his illness, in the convent of St. Saviour's.
CONFESSOR. You have to do that, not me; so he can think you have a good side and that you're not what your first husband told him you were. If he believes you, I'll handle him later, just like I once kept him in check when he confessed to me during his illness at the convent of St. Saviour's.
LADY (going to the back and opening the door). As you wish!
LADY (going to the back and opening the door). Sure thing!
STRANGER (re-entering). So there's the Terrible One! How did he come here? But isn't he the beggar, after all?
STRANGER (re-entering). So there's the Terrible One! How did he get here? But isn't he just the beggar, after all?
CONFESSOR. Yes, I am your terrible friend, and I've come for you.
CONFESSOR. Yes, I’m your frightening friend, and I’m here for you.
STRANGER. What? Have I...?
STRANGER. What? Have I...?
CONFESSOR. Yes. Once already you promised me your soul, on oath, when you lay ill and felt near madness. It was then you offered to serve the powers of good; but when you got well again you broke your oath, and therefore were plagued with unrest, and wandered abroad unable to find peace—tortured by your own conscience.
CONFESSOR. Yes. You once promised me your soul, on oath, when you were sick and felt close to losing your mind. That was when you offered to serve the forces of good; but once you recovered, you broke your oath, and as a result, you were haunted by unrest, wandering around unable to find peace—tortured by your own conscience.
STRANGER. Who are you really? Who dares lay a hand on my destiny?
STRANGER. Who are you actually? Who has the nerve to mess with my fate?
CONFESSOR. You must ask her that.
CONFESSOR. You need to ask her that.
LADY. This is the man to whom I was first engaged, and who dedicated his life to the service of God, when I left him.
LADY. This is the man I was originally engaged to, and who devoted his life to serving God when I walked away from him.
STRANGER. Even if he were!
STRANGER. Even if he is!
LADY. So you needn't think so ill of yourself because it was you who punished my faithlessness and another's lack of conscience.
LADY. So you shouldn't think so poorly of yourself because it was you who punished my betrayal and someone else's lack of morals.
STRANGER. His sin cannot justify mine. Of course it's untrue, like everything else; and you only say it to console me.
STRANGER. His wrongdoing doesn't make mine right. Obviously, that's not true, like everything else; and you're only saying that to make me feel better.
CONFESSOR. What an unhappy soul he is....
CONFESSOR. What an unfortunate soul he is...
STRANGER. A damned one too!
STRANGER. A cursed one too!
CONFESSOR. No! (To the LADY.) Say something good of him.
CONFESSOR. No! (To the LADY.) Say something nice about him.
LADY. He won't believe it, if I do; he only believes evil!
LADY. He won't believe me if I say it; he only believes the bad!
CONFESSOR. Then I shall have to say it. A beggar once came and asked him for a drink of water; but he gave me wine instead and let me sit at his table. You remember that?
CONFESSOR. Then I guess I have to say it. A beggar once came and asked him for a drink of water; but he gave me wine instead and let me sit at his table. You remember that?
STRANGER. No. I don't load my memory with such trifles.
STRANGER. No. I don't fill my mind with such pointless stuff.
CONFESSOR. Pride! Pride!
CONFESSOR. Ego! Ego!
STRANGER. Call it pride, if you like. It's the last vestige of our god-like origin. Let's go, before it grows dark.
STRANGER. Call it pride, if you want. It's the last remnant of our god-like origin. Let's go, before it gets dark.
CONFESSOR. 'For the whole world shined with clear light and none were hindered in their labour. Over these only was spread a heavy night, an image of darkness which should afterward receive them; but yet were they unto themselves more grievous than the darkness.'
CONFESSOR. 'For the whole world was bathed in bright light, and no one was held back in their work. Only over these rested a heavy night, a symbol of the darkness that would eventually envelop them; yet they found themselves to be more burdensome than the darkness itself.'
LADY. Don't hurt him!
LADY. Don't hurt him!
STRANGER (with passion). How beautifully she can speak, though she is evil. Look at her eyes; they cannot weep tears, but they can flatter, sting, or lie! And yet she says: Don't hurt him! See, now she fears I'll wake her child, the little monster that robbed me of her! Come, priest, before I change my mind.
STRANGER (with passion). How beautifully she speaks, even though she’s wicked. Look at her eyes; they can’t shed tears, but they can flatter, sting, or deceive! And yet she says: Don't hurt him! Now she’s afraid I’ll wake her child, the little monster that took her away from me! Come on, priest, before I change my mind.
Curtain.
Curtains.
PART III.
CHARACTERS
THE STRANGER
THE LADY
THE CONFESSOR
THE MAGISTRATE
THE PRIOR
THE TEMPTER
THE DAUGHTER
THE STRANGER
THE LADY
THE CONFESSOR
THE MAGISTRATE
THE PRIOR
THE TEMPTER
THE DAUGHTER
less important figures
HOSTESS
FIRST VOICE
SECOND VOICE
WORSHIPPERS OF VENUS
MAIA
PILGRIM
FATHER
WOMAN
EVE
PRIOR
PATER ISIDOR (the Doctor of Part I)
PATER CLEMENS
PATER MELCHER
less important figures
HOSTESS
FIRST VOICE
SECOND VOICE
WORSHIPPERS OF VENUS
MAIA
PILGRIM
FATHER
WOMAN
EVE
PRIOR
PATER ISIDOR (the Doctor of Part I)
PATER CLEMENS
PATER MELCHER
ACT I On the River Bank
ACT II Cross-Roads in the Mountains
ACT III SCENE I Terrace
SCENE II Rocky Landscape
SCENE III Small House
(On the Mountain where the Monastery Stands)
ACT IV SCENE I Chapter House
SCENE II Picture Gallery
SCENE III Chapel
(Of the Monastery)
ACT I On the River Bank
ACT II Cross-Roads in the Mountains
ACT III SCENE I Terrace
SCENE II Rocky Landscape
SCENE III Small House
(On the Mountain where the Monastery Stands)
ACT IV SCENE I Chapter House
SCENE II Picture Gallery
SCENE III Chapel
(Of the Monastery)ACT I
ON THE RIVER BANK
[The foreground represents the bank of a large river. On the right a projecting tongue of land covered with old willow trees. Farther up stage the river can be seen flowing quietly past. The background represents the farther bank, a steep mountain slope covered with woodland. Above the tops of the forest trees the Monastery can be seen; it is an enormous four-cornered building completely white, with two rows of small windows. The façade is broken by the Church belonging to the Monastery, which is flanked by two towers in the style favoured by the Jesuits. The Church door is open, and at a certain moment the monstrance on the altar is visible in the light of the sun. On the near bank in the foreground, which is low and sandy, purple and yellow loose-strife are growing. A shallow boat is moored nearby. On the left the ferryman's hut. It is an evening in early summer and the sun is low; foreground, river and the lower part of the background lie in shadow; and the trees on the far bank sway gently in the breeze. Only the Monastery is lit by the sun.]
[The foreground shows the edge of a large river. On the right, there's a jutting piece of land filled with old willow trees. Further up, the river flows peacefully. In the background, the opposite bank features a steep mountainside covered in woods. Above the treetops, you can see the Monastery; it’s a huge, white, four-cornered building with two rows of small windows. The front is interrupted by the Church that belongs to the Monastery, flanked by two towers in the style preferred by the Jesuits. The Church door is open, and at one point, the monstrance on the altar catches the sunlight. On the nearby sandy bank, purple and yellow loose-strife are blooming. A small boat is tied up close by. On the left, there’s the ferryman's hut. It’s a summer evening with the sun getting low; the foreground, river, and the lower part of the background are in shadow, while the trees on the far bank gently sway in the breeze. Only the Monastery is illuminated by sunlight.]
[The STRANGER and the CONFESSOR enter from the right. The STRANGER is wearing alpine clothing: a brown cloak with a cape and hood; he has a staff and wallet. He is limping slightly. The CONFESSOR is to the black and white habit of the Dominicans. They stop at a place where a willow tree prevents any view of the Monastery.]
[The STRANGER and the CONFESSOR enter from the right. The STRANGER is wearing alpine clothing: a brown cloak with a cape and hood; he has a staff and a bag. He is limping a bit. The CONFESSOR is dressed in the black and white habit of the Dominicans. They stop at a spot where a willow tree blocks any view of the Monastery.]
STRANGER. Why do you lead me along this winding, hilly path, that never comes to an end?
STRANGER. Why are you taking me along this twisting, hilly path that seems to go on forever?
CONFESSOR. Such is the way, my friend. But now we'll soon be there. (He leads the STRANGER farther up stage. The STRANGER sees the Monastery, and is enchanted by it; he takes off his hat, and puts down his wallet and staff.) Well?
CONFESSOR. That's the way, my friend. But we'll be there soon. (He leads the STRANGER further upstage. The STRANGER sees the Monastery, and is captivated by it; he takes off his hat, and sets down his wallet and staff.) So?
STRANGER. I've never seen anything so white on this polluted earth. At most, only in my dreams! Yes, that's my youthful dream of a house in which peace and purity should dwell. A blessing on you, white house! Now I've come home!
STRANGER. I've never seen anything so white on this polluted earth. At most, only in my dreams! Yes, that's my youthful dream of a house where peace and purity can live. A blessing on you, white house! Now I've finally come home!
CONFESSOR. Good! But first we must await the pilgrims on this bank. It's called the bank of farewell, because it's the custom to say farewell here, before the ferryman ferries one across.
CONFESSOR. Great! But first we need to wait for the pilgrims on this bank. It's called the bank of farewell because it's customary to say goodbye here before the ferryman takes you across.
STRANGER. Haven't I said enough farewells already? Wasn't my whole life one thorny path of farewells? At post offices, steamer-quays, railway stations—with the waving of handkerchiefs damp with tears?
STRANGER. Haven't I said enough goodbyes already? Wasn't my whole life one difficult journey of goodbyes? At post offices, docks, train stations—with handkerchiefs waving, soaked with tears?
CONFESSOR. Yet your voice trembles with the pain what you've lost.
CONFESSOR. Yet your voice shakes with the pain of what you've lost.
STRANGER. I don't feel I've lost anything. I don't want anything back.
STRANGER. I don’t feel like I’ve lost anything. I don’t want anything back.
CONFESSOR. Not even your youth?
CONFESSOR. Not even your young age?
STRANGER. That least of all. What should I do with it, and its capacity for suffering?
STRANGER. Definitely not that. What am I supposed to do with it and its ability to suffer?
CONFESSOR. And for enjoyment?
CONFESSOR. And for fun?
STRANGER. I never enjoyed anything, for I was born with a thorn in my flesh; every time I stretched out my hand to grasp a pleasure, I pricked my finger and Satan struck me in the face.
STRANGER. I never enjoyed anything because I was born with a thorn in my flesh; every time I reached out to grab a pleasure, I pricked my finger and Satan hit me in the face.
CONFESSOR. Because your pleasures have been base ones.
CONFESSOR. Because your pleasures have been unworthy.
STRANGER. Not so base. I had my own home, a wife, children, duties, obligations to others! No, I was born in disfavour, a step-child of life; and I was pursued, hunted, in a word, cursed!
STRANGER. Not that low. I had my own home, a wife, kids, responsibilities, obligations to others! No, I was born into misfortune, a stepchild of life; and I was chased, hunted, in short, cursed!
CONFESSOR. Because you didn't obey God's commandment.
CONFESSOR. Because you didn't follow God's command.
STRANGER. But no one can, as St. Paul says himself! Why should I be able to do what no one else can do? I of all men? Because I'm supposed to be a scoundrel. Because more's demanded of me than of others.... (Crying out.) Because I was treated with injustice.
STRANGER. But no one can, as St. Paul says! Why should I be able to do what no one else can? Me, of all people? Because I'm supposed to be a jerk. Because people expect more from me than from others.... (Crying out.) Because I've been treated unfairly.
CONFESSOR. Have you got back to that, rebellious one?
CONFESSOR. Have you returned to that, you defiant one?
STRANGER. Yes. I've always been there. Now let's cross the river.
STRANGER. Yeah. I've always been around. Now let's cross the river.
CONFESSOR. Do you think one can climb up to that white house without preparation?
CONFESSOR. Do you really believe someone can reach that white house without any preparation?
STRANGER. I'm ready: you can examine me.
STRANGER. I'm ready: you can check me out.
CONFESSOR. Good! The first monastic vow is: humility.
CONFESSOR. Great! The first monastic vow is: humility.
STRANGER. And the second: obedience! Neither of them was ever a special virtue of mine; it's for that very reason that I want to make the great attempt.
STRANGER. And the second: obedience! Neither of those has ever been a particular strength of mine; that's exactly why I want to take on this big challenge.
CONFESSOR. And show your pride through your humility.
CONFESSOR. And let your pride shine through your humility.
STRANGER. Whatever it is, it's all the same to me.
STRANGER. Whatever it is, I don't care.
CONFESSOR. What, everything? The world and its best gifts; the joy of innocent children, the pleasant warmth of home, the approbation of your fellow-men, the satisfaction brought by the fulfilment of duty—are you indifferent to them all?
CONFESSOR. What, everything? The world and its greatest gifts; the joy of innocent kids, the cozy warmth of home, the approval of those around you, the satisfaction that comes from doing your duty—are you really indifferent to all of that?
STRANGER. Yes! Because I was born without the power of enjoyment. There have been moments when I've been an object of envy; but I've never understood what it was I was envied for: my sufferings in misfortune, my lack of peace in success, or the fact I hadn't long to live.
STRANGER. Yes! Because I was born without the ability to enjoy life. There have been times when I've been envied; but I've never grasped what people envied me for: my struggles in hardship, my lack of peace in success, or the fact that I don't have long to live.
CONFESSOR. It's true that life has given you everything you wished; even a little gold at the last. Why, I even seem to remember that a sculptor was commissioned to make a portrait bust of you.
CONFESSOR. It's true that life has given you everything you wanted; even a little gold in the end. Why, I even seem to remember that a sculptor was hired to create a portrait bust of you.
STRANGER. Oh yes! A bust was made of me.
STRANGER. Oh yes! They made a bust of me.
CONFESSOR. Are you, of all men, impressed by such things?
CONFESSOR. Are you, of all people, affected by stuff like this?
STRANGER. Of course not! But they do at least mark well founded appreciation, that neither envy nor lack of understanding can shake.
STRANGER. Of course not! But they do at least indicate a well-founded appreciation that neither envy nor ignorance can shake.
CONFESSOR. You think so? It seems to me that human greatness resides in the good opinion of others; and that, if this opinion changes, the greatest can quickly dwindle into nothing.
CONFESSOR. You think so? It seems to me that human greatness comes from how others perceive us; and that, if that perception shifts, even the greatest can quickly fade away.
STRANGER. The opinions of others have never meant much to me.
STRANGER. I’ve never cared much about what others think.
CONFESSOR. Haven't they? Really?
CONFESSOR. Haven't they? Seriously?
STRANGER. No one's been so strict with himself as I! And no one's been so humble! All have demanded my respect; whilst they spurned me and spat on me. And when at last I found I'd duties towards the immortal soul given into my keeping, I began to demand respect for this immortal soul. Then I was branded as the proudest of the proud! And by whom? By the proudest of all amongst the humble and lowly.
STRANGER. No one has been as hard on himself as I have! And no one has been as humble! Everyone wanted my respect while they treated me with disdain. Finally, when I realized I had responsibilities towards the immortal soul entrusted to me, I started asking for respect for that soul. That's when I was labeled as the proudest of the proud! And by whom? By the proudest of all among the humble and lowly.
CONFESSOR. I think you're entangling yourself in contradictions.
CONFESSOR. I think you're getting yourself caught up in contradictions.
STRANGER. I think so, too! For the whole of life consists of nothing but contradictions. The rich are the poor in spirit; the many little men hold the power, and the great only serve the little men. I've never met such proud people as the humble; I've never met an uneducated man who didn't believe himself in a position to criticise learning and to do without it. I've found the unpleasantest of deadly sins amongst the Saints: I mean self-complacency. In my youth I was a saint myself; but I've never been so worthless as I was then. The better I thought myself, the worse I became.
STRANGER. I think so, too! Life is just full of contradictions. The rich are often poor in spirit; the many little people hold the power, while the great only serve the little ones. I've never encountered such proud individuals as the humble; I've never met an uneducated person who didn't think they could critique knowledge and do without it. I've found the most unpleasant deadly sin among the Saints: self-satisfaction. In my youth, I was a saint myself, but I’ve never felt as worthless as I did back then. The more I thought of myself, the worse I actually became.
CONFESSOR. Then what do you seek here?
CONFESSOR. So, what are you looking for here?
STRANGER. What I've told you already; but I'll add this: I'm seeking death without the need to die!
STRANGER. What I've told you already; but I'll add this: I'm looking for a way to end things without actually dying!
CONFESSOR. The mortification of your flesh, of your old self! Good! Now keep still: the pilgrims are coming on their wooden rafts to celebrate the festival of Corpus Christi.
CONFESSOR. Denying your flesh, your old self! Good! Now stay quiet: the pilgrims are coming on their wooden rafts to celebrate the Corpus Christi festival.
STRANGER (looking to the right in surprise). Who are they?
STRANGER (looking to the right in surprise). Who are they?
CONFESSOR. People who believe in something.
CONFESSOR. People who have faith in something.
STRANGER. Then help my unbelief! (Sunlight now falls on the monstrance in the church above, so that it shines like a window pane at sunset.) Has the sun entered the church, or....
STRANGER. Then help my doubt! (Sunlight now falls on the monstrance in the church above, making it shine like a window pane at sunset.) Has the sun entered the church, or....
CONFESSOR. Yes. The sun has entered....
CONFESSOR. Yes. The sun has come in...
(The first raft comes in from the right. Children clothed in white, with garlands on their heads and with lighted lanterns in their hands, are seen standing round an altar decked with flowers, on which a white flag with a golden lily has been planted. They sing, whilst the raft glides slowly by.)
(The first raft approaches from the right. Children dressed in white, wearing garlands on their heads and holding lit lanterns, are gathered around an altar adorned with flowers, where a white flag featuring a golden lily is planted. They sing as the raft moves slowly past.)
Blessèd be he, who fears the Lord,
Beati omnes, qui timent Dominum,
And walks in his ways,
Qui ambulant in viis ejus.
Thou shalt feed thyself with the work of thy hands,
Labores manuum tuarum quia manducabis;
Blessèd be thou and peace be with thee,
Beatus es et bene tibi erit.
Blessed be he who fears the Lord,
Blessed are all who respect the Lord,
And walks in his ways,
Who walks in his paths.
You will eat from the fruit of your labor,
You will eat the work of your hands;
Blessed are you, and peace be with you,
You are blessed, and it will be well with you.(A second raft appears with boys on one side and girls on the other. It has a flag with a rose on it.)
(A second raft appears with boys on one side and girls on the other. It has a flag featuring a rose.)
Thy wife shall be like a fruitful vine,
Uxor tua sicut vitis abundans,
Within thy house,
In lateribus domus tuae.
Your wife will be like a fruitful vine,
Uxor tua sicut vitis abundans,
Within your house,
In lateribus domus tuae.(The third raft carries men and women. There is a flag with fruit upon it: figs, grapes, pomegranates, melons, ears of wheat, etc.)
(The third raft carries men and women. There is a flag featuring fruit: figs, grapes, pomegranates, melons, ears of wheat, etc.)
Filii tui sicut novellae olivarum,
Thy children shall be like olive branches about thy table,
In circuitu mensae tuae.
Thy children shall be like young olive shoots around your table.
(The fourth raft is filled with older men and women. The flag has a representation of a fir-tree under snow.)
(The fourth raft is filled with older men and women. The flag features a representation of a fir tree covered in snow.)
See, how blessèd is the man,
Ecce sic benedicetur homo,
Who feareth the Lord,
Qui timet Dominum!
Look how blessed is the man,
Behold, this is how the man will be blessed,
Who fears the Lord,
Who has reverence for the Lord!(The raft glides by.)
(The raft floats by.)
STRANGER. What were they singing?
STRANGER. What were they singing?
CONFESSOR. A pilgrim's song.
CONFESSOR. A traveler's song.
STRANGER. Who wrote it?
Who wrote this?
CONFESSOR. A royal person.
Royal figure.
STRANGER. Here? What was his name? Has he written anything else?
STRANGER. Here? What was his name? Has he published anything else?
CONFESSOR. About fifty songs; he was called David, the son of Isaiah! But he didn't always write psalms. When he was young, he did other things. Yes. Such things will happen!
CONFESSOR. About fifty songs; he was called David, the son of Isaiah! But he didn't always write psalms. When he was young, he did other things. Yes. Such things will happen!
STRANGER. Can we go on now?
STRANGER: Can we continue now?
CONFESSOR. In a moment. I've something to say to you first.
CONFESSOR. Just a second. I have something to tell you first.
STRANGER. Speak.
Stranger, talk to me.
CONFESSOR. Good. But don't be either sad or angry.
CONFESSOR. Great. But try not to be sad or angry.
STRANGER. Certainly not.
No way.
CONFESSOR. Here, you see, on this bank, you're a well-known—let's say famous—person; but over there, on the other, you'll be quite unknown to the brothers. Nothing more, in fact, than an ordinary simple man.
CONFESSOR. Here, you see, on this bank, you're a well-known—let's say famous—person; but over there, on the other side, you'll be totally unknown to the brothers. In fact, you’ll be just an ordinary guy.
STRANGER. Oh! Don't they read in the monastery?
STRANGER. Oh! Don’t they read in the monastery?
CONFESSOR. Nothing light; only serious books.
CONFESSOR. Nothing trivial; only serious books.
STRANGER. They take in papers, I suppose?
STRANGER. I assume they accept papers?
CONFESSOR. Not the kind that write about you!
CONFESSOR. Not the kind that writes about you!
STRANGER. Then on the other side of this river my life-work doesn't exist?
STRANGER. So, on the other side of this river, my life's work doesn't exist?
CONFESSOR. What work?
What job?
STRANGER. I see. Very well. Can't we cross now?
STRANGER. I get it. Alright. Can we cross now?
CONFESSOR. In a minute. Is there no one you'd like to take leave of?
CONFESSOR. Just a moment. Is there anyone you want to say goodbye to?
STRANGER (after a pause.) Yes. But it's beyond the bounds of possibility.
STRANGER (after a pause.) Yes. But it's impossible.
CONFESSOR. Have you ever seen anything impossible?
CONFESSOR. Have you ever seen anything that seemed impossible?
STRANGER. Not really, since I've seen my own destiny.
STRANGER. Not really, since I've seen my own future.
CONFESSOR. Well, who is it you'd like to meet?
CONFESSOR. So, who do you want to meet?
STRANGER. I had a daughter once; I called her Sylvia, because she sang all day long like a wren. It's some years since I saw her; she must be a girl of sixteen now. But I'm afraid if I were to meet her, life would regain its value for me.
STRANGER. I had a daughter once; I named her Sylvia because she sang all day long like a wren. It's been several years since I last saw her; she must be about sixteen now. But I'm worried that if I were to meet her, life would become meaningful to me again.
CONFESSOR. You fear nothing else?
CONFESSOR. You’re not afraid of anything else?
STRANGER. What do you mean?
STRANGER. What do you mean?
CONFESSOR. That she may have changed!
She could have changed!
STRANGER. She could only have changed for the better.
STRANGER. She must have changed for the better.
CONFESSOR. Are you sure?
CONFESSOR. Are you positive?
STRANGER. Yes.
STRANGER. Yeah.
CONFESSOR. She'll come to you. (He goes down to the bank and beckons to the right.)
CONFESSOR. She'll come to you. (He walks down to the riverbank and gestures to the right.)
STRANGER. Wait! I'm wondering whether it's wise!
STRANGER. Hold on! I’m not sure if this is a good idea!
CONFESSOR. It can do no harm.
CONFESSOR. It won’t hurt anything.
(He beckons once more. A boat appears on the river, rowed by a young girl. She is wearing summer clothing, her head is bare and her fair hair is hanging loose. She gets out of the boat behind the willow tree. The CONFESSOR draws back until he is near the ferryman's hut, but remains in sight of the audience. The STRANGER has waved to the girl and she has answered him. She now comes on to the stage, runs into the STRANGER'S arms, and kisses him.)
(He gestures again. A boat comes into view on the river, rowed by a young girl. She's dressed for summer, her head uncovered and her light hair flowing freely. She steps out of the boat behind the willow tree. The CONFESSOR moves back until he's near the ferryman's hut, but stays visible to the audience. The STRANGER has waved to the girl and she has waved back. She now enters the stage, rushes into the STRANGER'S arms, and kisses him.)
DAUGHTER. Father. My dear father!
Dad. My dear dad!
STRANGER. Sylvia! My child!
STRANGER. Sylvia! My kid!
DAUGHTER. How in the world do you come to be up here in the mountains?
DAUGHTER. How on earth did you end up here in the mountains?
STRANGER. And how have you got here? I thought I'd managed to hide so well.
STRANGER. And how did you end up here? I thought I had hidden so well.
DAUGHTER. Why did you want to hide?
DAUGHTER. Why did you want to keep it a secret?
STRANGER. Ask me as little as possible! You've grown into a big girl. And I've gone grey.
STRANGER. Don't ask me too much! You've become quite the young lady. And I've gone grey.
DAUGHTER. No. You're not grey. You're just as young as you were when we parted.
DAUGHTER. No. You’re not gray. You’re just as young as you were when we last saw each other.
STRANGER. When we... parted!
STRANGER. When we... said goodbye!
DAUGHTER. When you left us.... (The STRANGER does not reply.) Aren't you glad we're meeting again?
DAUGHTER. When you left us... (The STRANGER doesn’t respond.) Aren't you happy we're seeing each other again?
STRANGER (faintly). Yes!
Yes!
DAUGHTER. Then show it.
Show it, daughter.
STRANGER. How can I be glad, when we're parting to-day for life?
STRANGER. How can I feel happy when we're saying goodbye today for good?
DAUGHTER. Why, where do you want to go?
DAUGHTER. Why, where do you want to go?
STRANGER (pointing to the monastery). Up there!
STRANGER (pointing to the monastery). Over there!
DAUGHTER (with a sophisticated air). Into the monastery? Yes, now I come to think of it, perhaps it's best.
DAUGHTER (with a refined attitude). Into the monastery? Yeah, now that I think about it, maybe it's for the best.
STRANGER. You think so?
STRANGER: You really think that?
DAUGHTER (with pity, but good-will.) I mean, if you've a ruined life behind you.... (Coaxingly.) Now you look sad. Tell me one thing.
DAUGHTER (with pity, but good intentions.) I mean, if you have a messed-up life behind you.... (Coaxingly.) Now you seem sad. Just tell me one thing.
STRANGER. Tell me one thing, my child, that's been worrying me more than anything else. You've a stepfather?
STRANGER. Tell me one thing, my child, that's been bothering me more than anything else. Do you have a stepfather?
DAUGHTER. Yes.
DAUGHTER. Yup.
STRANGER. Well?
STRANGER: So?
DAUGHTER. He's very good and kind.
DAUGHTER. He's really nice and caring.
STRANGER. With every virtue that I lack....
STRANGER. With every good quality that I don't have....
DAUGHTER. Aren't you glad we've got into better hands?
DAUGHTER. Aren't you happy we're in better hands now?
STRANGER. Good, better, best! Why do you come here bare-headed?
STRANGER. Good, better, best! Why are you here without a hat?
DAUGHTER. Because George is carrying my hat.
DAUGHTER. Because George is holding my hat.
STRANGER. Who's George? And where is he?
STRANGER. Who’s George? And where is he?
DAUGHTER. George is a friend of mine; and he's waiting for me on the bank down below.
DAUGHTER. George is my friend, and he's waiting for me on the bank down below.
STRANGER. Are you engaged to him?
STRANGER. Are you seeing him?
DAUGHTER. No. Certainly not!
Daughter: No, definitely not!
STRANGER. Do you want to marry?
STRANGER. Do you want to get married?
DAUGHTER. Never!
DAUGHTER. No way!
STRANGER. I can see it by your mottled cheeks, like those of a child that has got up too early; I can hear it by your voice, that's no longer that of a warbler, but a jay; I can feel it in your kisses, that burn cold like the sun in May; and by your steady icy look that tells me you're nursing a secret of which you're ashamed, but of which you'd like to boast. And your brothers and sisters?
STRANGER. I can see it in your blotchy cheeks, like those of a child who woke up too early; I can hear it in your voice, which is no longer like a songbird's but more like a jay's; I can feel it in your kisses, which burn cold like the sun in May; and by your unwavering icy gaze that tells me you're keeping a secret you're ashamed of, but would also like to show off. And what about your brothers and sisters?
DAUGHTER. They're quite well, thank you.
DAUGHTER. They're doing well, thanks.
STRANGER. Have we anything else to say to one another?
STRANGER. Is there anything else we need to discuss?
DAUGHTER (coldly). Perhaps not.
DAUGHTER (coldly). Maybe not.
STRANGER. Now you look so like your mother.
STRANGER. You look so much like your mom now.
DAUGHTER. How do you know, when you've never been able to see her as she was!
DAUGHTER. How can you know, when you've never seen her for who she really was!
STRANGER. So you understood that, though you were so young?
STRANGER. So you got that, even at such a young age?
DAUGHTER. I learnt to understand it from you. If only you'd understand yourself.
DAUGHTER. I learned to understand it from you. If only you’d understand yourself.
STRANGER. Have you anything else to teach me?
STRANGER. Do you have anything else to teach me?
DAUGHTER. Perhaps! But in your day that wasn't considered seemly.
DAUGHTER. Maybe! But back in your day, that wasn’t seen as appropriate.
STRANGER. My day's over and exists no longer; just as Sylvia exists no longer, but is merely a name, a memory. (He takes a guide-book out of his pocket.) Look at this guide-book! Can you see small marks made here by tiny fingers, and others by little damp lips? You made them when you were five years old; you were sitting on my knee in the train, and we saw the Alps for the first time. You thought what you saw was Heaven; and when I explained that the mountain was the Jungfrau, you asked if you could kiss the name in the book.
STRANGER. My day is done and doesn't really exist anymore; just like Sylvia is gone, just a name, a memory. (He pulls out a guidebook from his pocket.) Look at this guidebook! Can you see the small marks made here by tiny fingers and others by little damp lips? You made them when you were five years old; you were sitting on my lap in the train, and we saw the Alps for the first time. You thought what you were seeing was Heaven; and when I told you the mountain was the Jungfrau, you asked if you could kiss the name in the book.
DAUGHTER. I don't remember that!
DAUGHTER. I don’t recall that!
STRANGER. Delightful memories pass, but hateful ones remain! Don't you remember anything about me?
STRANGER. Great memories fade, but the bad ones stick around! Don’t you remember anything about me?
DAUGHTER. Oh yes.
DAUGHTER: Oh yeah.
STRANGER. Quiet! I know what you mean. One night... one dreadful, horrible night... Sylvia, my child, when I shut my eyes I see a pale little angel, who slept in my arms when she was ill; and who thanked me when I gave her a present. Where is she whom I long for so and who exists no more, although she isn't dead? You, as you are, seem a stranger, whom I've never known and certainly don't long to see again. If Sylvia at least were dead and lay in her grave, there'd be a churchyard where I could take my flowers.... How strange it is! She's neither among the living, nor the dead. Perhaps she never existed, and was only a dream like everything else.
STRANGER. Quiet! I get what you're saying. One night... one awful, terrible night... Sylvia, my child, when I close my eyes, I see a pale little angel who slept in my arms when she was sick and who thanked me when I gave her a gift. Where is she, the one I miss so much, who is no longer here, even though she isn't dead? You, as you are, seem like a stranger, someone I’ve never known and definitely don’t want to see again. If only Sylvia were dead and resting in her grave, there’d be a cemetery where I could bring my flowers... How strange it is! She’s neither alive nor dead. Maybe she never existed at all and was just a dream like everything else.
DAUGHTER (wheedling).Father, dear!
Dad, please!
STRANGER. It's she! No, only her voice. (Pause.) So you think my life's been ruined?
STRANGER. It's her! No, just her voice. (Pause.) So you really believe my life's been ruined?
DAUGHTER. Yes. But why speak of it now?
DAUGHTER. Yeah. But why bring it up now?
STRANGER. Because remember I once saved your life. You had brain fever for a whole month and suffered a great deal. Your mother wanted the doctor to deliver you from your unhappy existence by some powerful drug. But I prevented it, and so saved you from death and your mother from prison.
STRANGER. Because remember, I once saved your life. You had a severe brain fever for a month and went through a lot of pain. Your mother wanted the doctor to end your miserable existence with some strong medication. But I stopped that, saving you from death and your mother from prison.
DAUGHTER. I don't believe it!
DAUGHTER. I can't believe it!
STRANGER. But a fact may be true, even if you don't believe it.
STRANGER. But something can be true, even if you don't believe it.
DAUGHTER. You dreamed it.
DAUGHTER. You imagined it.
STRANGER. Who knows if I haven't dreamed everything, and am not even dreaming now. How I wish it were so!
STRANGER. Who knows if I haven't dreamed everything, and am not even dreaming now? I wish that were true!
DAUGHTER. I must be going, father.
DAUGHTER. I need to leave now, Dad.
STRANGER. Then good-bye!
STRANGER. Then goodbye!
DAUGHTER. May I write to you?
DAUGHTER. Can I write to you?
STRANGER. What? One of the dead write to another? Letters won't reach me in future. And I mayn't receive visitors. But I'm glad we've met, for now there's nothing else on earth I cling to. (Going to the left.) Good-bye, girl or woman, whatever I should call you. There's no need to weep!
STRANGER. What? One dead person writing to another? I won't be getting any letters in the future. And I can't have visitors. But I'm glad we met because now there's nothing else in the world I hold onto. (Going to the left.) Goodbye, girl or woman, whatever I should call you. No need to cry!
DAUGHTER. I wasn't thinking of weeping, though I dare say good breeding would demand I should. Well, good-bye! (She goes out right.)
DAUGHTER. I wasn’t planning on crying, though I guess good manners would say I should. Well, goodbye! (She exits to the right.)
STRANGER (to the CONFESSOR). I think I came out of that well! It's a mercy to part with content on both sides. Mankind, after all, makes rapid progress, and self-control increases as the flow of the tear-ducts lessens. I've seen so many tears shed in my lifetime, that I'm almost taken aback at this dryness. She was a strong child, just the kind I once wished to be. The most beautiful thing that life can offer! She lay, like an angel, wrapped in the white veils of her cradle, with a blue coverlet when she slept. Blue and arched like the sky. That was the best: what will the worst look like?
STRANGER (to the CONFESSOR). I think I came out of that pretty well! It’s a relief to part ways on good terms. After all, humanity is making progress quickly, and self-control grows as the tears dry up. I’ve seen so many tears in my lifetime that I’m almost surprised by this dryness. She was a strong child, just the kind I used to wish I could be. The most beautiful thing life has to offer! She lay there like an angel, wrapped in the white blankets of her crib, with a blue blanket when she slept. Blue and arched like the sky. That was the best: what will the worst look like?
CONFESSOR. Don't excite yourself, but be of good cheer. First throw away that foolish guide-book, for this is your last journey.
CONFESSOR. Don't get worked up, but stay positive. First, toss that silly guidebook aside, because this is your final journey.
STRANGER. You mean this? Very well. (He opens the book, kisses one of the pages and then throws it into the river.) Anything else?
STRANGER. You mean this? Alright. (He opens the book, kisses one of the pages, and then tosses it into the river.) Anything else?
CONFESSOR. If you've any gold or silver, you must give it to the poor.
CONFESSOR. If you have any gold or silver, you should give it to the poor.
STRANGER. I've a silver watch. I never got as far as a gold one.
STRANGER. I have a silver watch. I never managed to get a gold one.
CONFESSOR. Give that to the ferryman; and then you'll get a glass of wine.
CONFESSOR. Hand that to the ferryman; and then you'll get a glass of wine.
STRANGER. The last! It's like an execution! Perhaps I'll have to have my hair cut, too?
STRANGER. The last one! It's like a death sentence! Maybe I should get a haircut, too?
CONFESSOR. Yes. Later. (He takes the watch and goes to the door of the ferryman's hut, speaking a few whispered words to someone within. He receives a bottle of wine and a glass in exchange, which he puts on the table.)
CONFESSOR. Yeah. Later. (He takes the watch and heads to the door of the ferryman's hut, whispering a few words to someone inside. He gets a bottle of wine and a glass in return, which he places on the table.)
STRANGER (filling his glass, but not drinking it.) Shall I never get wine up there?
STRANGER (filling his glass, but not drinking it.) Will I never get wine up there?
CONFESSOR. No wine; and you'll see no women. You may hear singing; but not the kind of songs that go with women and wine.
CONFESSOR. No wine, and you won't see any women. You might hear some singing, but not the kind of songs that come with women and wine.
STRANGER. I've had enough of women; they can't tempt me any more.
STRANGER. I'm done with women; they can't lure me anymore.
CONFESSOR. Are you sure?
CONFESSOR. Are you certain?
STRANGER. Quite sure.... But tell me this: what do you think of women, who mayn't even set their feet within your consecrated walls?
STRANGER. Absolutely sure... But tell me this: what do you think about women who can't even set foot in your sacred space?
CONFESSOR. So you're still asking questions?
CONFESSOR. So you're still asking questions?
STRANGER. And why may an abbess never hear confession, never read mass, and never preach?
STRANGER. And why can't an abbess ever hear confessions, read Mass, or preach?
CONFESSOR. I can't answer that.
CONFESSOR. I can't respond to that.
STRANGER. Because the answer would accord with my thoughts on that theme.
STRANGER. Because the answer would align with my thoughts on that topic.
CONFESSOR. It wouldn't be a disaster if we were to agree for once.
CONFESSOR. It wouldn't be a big deal if we actually agreed for once.
STRANGER. Not at all!
STRANGER. Not really!
CONFESSOR. Now drink up your wine.
CONFESSOR. Now finish your drink.
STRANGER. No. I only want to look at it for the last time. It's beautiful....
STRANGER. No. I just want to see it one last time. It's beautiful...
CONFESSOR. Don't lose yourself in meditation; memories lie at the bottom of the cup.
CONFESSOR. Don't get lost in thought; memories are at the bottom of the cup.
STRANGER. And oblivion, and songs, and power—imaginary power, but for that reason all the greater.
STRANGER. And forgetting, and music, and strength—make-believe strength, but for that reason even more significant.
CONFESSOR. Wait here a moment; I'll go and order the ferry.
CONFESSOR. Hold on a minute; I'll go arrange for the ferry.
STRANGER. 'Sh! I can hear singing, and I can see.... I can see.... For a moment I saw a flag unfurling in a puff of wind, only to fall back on the flagstaff and hang there limply as if it were nothing but a dishcloth. I've witnessed my whole life flashing past in a second, with its joys and sorrows, its beauty and its misery! But now I can see nothing.
STRANGER. 'Sh! I can hear singing, and I can see.... I can see.... For a moment I saw a flag waving in a gust of wind, only to drop back on the flagpole and hang there lifeless like a dishcloth. I've seen my entire life flash before me in an instant, with its joys and sorrows, its beauty and its pain! But now I can't see anything.
CONFESSOR (going to the left). Wait here a moment, I'll go and order the ferry.
CONFESSOR (going to the left). Hold on a second, I'll go and arrange for the ferry.
(The STRANGER goes so far up stage that the rays of the setting sun, which are streaming from the right through the trees, throw his shadow across the bank and the river. The LADY enters from the right, in deep mourning. Her shadow slowly approaches that of the STRANGER.)
(The STRANGER moves far upstage, where the rays of the setting sun, streaming in from the right through the trees, cast his shadow across the bank and the river. The LADY enters from the right, dressed in deep mourning. Her shadow slowly approaches that of the STRANGER.)
STRANGER (who, to begin with, looks only at his own shadow). Ah! The sun! It makes me a bloodless shape, a giant, who can walk on the water of the river, climb the mountain, stride over the roof of the monastery church, and rise, as he does now, up into the firmament—up to the stars. Ah, now I'm up here with the stars.... (He notices the shadow thrown by the LADY.) But who's following me? Who's interrupting my ascension? Trying to climb on my shoulders? (Turning.) You!
STRANGER (who, to start with, only notices his own shadow). Ah! The sun! It turns me into a ghostly figure, a giant, who can walk on the river's surface, scale the mountain, stride over the monastery church's roof, and now rise up into the sky—up to the stars. Ah, now I’m up here with the stars.... (He sees the shadow cast by the LADY.) But who’s following me? Who’s getting in the way of my ascent? Trying to climb onto my shoulders? (Turning.) You!
LADY. Yes. I!
Yes, I!
STRANGER. So black! So black and so evil.
STRANGER. So dark! So dark and so wicked.
LADY. No longer evil. I'm in mourning....
LADY. No longer evil. I'm in mourning....
STRANGER. For whom?
STRANGER. For who?
LADY. For our Mizzi.
For our Mizzi.
STRANGER. My daughter! (The LADY opens her arms, in order to throw herself on to his breast, but he avoids her.) I congratulate the dead child. I'm sorry for you. I myself feel outside everything.
STRANGER. My daughter! (The LADY opens her arms to throw herself into his embrace, but he pulls away.) I congratulate the deceased child. I'm sorry for you. I feel detached from it all.
LADY. Comfort me, too.
LADY. Comfort me as well.
STRANGER. A fine idea! I'm to comfort my fury, weep with my hangman, amuse my tormentor.
STRANGER. Great idea! I'm supposed to calm my anger, cry with my executioner, entertain my torturer.
LADY. Have you no feelings?
LADY. Don't you have feelings?
STRANGER. None! I wasted the feelings I used to have on you and others.
STRANGER. None! I squandered the feelings I once had for you and others.
LADY. You're right. You can reproach me.
LADY. You're right. You can blame me.
STRANGER. I've neither the time nor the wish to do that. Where are you going?
STRANGER. I don't have the time or the desire to do that. Where are you heading?
LADY. I want to cross with the ferry.
LADY. I want to take the ferry across.
STRANGER. Then I've no luck, for I wanted to do the same. (The LADY weeps into her handkerchief. The STRANGER takes it from her and dries her eyes.) Dry your eyes, child, and be yourself! As hard, and lacking in feeling, as you really are! (The LADY tries to put her arm round his neck. The STRANGER taps her gently on the fingers.) You mustn't touch me. When your words and glances weren't enough, you always wanted to touch me. You'll excuse a rather trivial question: are you hungry?
STRANGER. Well, I'm out of luck because I wanted to do the same. (The LADY is crying into her handkerchief. The STRANGER takes it from her and wipes her eyes.) Dry your eyes, kid, and be yourself! As tough and emotionless as you really are! (The LADY tries to wrap her arm around his neck. The STRANGER gently taps her fingers.) You can't touch me. When your words and looks weren't enough, you always wanted to reach out. Excuse me for asking something simple: are you hungry?
LADY. No. Thank you.
No, thank you.
STRANGER. But you're tired. Sit down. (The LADY sits down at the table. The STRANGER throws the bottle and glass into the river.) Well, what are you going to live for now?
STRANGER. But you're tired. Sit down. (The LADY sits at the table. The STRANGER tosses the bottle and glass into the river.) So, what are you going to live for now?
LADY (sadly). I don't know.
LADY (sadly). I have no idea.
STRANGER. Where will you go?
STRANGER. Where are you headed?
LADY (sobbing). I don't know.
LADY (sobbing). I have no idea.
STRANGER. So you're in despair? You see no reason for living and no end to your misery! How like me you are! What a pity there's no monastery for both sexes, so that we could pair off together. Is the werewolf still alive?
STRANGER. So you're feeling hopeless? You see no reason to keep going and no end to your suffering! You're so much like me! It's a shame there isn't a monastery for both men and women, so we could team up together. Is the werewolf still around?
LADY. You mean...?
LADY. You mean...?
STRANGER. Your first husband.
Your first husband.
LADY. He never seems to die.
LADY. He never seems to die.
STRANGER. Like a certain worm! (Pause.) And now that we're so far from the world and its pettiness, tell me this: why did you leave him in those days, and come to me?
STRANGER. Like a certain worm! (Pause.) And now that we're so far from the world and its small-mindedness, tell me this: why did you leave him back then and come to me?
LADY. Because I loved you.
Because I loved you.
STRANGER. And how long did that last?
STRANGER. So, how long did that go on for?
LADY. Until I read your book, and the child was born.
LADY. Until I read your book and the baby was born.
STRANGER. And then?
STRANGER: What's next?
LADY. I hated you! That is, I wanted to be rid of all the evil you'd given me, but I couldn't.
LADY. I hated you! I wanted to get rid of all the pain you caused me, but I couldn't.
STRANGER. So that's how it was! But we'll never really know the truth.
STRANGER. So that's how it went! But we'll never truly know the truth.
LADY. Have you noticed how impossible it is to find things out? You can live with a person and their relations for twenty years, and yet not know anything about them.
LADY. Have you noticed how hard it is to really learn about people? You can live with someone and their family for twenty years, and still not know anything meaningful about them.
STRANGER. So you've discovered that? As you see so much, tell me this: how was it you came to love me?
STRANGER. So you've found that out? Since you know so much, tell me this: how did you come to love me?
LADY. I don't know; but I'll try to remember. (Pause.) Well, you had the masculine courage to be rude to a lady. In me you sought the companionship of a human being and not merely of a woman. That honoured me; and, I thought, you too.
LADY. I’m not sure; but I’ll try to remember. (Pause.) Well, you had the boldness to be rude to a lady. You were looking for the companionship of a person, not just a woman. That made me feel valued; and I thought it did for you too.
STRANGER. Tell me also whether you held me to be a misogynist?
STRANGER. Could you also tell me if you thought I was a misogynist?
LADY. A woman-hater? Every healthy man is one, in the secret places of his heart; and all perverted men are admirers of women.
LADY. A woman-hater? Every healthy man is one, deep down in his heart; and all twisted men are fans of women.
STRANGER. You're not trying to flatter me, are you?
STRANGER. You’re not trying to compliment me, are you?
LADY. A woman who'd try to flatter a man's not normal.
LADY. A woman who tries to flatter a man isn't acting normal.
STRANGER. I see you've thought a great deal!
STRANGER. I can see you’ve been thinking a lot!
LADY. Thinking's the least I've done; for when I've thought least I've understood most. Besides, what I said just how is perhaps only improvised, as you call it, and not true in the least.
LADY. I've done the least thinking; when I've thought the least, I've understood the most. Also, what I just said is probably just improvised, as you put it, and not true at all.
STRANGER. But if it agrees with many of my observations it becomes most probable. (The LADY weeps into her handkerchief.) You're weeping again?
STRANGER. But if it aligns with many of my observations, it becomes very likely. (The LADY is crying into her handkerchief.) You're crying again?
LADY. I was thinking of Mizzi. The loveliest thing we ever had is gone.
LADY. I was thinking about Mizzi. The most beautiful thing we ever had is gone.
STRANGER. No. You were the loveliest thing, when you sat all night watching over your child, who was lying in your bed, because her cradle was too cold! (Three loud knocks are heard on the ferryman's door.) 'Sh!
STRANGER. No. You were the most beautiful thing, when you sat up all night watching over your child, who was lying in your bed because her cradle was too cold! (Three loud knocks are heard on the ferryman's door.) 'Sh!
LADY. What's that?
LADY. What’s that?
STRANGER. My companion, who's waiting for me.
STRANGER. My friend, who's waiting for me.
LADY (continuing the conversation). I never thought life would give me anything so sweet as a child.
LADY (continuing the conversation). I never thought life would give me something as wonderful as a child.
STRANGER. And at the same time anything so bitter.
STRANGER. And at the same time, anything so bitter.
LADY. Why bitter?
LADY. Why so bitter?
STRANGER. You've been a child yourself, and you must remember how we, when we'd just married, came to your mother in rags, dirty and without money. I seem to remember she didn't find us very sweet.
STRANGER. You were a child once, and you must remember how we, right after getting married, showed up at your mom’s place in rags, dirty and broke. I think she didn’t find us very charming.
LADY. That's true.
LADY. That's right.
STRANGER. And I... well, just now I met Sylvia. And I expected that all that was beautiful and good in the child would have blossomed in the girl....
STRANGER. And I... well, I just met Sylvia. And I thought that everything beautiful and good in the child would have blossomed in the girl....
LADY. Well?
LADY. What's up?
STRANGER. I found a faded rose, that seemed to have blown too soon. Her breasts were sunken, her hair untidy like that of a neglected child, and her teeth decayed.
STRANGER. I found a wilted rose, that looked like it had withered too early. Her breasts were sunken, her hair messy like that of a neglected child, and her teeth were decayed.
LADY. Oh!
Wow!
STRANGER. You mustn't grieve. Not for the child! You might perhaps have had to grieve for her later, as I did.
STRANGER. You shouldn't be sad. Not for the child! You might have had to mourn for her later, like I did.
LADY. So that's what life is?
LADY. So, is that what life is all about?
STRANGER. Yes. That's what life is. And that's why I'm going to bury myself alive.
STRANGER. Yeah. That's what life is. And that's why I'm going to bury myself alive.
LADY. Where?
LADY. Where are you?
STRANGER (pointing to the monastery). Up there!
STRANGER (pointing to the monastery). Look up there!
LADY. In the monastery? No, don't leave me. Bear me company. I'm so alone in the world and so poor, so poor! When the child died, my mother turned me out, and ever since I've been living in an attic with a dressmaker. At first she was kind and pleasant, but then the lonely evenings got too long for her, and she went out in search of company—so we parted. Now I'm on the road, and I've nothing but the clothes I'm wearing; nothing but my grief. I eat it and drink it; it nourishes me and sends me to sleep. I'd rather lose anything in the world than that! (The STRANGER weeps.) You're weeping. You! Let me kiss your eyelids.
LADY. In the monastery? No, please don't leave me. Keep me company. I'm so alone in the world and so poor, so poor! When the child died, my mother kicked me out, and ever since I've been living in an attic with a dressmaker. At first, she was nice and friendly, but then the lonely evenings became too much for her, and she went out looking for company—so we separated. Now I'm on the streets, and I have nothing but the clothes I'm wearing; nothing but my sorrow. I eat it and drink it; it sustains me and helps me sleep. I’d rather lose anything in the world than that! (The STRANGER weeps.) You're crying. You! Let me kiss your eyelids.
STRANGER. You've suffered all that for my sake!
STRANGER. You've gone through all that for me!
LADY. Not for your sake! You never did me an ill turn; but I plagued you till you left your fireside and your child!
LADY. Not for your benefit! You never wronged me; but I bothered you until you left your home and your child!
STRANGER. I'd forgotten that; but if you say so.... So you still love me?
STRANGER. I forgot about that; but if you say so... So, you still love me?
LADY. Probably. I don't know.
LADY. Maybe. I'm not sure.
STRANGER. And you'd like to begin all over again?
STRANGER. So, you want to start fresh?
LADY. All over again? The quarrels? No, we won't do that.
LADY. Again? The arguments? No, we're not going to do that.
STRANGER. You're right. The quarrels would only begin all over again. And yet it's difficult to part.
STRANGER. You're right. The arguments would just start again. Yet, it's still hard to say goodbye.
LADY. To part. The word alone's terrible enough.
LADY. To part. Just saying the word is bad enough.
STRANGER. Then what are we to do?
STRANGER. So, what are we supposed to do?
LADY. I don't know.
I don't know.
STRANGER. No, one knows nothing, hardly even that one knows nothing; and that's why, you see, I've got as far as to believe.
STRANGER. No one knows anything, hardly even that they know nothing; and that's why, you see, I've come to believe.
LADY. How do you know you can believe, if belief's a gift?
LADY. How can you be sure you can believe if belief is something you receive as a gift?
STRANGER. You can receive a gift, if you ask for it.
STRANGER. You can get a gift if you ask for one.
LADY. Oh yes, if you ask; but I've never been able to beg.
LADY. Oh yes, if you want me to; but I've never been good at begging.
STRANGER. I've had to learn to. Why can't you?
STRANGER. I've had to learn to. Why can't you?
LADY. Because one has to demean oneself first.
LADY. Because you have to lower yourself first.
STRANGER. Life does that for one very well.
STRANGER. Life does that quite effectively.
LADY. Mizzi, Mizzi, Mizzi!... (She has taken a shawl she was carrying over her arm, rolled it up and put it on her knee like a baby in long clothes.) Sleep! Sleep! Sleep! Think of it! I can see her here! She's smiling at me; but she's dressed in black; she seems to be in mourning too! How stupid I am! Her mother's in mourning! She's got two teeth down below, and they're white—milk teeth; she should never have cut any others. Oh, can't you see her, when I can? It's no vision. It is her!
LADY. Mizzi, Mizzi, Mizzi!... (She has taken the shawl she was carrying over her arm, rolled it up, and placed it on her knee like a baby in a blanket.) Sleep! Sleep! Sleep! Just think about it! I can see her here! She's smiling at me, but she's dressed in black; it seems like she's in mourning too! How silly of me! Her mother's in mourning! She's got two teeth down below, and they're white—baby teeth; she should have never lost any others. Oh, can't you see her, when I can? It's not a vision. It is her!
CONFESSOR (in the door of the ferryman's hut; sternly to the STRANGER). Come. Everything's ready!
CONFESSOR (in the doorway of the ferryman's hut; firmly to the STRANGER). Let’s go. Everything's set!
STRANGER. No. Not yet. I must first set my house in order; and look after this woman, who was once my wife.
STRANGER. No. Not yet. I need to get my life together first and take care of this woman, who was once my wife.
CONFESSOR. Oh, so you want to stay!
CONFESSOR. Oh, so you want to stick around!
STRANGER. No. I don't want to stay; but I can't leave duties behind me unfulfilled. This woman's on the road, deserted, without a home, without money!
STRANGER. No. I don’t want to stay; but I can’t leave my responsibilities unfinished. This woman is out here, abandoned, without a home, without money!
CONFESSOR. What has that to do with us? Let the dead bury their dead!
CONFESSOR. What does that have to do with us? Let the dead take care of their own!
STRANGER. Is that your teaching?
STRANGER. Is that your lesson?
CONFESSOR. No, yours.... Mine, on the other hand, commands me to send a Sister of Mercy here, to look after this unhappy one, who... who... The Sister will soon be here!
CONFESSOR. No, yours... Mine, on the other hand, tells me to send a Sister of Mercy here to take care of this unfortunate person, who... who... The Sister will be here soon!
STRANGER. I shall count on it.
STRANGER. I'll depend on it.
CONFESSOR (taking the STRANGER by the hand and drawing him away.) Then come!
CONFESSOR (taking the STRANGER by the hand and pulling him away.) Then let’s go!
STRANGER (in despair). Oh, God in heaven! Help us every one!
STRANGER (in despair). Oh, God in heaven! Help us all!
CONFESSOR. Amen!
CONFESSOR. Amen!
(The LADY, who has not been looking at the CONFESSOR and the STRANGER, now raises her eyes and glances at the STRANGER as if she wanted to spring up and hold him back; but she is prevented by the imaginary child she has put to her breast.)
(The LADY, who hasn’t been looking at the CONFESSOR and the STRANGER, now raises her eyes and glances at the STRANGER as if she wants to jump up and stop him; but she is held back by the imaginary child she has cradled in her arms.)
Curtain.
Curtains.
ACT II
CROSS-ROADS IN THE MOUNTAINS
[A cross-roads high up in the mountains. On the right, huts. On the left a small pool, round which invalids are sitting. Their clothes are blue and their hands cinnabar-red. From the pond blue vapour and small blue flames rise now and then. Whenever this happens the invalids put them hands to their mouths and cough. The background is formed by a mountain covered with pine-wood, which is obscured above by a stationary bank of mist.]
[A crossroads high up in the mountains. To the right, there are huts. To the left, a small pool where invalids are sitting. Their clothes are blue and their hands are a bright red. From the pond, blue vapor and small blue flames rise occasionally. Whenever this happens, the invalids cover their mouths and cough. In the background, there’s a mountain covered in pine trees, obscured above by a thick layer of mist.]
[The STRANGER is sitting at a table outside one of the huts. The CONFESSOR comes forward from the right.]
[The STRANGER is sitting at a table outside one of the huts. The CONFESSOR walks in from the right.]
STRANGER. At last!
Finally!
CONFESSOR. What do you mean: at last?
CONFESSOR. What do you mean: finally?
STRANGER. You left me here a week ago and told me to wait till you came back.
STRANGER. You left me here a week ago and told me to wait until you got back.
CONFESSOR. Hadn't I prepared you for the fact that the way to the white house up there would be long and difficult.
CONFESSOR. Didn't I prepare you for the fact that getting to the white house up there would be long and tough?
STRANGER. I don't deny it. How far have we come?
STRANGER. I won’t deny it. How far have we come?
CONFESSOR. Five hundred yards. We've still got fifteen hundred.
CONFESSOR. Five hundred yards. We've still got fifteen hundred to go.
STRANGER. But where's the sun?
STRANGER. But where's the sun at?
CONFESSOR. Up there, above the clouds....
CONFESSOR. Up there, above the clouds...
STRANGER. Then we shall have to go through them?
STRANGER. So, do we have to go through them?
CONFESSOR. Yes. Of course.
CONFESSOR. Yes, definitely.
STRANGER. What are those patients doing there? What a company! And why are their hands so red?
STRANGER. What are those patients doing over there? What a crowd! And why are their hands so red?
CONFESSOR. For both our sakes I want to avoid using impure words, so I'll speak in pleasant riddles, which you, as a writer, will understand.
CONFESSOR. For both of our sake, I want to avoid using inappropriate words, so I'll speak in nice riddles, which you, as a writer, will understand.
STRANGER. Yes. Speak beautifully. There's so much that's ugly here.
STRANGER. Yes. Speak eloquently. There’s so much that’s ugly around here.
CONFESSOR. You may have noticed that the signs given to the planets correspond with those of certain metals? Good! Then you'll have seen that Venus is represented by a mirror. This mirror was originally made of copper, so that copper was called Venus and bore her stamp. But now the reverse of Venus' mirror is covered with quicksilver or mercury!
CONFESSOR. You might have noticed that the signs associated with the planets match those of certain metals? Great! Then you’ve seen that Venus is represented by a mirror. This mirror was originally made of copper, so copper was referred to as Venus and carried her mark. But now, the back of Venus' mirror is coated with quicksilver or mercury!
STRANGER. The reverse of Venus... is Mercury. Oh!
STRANGER. The opposite of Venus... is Mercury. Oh!
CONFESSOR. Quicksilver is therefore the reverse side of Venus. Quicksilver is itself as bright as a calm sea, as a lake at the height of summer; but when mercury meets firestone and burns, it blushes and turns red like newly-shed blood, like the cloth on the scaffold, like the cinnabar lips of the whore! Do you understand now, or not?
CONFESSOR. Quicksilver is basically the opposite of Venus. Quicksilver shines as brightly as a calm sea, like a lake in the middle of summer; but when mercury meets firestone and gets burned, it blushes and turns red like fresh blood, like the cloth on the scaffold, like the cinnabar lips of the prostitute! Do you get it now, or not?
STRANGER. Wait a moment! Cinnabar is quicksilver and sulphur.
STRANGER. Hold on! Cinnabar is mercury and sulfur.
CONFESSOR. Yes. Mercury must be burnt, if it comes too near to Venus! Have we said enough now?
CONFESSOR. Yes. Mercury has to be burned if it gets too close to Venus! Have we covered enough now?
STRANGER. So these are sulphur springs?
STRANGER. So, these are sulfur springs?
CONFESSOR. Yes. And the sulphur flames purify or burn everything rotten! So when the source of life's grown tainted, one is sent to the sulphur springs....
CONFESSOR. Yes. And the sulfur flames cleanse or incinerate everything that's rotten! So when the source of life becomes corrupted, one is sent to the sulfur springs....
STRANGER. How does the source of life grow tainted?
STRANGER. How does the source of life become corrupted?
CONFESSOR. When Aphrodite, born of the pure seafoam, wallows in the mire.... When Aphrodite Urania, the heaven-born, degrades herself to Pandemos, the Venus of the streets.
CONFESSOR. When Aphrodite, born from the pure seafoam, gets caught up in the mud.... When Aphrodite Urania, the one from the heavens, lowers herself to Pandemos, the Venus of the streets.
STRANGER. Why is desire born?
STRANGER. Why does desire exist?
CONFESSOR. Pure desire, to be satisfied; impure, to be stifled.
CONFESSOR. Pure desire is meant to be fulfilled; impure desire should be suppressed.
STRANGER. What is pure, and what impure?
STRANGER. What is pure and what is impure?
CONFESSOR. Have you got back to that?
CONFESSOR. Are you back to that?
STRANGER. Ask these men here....
STRANGER. Ask these guys here....
CONFESSOR. Take care! (He looks at the STRANGER, who is unable to support his gaze.)
CONFESSOR. Watch out! (He glances at the STRANGER, who can't hold his stare.)
STRANGER. You're choking me.... My chest....
STRANGER. You're choking me... My chest...
CONFESSOR. Yes, I'll steal the air you use to form rebellious words, and ask outrageous questions. Sit down there, I'll come back—when you've learnt patience and undergone your probation. But don't forget that I can hear and see you, and am aware of you, wherever I may be!
CONFESSOR. Yes, I'll take the air you use to say defiant things and ask bold questions. Sit down over there; I'll be back—once you've learned patience and gone through your trial. But remember, I can hear and see you, and know where you are, no matter where I am!
STRANGER. So I'm to be tested! I'm glad to know it!
STRANGER. So I'm going to be tested! I'm happy to hear that!
CONFESSOR. But you mustn't speak to the worshippers of Venus.
CONFESSOR. But you shouldn’t talk to the followers of Venus.
(MAIA, an old woman, appears in the background.)
(MAIA, an elderly woman, appears in the background.)
STRANGER (rising in horror). Who am I meeting here after all this time? Who is it?
STRANGER (standing up in shock). Who am I seeing here after all this time? Who is it?
CONFESSOR. Who are you speaking of?
CONFESSOR. Who are you talking about?
STRANGER. That old woman there?
STRANGER. That elderly woman over there?
CONFESSOR. Who's she?
CONFESSOR. Who is she?
STRANGER (calling). Maia! Listen! (Old Maia has disappeared. The STRANGER hurries after her.) Maia, my friend, listen! She's gone!
STRANGER (calling). Maia! Hey! (Old Maia has disappeared. The STRANGER rushes after her.) Maia, my friend, listen! She's gone!
CONFESSOR. Who was it?
CONFESSOR. Who was that?
STRANGER (sitting down). O God! Now, when I find her again at last, she goes.... I've looked for her for seven long years, written letters, advertised....
STRANGER (sitting down). Oh God! Just when I finally find her, she leaves again… I’ve been searching for her for seven long years, writing letters, and putting out ads…
CONFESSOR. Why?
CONFESSOR. Why?
STRANGER. I'll tell you how her fate was linked to mine! (Pause.) Maia was the nurse in my first family... during those hard years... when I was fighting the Invisible Ones, who wouldn't bless my work! I wrote till my brain and nerves dissolved like fat in alcohol... but it wasn't enough! I was one of those who never could earn enough. And the day came when I couldn't pay the maids their wages—it was terrible—and I became the servant of my servant, and she became my mistress. At last... in order, at least, to save my soul, I fled from what was too powerful for me. I fled into the wilderness, where I collected my spirit in solitude and recovered my strength! My first thought then was—my debts! For seven years I looked for Maia, but in vain! For seven years I saw her shadow, out of the windows of trains, from the decks of steamers, in strange towns, in distant lands, but without ever being able to find her. I dreamed of her for seven years; and whenever I drank a glass of wine I blushed at the thought of old Maia, who perhaps was drinking water in a poorhouse! I tried to give the sum I owed her to the poor; but it was no use. And now—she's found and lost in the same moment! (He gets up and goes towards the back as if searching for her.) Explain this, if you can! I want to pay my debt; I can pay it now, but I'm not allowed to.
STRANGER. I'll tell you how my fate is tied to hers! (Pause.) Maia was the nurse in my first family... during those tough years... when I was battling the Invisible Ones, who wouldn’t bless my work! I wrote until my brain and nerves fell apart like fat in alcohol... but it wasn’t enough! I was one of those who could never earn enough. And then came the day when I couldn’t pay the maids their wages—it was awful—and I became the servant of my servant, and she became my boss. Finally... to save my soul, I fled from what was too much for me. I ran into the wilderness, where I gathered my spirit in solitude and regained my strength! My first thought then was—my debts! For seven years, I searched for Maia, but it was hopeless! For seven years, I caught glimpses of her shadow from train windows, from the decks of boats, in strange towns, in distant lands, but I could never find her. I dreamed of her for seven years; and every time I drank a glass of wine, I felt embarrassed thinking of old Maia, who might be drinking water in a poorhouse! I tried to give the money I owed her to the poor; but it didn’t work. And now—she’s found and lost at the same moment! (He gets up and moves toward the back as if searching for her.) Explain this, if you can! I want to pay my debt; I can pay it now, but I’m not allowed to.
CONFESSOR. Foolishness' Bow to what seems inexplicable; you'll see that the explanation will come later. Farewell!
CONFESSOR. Bow to what seems inexplicable; you'll see that the explanation will come later. Goodbye!
STRANGER. Later. Everything comes later.
STRANGER. Later. Everything happens later.
CONFESSOR. Yes. If it doesn't come at once! (He goes out. The LADY enters pensively and sits down at the table, opposite the STRANGER.)
CONFESSOR. Yeah. If it doesn't happen right away! (He exits. The LADY enters, deep in thought, and sits at the table across from the STRANGER.)
STRANGER. What? You back again? The same and not the same? How beautiful you've grown; as beautiful as you were the first time I ever saw you; when I asked if I might be your friend, your dog.
STRANGER. What? You're back again? The same yet not the same? You've grown so beautiful; as beautiful as you were the first time I saw you; when I asked if I could be your friend, your dog.
LADY. That you can see beauty I don't possess shows that once more you have a mirror of beauty in your eye. The werewolf never thought me beautiful, for he'd nothing beautiful with which to see me.
LADY. The fact that you can see beauty I don't have proves that you once again have a reflection of beauty in your eye. The werewolf never thought I was beautiful because he had nothing beautiful to perceive me with.
STRANGER. Why did you kiss me that day? What made you do it?
STRANGER. Why did you kiss me that day? What made you do that?
LADY. You've often asked me that, and I've never been able to find the answer, because I don't know. But just now, when I was away from you, here in the mountains, where the air's purer and the sun nearer.... Hush! Now I can see that Sunday afternoon, when you sat on that seat like a lost and helpless child, with a broken look in your eyes, and stared at your own destiny.... A maternal feeling I'd never known before welled up in me then, and I was overcome with pity, pity for a human soul—so that I forgot myself.
LADY. You've asked me that a lot, and I’ve never been able to answer because I don't know. But just now, when I was away from you, here in the mountains where the air is fresher and the sun feels closer.... Shh! I can see that Sunday afternoon when you sat on that bench looking like a lost and helpless child, with a broken look in your eyes, staring at your own future.... A maternal feeling I’ve never experienced before surged up in me then, and I was overwhelmed with compassion, compassion for a human soul—so much so that I forgot about myself.
STRANGER. I'm ashamed. Now I believe it was so.
STRANGER. I'm embarrassed. Now I think it was true.
LADY. But you took it another way. You thought...
LADY. But you saw it differently. You thought...
STRANGER. Don't tell me. I'm ashamed.
STRANGER. Don't tell me. I feel embarrassed.
LADY. Why did you think so badly of me? Didn't you notice that I drew down my veil; so that it was between us, like the knight's sword in the bridal bed....
LADY. Why did you think so poorly of me? Didn't you see that I pulled down my veil, so it was between us, like a knight's sword on the wedding bed....
STRANGER. I'm ashamed. I attributed my evil thoughts to you. Ingeborg, you were made of better stuff than I. I'm ashamed!
STRANGER. I’m embarrassed. I blamed my negative thoughts on you. Ingeborg, you are made of better stuff than I am. I’m ashamed!
LADY. Now you look handsome. How handsome!
LADY. Wow, you look so good. Really good!
STRANGER. Oh no. Not I. You!
STRANGER. Oh no. Not me. You!
LADY (ecstatically). No, you! Yes, now I've seen through the mask and the false beard. Now I can see the man you hid from me, the man I thought I'd found in you... the man I was always searching for. I've often thought you a hypocrite; but we're no hypocrites. No, no, we can't pretend.
LADY (ecstatically). No, it’s you! Yes, now I see past the mask and the fake beard. Now I can see the real man you were hiding from me, the man I thought I found in you... the man I was always looking for. I’ve often thought you were a hypocrite; but we’re not hypocrites. No, no, we can’t pretend.
STRANGER. Ingeborg, now we're on the other side of the river, and have life beneath us, behind us... how different everything seems. Now, now, I can see your soul; the ideal, the angel, who was imprisoned in the flesh because of sin. So there is an Above, and an Earlier Age. When we began it wasn't the beginning, and it won't be the end when we are ended. Life is a fragment, without beginning or end! That's why it's so difficult to make head or tail of it.
STRANGER. Ingeborg, now that we're on the other side of the river, with life beneath us and behind us... everything feels so different. Now I can see your soul; the ideal, the angel, trapped in this body because of sin. So there’s an Above, and a Past Age. When we started, it wasn't truly the beginning, and it won't be the end when we finish. Life is just a fragment, with no beginning or end! That’s why it’s so hard to make sense of it.
LADY (kindly). So difficult. So difficult. Tell me, for instance—now we're beyond guilt or innocence—how was it you came to hate women?
LADY (kindly). It's so hard. So hard. Tell me, for example—now that we've moved past guilt or innocence—how did you end up hating women?
STRANGER. Let me think! To hate women? Hate them? I never hated them. On the contrary! Ever since I was eight years old I've always had some love affair, preferably an innocent one. And I've loved like a volcano three times! But wait—I've always felt that women hated me... and they've always tortured me.
STRANGER. Let me think! Hate women? Hate them? I’ve never hated them. Quite the opposite! Ever since I was eight, I’ve always been in some kind of love affair, usually an innocent one. And I’ve loved like a volcano three times! But hold on—I’ve always felt like women hated me... and they’ve always tortured me.
LADY. How strange!
How unusual!
STRANGER. Let me think about it a little.... Perhaps I've been jealous of my own personality; and been afraid of being influenced too much. My first love made herself into a sort of governess and nurse to me. But, of course, there are men who detest children; who detest women too, if they're superior to them, that is!
STRANGER. Let me think about it for a moment.... Maybe I've been jealous of my own personality and afraid of being influenced too much. My first love turned into a kind of caretaker and nurse for me. But, of course, there are men who can't stand kids; who can't stand women either, if they’re better than they are, that is!
LADY (amiably). But you've called women the enemies of mankind. Did you mean it?
LADY (friendly). But you said women are the enemies of humanity. Did you really mean that?
STRANGER. Of course I meant it, if I wrote it! For I wrote out of experience, not theory.... In woman I sought an angel, who could lend me wings, and I fell into the arms of an earth-spirit, who suffocated me under mattresses stuffed with the feathers of wings! I sought an Ariel and I found a Caliban; when I wanted to rise she dragged me down; and continually reminded me of the fall....
STRANGER. Of course I meant it if I wrote it! I wrote from experience, not theory... I was looking for an angel in a woman, someone who could give me wings, but I ended up in the arms of a down-to-earth spirit who smothered me with mattresses stuffed with feathered wings! I wanted an Ariel, but I found a Caliban; when I tried to rise, she pulled me down and constantly reminded me of the fall...
LADY (kindly). Solomon knew much of women; do you know what he said? 'I find more bitter than death a woman, whose heart is snares and nets and her hands as bands; whoso pleaseth God shall escape from her; but the sinner shall be taken by her.'
LADY (kindly). Solomon understood a lot about women; do you know what he said? 'I find a woman whose heart is traps and her hands like chains to be more bitter than death; whoever pleases God will escape her; but the sinner will be caught by her.'
STRANGER. I was never acceptable in God's sight. Was that a punishment? Perhaps. But I was never acceptable to anyone, and I've never had a good word addressed to me! Have I never done a good action? Is it possible for a man never to have done anything good? (Pause.) It's terrible never to hear any good words about oneself!
STRANGER. I was never good enough in God's eyes. Was that a punishment? Maybe. But I was never good enough for anyone, and I've never received a kind word! Have I really never done a good deed? Is it even possible for someone to have done absolutely nothing good? (Pause.) It's awful to never hear any nice things about yourself!
LADY. You've heard them. But when people have spoken well of you, you've refused to listen, as if it hurt you.
LADY. You've heard them. But when people have praised you, you've chosen to ignore it, as if it pained you.
STRANGER. That's true, now you remind me. But can you explain it?
STRANGER. That's true, now that you mention it. But can you explain it?
LADY. Explain it? You're always asking for explanations of the inexplicable. 'When I applied my heart to know wisdom... I beheld all the work of God, that a man cannot find out that is done under the sun. Because, though a man labour to seek it out, yet he shall not find it; yea, further, though a wise man think to know it, yet shall he not be able to find it!'
LADY. Explain it? You're always wanting explanations for things that can’t be explained. 'When I dedicated myself to understanding wisdom... I saw all the work of God, that a person can’t figure out what’s done under the sun. Because, even if a person works hard to uncover it, they still won’t find it; in fact, even if a wise person thinks they understand it, they still won’t be able to discover it!'
STRANGER. Who says that?
STRANGER. Who said that?
LADY. The Prophet Ecclesiastes. (She takes a doll out of her pocket.) This is Mizzi's doll. You see she longs for her little mistress! How pale she's grown... and she seems to know where Mizzi is, for she's always gazing up to heaven, whichever way I hold her. Look! Her eyes follow the stars as the compass the pole. She is my compass and always shows me where heaven is. She should, of course, be dressed in black, because she's in mourning; but we're so poor.... Do you know why we never had money? Because God was angry with us for our sins. 'The righteous suffer no dearth.'
LADY. The Prophet Ecclesiastes. (She takes a doll out of her pocket.) This is Mizzi's doll. You can see she misses her little mistress! How pale she’s become… and she seems to know where Mizzi is, because her gaze is always directed toward heaven, no matter how I hold her. Look! Her eyes follow the stars like a compass follows the North Star. She is my compass and always points me to where heaven is. She should really be dressed in black because she’s in mourning; but we’re so poor… Do you know why we never had any money? Because God was upset with us for our sins. 'The righteous suffer no lack.'
STRANGER. Where did you learn that?
STRANGER. Where did you find that out?
LADY. In a book in which everything's written. Everything! (She wraps the doll up in her cloak.) See, she's beginning to get cold—that's because of the cloud up there....
LADY. In a book where everything is written down. Everything! (She wraps the doll in her cloak.) Look, she's starting to feel cold—that's because of the cloud up there....
STRANGER. How can you dare to wander up here in the mountains?
STRANGER. How can you be bold enough to come up here in the mountains?
LADY. God is with me; so what have I to fear from human beings?
LADY. God is with me; so what do I have to fear from people?
STRANGER. Aren't you tormented by those people at the pool?
STRANGER. Aren't those people at the pool driving you crazy?
LADY (turning towards them). I can't see them. I can't see anything horrible now.
LADY (turning towards them). I can't see them. I can't see anything terrible right now.
STRANGER. Ingeborg! I have made you evil, yet you're on the way to make me good! It was my dream, you know, to seek redemption through a woman. You don't believe it! But it's true. In the old days nothing was of value to me if I couldn't lay it at a woman's feet. Not as a tribute to an overbearing mistress,... but as a sacrifice to the beautiful and good. It was my pleasure to give; but she wanted to take and not receive: that's why she hated me! When I was helpless and thought the end was near, a desire grew in me to fall asleep on a mother's knee, on a tremendous breast where I could bury my tired head and drink in the tenderness I'd been deprived of.
STRANGER. Ingeborg! I've turned you into something dark, yet you're helping me find the light! It’s true, I’ve always dreamed of finding redemption through a woman. You don’t believe it? But it's real. Back in the day, nothing mattered to me unless I could offer it to a woman. Not as a show of power over her, but as a gift to someone beautiful and good. I loved giving, but she wanted to take instead of accepting: that’s why she despised me! When I was powerless and thought my end was coming, I craved the comfort of falling asleep on a mother’s lap, on a warm chest where I could rest my weary head and soak up the love I’d always longed for.
LADY. You had no mother?
LADY. You didn't have a mom?
STRANGER. Hardly! And I've never felt any bond between myself and my father or my brothers and sisters.... Ingeborg, I was the son of a servant of whom it is written. 'Drive forth the handmaid with her son, for this son shall not inherit with the son of peace.'
STRANGER. Hardly! And I've never felt any connection with my father or my siblings.... Ingeborg, I was the son of a servant, of whom it is written, 'Send away the maid and her son, for this son will not inherit with the son of peace.'
LADY. Do you know why Ishmael was driven out? It says just before—that he was a scoffer. And then it goes on: 'He will be a wild man, his hand will be against every man, and every man's hand against him; and against all his brothers.'
LADY. Do you know why Ishmael was cast out? It mentions earlier that he was a mocker. Then it continues: 'He will be a wild man, his hand will be against everyone, and everyone's hand will be against him; and against all his brothers.'
STRANGER. Is that also written?
STRANGER. Is that written too?
LADY. Oh yes, my child; it's all there!
LADY. Oh yes, my child; it's all there!
STRANGER. All?
Everyone?
LADY. All. There you'll find answers to all your questions even the most inquisitive!
LADY. All. There, you'll find answers to all your questions, even the most curious!
STRANGER. Call me your child, and then I'll love you.... And if I love anyone, I long to serve them, to obey them, to let myself be ill-treated, to suffer and to bear it.
STRANGER. Call me your child, and then I’ll love you.... And if I love anyone, I want to serve them, to obey them, to let them mistreat me, to suffer, and to endure it.
LADY. You shouldn't love me, but your Creator.
LADY. You should love your Creator, not me.
STRANGER. He's unfriendly—like my father!
STRANGER. He's cold—just like Dad!
LADY. He is Love itself; and you are Hate.
LADY. He is Love itself, and you are Hate.
STRANGER. You're his daughter; but I'm his cast-out son.
STRANGER. You're his daughter, but I'm his disowned son.
LADY (coaxingly). Quiet! Be still!
LADY (gently). Quiet! Calm down!
STRANGER. If you only knew what I've suffered this last week. I don't know where I am.
STRANGER. If you only knew what I've been through this past week. I have no idea where I am.
LADY. Where do you think?
LADY. Where do you think?
STRANGER. There's a woman in that but who looks at me as if I'd come to rob her of her last mite. She says nothing—that's the trouble. But I think it's prayers she mutters, when she sees me.
STRANGER. There's a woman in that who looks at me like I’m about to steal her last penny. She doesn't say anything—that's the issue. But I think she's mumbling prayers when she sees me.
LADY. What sort of prayers?
LADY. What kind of prayers?
STRANGER. The sort one whispers behind the backs of those who have the evil eye or bring misfortune.
STRANGER. The kind that people gossip about behind the backs of those who have a curse or bring bad luck.
LADY. How strange! Don't you realise that one's sight can be blinded?
LADY. How odd! Don't you understand that a person's vision can be obscured?
STRANGER. Yes, of course. But who can do it?
STRANGER. Yeah, of course. But who can do it?
HOSTESS (coming across to their table). Well, look at that! I suppose she's your sister?
HOSTESS (walking over to their table). Well, look at that! I guess she's your sister?
STRANGER. Yes. We can say so now.
STRANGER. Yeah. We can say that now.
HOSTESS (to the LADY). Fancy meeting someone I can speak to at last! This gentleman's so silent, you see, that one feels at once one must respect him; particularly as he seems to have had trouble. But I can say this to his sister, and he shall hear it: that from the moment he entered the house I felt that I was blessed. I'd been dogged by misfortune; I'd no lodger, my only cow had died, my husband was in a home for drunkards and my children had nothing to eat. I prayed God to send me help from heaven, because I expected nothing more on earth. Then this gentleman came. And apart from giving me double what I asked, he brought me good luck—and my house was blessed. God bless you, good sir!
HOSTESS (to the LADY). What a surprise to finally meet someone I can actually talk to! This gentleman is so quiet that it feels like I have to respect him right away, especially since he seems to have been through some tough times. But I want to say this to his sister, and he will hear it too: from the moment he walked into my house, I felt truly blessed. I had been followed by bad luck; I had no lodger, my only cow had died, my husband was in a rehab, and my children were starving. I prayed to God for help from above because I had lost all hope on earth. Then this gentleman showed up. Besides giving me double what I asked for, he brought me good fortune—and my home was blessed. God bless you, kind sir!
STRANGER (getting up excitedly). Silence, woman. That's blasphemy!
STRANGER (standing up excitedly). Quiet, lady. That's offensive!
LADY. He won't believe. O God! He won't believe. Look at me!
LADY. He won't believe. Oh God! He just won't believe. Look at me!
STRANGER. When I look at you, I do believe. She's giving me her blessing! And I, who'm damned, have brought a blessing on her! How can I believe it? I, of all men! (He falls down by the table and weeps in his hands.)
STRANGER. When I look at you, I really believe. She's giving me her blessing! And I, who am cursed, have brought a blessing upon her! How can I believe it? Me, of all people! (He collapses by the table and cries into his hands.)
LADY. He's weeping! Tears, rain from heaven, that can soften rocks, are falling on his stony heart.... He's weeping!
LADY. He's crying! Tears, like rain from heaven that can soften rocks, are falling on his hard heart.... He's crying!
HOSTESS. He? Who has a heart of gold! Who's been so open handed and so good to my children!
HOSTESS. He? He’s got a heart of gold! He’s been so generous and kind to my kids!
LADY. You hear what she says!
LADY. Did you hear what she said!
HOSTESS. There's only one thing about him I don't understand; but I don't want to say anything unpleasant....
HOSTESS. There's just one thing about him I don't get; but I don't want to say anything negative....
LADY. What is it?
LADY. What’s going on?
HOSTESS. Only a trifle; and yet...
HOSTESS. Just a little bit; and yet...
LADY. Well?
LADY. So?
HOSTESS. He didn't like my dogs.
HOSTESS. He wasn’t a fan of my dogs.
LADY. I can't blame him for not caring for an impure beast. I hate everything animal, in myself and others. I don't hate animals on that account, for I hate nothing that's created....
LADY. I can’t blame him for not caring about an unclean creature. I despise everything animalistic, both in myself and in others. I don’t hate animals for that reason, because I don’t hate anything that’s created....
STRANGER. Thank you, Ingeborg!
STRANGER. Thanks, Ingeborg!
LADY. You see! I've an eye for your merits, even though you don't believe it.... Here comes the Confessor.
LADY. You see! I notice your strengths, even if you don't think so.... Here comes the Confessor.
(The CONFESSOR enters.)
(The CONFESSOR enters.)
HOSTESS. Then I'll go; for the Confessor has no love for me.
HOSTESS. Then I’ll leave; the Confessor doesn’t care for me.
LADY. The Confessor loves all mankind.
LADY. The Confessor cares for everyone.
CONFESSOR (coming forward and speaking to the LADY). You best of all, my child; for you're goodness itself. Whether you're beautiful to look at, I can't see; but I know you must be, because you're good. Yes, you were the bride of my youth, and my spiritual mate; and you'll always be so, for you gave me what you were never able to give to others. I've lived your life in my spirit, suffered your pains, enjoyed your pleasures—pleasure rather, for you'd no others than what your child gave you. I alone have seen the beauty of your soul—my friend here has divined it; that's why he felt attracted to you—but the evil in him was too strong; you had to draw it out of him into yourself to free him. Then, being evil, you had to suffer the worst pains of hell for his sake, to bring atonement. Your work's ended. You can go in peace!
CONFESSOR (stepping forward and addressing the LADY). You, above all, my child; because you are pure goodness. I can't see whether you're beautiful, but I know you must be, simply because you're kind. Yes, you were the love of my youth and my spiritual partner; and you'll always be that for me, as you gave me what you could never give to anyone else. I've lived your life in my spirit, shared your sorrows, savored your joys—joy, really, since you had no other than what your child brought you. I've alone seen the beauty of your soul—my friend here sensed it; that's why he felt drawn to you—but the darkness within him was too strong; you had to absorb it to free him. In doing so, you had to endure the deepest sufferings of hell for his sake, to achieve redemption. Your work is done. You can rest in peace!
LADY. Where?
Where?
CONFESSOR. Up there. Where the sun's always shining.
CONFESSOR. Up there. Where the sun is always shining.
LADY (rising). Is there a home for me there, too?
LADY (standing up). Is there a place for me there, too?
CONFESSOR. There's a home for everyone! I'll show you the way. (He goes with her into the background. The STRANGER makes a movement.) You're impatient? You mustn't be! (He goes out. The STRANGER remains sitting alone. The WORSHIPPERS OF VENUS get up, go towards him and form a circle round him.)
CONFESSOR. There's a place for everyone! I'll guide you there. (He walks with her to the back. The STRANGER shifts.) You're feeling restless? You shouldn't! (He exits. The STRANGER stays seated alone. The WORSHIPPERS OF VENUS stand up, move towards him, and form a circle around him.)
STRANGER. What do you want with me?
STRANGER. What do you want from me?
WORSHIPPERS. Hail! Father.
Worshippers. Hail! Father.
STRANGER (much upset). Why call me that?
STRANGER (very upset). Why do you call me that?
FIRST VOICE. Because we're your children. Your dear ones!
FIRST VOICE. Because we’re your kids. Your loved ones!
STRANGER (tries to escape, but is surrounded and cannot). Let me go. Let me go!
STRANGER (tries to escape, but is surrounded and cannot). Let me go. Let me go!
SECOND VOICE (that of a pale youth). Don't you recognise me, Father?
SECOND VOICE (that of a pale youth). Don't you remember me, Dad?
TEMPTER (appearing in the background at the left-hand fork of the path). Ha!
TEMPTER (appearing in the background at the left-hand fork of the path). Ha!
STRANGER (to the Second Voice). Who are you? I seem to know your face.
STRANGER (to the Second Voice). Who are you? Your face looks familiar.
SECOND VOICE. I'm Erik—your son!
SECOND VOICE. I'm Erik—your kid!
STRANGER. Erik! You here?
STRANGER. Erik! Are you here?
SECOND VOICE. Yes. I'm here.
SECOND VOICE. Yes. I'm here.
STRANGER. God have mercy! And you, my boy, forgive me!
STRANGER. God have mercy! And you, my friend, forgive me!
SECOND VOICE. Never! You showed us the way to the sulphur springs! Is it far to the lake?
SECOND VOICE. Never! You led us to the sulfur springs! Is it far to the lake?
(The STRANGER falls to the ground.)
(The STRANGER falls to the ground.)
TEMPTER. Ha! Jubilate, temptatores!
TEMPTER. Ha! Celebrate, tempters!
VENUS WORSHIPPERS. Sulphur! Sulphur! Sulphur! Mercury!
VENUS WORSHIPPERS. Sulfur! Sulfur! Sulfur! Mercury!
TEMPTER (coming forward and touching the STRANGER with his foot). The worm! You can make him believe whatever you like. That comes from his unbelievable pride. Does he think he's the mainspring of the universe, the originator of all evil? This foolish man believes he taught youth to go in search of Venus; as if youth hadn't done that long before he was born! His pride's insupportable, and he's been rash enough to try to botch my work for me. Give him another greeting, lying Erik! (The SECOND VOICE—that is the youth—bends over the STRANGER and whispers in his ear.) There were seven deadly sins; but now there are eight. The eighth I discovered! It's called despair. For to despair of what is good, and not to hope for forgiveness, is to call... (He hesitates before pronouncing the word God, as if it burnt his lips.) God wicked. That is calumny, denial, blasphemy.... Look how he winces!
TEMPTER (stepping forward and nudging the STRANGER with his foot). The worm! You can make him believe whatever you want. That’s due to his outrageous pride. Does he really think he’s the center of the universe, the source of all evil? This foolish man thinks he’s the one who taught young people to chase after Venus; as if they hadn’t been doing that long before he existed! His pride is unbearable, and he’s been foolish enough to mess up my work for me. Give him another greeting, lying Erik! (The SECOND VOICE—that is the youth—bends over the STRANGER and whispers in his ear.) There were seven deadly sins; but now there are eight. I discovered the eighth! It’s called despair. To despair of what is good and to stop hoping for forgiveness is to call... (He hesitates before saying the word God, as if it scorches his lips.) God wicked. That’s slander, denial, blasphemy.... Look how he flinches!
STRANGER (rising quickly, and looking the TEMPTER to the eyes). Who are you?
STRANGER (standing up quickly and looking the TEMPTER in the eyes). Who are you?
TEMPTER. Your brother. Don't we resemble one another? Some of your features seem to remind me of my portrait.
TEMPTER. Your brother. Don't we look alike? Some of your features remind me of my portrait.
STRANGER. Where have I seen it?
STRANGER. Where have I seen that before?
TEMPTER. Almost everywhere! I'm often to be found in churches, though not amongst the saints.
TEMPTER. Almost everywhere! I'm often found in churches, but not among the saints.
STRANGER. I can't remember....
STRANGER. I can't recall...
TEMPTER. Is it so long since you've been to church? I'm usually represented with St. George. (The STRANGER totters and would like to fly, but cannot.) Michael and I are sometimes to be seen in a group, in which, to be sure, I don't appear in the most favourable light; but that can be altered. All can be altered; and one day the last shall be first. It's just the same in your case. For the moment, things are going badly with you, but that can be altered too... if you've enough intelligence to change your company. You've had too much to do with skirts, my son. Skirts raise dust, and dust lies on eyes and breast.... Come and sit down. We'll have a chat.... (He takes the STRANGER jocularly by the ear and leads him round the table.) Sit down and tremble, young man! (They both sit down.) Well? What shall we do? Call for wine—and a woman? No! That's too old a trick, as old as Doctor Faust! Bon! We modern are in search of mental dissipation.... So you're on your way to those holy men up there, who think that they who sleep can't sin; to the cowardly ones, who've given up the battle of life, because they were defeated once or twice; to those that bind souls rather than free them.... And talking of that! Has any saintly man ever freed you from the burden of sin? No! Do you know why sin has been oppressing you for so long? Through renunciation and abstinence, you've grown so weak that anyone can seize your soul and take possession of it. Why, they can even do it from a distance! You've so destroyed your personality that you see with strange eyes, hear with strange ears and think strange thoughts. In a word you've murdered your own soul. Just now, didn't you speak well of the enemies of mankind; of Woman, who made a hell of paradise? You needn't answer me; I can read your answer in your eyes and hear it on your lips. You talk of pure love for a woman! That's lust, young man, lust after a woman, which we have to pay for so dearly. You say you don't desire her. Then why do you want to be near her? You'd like to have a friend? Take a male friend, many of them! You've let them convince you you're no woman hater. But the woman gave you the right answer; every healthy man's a woman hater, but can't live without linking himself to his enemy, and so must fight her! All perverse and unmanly men are admirers of women! How's it with you now? So you saw those invalids and thought yourself responsible for their misery? They're tough fellows, you can believe me; they'll be able to leave here in a few days and go back to their occupations. Oh yes, lying Erik's a wag! But things have gone so far with you, that you can't distinguish between your own and other people's children. Wouldn't it be a great thing to escape from all this? What do you say? Oh, I could free you... but I'm no saint. Now we'll call old Maia. (He whistles between his fingers: MAIA appears.) Ah, there you are! Well, what are you doing here? Have you any business with this fellow?
TEMPTER. Has it really been that long since you went to church? I'm often seen with St. George. (The STRANGER wobbles and wants to escape but can’t.) Sometimes, Michael and I are in a group together, and I might not look so great there, but that can change. Everything can change; one day, the last will be first. It's the same for you. Right now, things aren't looking good for you, but that can change too... if you’re smart enough to switch up your company. You've been around women too much, my son. Women stir up trouble, and that trouble clouds your vision and weighs you down... Come, take a seat. Let’s have a conversation... (He playfully grabs the STRANGER by the ear and guides him around the table.) Sit down and tremble, young man! (They both sit down.) So? What should we do? Order wine—and a woman? No! That’s an old trick, as old as Doctor Faust! No, us moderns are looking for mental escape.... So you're heading to those holy men up there, who believe that those who sleep can’t sin; to the cowardly ones, who've given up on life’s battles because they lost a time or two; to those who bind souls instead of freeing them.... Speaking of which! Has any saint ever relieved you of your sins? No? Want to know why sin has weighed you down for so long? Because through denial and abstinence, you've weakened yourself to the point where anyone can snatch your soul up. They could even do it from afar! You've so diminished your identity that you see with different eyes, hear with different ears, and think different thoughts. In short, you’ve killed your own soul. Just now, didn’t you speak highly of humanity's enemies; of Woman, who turned paradise into hell? You don’t have to answer; I can see your response in your eyes and hear it on your lips. You talk about pure love for a woman! That’s lust, young man, lust for a woman, which comes with a heavy price. You say you don’t desire her. So why do you want to be near her? You want a friend? Find a male friend, or many of them! You let them convince you that you're not a woman hater. But the woman gave you the right reply; every healthy man is a woman hater, but can’t live without connecting himself to his enemy, so he must fight her! All twisted and unmanly men admire women! How’s that working out for you? So you saw those sick people and felt responsible for their suffering? They’re tough cookies, believe me; they’ll be able to leave here in a few days and get back to their lives. Oh yes, lying Erik’s a joker! But you've gotten so far down that you can’t even tell the difference between your own kids and someone else’s. Wouldn’t it be amazing to escape all this? What do you think? Oh, I could set you free... but I’m no saint. Now let’s call old Maia. (He whistles between his fingers: MAIA appears.) Ah, there you are! So, what brings you here? Do you have business with this guy?
MAIA. No. He's good and always was; but he'd a terrible wife.
MAIA. No. He’s good and always has been; but he had a terrible wife.
TEMPTER (to the STRANGER). Listen! You've not heard that yet, have you? Rather the opposite. She was the good angel, whom you ruined... we've all been told that! Now, old Maia, what kind of story is it he prattles of? He says he was plagued with remorse for seven years because he owed you money.
TEMPTER (to the STRANGER). Hey! You haven't heard that yet, have you? Quite the opposite. She was the good angel that you messed up... we’ve all heard that! Now, old Maia, what kind of nonsense is he talking about? He claims he felt guilty for seven years because he owed you money.
MAIA. He owed me a small sum once; but I got it back from him—and with good interest—much better than the savings bank would have given me. It was very good of him—very kind.
MAIA. He once owed me a small amount of money; but I got it back from him—and with good interest—much better than what I would have received from the savings bank. That was very nice of him—really kind.
STRANGER (starting up). What's that you said? Is it possible I've forgotten?
STRANGER (sitting up). What did you say? Could it be that I’ve forgotten?
TEMPTER. Have you the receipt, Maia? If so, give it me.
TEMPTER. Do you have the receipt, Maia? If you do, please give it to me.
MAIA. The gentleman must have the receipt; but I've got the savings bank book here. He paid the money into it in my name. (She produces a savings bank book, and hands it to the STRANGER, who looks at it.)
MAIA. The gentleman should have the receipt; but I have the savings bank book here. He deposited the money into it in my name. (She takes out a savings bank book and hands it to the STRANGER, who looks at it.)
STRANGER. Yes, that's quite right. Now I remember. Then why this seven-year torment, shame and disgrace? Those reproaches during sleepless nights? Why? Why? Why?
STRANGER. Yes, that's right. Now I remember. So why this seven-year struggle, shame, and humiliation? Those accusations during sleepless nights? Why? Why? Why?
TEMPTER. Old Maia, you can go now. But first say something nice about this self-tormentor. Can't you remember any human quality in this wild beast, whom human beings have baited for years?
TEMPTER. Old Maia, you can leave now. But first, say something nice about this self-tormentor. Can't you recall any human quality in this wild beast, whom humans have provoked for years?
STRANGER (to MAIA). Quiet, don't answer him! (He stops his ears with his fingers.)
STRANGER (to MAIA). Shh, don’t reply to him! (He covers his ears with his fingers.)
TEMPTER. Well, Maia?
Temptor. So, Maia?
MAIA. I know well enough what they say about him, but that refers to what he writes—and I've not read it for I can't read. Still, no one need read it, if they don't want to. Anyhow the gentleman's been very kind. Now he's stopping his ears. I don't know how to flatter; but I can say this in a whisper.... (She whispers some thing to the TEMPTER.)
MAIA. I hear the gossip about him, but that's about his writing—and I can't read it because I don't know how. Still, no one has to read it if they don’t want to. Anyway, the guy's been really nice. Now he's covering his ears. I’m not good at flattery, but I can say this quietly.... (She whispers something to the TEMPTER.)
TEMPTER. Yes. All human beings who are easily moved are baited like wild beasts! It's the rule. Good bye, old Maia!
TEMPTER. Yes. All people who are easily swayed are lured like wild animals! It’s the way things go. Goodbye, old Maia!
MAIA. Good-bye, kind gentlemen. (She goes out.)
MAIA. Goodbye, kind gentlemen. (She exits.)
STRANGER. Why did I suffer innocently for seven years?
STRANGER. Why did I suffer for seven years without reason?
TEMPTER (pointing upwards with one finger). Ask up there!
TEMPTER (pointing upwards with one finger). Ask up there!
STRANGER. Where I never get an answer!
STRANGER. Where I never get a response!
TEMPTER. Well, that may be. (Pause.) Do you think I look good?
TEMPTER. Well, that might be true. (Pause.) Do you think I look good?
STRANGER. I can't say I do.
STRANGER. I can’t say I do.
TEMPTER. You look extremely wicked, too! Do you know why we look like that?
TEMPTER. You look really evil, too! Do you know why we look like this?
STRANGER. No.
No way.
TEMPTER. The hate and malice of our fellow human beings have fastened themselves on us. Up there, you know, there are real saints, who've never done anything wicked themselves, but who suffer for others, for relations, who've committed unexpiated sins. Those angels, who've taken the depravity of others on themselves, really resemble bandits. What do you say to that?
TEMPTER. The hate and malice of our fellow humans have attached themselves to us. Up there, you know, there are real saints, who’ve never done anything wrong themselves, but who suffer for others, for relatives, who’ve committed unforgiven sins. Those angels, who’ve taken on the wrongdoing of others, really seem like criminals. What do you think about that?
STRANGER. I don't know who you are; but you're the first to answer questions that might reconcile me to life. You are....
STRANGER. I have no idea who you are, but you're the first one to respond to questions that could make me feel better about life. You are....
TEMPTER. Well, say it!
Temptor. Go on, say it!
STRANGER. The deliverer!
STRANGER. The delivery person!
TEMPTER. And therefore....?
TEMPTER. So, what now?
STRANGER. Therefore you've been given a vulture.... But listen, have you ever thought that there's as good a reason for this as for everything else? Granted the earth's a prison, on which dangerous prisoners are confined—is it a good thing to set them free? Is it right?
STRANGER. So you've been given a vulture.... But think about it: have you ever considered that there might be as good a reason for this as for anything else? Sure, the earth is a prison where dangerous prisoners are held—should we really set them free? Is that the right thing to do?
TEMPTER. What a question! I've never really thought about it. Hm!
TEMPTER. What a question! I’ve never actually thought about it. Hmm!
STRANGER. And have you ever thought of this: we may be born in guilt?
STRANGER. Have you ever considered this: we might be born into guilt?
TEMPTER. That's nothing to do with me: I concern myself with the present.
TEMPTER. That doesn't concern me: I focus on the present.
STRANGER. Good! Don't you think we're sometimes punished wrongly, so that we fail to see the logical connection, though it exists?
STRANGER. Good! Don’t you think we sometimes get punished unfairly, so we don't see the logical connection, even though it’s there?
TEMPTER. Logic's not missing; but all life's a tissue of offences, mistakes, errors, that are comparatively blameless owing to human weakness, but that are punished by the most consistent revenge. Everything's revenged, even our injudicious actions. Who forgives? A magnanimous man-sometimes; heavenly justice, never! (A PILGRIM appears in the background.) See! A penitent! I'd like to know what wrong he's done. We'll ask him. Welcome to our quiet meadows, peaceful wanderer! Take your place at the simple table of the ascetic, at which there are no more temptations.
TEMPTER. Logic isn't lacking; but all of life is woven with offenses, mistakes, and errors that aren't completely condemning due to human flaws, yet are met with relentless retribution. Everything gets its payback, even our poor choices. Who forgives? A noble person—sometimes; divine justice, never! (A PILGRIM appears in the background.) Look! A penitent! I wonder what wrong he's committed. Let's ask him. Welcome to our tranquil meadows, peaceful traveler! Join us at the humble table of the ascetic, where there are no more temptations.
PILGRIM. Thank you, fellow traveller in the vale of woe.
PILGRIM. Thank you, fellow traveler in this sorrowful journey.
TEMPTER. What kind of woe is yours?
TEMPTER. What kind of trouble are you facing?
PILGRIM. None in particular; on the contrary, the hour of liberation's struck, and I'm going up there to receive absolution.
PILGRIM. Not anyone in particular; in fact, the hour of freedom has come, and I'm going up there to seek forgiveness.
STRANGER. Listen, haven't we two met before?
STRANGER. Hey, haven’t we met before?
PILGRIM. I think so, certainly.
PILGRIM. I definitely think so.
STRANGER. Caesar! You're Caesar!
Dude, you're Caesar!
PILGRIM. I used to be; but I am no longer.
PILGRIM. I was once; but I’m not anymore.
TEMPTER. Ha ha! Imperial acquaintance. Really! But tell us, tell us!
TEMPTER. Haha! Royal friend. Seriously! But come on, tell us, tell us!
PILGRIM. You shall hear. Now I've a right to speak, for my penance is at an end. When we met at a certain doctor's house, I was shut up there as a madman and supposed to be suffering from the illusion that I was Caesar. Now the Stranger shall hear the truth of the matter: I never believed it, but I was forced by scruples of conscience to put a good face on it.... A friend of mine, a bad friend, had written proof that I was the victim of a misunderstanding; but he didn't speak when he should have, and I took his silence as a request not to speak either-and to suffer. Why did I? Well, in my youth I was once in great need. I was received as a guest in a house on an island far out to sea by a man who, in spite of unusual gifts, had been passed over for promotion—owing to his senseless pride. This man, by solitary brooding on his lot, had come to hold quite extraordinary views about himself. I noticed it, but I said nothing. One day this man's wife told me that he was sometimes mentally unbalanced; and then thought he was Julius Caesar. For many years I kept this secret conscientiously, for I'm not ungrateful by nature. But life's tricky. It happened a few years later that this Caesar laid rough hands on my most intimate fate. In anger at this I betrayed the secret of his Caesar mania and made my erstwhile benefactor such a laughing stock, that his existence became unbearable to him. And now listen how Nemesis overtakes one! A year later I wrote a book-I am, you must know, an author who's not made his name.... And in this book I described incidents of family life: how I played with my daughter—she was called Julia, as Caesar's daughter was—and with my wife, whom we called Caesar's wife because no one spoke evil of her.... Well, this recreation, in which my mother-in-law joined too, cost me dear. When I was looking through the proofs of my book, I saw the danger and said to myself: you'll trip yourself up. I wanted to cut it out but, if you'll believe it, the pen refused, and an inner voice said to me: let it stand! It did stand! And I fell.
PILGRIM. You’ll hear it now. I have every right to speak since my penance is over. When we met at a certain doctor’s house, I was locked up there as a madman and was thought to be under the delusion that I was Caesar. Now the Stranger will hear the truth: I never believed it, but I felt pressured by my conscience to play along.... A friend of mine, a bad friend, had proof that I was misunderstood; but he didn’t speak up when he should have, and I took his silence as a sign not to speak either—and just endure. Why did I do that? Well, in my youth I was once in dire need. I was welcomed as a guest in a home on a faraway island by a man who, despite his remarkable talents, was overlooked for promotion—thanks to his foolish pride. This man, after brooding alone on his fate, developed some quite extraordinary ideas about himself. I noticed it but said nothing. One day, this man’s wife told me that he sometimes lost his mental balance and thought he was Julius Caesar. For many years, I kept this secret carefully because I’m not ungrateful by nature. But life is tricky. A few years later, this Caesar interfered with my most personal affairs. Out of anger, I revealed his delusion of grandeur and made my former benefactor such a target for ridicule that his life became unbearable. And now listen to how Nemesis catches up to you! A year later, I wrote a book—I should mention that I’m an author who hasn’t made a name for himself yet.... In this book, I described snapshots of family life: how I played with my daughter—she was called Julia, just like Caesar’s daughter—and with my wife, whom we called Caesar’s wife because no one dared speak ill of her.... Well, this pastime, which my mother-in-law joined as well, ended up costing me dearly. When I was reviewing the proofs of my book, I sensed the risk and thought to myself: you’re going to trip yourself up. I wanted to cut it out, but believe me when I say, the pen wouldn’t move, and an inner voice told me: leave it in! It stayed in! And I fell.
STRANGER. Why didn't you publish the letter from your friend that would have explained everything?
STRANGER. Why didn't you publish the letter from your friend that would have cleared everything up?
PILGRIM. When the disaster had happened I felt at once that it was the finger of God, and that I must suffer for my ingratitude.
PILGRIM. When the disaster struck, I immediately sensed that it was the hand of God, and that I had to pay for my ungratefulness.
STRANGER. And you did suffer?
STRANGER. Did you suffer?
PILGRIM. Not at all! I smiled to myself and wouldn't let myself be put out. And because I accepted my punishment with calmness and humility God lightened my burden; and I didn't feel myself ridiculous.
PILGRIM. Not at all! I smiled to myself and refused to get upset. And because I took my punishment with calmness and humility, God eased my burden; and I didn't feel foolish.
TEMPTER. That's a strange story; but such things happen. Shall we move on now? We'll go for an excursion, now we've weathered the storms. Pull yourself up by the roots, and then we'll climb the mountain.
TEMPTER. That's a weird story; but stuff like that happens. Should we move on now? Let's go on an adventure, now that we've gotten through the tough times. Pull yourself together, and then we'll hike up the mountain.
STRANGER. The Confessor told me to wait for him.
STRANGER. The Confessor told me to wait for him.
TEMPTER. He'll find you, anyhow! And up here in the village the court's sitting to-day. A particularly interesting case is to be tried; and I dare say I'll be called as a witness. Come!
TEMPTER. He'll find you, for sure! And up here in the village, the court is in session today. There's a particularly interesting case being tried, and I’m sure I’ll be called as a witness. Come!
STRANGER. Well, whether I sit here, or up there, is all the same to me.
STRANGER. Well, whether I sit here or up there, it's all the same to me.
PILGRIM (to the STRANGER). Who's that?
PILGRIM (to the STRANGER). Who are you?
STRANGER. I don't know. He looks like an anarchist.
STRANGER. I have no idea. He seems like an anarchist.
PILGRIM. Interesting, anyhow!
PILGRIM. Interesting, anyway!
STRANGER. He's a sceptical gentleman, who's seen life.
STRANGER. He's a skeptical guy who's experienced life.
TEMPTER. Come, children; I'll tell you stories on the way. Come. Come!
TEMPTER. Come on, kids; I’ll tell you stories as we go. Let’s go. Come on!
(They go out towards the background.)
(They walk out toward the background.)
Curtain.
Curtains.
ACT III
SCENE I
TERRACE ON THE MOUNTAIN[A Terrace on the mountain on which the Monastery stands. On the right a rocky cliff and a similar one on the left. In the far background a bird's-eye view of a river landscape with towns, villages, ploughed fields and woods; in the very far distance the sea can be seen. Down stage an apple tree laden with fruit. Under it a long table with a chair at the end and benches at the sides. Down stage, right, a corner of the village town hall. A cloud seems to be hanging immediately over the village.]
[A terrace on the mountain where the monastery is located. On the right, a rocky cliff, and another one on the left. In the distant background, you can see a bird's-eye view of a river landscape with towns, villages, plowed fields, and forests; in the very far distance, the sea is visible. Downstage, there's an apple tree loaded with fruit. Under it, a long table with a chair at one end and benches on the sides. Downstage right, a corner of the village town hall. A cloud appears to be hovering right over the village.]
[The MAGISTRATE sits at the end of the table in the capacity of judge; the assessors on the benches. The ACCUSED MAN is standing on the right by the MAGISTRATE; the witnesses on the left, amongst them the TEMPTER. Members of the public, with the PILGRIM and the STRANGER, are standing here and there not far from the judge's seat.]
[The MAGISTRATE sits at the end of the table as the judge; the assessors are on the benches. The ACCUSED MAN is standing on the right next to the MAGISTRATE; the witnesses are on the left, including the TEMPTER. Members of the public, along with the PILGRIM and the STRANGER, are standing here and there not far from the judge's seat.]
MAGISTRATE. Is the accused present?
MAGISTRATE. Is the defendant here?
ACCUSED MAN. Yes. Present.
ACCUSED MAN. Yes. Here.
MAGISTRATE. This is a very sad story, that's brought trouble and shame on our small community. Florian Reicher, twenty-three years old, is accused of shooting at Fritz Schlipitska's affianced wife, with the clear intention of killing her. It's a case of premeditated murder, and the provisions of the law are perfectly clear. Has the accused anything to say in his defence, or can he plead mitigating circumstances?
MAGISTRATE. This is a very unfortunate story that has caused trouble and shame in our small community. Florian Reicher, who is twenty-three years old, is accused of shooting at Fritz Schlipitska's fiancé, with the obvious intent to kill her. This is a case of premeditated murder, and the law is very clear on this matter. Does the accused have anything to say in his defense, or can he present any mitigating circumstances?
ACCUSED MAN. No.
ACCUSED MAN. Nah.
TEMPTER. Ho, there!
Hey, there!
MAGISTRATE. Who are you?
MAGISTRATE. Who are you?
TEMPTER. Counsel for the accused.
Defense attorney for the accused.
MAGISTRATE. The accused man certainly has a right to the services of counsel, but in the present case I think the facts are so clear that the people have reached a certain conclusion; and the murderer will hardly be able to regain their sympathy. Isn't that so?
MAGISTRATE. The accused definitely has the right to have a lawyer, but in this situation, I believe the facts are so obvious that the public has already come to a certain conclusion; and the murderer will likely struggle to win back their sympathy. Isn’t that right?
PEOPLE. He's condemned already!
PEOPLE. He’s already condemned!
TEMPTER. Who by?
Tempted by whom?
PEOPLE. The Law and his own deed.
PEOPLE. The law and his own actions.
TEMPTER. Listen to me! As counsel for the accused I represent him and take the accusation on myself. I ask permission to address the court.
TEMPTER. Listen up! As the lawyer for the accused, I speak on his behalf and take responsibility for the charges. I request permission to speak to the court.
MAGISTRATE. I can't refuse it.
MAGISTRATE. I can’t decline it.
PEOPLE. Florian's been condemned already.
PEOPLE. Florian's already been condemned.
TEMPTER. The case must first be heard. (Pause.) I'd reached my eighteenth year—it's Florian speaking—and my thoughts, as I grew up under my mother's watchful eye, were pure; and my heart without deceit, for I'd never seen or heard anything wicked. Then I—Florian, that is—met a young girl who seemed to me the most beautiful creature I'd ever set eyes on in this wicked world, for she was goodness itself. I offered her my hand, my heart, and my future. She accepted everything and swore that she'd be true. I was to serve five years for my Rachel—and I did serve, collecting one straw after another for the little nest we were going to build. My whole life was centred on the love of this woman! As I was true to her myself, I never mistrusted her. By the fifth year I'd built the hut and collected our household goods... when I discovered she'd been playing with me and had deceived me with at least three men....
TEMPTER. The case must first be heard. (Pause.) I’d turned eighteen—it’s Florian speaking—and growing up under my mother’s careful watch, my thoughts were pure; my heart was honest, because I had never seen or heard anything evil. Then I—Florian, that is—met a young girl who seemed to me the most beautiful person I’d ever seen in this flawed world, as she embodied goodness itself. I offered her my hand, my heart, and my future. She accepted everything and promised she’d be faithful. I was to work for five years for my Rachel—and I did work, gathering everything little by little for the small home we were going to build. My entire life revolved around the love for this woman! Since I was faithful to her, I never doubted her. By the fifth year, I had built the hut and gathered our household items... when I discovered she had been playing me and had deceived me with at least three other men...
MAGISTRATE. Have you witnesses?
MAGISTRATE. Do you have witnesses?
BAILIFF. Three valid ones; I'm one of them.
BAILIFF. Three legit ones; I'm one of them.
MAGISTRATE. The bailiff alone will be sufficient.
MAGISTRATE. The bailiff will be enough by himself.
TEMPTER. Then I shot her; not out of revenge, but in order to free myself from the unhealthy thoughts her faithlessness had forced on me; for when I tried to tear her picture out of my heart, images of her lovers always rose and crept into my blood, so that at last I seemed to be living in unlawful relationship with three men—with a woman as the link between us!
TEMPTER. Then I shot her; not out of revenge, but to free myself from the unhealthy thoughts her betrayal had imposed on me; because whenever I tried to erase her image from my heart, visions of her lovers would always emerge and infect my mind, until it felt like I was living in an illicit relationship with three men—with a woman connecting us!
MAGISTRATE. Well, that was jealousy!
MAGISTRATE. That was jealousy!
ACCUSED MAN. Yes, that was jealousy.
ACCUSED MAN. Yeah, that was jealousy.
TEMPTER. Yes, jealousy, that feeling for cleanliness, that seeks to preserve thoughts from pollution by strangers. If I'd been content to do nothing, if I'd not been jealous, I'd have got into vicious company, and I didn't want to do that. That's why she had to die so that my thoughts might be cleansed of deadly sin, which alone is to be condemned. I've finished.
TEMPTER. Yeah, jealousy, that urge to keep things clean, wanting to shield thoughts from being tainted by outsiders. If I had just accepted doing nothing, if I hadn't been jealous, I would have ended up with bad company, and I didn't want that. That's why she had to die, so my thoughts could be cleared of deadly sin, which is the only thing that deserves condemnation. I'm done.
PEOPLE. The dead woman's guilty! Her blood's on her own head.
PEOPLE. The dead woman is guilty! Her blood is on her own hands.
MAGISTRATE. She's guilty, for she was the cause of the crime.
MAGISTRATE. She's guilty because she caused the crime.
(The FATHER of the dead woman steps forward.)
(The FATHER of the deceased woman steps forward.)
FATHER. Your Worship, judge of my dead child; and you, countrymen, let me speak!
FATHER. Your Honor, judge of my deceased child; and you, fellow citizens, allow me to speak!
MAGISTRATE. The dead girl's father may speak.
MAGISTRATE. The father of the deceased girl may speak.
FATHER. You're accusing a dead girl; and I shall answer. Maria, my child, has undoubtedly been guilty of a crime and is to blame for the misdeeds of this man. There's no doubt of it!
FATHER. You're accusing a dead girl, and I will respond. Maria, my child, has definitely committed a crime and is responsible for this man's wrongdoings. There’s no doubt about it!
PEOPLE. No doubt! It's she who's guilty!
PEOPLE. No doubt about it! She's the one who's guilty!
FATHER. Permit her father to add a word of explanation, if not of defence. (Pause.) When she was fifteen, Maria fell into the hands of a man who seemed to have made it his business to entrap young girls, much as a bird-catcher traps small birds. He was no seducer, in the ordinary sense, for he contented himself with binding her senses and entangling her feelings only to thrust her away and watch how she suffered with torn wings and a broken heart—tortured by the agony of love, which is worse than any other agony. For three years Maria was cared for in an institution for the mentally deranged. And when she came out again, she was divided, broken into several pieces—it might be said that she was several persons. She was an angel and feared God with one side of her spirit; but with another she was a devil, and reviled all that was holy. I've seen her go straight from dancing and frenzy to her beloved Florian, and have heard her, in his presence, speak so differently and so alter her expression, that I could have sworn she was another being. But to me she seemed equally sincere in both her shapes. Is she to blame, or her seducer?
FATHER. Allow her father to say a word of clarification, if not of defense. (Pause.) When she was fifteen, Maria fell into the hands of a man who seemed intent on trapping young girls, much like a bird-catcher traps small birds. He wasn't a typical seducer; he just manipulated her senses and tangled up her emotions only to cast her aside and watch her suffer with torn wings and a broken heart—tormented by the pain of love, which is worse than any other pain. For three years, Maria was cared for in a mental health facility. When she left, she was fractured, split into several parts—it could be said that she was multiple people. One side of her was angelic and feared God, while another was devilish and dismissed everything sacred. I've seen her go straight from dancing and excitement to her beloved Florian, and I’ve heard her, in his presence, speak so differently and change her expression so much that I could have sworn she was someone else entirely. But to me, she seemed equally genuine in both her forms. Is she at fault, or is it her seducer?
PEOPLE. She's not to blame! Where is her seducer?
PEOPLE. It's not her fault! Where's the guy who seduced her?
FATHER. There!
DAD. There!
TEMPTER. Yes. It was I.
Yes, it was me.
PEOPLE. Stone him!
PEOPLE. Throw stones at him!
MAGISTRATE. The law must run its course. He must be heard.
MAGISTRATE. The law has to take its course. He needs to be heard.
TEMPTER. Bon! Then listen, Argives! It was like this. Your humble servant, born of poor but fairly honourable parents, was from the beginning one of those strange birds who, in their youth, go in search of their Creator—but without ever finding him, naturally! It's more usual for old cuckoos to look for him in their dotage—and for good reasons! The urge for this youthful quest was accompanied by a purity of heart and a modesty that even caused his nurses to smile—yes, we can laugh now when we hear that this boy would only change his underclothing in the dark! But even if we're corrupted by the crudities of life, we're still bound to find something beautiful in it; and if we're older something touching! And so we can afford to-day to laugh at his childish innocence. Scornful laughter, listeners, please.
TEMPTER. Good! Then listen, Argives! It was like this. Your humble servant, born to poor but fairly honorable parents, was from the start one of those unique souls who, in their youth, go searching for their Creator—but never actually find him, of course! It's more common for old cuckoos to look for him in their old age—and for good reasons! The desire for this youthful quest was accompanied by a purity of heart and a modesty that even made his nurses smile—yes, we can laugh now when we hear that this boy would only change his underwear in the dark! But even if we're tainted by life's hardships, we still have to find something beautiful in it; and if we’re older, something touching! So we can afford to laugh at his innocent childhood today. Scornful laughter, listeners, please.
MAGISTRATE (seriously). He mistakes his listeners.
MAGISTRATE (seriously). He misunderstands his audience.
TEMPTER. Then I ought to be ashamed of myself! (Pause.) He became a youth—your humble servant—and fell into a series of traps that were laid for his innocence. I'm an old sinner, but I blush at this moment.... (He takes of his hat.) Yes, look at me now—when I think of the insight this young man got into the world of Potiphar's wives that surrounded him! There wasn't a single woman.... Really, I'm ashamed in the name of mankind and the female sex—excuse me, please.... There were moments when I didn't believe my eyes, but thought a devil had blinded my sight. The holiest bands.... (He pinches his tongue.) No, quiet! Mankind will feel itself calumniated! Enough, until my twenty-fifth year I fought the good fight; and I fell because.... Well, I was called Joseph, and I was Joseph! I grew jealous of my virtue, and felt injured by the glances of a lewd woman.... And at last, cunningly seduced, I fell. Then I became a slave of my passions; often and often I sat by Omphalos and span, until I sank into the deepest degradation and suffered, suffered, suffered! But in reality it was only my body that was degraded; my soul lived her own life—her own pure life, I can say—on her own account. And I raved innocently for pure young virgins who, it seems, felt the bond that drew us together. Because, without boasting, I can say they were attracted to me. I didn't want to overstep the mark, but they did! And when I fled the danger, their hearts were broken, so they said. In a word, I've never seduced an innocent girl. I swear it! Am I therefore to blame for the emotional sorrows of this young woman, who went out of her mind? On the contrary, mayn't I count it a virtue that I shrank in horror from the step that brought about her fall? Who'll cast the first stone at me? No one! Then I mistake my listeners. Indeed, I thought I might be an object of scorn, if I were to plead here for my masculine innocence! Now, however, I feel young again; and there's something for which I'd like to ask mankind's forgiveness. If it weren't that I happened to see a cynical smile on the lips of the woman who seduced me when I was young. Come forward, woman, and look upon your work of destruction. Observe, how the seed has grown!
TEMPTER. So I should be ashamed of myself! (Pause.) He became a young man—your humble servant—and fell into a series of traps set for his innocence. I'm an old sinner, but I’m blushing right now.... (He takes off his hat.) Yes, look at me now—when I think about the insight this young man gained into the world of Potiphar's wives surrounding him! There wasn't a single woman.... Honestly, I'm ashamed for all of humanity and for women—please excuse me.... There were times when I couldn't believe my eyes, thinking a devil had blinded me. The holiest bonds.... (He pinches his tongue.) No, quiet! Humanity will feel wronged! Enough, until my twenty-fifth year I fought the good fight; and I fell because.... Well, I was called Joseph, and I *was* Joseph! I grew jealous of my virtue and felt hurt by the looks of a lustful woman.... And in the end, cleverly seduced, I fell. Then I became a slave to my desires; often and often I sat by Omphalos and spun until I sank into the deepest degradation and suffered, suffered, suffered! But in reality, it was only my body that was degraded; my soul lived its own life—its own pure life, I can say—on its own terms. And I yearned innocently for pure young virgins who, it seems, felt the connection that drew us together. Because, without boasting, I can say they were attracted to me. I didn't want to overstep the line, but they did! And when I escaped the danger, their hearts were broken, or so they claimed. In short, I've never seduced an innocent girl. I swear it! Am I then to blame for the emotional pain of this young woman who lost her mind? On the contrary, can’t I consider it a virtue that I recoiled in horror from the step that led to her downfall? Who will cast the first stone at me? No one! Then I misjudge my audience. Honestly, I thought I might be looked down upon for defending my masculine innocence here! Now, however, I feel young again; and there's something I'd like to ask humanity's forgiveness for. If only I hadn't seen that cynical smile on the lips of the woman who seduced me when I was young. Come forward, woman, and look upon your work of destruction. See how the seed has grown!
WOMAN (coming forward with dignity and modesty). It was I! Let me be heard, and let me tell the simple story of my seduction. (Pause.) Luckily my seducer is here, too....
WOMAN (stepping forward with dignity and humility). It was me! Please listen to me, and let me share the straightforward story of my seduction. (Pause.) Fortunately, my seducer is here as well...
MAGISTRATE. Friends! I must break off the proceedings; otherwise we'll get back to Eve in Paradise.
MAGISTRATE. Friends! I need to stop the proceedings; otherwise, we'll end up back with Eve in Paradise.
TEMPTER. Who was Adam's seducer! That's just where we want to get back to. Eve! Come forward, Eve. Eve! (He waves his cloak in the air. The trunk of the tree becomes transparent and EVE appears, wrapped in her hair and with a girdle about her loins.) Now, Mother Eve, it was you who seduced our father. You are the accused: what have you to say in your defence?
TEMPTER. Who seduced Adam? That's exactly where we want to go back to. Eve! Step forward, Eve. Eve! (He waves his cloak in the air. The trunk of the tree becomes transparent and EVE appears, wrapped in her hair and with a belt around her waist.) Now, Mother Eve, it was you who tempted our father. You are on trial: what do you have to say in your defense?
EVE (simply and with dignity). The serpent tempted me!
EVE (straightforwardly and with poise). The serpent tempted me!
TEMPTER. Well answered! Eve has proved her innocence. The serpent! Let the serpent come forward. (EVE disappears.) The serpent! (The serpent appears in the tree trunk.) Here you can see the seducer of us all. Now, serpent, who was it that beguiled you?
TEMPTER. Well said! Eve has shown she's innocent. The serpent! Let the serpent come forward. (EVE disappears.) The serpent! (The serpent appears in the tree trunk.) Here you can see the one who led us all astray. Now, serpent, who tricked you?
ALL (terrified). Silence! Blasphemer!
ALL (terrified). Quiet! Heretic!
TEMPTER. Answer, serpent! (Lightning and a clap of thunder; all flee, except the TEMPTER, who has fallen to the ground, and the PILGRIM, the STRANGER and the LADY. The TEMPTER begins to recover; he then gets up and sits down in an attitude that recalls the classical statue 'The Polisher,' or 'The Slave.') Causa finalis, or the first cause—you can't discover that! For if the serpent's to blame, then we're comparatively innocent—but mankind mustn't be told that! The Accused, however, seems to have got out of this business! And the Court of justice has dissolved like smoke! Judge not. Judge not, O Judges!
TEMPTER. Answer, serpent! (Lightning and a clap of thunder; everyone runs away, except the TEMPTER, who has fallen to the ground, and the PILGRIM, the STRANGER, and the LADY. The TEMPTER starts to recover; he then gets up and sits in a position that resembles the classical statue 'The Polisher,' or 'The Slave.') Final cause, or the first cause—you can’t figure that out! Because if the serpent is at fault, then we’re relatively innocent—but we can’t let humanity know that! The Accused, however, seems to have escaped this situation! And the Court of justice has vanished like smoke! Do not judge. Do not judge, O Judges!
LADY (to the STRANGER). Come with me.
LADY (to the STRANGER). Come with me.
STRANGER. But I'd like to listen to this man.
STRANGER. But I want to hear what this guy has to say.
LADY. Why? He's like a small child, putting all those questions that can't be answered. You know how little children ask about everything. 'Papa, why does the sun rise in the east?' You know the answer?
LADY. Why? He's like a little kid, asking all those questions that can’t be answered. You know how young children are always curious about everything. ‘Dad, why does the sun rise in the east?’ Do you know the answer?
STRANGER. Hm!
STRANGER. Hmm!
LADY. Or: 'Mama, who made God?' You think that profound? Well, come with me.
LADY. Or: 'Mom, who created God?' You think that's deep? Well, come with me.
STRANGER (fighting his admiration for the TEMPTER). But that about Eve was new....
STRANGER (struggling to suppress his admiration for the TEMPTER). But that part about Eve was new....
LADY. Not at all. I learnt it in my Bible history, when I was eight. And that we inherit the debts of our fathers is part of the law of the land. Come, my son.
LADY. Not at all. I learned it in my Bible history class when I was eight. And that we inherit our fathers' debts is part of the law of the land. Come, my son.
TEMPTER (rising, shaking his limbs and climbing up the rocky wall to the right with a limp). Come, I'll show you the world you think you know, but don't.
TEMPTER (rising, stretching his limbs and climbing up the rocky wall to the right with a limp). Come on, I'll show you the world you think you know, but really don't.
LADY (climbing up the rocky wall to the left). Come with me, my son, and I'll show you God's beautiful world, as I've come to see it, since the tears of sorrow washed the dust from my eyes. Come with me!
LADY (climbing up the rocky wall to the left). Come with me, my son, and I’ll show you the beautiful world that God created, just as I’ve come to see it since my tears of sorrow cleared my vision. Come with me!
(The STRANGER stands irresolute between them.)
(The STRANGER stands uncertain between them.)
TEMPTER (to the LADY). And how have you seen the world through your tears? Like meadow banks reflected in troubled water! A chaos of curved lines in which the trees seemed to be standing on their heads. (To the STRANGER.) No, my son, with my field-glasses, dried in the fire of hate—with my telescope I can see everything as it is. Clear and sharp, precisely as it is.
TEMPTER (to the LADY). And how have you experienced the world through your tears? Like meadow banks mirrored in disturbed water! A mess of curves where the trees look like they’re upside down. (To the STRANGER.) No, my son, with my binoculars, scorched by the flames of hate—with my telescope I can see everything as it really is. Clear and sharp, just as it is.
LADY. What do you know of things, my son? You can never see the thing itself, only its picture; and the picture is illusion and not the thing. So you argue about pictures and illusions.
LADY. What do you really understand about things, my son? You can never see the thing itself, only its image; and the image is an illusion, not the real thing. So you end up debating images and illusions.
TEMPTER. Listen to her! A little philosopher in skirts. By Jupiter Chronos, such a disputation in this giant amphitheatre of the mountains demands a proper audience. Hullo!
TEMPTER. Listen to her! A little philosopher in a dress. By Jupiter Chronos, such a debate in this massive amphitheater of the mountains deserves a proper audience. Hey!
LADY. I have mine here: my friend, my husband, my child! If he'll only listen to me, good; all will be well with me, and him. Come to me, my friend, for this is the way. This is the mountain Gerizim, where blessings are given. And that is Ebal, where they curse.
LADY. I have mine here: my friend, my husband, my child! If he'll just listen to me, great; everything will be fine for me and him. Come to me, my friend, because this is the way. This is Mount Gerizim, where blessings are given. And that's Ebal, where they curse.
TEMPTER. Yes, this is Ebal, where they curse. 'Cursed be the earth, woman, for thy sake; in sorrow shalt thou bring forth children; and thy desire shall be to thy husband, and he shall rule over thee.' And then to the man this: 'Cursed is the ground for thy sake, thorns and thistle shall it bring forth to thee, and in the sweat of thy brow shalt thou labour!' So spoke the Lord, not I!
TEMPTER. Yes, this is Ebal, where they curse. 'Cursed be the earth, woman, because of you; you will experience pain in childbirth; and you will desire your husband, and he will dominate you.' And then to the man this: 'Cursed is the ground because of you; it will produce thorns and thistles for you, and you will work hard for your food!' So said the Lord, not me!
LADY. 'And God blessed the first pair; and He blessed the seventh day, on which He had completed His work—and the work was good.' But you, and we, have made it something evil, and that is why.... But he who obeys the commandments of the Lord dwells on Gerizim, where blessings are given. Thus saith the Lord. 'Blessed shalt thou be in the city, and blessed shalt thou be in the field. Blessed shall be thy basket and thy store. Blessed shalt thou be when thou comest in, and blessed when thou goest out. And the Lord shall give rain unto thy land in his season to increase thy harvest, and thy children shall flourish. And the Lord shall make thee plenteous in goods, to lend to the peoples, and never to borrow. And the Lord will bless all the work of thy hand, if thou shalt keep the commandments of the Lord thy God!' (Pause.) So come, my friend, and lay your hand in mine. (She falls on her knees with clasped hands.) I beg you, by the love that once united us, by the memory of the child that drew us together; by the strength of a mother's love—a mother's—for so have I loved you, erring child, whom I've sought in the dark places of the wood and whom at last I've found, hungry and withered for want of love! Come back to me, prodigal one; and bury your tired head on my heart, where you rested before ever you saw the light of the sun. (A change comes over her during this speech; her clothing falls from her and she is seen to have changed into a white-robed woman with her hair let down and with a full maternal bosom.)
LADY. 'And God blessed the first couple; and He blessed the seventh day, when He finished His work—and it was good.' But you, and we, have turned it into something evil, and that is why.... But whoever follows the commandments of the Lord lives on Gerizim, where blessings are granted. Thus says the Lord. 'You will be blessed in the city, and you will be blessed in the field. Your basket and your store will be blessed. You will be blessed when you come in, and blessed when you go out. The Lord will send rain on your land in its season to boost your harvest, and your children will thrive. The Lord will make you abundant in goods, so you can lend to others, but never have to borrow. And the Lord will bless all the work of your hands, if you keep the commandments of the Lord your God!' (Pause.) So come, my friend, and place your hand in mine. (She falls to her knees with clasped hands.) I ask you, by the love that once brought us together, by the memory of the child that united us; by the strength of a mother's love—a mother’s—because I have loved you, wandering child, whom I've sought in the shadows of the woods and finally found, starved and weakened for lack of love! Come back to me, wayward one; lay your weary head on my heart, where you rested before you ever saw the light of day. (A change occurs in her during this speech; her clothing falls away, revealing her as a woman in white robes with her hair down and a full maternal figure.)
STRANGER. Mother!
Mom!
LADY. Yes, my child, your mother! In life I could never caress you—the will of higher powers denied it me. Why that was I don't dare to ask.
LADY. Yes, my child, your mother! In life, I could never embrace you—the will of higher powers prevented me from doing so. I don't dare to question why.
STRANGER. But my mother's dead?
STRANGER. But my mom's dead?
LADY. She was; but the dead aren't dead, and maternal love can conquer death. Didn't you know that? Come, my child, I'll repay where I have been to blame. I'll rock you to sleep on my knees. I'll wash you clean from the... (She omits the word she cannot bring herself to utter) of hate and sin. I'll comb your hair, matted with the sweat of fear; and air a pure white sheet for you at the fire of a home—a home you've never had, you who've known no peace, you homeless one, son of Hagar, the serving woman, born of a slave, against whom every man's hand was raised. The ploughmen ploughed your back and seared deep furrows there. Come, I'll heal your wounds, and suffer your sorrows. Come!
LADY. She was; but the dead aren’t really gone, and a mother’s love can overcome death. Didn’t you know that? Come, my child, I’ll make up for where I’ve been at fault. I’ll rock you to sleep in my arms. I’ll wash you clean from the... (She leaves out the word she can’t bring herself to say) of hate and sin. I’ll comb your hair, tangled with the sweat of fear; and lay out a pure white sheet for you by the fire of a home—a home you’ve never known, you who’ve found no peace, you homeless one, son of Hagar, the servant woman, born of a slave, against whom everyone has fought. The farmers’ plows have scarred your back with deep marks. Come, I’ll heal your wounds and share in your sorrows. Come!
STRANGER (who has been weeping so violently that his whole body has been trembling, now goes to the cliff on the left where the MOTHER stands with open arms.) I'm coming!
STRANGER (who has been crying so hard that his whole body is shaking, now goes to the cliff on the left where the MOTHER stands with open arms.) I'm coming!
TEMPTER. I can do nothing now. But one day we shall meet again! (He disappears behind the cliff.)
TEMPTER. I can't do anything right now. But someday we’ll meet again! (He disappears behind the cliff.)
Curtain.
Curtains.
[Higher up the mountain; among the clouds a rocky landscape with a bog round it. The MOTHER on a rock, climbing until she disappears into the cloud. The STRANGER stops, bewildered.]
[Higher up the mountain; among the clouds a rocky landscape with a bog around it. The MOTHER is on a rock, climbing until she vanishes into the cloud. The STRANGER stops, confused.]
STRANGER. Oh, Mother, Mother! Why are you leaving me? At the very moment when my loveliest dream was on the point of fulfilment!
STRANGER. Oh, Mom, Mom! Why are you leaving me? Just when my biggest dream was about to come true!
TEMPTER (coming forward). What have you been dreaming? Tell me!
TEMPTER (coming forward). What have you been dreaming about? Tell me!
STRANGER. My dearest hope, most secret desire and last prayer! Reconciliation with mankind, through a woman.
STRANGER. My greatest hope, my most private wish, and my final plea! Making peace with humanity, through a woman.
TEMPTER. Through a woman who taught you to hate.
TEMPTER. Through a woman who showed you how to hate.
STRANGER. Yes, because she bound me to earth—like the round shot a slave drags on his foot, so that he can't escape.
STRANGER. Yes, because she tied me to this world—like the heavy weight a slave drags with him, making it impossible to escape.
TEMPTER. You talk of woman. Always woman.
TEMPTER. You always talk about women.
STRANGER. Yes. Woman. The beginning and the end—for us men anyhow. In relationship to one another they are nothing.
STRANGER. Yes. Woman. The start and the finish—for us men, at least. In relation to each other, they mean nothing.
TEMPTER. So that's it; nothing in themselves; but everything for us, through us! Our honour and our shame; our greatest joy, our deepest pain; our redemption and our fall; our wages and our punishment; our strength and our weakness.
TEMPTER. So that's it; they're nothing by themselves; but everything for us, through us! Our honor and our shame; our greatest joy, our deepest pain; our redemption and our downfall; our rewards and our punishment; our strength and our weakness.
STRANGER. Our shame! You've said so. Explain this riddle to me, you who're wise. Whenever I appeared in public arm in arm with a woman, my wife, who was beautiful and whom I adored, I felt ashamed of my own weakness. Explain that riddle to me.
STRANGER. Our shame! You've said that. Explain this puzzle to me, you who are wise. Whenever I was out in public with a woman, my wife, who was beautiful and whom I adored, I felt embarrassed about my own weakness. Explain that puzzle to me.
TEMPTER. You felt ashamed? I don't know why.
TEMPTER. You felt embarrassed? I don't get why.
STRANGER. Can't you answer? You, of all men?
STRANGER. Can't you answer? You, of all people?
TEMPTER. No, I can't. But I too always suffered when I was with my wife in company, because I felt she was being soiled by men's glances, and I through her.
TEMPTER. No, I can't. But I always felt pain when I was with my wife in public, because I sensed that she was being tainted by the looks of other men, and I felt that way through her.
STRANGER. And when she did the shameful deed, you were dishonoured. Why?
STRANGER. And when she did that shameful thing, you were disgraced. Why?
TEMPTER. The Eve of the Greeks was called Pandora, and Zeus created her out of wickedness, in order to torture men and master them. As a wedding gift she received a box, containing all the unhappiness of the world. Perhaps the riddle of this sphinx can more easily be guessed, if it's seen from. Olympus, rather than from the pleasure garden of Paradise. Its full meaning will never be known to us. Though I'm as able as you. (Pause.) And, by the way, I can still enjoy the greatest pleasure creation ever offered! Go you and do likewise!
TEMPTER. The Eve of the Greeks was called Pandora, and Zeus created her out of malice, to torment and control men. As a wedding gift, she received a box that contained all the world's miseries. Maybe the riddle of this sphinx is easier to figure out when viewed from Olympus, instead of from the paradise garden. We'll never fully understand its meaning. Though I'm just as capable as you. (Pause.) And, by the way, I can still experience the greatest pleasure that creation has ever given! You should go and do the same!
STRANGER. You mean Satan's greatest illusion! For the woman who seems most beautiful to me, can seem horrible to others! Even for me, when she's angry, she can be uglier than any other woman. Then what is beauty?
STRANGER. You mean Satan's biggest trick! The woman I find most beautiful can look terrible to others! Even for me, when she's mad, she can be uglier than any other woman. So, what really is beauty?
TEMPTER. A semblance, a reflection of your own goodness! (He puts his hand over his mouth.) Curses on it! I let it out that time. And now the devil's loose....
TEMPTER. A likeness, a mirror of your own goodness! (He covers his mouth with his hand.) Damn it! I revealed it that time. And now the devil's out....
STRANGER. Devil? Yes. But if she's a devil, how can a devil make me desire virtue and goodness? For that's what happened to me when I first saw her beauty; I was seized with a longing to be like her, and so to be worthy of her. To begin with I tried to be by taking exercise, having baths, using cosmetics and wearing good clothes; but I only made myself ridiculous. Then I began from within; I accustomed myself to thinking good thoughts, speaking well of people and acting nobly! And one day, when my outward form had moulded itself on the soul within, I became her likeness, as she said. And it was she who first uttered those wonderful words: I love you! How can a devil ennoble us; how can a spirit of hell fill us with goodness; how...? No, she was an angel! A fallen angel, of course, and her love a broken ray of that great light—that great eternal light—that warms and loves.... That loves....
STRANGER. Devil? Sure. But if she’s a devil, how can a devil inspire me to want virtue and goodness? That's what happened when I first saw her beauty; I was overwhelmed with a desire to be like her, to be worthy of her. At first, I tried to change my appearance by exercising, bathing, using cosmetics, and dressing well, but I just ended up looking foolish. Then I focused on my inner self; I trained myself to think good thoughts, speak well of others, and act nobly! And one day, when my outer self finally reflected the soul within, I became like her, as she said. And she was the one who first said those amazing words: I love you! How can a devil elevate us; how can a spirit from hell fill us with goodness; how...? No, she was an angel! A fallen angel, of course, and her love was a fragmented ray of that great light—that great eternal light—that warms and loves.... That loves....
TEMPTER. What, old friend, must we stand here like two youths and spell out the riddles of love?
TEMPTER. What, old friend, do we really need to stand here like two kids and figure out the puzzles of love?
CONFESSOR (coming in). What's this chatterer saying? He's talked away his whole life; and never done anything.
CONFESSOR (coming in). What's this chatterbox saying? He's wasted his whole life talking and hasn't accomplished anything.
TEMPTER. I wanted to be a priest, but had no vocation.
TEMPTER. I wanted to become a priest, but I just didn’t feel called to it.
CONFESSOR. Whilst you're waiting for it, help me to find a drunkard who's drowned himself in the bog. It must be near here, because I've been following his tracks till now.
CONFESSOR. While you're waiting for it, help me find a drunk guy who's drowned himself in the swamp. He must be close by because I've been tracking his steps up until now.
TEMPTER. Then it's the man lying beneath that brushwood there.
TEMPTER. Then it’s the guy lying under that brush there.
CONFESSOR (picking up some twigs, and disclosing a fully clothed corpse, with a white, young face.) Yes, it is! (He grows pensive as he looks at the dead man.)
CONFESSOR (picking up some twigs and revealing a fully clothed corpse, with a pale, youthful face.) Yes, it is! (He becomes thoughtful as he gazes at the dead man.)
TEMPTER. Who was he?
TEMPTER. Who was he?
CONFESSOR. It's extraordinary!
CONFESSOR. It's amazing!
TEMPTER. He must have been a good-looking man. And quite young.
TEMPTER. He must have been a handsome guy. And pretty young.
CONFESSOR. Oh no. He was fifty-four. And when I saw him a week ago, he looked like sixty-four. His eyes were as yellow as the slime of a garden snail and bloodshot from drunkenness; but also because he'd shed tears of blood over his vices and misery. His face was brown and swollen like a piece of liver on a butcher's table, and he hid himself from men's eyes out of shame—up to the end he seems to have been ashamed of the broken mirror of his soul, for he covered his face with brushwood. I saw him fighting his vices; I saw him praying to God on his knees for deliverance, after he'd been dismissed from his post as a teacher.... But... Well, now he's been delivered. And look, now the evil's been taken from him, the good and beautiful that was in him has again become apparent; that's what he looked like when he was nineteen! (Pause.) This is sin—imposed as a punishment. Why? That we don't know. 'He who hateth the righteous, shall himself be guilty!' So it is written, as an indication. I knew him when he was young! And now I remember... he was always very angry with those who never drank. He criticised and condemned, and always set his cult of the grape on the altar of earthly joys! Now he's been set free. Free from sin, from shame, from ugliness. Yes, in death he looks beautiful. Death is the deliverer! (To the STRANGER.) Do you hear that, Deliverer, you who couldn't even free a drunkard from his evil passions!
CONFESSOR. Oh no. He was fifty-four. And when I saw him a week ago, he looked like he was sixty-four. His eyes were as yellow as garden snail slime and bloodshot from drinking; but also because he cried tears of blood over his vices and misery. His face was brown and swollen like a piece of liver on a butcher's table, and he hid himself from people's eyes out of shame—right to the end, it seems he was ashamed of the broken mirror of his soul, since he covered his face with brushwood. I saw him battling his vices; I saw him praying to God on his knees for deliverance after he was let go from his job as a teacher... But... Well, now he's been freed. And look, now the evil has been taken from him, the good and beautiful that was in him has come back; that's how he looked when he was nineteen! (Pause.) This is sin—forced as a punishment. Why? We don't know. 'He who hates the righteous shall himself be guilty!' So it is written, as a warning. I knew him when he was young! And now I remember... he was always very angry with those who never drank. He criticized and condemned, and always put his love for wine on the altar of earthly pleasures! Now he's been set free. Free from sin, from shame, from ugliness. Yes, in death he looks beautiful. Death is the deliverer! (To the STRANGER.) Do you hear that, Deliverer, you who couldn't even free a drunkard from his evil passions!
TEMPTER. Crime as punishment? That's not so bad. Most penetrating!
TEMPTER. Crime as punishment? That's not so bad. Pretty insightful!
CONFESSOR. So I think. You'll have new matter for argument.
CONFESSOR. I think so. You'll have new things to argue about.
TEMPTER. Now I'll leave you gentlemen for a while. But soon we'll meet again. (He goes out.)
TEMPTER. I'm going to step out for a bit, gentlemen. But we'll meet again soon. (He exits.)
CONFESSOR. I saw you just now with a woman! So there are still temptations?
CONFESSOR. I just saw you with a woman! So, there are still temptations?
STRANGER. Not the kind you mean.
STRANGER. Not that kind.
CONFESSOR. Then what kind?
Then what type?
STRANGER. I could still imagine a reconciliation between mankind and woman—through woman herself! And indeed, through that woman who was my wife and has now become what I once held her to be having been purified and lifted up by sorrow and need. But...
STRANGER. I can still picture a reconciliation between humanity and women—through women themselves! And truly, through that woman who was my wife and has now transformed into what I once believed her to be, having been cleansed and elevated by pain and necessity. But...
CONFESSOR. But what?
CONFESSOR. But what’s going on?
STRANGER. Experience teaches; the nearer, the further off: the further from one another, the nearer one can be.
STRANGER. Experience shows that the closer we get, the more distant we feel; the more separated we are, the closer we can truly be.
CONFESSOR. I've always known that—it was known by Dante, who all his life possessed the soul of Beatrice; and Beethoven, who was united from afar with Therese von Brunswick, knew it, though she was the wife of another!
CONFESSOR. I've always known that—it was known by Dante, who throughout his life had the soul of Beatrice; and Beethoven, who was connected from a distance with Therese von Brunswick, knew it, even though she was married to someone else!
STRANGER. And yet! Happiness is only to be found in her company.
STRANGER. And yet! Happiness can only be found when I'm with her.
CONFESSOR. Then stay with her.
CONFESSOR. Then stay with her.
STRANGER. You're forgetting one thing: we're divorced.
STRANGER. You're forgetting one thing: we’re divorced.
CONFESSOR. Good! Then you can begin a new marriage. And it'll promise all the more, because both of you are new people.
CONFESSOR. Great! Then you can start a new marriage. And it'll be even better because both of you are new people.
STRANGER. Do you think anyone would marry us?
STRANGER. Do you think anyone would marry us?
CONFESSOR. I, for instance? That's asking too much.
CONFESSOR. Me, for example? That's asking too much.
STRANGER. Yes. I'd forgotten! But I daresay someone could be found. It's another thing to get a home together....
STRANGER. Yes. I totally forgot! But I bet we can find someone. Getting a home together is a whole different story...
CONFESSOR. You're sometimes lucky, even if you won't see it. There's a small house down there by the river; it's quite new and the owner's never even seen it. He was an Englishman who wanted to marry; but at the last moment she broke off the engagement. It was built by his secretary, and neither of the engaged couple ever set eyes on it. It's quite intact, you see!
CONFESSOR. You're sometimes fortunate, even if you don't realize it. There's a small house down by the river; it's pretty new and the owner has never even seen it. He was an Englishman who wanted to get married; but at the last moment she called off the engagement. It was built by his secretary, and neither of the couple ever laid eyes on it. It's in perfect condition, you see!
STRANGER. IS it to let?
STRANGER. Is it for rent?
CONFESSOR. Yes.
CONFESSOR. Yep.
STRANGER. Then I'll risk it. And I'll try to begin life all over again.
STRANGER. Then I'll take the chance. And I'll try to start my life from scratch.
CONFESSOR. Then you'll go down?
CONFESSOR. So, you’re going down?
STRANGER. Out of the clouds. Below the sun's shining, and up here the air's a little thin.
STRANGER. Out of the clouds. Below, the sun's shining, and up here the air's a bit thin.
CONFESSOR. Good! Then we must part—for a time.
CONFESSOR. Great! Then we have to say goodbye—for now.
STRANGER. Where are you going?
STRANGER: Where are you headed?
CONFESSOR. Up.
CONFESSOR. Get up.
STRANGER. And I down; to the earth, the mother with the soft bosom and warm lap....
STRANGER. And I went down; to the earth, the mother with the soft embrace and warm lap....
CONFESSOR. Until you long once more for what's hard as stone, as cold and as white... Farewell! Greetings to those below!
CONFESSOR. Until you yearn again for something as hard as stone, as cold and as pale... Goodbye! Say hi to those down below!
(Each of them goes of in the direction he has chosen.)
(Each of them heads off in the direction they've chosen.)
Curtain.
Curtains.
[A pleasant, panelled dining-room, with a tiled stove of majolica. On the dining-table, which is in the middle of the room, stand vases filled with flowers; also two candelabra with many lighted candles. A large carved sideboard on the left. On the right, two windows. At the back, two doors; that on the left is open and gives a view of the drawing-room, belonging to the lady of the house, which is furnished in light green and mahogany, and has a standard lamp of brass with a large, lemon-coloured lampshade, which is lit. The door on the right is closed. On the left behind the sideboard the entrance from the hall.]
[A pleasant dining room with paneling and a tiled stove made of majolica. In the center of the room is a dining table with vases filled with flowers and two candelabras holding several lit candles. There’s a large carved sideboard on the left. On the right, there are two windows. In the back, there are two doors; the one on the left is open and shows a view of the drawing room belonging to the lady of the house, which is decorated in light green and mahogany, featuring a brass standard lamp with a large lemon-colored lampshade that is turned on. The door on the right is closed. On the left, behind the sideboard, is the entrance from the hall.]
[From the left the STRANGER enters, dressed as a bridegroom; and the LADY, dressed as a bride; both radiant with youth and beauty.]
[From the left the STRANGER enters, dressed as a groom; and the LADY, dressed as a bride; both glowing with youth and beauty.]
STRANGER. Welcome to my house, belovèd; to your home and mine, my bride; to your dwelling-place, my wife!
STRANGER. Welcome to my house, beloved; to your home and mine, my bride; to your place, my wife!
LADY. I'm grateful, dear friend! It's like a fairy tale!
LADY. I'm really thankful, my dear friend! It feels like a fairy tale!
STRANGER. Yes, it is. A whole book of fairy tales, my dear, written by me.
STRANGER. Yes, it is. A whole book of fairy tales, my dear, written by me.
(They sit down on either side of the table.)
(They sit down on opposite sides of the table.)
LADY. Is this real? It seems too lovely to me.
LADY. Is this real? It feels too beautiful to me.
STRANGER. I've never seen you look so young, so beautiful.
STRANGER. I've never seen you look so youthful, so gorgeous.
LADY. It's your own eyes....
LADY. It's your own eyes...
STRANGER. Yes, my own eyes that have learnt to see. And your goodness taught them....
STRANGER. Yes, my own eyes that have learned to see. And your kindness taught them....
LADY. Which itself was taught by sorrow.
LADY. Which was learned through sorrow.
STRANGER. Ingeborg!
STRANGER. Ingeborg!
LADY. It's the first time you've called me by that name.
LADY. This is the first time you’ve called me that name.
STRANGER. The first? I've never met Ingeborg; I've never known you, as you are, sitting here in our home! Home! An enchanting word. An enchanting thing I've never yet possessed. A home and a wife! You are my first, my only one; for what once happened exists no longer—no more than the hour that's past!
STRANGER. The first? I've never met Ingeborg; I’ve never known you, as you are, sitting here in our home! Home! Such a beautiful word. Such a beautiful thing I’ve never really had. A home and a wife! You are my first, my only one; because what happened before doesn’t exist anymore—no more than the hour that’s gone!
LADY. Orpheus! Your song has made these dead stones live. Make life sing in me!
LADY. Orpheus! Your song has brought these lifeless stones to life. Make me sing with life!
STRANGER. Eurydice, whom I rescued from the underworld! I'll love you to life again; revivify you with my imagination. Now happiness will come to us, for we know the dangers to avoid.
STRANGER. Eurydice, the one I saved from the underworld! I'll bring you back to life; I'll revive you with my imagination. Now happiness will come our way, since we know which dangers to steer clear of.
LADY. The dangers, yes! It's lovely in this house. It seems as if these rooms were full of invisible guests, who've come to welcome us. Kind spirits, who'll bless us and our home.
LADY. The dangers, sure! This house is beautiful. It feels like these rooms are filled with invisible guests who have come to greet us. Kind spirits who will bless us and our home.
STRANGER. The candle flames are still, as if in prayer. The flowers are pensive.... And yet!
STRANGER. The candle flames are steady, like they're in prayer. The flowers seem thoughtful.... And yet!
LADY. Hush! The summer night's outside, warm and dark. And stars hang in the sky; large and tearful in the fir trees, like Christmas candles. This is happiness. Hold it fast!
LADY. Shh! It's a warm, dark summer night outside. The stars are shining in the sky, big and tearful among the fir trees, like Christmas lights. This is happiness. Hold onto it tight!
STRANGER (still thinking). And yet!
STRANGER (still thinking). Yet!
LADY. Hush!
Lady, hush!
STRANGER (getting up). A poem's coming: I can hear it. It's for you.
STRANGER (getting up). A poem's coming: I can hear it. It's for you.
LADY. Don't tell it me. I can see it—in your eyes.
LADY. Don't say it. I can see it—in your eyes.
STRANGER. For I read it in yours! Well, I couldn't repeat it, because it has no words. Only scent, and colour. If I were to, I should destroy it. What's unborn is always most beautiful. What's unwon, most dear!
STRANGER. Because I can see it in you! Well, I can't put it into words, because it has no words. Just scent and color. If I tried to, I would ruin it. What’s unborn is always the most beautiful. What’s unwon is the most precious!
LADY. Quiet. Or, our guests will leave us.
LADY. Shh. Or our guests will leave.
(They do not speak.)
(They aren't speaking.)
STRANGER. This is happiness—but I can't grasp it.
STRANGER. This is happiness—but I can't hold onto it.
LADY. See it and breath it; for it can't be grasped.
LADY. Look at it and take it in; because it can't be held onto.
(They do not speak.)
(They aren't talking.)
STRANGER. You're looking at your little room.
STRANGER. You're staring at your small room.
LADY. It's as bright green as a summer meadow. There's someone in there. Several people!
LADY. It's as bright green as a summer meadow. There’s someone in there. Several people!
STRANGER. Only my thoughts.
STRANGER. Just my thoughts.
LADY. Your good, your beautiful thoughts....
LADY. Your kind, your beautiful thoughts....
STRANGER. Given me by you.
STRANGER. Given to me by you.
LADY. Had I anything to give you?
LADY. Was there anything I could give you?
STRANGER. You? Everything! But up to now my hands have not been free to take it. Not clean enough to stroke your little heart....
STRANGER. You? Everything! But until now, my hands haven’t been free to take it. Not clean enough to touch your little heart...
LADY. Beloved! The time for reconciliation's coming.
LADY. My love! The time for making amends is here.
STRANGER. With mankind, and woman—through a woman? Yes, that time has come; and blessed may you be amongst women.
STRANGER. With humanity, and women—through a woman? Yes, that time has arrived; and may you be blessed among women.
(The candles and lamps go out; it grows dark in the dining-room; but a weak ray of light can be seen, coming from the brass standard lamp in the LADY's room.)
(The candles and lamps go out; it becomes dark in the dining room; but a faint beam of light is visible, coming from the brass standard lamp in the LADY's room.)
LADY. Why's it grown dark? Oh!
LADY. Why has it gotten dark? Oh!
STRANGER. Where are you, beloved? Give me your hand. I'm afraid!
STRANGER. Where are you, my love? Take my hand. I'm scared!
LADY. Here, dearest.
Here, my love.
STRANGER. The little hand, held out to me in the darkness, that's led me over stones and thorns. That little, soft, dear hand! Lead me into the light, into your bright, warm room; fresh green like hope.
STRANGER. The small hand, reaching out to me in the dark, has guided me over rocks and thorns. That small, gentle, precious hand! Take me into the light, into your warm, cheerful room; fresh and green like hope.
LADY (leading him towards the pale-green room). Are you afraid?
LADY (leading him toward the light green room). Are you scared?
STRANGER. You're a white dove, with whom the startled eagle finds sanctuary, when heaven's thunder clouds grow black, for the dove has no fear. She has not provoked the thunders of heaven!
STRANGER. You're a white dove, with whom the surprised eagle finds refuge when the storm clouds roll in, because the dove is unafraid. She hasn't brought on the storms of heaven!
(They have reached the doorway leading to the other room, when the curtain falls.)
(They have reached the doorway to the other room when the curtain falls.)
[The same room; but the table has been cleared. The LADY is sitting at it, doing nothing. She seems bored. On the right, down stage, a window is open. It is still. The STRANGER comes in, with a piece of paper in his hand.]
[The same room; but the table has been cleared. The LADY is sitting at it, doing nothing. She seems bored. On the right, downstage, a window is open. It’s quiet. The STRANGER comes in, holding a piece of paper.]
STRANGER. Now you shall hear it.
STRANGER. Now you will hear it.
LADY (acquiescing absent-mindedly). Finished already?
LADY (nodding absent-mindedly). Finished already?
STRANGER. Already? Do you mean that seriously? I've taken seven days to write this little poem. (Silence.) Perhaps it'll bore you to hear it?
STRANGER. Already? Are you serious? I’ve spent seven days writing this little poem. (Silence.) Maybe you’ll find it boring to hear?
LADY (drily). No. Certainly not. (The STRANGER sits down at the table and looks at the LADY.) Why are you looking at me?
LADY (dryly). No. Definitely not. (The STRANGER sits down at the table and stares at the LADY.) Why are you staring at me?
STRANGER. I'd like to see your thoughts.
STRANGER. I’d love to hear what you think.
LADY. But you've heard them.
LADY. But you've listened to them.
STRANGER. That's nothing; I want to see them! (Pause.) What one says is mostly worthless. (Pause.) May I read them? No, I see I mayn't. You want nothing more from me. (The LADY makes a gesture as if she were going to speak.) Your face tells me enough. Now you've sucked me dry, eaten me hollow, killed my ego, my personality. To that I answer: how, my beloved? Have I killed your ego, when I wanted to give you the whole of mine; when I let you skim the cream off my bowl, that I'd filled with all the experience of along life, with incursions into the deserts and groves of knowledge and art?
STRANGER. That's nothing; I want to see them! (Pause.) What people say is mostly worthless. (Pause.) Can I read them? No, I see I can't. You don’t want anything more from me. (The LADY gestures as if she’s about to speak.) Your face tells me enough. Now you’ve drained me, hollowed me out, killed my ego and my personality. In response to that, I ask: how, my dear? Did I kill your ego when I wanted to offer you all of mine? When I let you take the best parts from my bowl, filled with all the experiences of a long life, with journeys through the deserts and groves of knowledge and art?
LADY. I don't deny it, but my ego wasn't my own.
LADY. I can't deny it, but my ego wasn't mine.
STRANGER. Not yours? Then what is? Something that belongs to others?
STRANGER. Not yours? Then what is it? Something that belongs to someone else?
LADY. Is yours something that belongs to others too?
LADY. Is what you have something that belongs to others as well?
STRANGER. No. What I've experienced is my own, mine and no other's. What I've read becomes mine, because I've broken it in two like glass, melted it down, and from this substance blown new glass in novel forms.
STRANGER. No. What I've gone through is my own, just mine and nobody else's. What I've read becomes mine because I've shattered it like glass, melted it down, and from that substance created new glass in fresh shapes.
LADY. But I can never be yours.
LADY. But I can never be yours.
STRANGER. I've become yours.
STRANGER. I’m yours now.
LADY. What have you got from me?
LADY. What do you want from me?
STRANGER. How can you ask me that?
STRANGER. How can you even ask me that?
LADY. All the same—I'm not sure that you think it, though I feel you feel it—you wish me far away.
LADY. Still, I'm not sure you actually think it, even though I can tell you feel it—you want me to be far away.
STRANGER. I must be a certain distance from you, if I'm to see you. Now you're within the focus, and your image is unclear.
STRANGER. I need to be a certain distance from you in order to see you clearly. Right now, you're too close, and your image is blurry.
LADY. The nearer, the farther off!
LADY. The closer you get, the more it feels out of reach!
STRANGER. Yes. When we part, we long for one another; and when we meet again, we long to part.
STRANGER. Yes. When we separate, we miss each other; and when we come together again, we can’t wait to leave.
LADY. Do you really think we love each other?
LADY. Do you honestly think we love each other?
STRANGER. Yes. Not like ordinary people, but unusual ones. We resemble two drops of water, that fear to get close together, in case they should cease to be two and become one.
STRANGER. Yes. Not like normal people, but unusual ones. We’re like two drops of water that are afraid to get too close together, in case we stop being two and become one.
LADY. This time we knew the dangers and wanted to avoid them. But it seems that they can't be avoided.
LADY. This time we understood the risks and wanted to steer clear of them. But it looks like they can’t be avoided.
STRANGER. Perhaps they weren't dangers, but rude necessities; laws inscribed in the councils of the immortals. (Silence.) Your love always seemed to have the effect of hate. When you made me happy, you envied the happiness you'd given me. And when you saw I was unhappy, you loved me.
STRANGER. Maybe they weren't real dangers, but just unpleasant necessities; rules written by the gods. (Silence.) Your love always felt like hate. When you made me happy, you envied my happiness. And when you saw I was unhappy, you loved me.
LADY. Do you want me to leave you?
LADY. Do you want me to go?
STRANGER. If you do, I shall die.
STRANGER. If you do, I’ll die.
LADY. And, if I stay, it's I who'll die.
LADY. And if I stay, I’ll be the one who dies.
STRANGER. Then let's die together and live out our love in a higher life; our love, that doesn't seem to be of this world. Let's live it out in another planet, where there's no nearness and no distance, where two are one; where number, time and space are no longer what they are in this.
STRANGER. Then let's die together and experience our love in a higher existence; our love that feels like it belongs to another world. Let's live it out on another planet, where there’s no closeness or distance, where two become one; where numbers, time, and space aren't the same as they are here.
LADY. I'd like to die, yet I don't want to. I think I must be dead already.
LADY. I want to die, but I don't actually want to. I feel like I might already be dead.
STRANGER. The air up here's too strong.
STRANGER. The air up here is too intense.
LADY. You can't love me if you speak like that.
LADY. You can't love me if you talk like that.
STRANGER. To be frank, there are moments when you don't exist for me. But in others I feel your hatred like suffocating smoke.
STRANGER. Honestly, there are times when you don't exist for me. But in other moments, I can feel your hatred like suffocating smoke.
LADY. And I feel my heart creeping from my breast, when you are angry with me.
LADY. And I feel my heart sinking when you’re upset with me.
STRANGER. Then we must hate one other.
STRANGER. Then we must hate each other.
LADY. And love one another too.
LADY. And also love each other.
STRANGER. And hate because we love. We hate each other, because we're bound together. We hate the bond, we hate our love; we hate what is most loveable, what is the bitterest, the best this life can offer. We've come to an end!
STRANGER. And we hate because we love. We hate each other because we're tied together. We dislike the bond, we resent our love; we hate what is most lovable, what is the most bitter, the best life can give us. We've reached the end!
LADY. Yes.
LADY. Yep.
STRANGER. What a joke life is, if you take it seriously. And how serious, if you take it as a joke! You wanted to lead me by the hand towards the light; your easier fate was to make mine easier too. I wanted to raise you above the bogs and quicksands; but you longed for the lower regions, and wanted to convince me they were the upper ones. I ask myself if it's possible that you took what was wicked from me, when I was freed from it; and that what was good in you entered into me? If I've made you wicked I ask your pardon, and I kiss your little hand, that caressed and scratched me... the little hand that led me into the darkness... and on the long journey to Damascus....
STRANGER. Life is such a joke if you take it seriously. And how serious it is if you take it as a joke! You wanted to guide me toward the light; your easier fate should have made mine easier too. I wanted to lift you out of the muck and mire; but you were drawn to the lower depths and tried to convince me they were the heights. I wonder if it’s possible that you took the bad from me when I was free of it, and that what was good in you became part of me? If I’ve made you bad, I’m sorry, and I kiss your little hand, the one that caressed and scratched me... the little hand that led me into the darkness... and on that long trip to Damascus....
LADY. To a parting? (Silence.) Yes, a parting!
LADY. To a farewell? (Silence.) Yes, a farewell!
(The LADY goes on her way. The STRANGER falls on to a chair by the table. The TEMPTER puts his head in at the window, and rests himself on his elbows whilst he smokes a cigarette.)
(The LADY continues on her path. The STRANGER collapses into a chair by the table. The TEMPTER leans in through the window, propping himself up on his elbows while he smokes a cigarette.)
TEMPTER. Ah, yes! C'est l'amour! The most mysterious of all mysteries, the most inexplicable of all that can't be explained, the most precarious of all that's insecure.
TEMPTER. Ah, yes! It's love! The most mysterious of all mysteries, the most inexplicable of everything that can't be explained, the most uncertain of all that's unstable.
STRANGER. So you're here?
STRANGER. So you're here?
TEMPTER. I'm always everywhere, where it smells of quarrels. And in love affairs there are always quarrels.
TEMPTER. I'm always around wherever there's conflict. And in romantic relationships, there's always conflict.
STRANGER. Always?
STRANGER. Always?
TEMPTER. Always! I was invited to a silver wedding yesterday. Twenty-five years are no trifle—and for twenty-five years they'd been quarrelling. The whole love affair had been one long shindy, with many little ones in between! And yet they loved one another, and were grateful for all the good that had come to them; the evil was forgotten, wiped out—for a moment's happiness is worth ten days of blows and pinpricks. Oh yes! Those who won't accept evil never get anything good. The rind's very bitter, though the kernel's sweet.
TEMPTER. Always! I went to a silver wedding yesterday. Twenty-five years is no joke—and for twenty-five years, they’ve been fighting. The whole relationship has been one long argument, with plenty of small ones in between! And yet they loved each other and appreciated all the good they had; the bad was forgotten, wiped away—because a moment of happiness is worth ten days of struggles and annoyances. Oh yes! Those who refuse to accept the bad never get anything good. The outside is really bitter, but the heart is sweet.
STRANGER. But very small.
Stranger. But really small.
TEMPTER. It may be small, but it's good! (Pause.) Tell me, why did your madonna go her way? No answer; because he doesn't know! Now we'll have to let the hotel again. Here's a board. I'll hang it out at once. 'To Let.' One comes, another goes! C'est la vie, quoi? Rooms for Travellers!
TEMPTER. It might be small, but it's nice! (Pause.) Tell me, why did your lady leave? No answer; because he doesn’t know! Now we’ll have to rent the hotel again. Here’s a sign. I'll put it up right away. 'For Rent.' One comes, another goes! That's life, right? Rooms for Travelers!
STRANGER. Have you ever been married?
STRANGER. Have you ever been married?
TEMPTER. Oh yes. Of course.
TEMPTER. Oh yeah. Of course.
STRANGER. Then why did you part?
STRANGER. Then why did you break up?
TEMPTER. Chiefly—perhaps it's a peculiarity of mine—chiefly because—well, you know, a man marries to get a home, to get into a home; and a woman to get out of one. She wanted to get out, and I wanted to get in! I was so made that I couldn't take her into company, because I felt as if she were soiled by men's glances. And in company, my splendid, wonderful wife turned into a little grimacing monkey I couldn't bear the sight of. So I stayed at home; and then, she stayed away. And when I met her again, she'd changed into someone else. She, my pure white notepaper, was scribbled all over; her clear and lovely features changed in imitation of the satyr-like looks of strange men. I could see miniature photographs of bull-fighters and guardsmen in her eyes, and hear the strange accents of strange men in her voice. On our grand piano, on which only the harmonies of the great masters used to be heard, she now played the cabaret songs of strange men; and on our table there lay nothing but the favourite reading of strange men. In a word, my whole existence was on the way to becoming an intellectual concubinage with strange men—and that was contrary to my nature, which has always longed for women! And—I need hardly say this—the tastes of these strange men were always the reverse of mine. She developed a real genius for discovering things I detested! That's what she called 'saving her personality.' Can you understand that?
TEMPTER. Mainly—maybe it's just me—but mainly because—well, you know, a guy marries to settle down, to have a home; and a woman marries to escape one. She wanted to get out, and I wanted to get in! I was the type who couldn’t take her out in public because I felt like she was tarnished by the looks of other men. And in public, my amazing, wonderful wife turned into a little grimacing monkey I couldn’t stand to look at. So I stayed home; and then, she started to stay out. When I saw her again, she had transformed into someone else. She, my pure white notepaper, was scribbled all over; her clear and beautiful features altered to mimic the primitive looks of strange men. I could see tiny snapshots of bullfighters and soldiers in her eyes, and hear the odd accents of unfamiliar men in her voice. On our grand piano, where only the melodies of the great masters used to play, she now performed the cabaret songs of random men; and on our table, there was nothing but the favorite books of those strange guys. In short, my whole life was turning into an intellectual affair with strangers—and that was against my nature, which has always yearned for women! And—I hardly need to say this—the preferences of those strange men were always the opposite of mine. She developed a real talent for finding things I couldn’t stand! That’s what she called ‘saving her personality.’ Can you believe that?
STRANGER. I can; but I won't attempt to explain it.
STRANGER. I can, but I won't try to explain it.
TEMPTER. Yet this woman maintained she loved me, and that I didn't love her. But I loved her so much I didn't want to speak to any other human being; because I feared to be untrue to her if I found pleasure in the company of others, even if they were men. I'd married for feminine society; and in order to enjoy it I'd left my friends. I'd married in order to find company, but what I got was complete solitude! And I was supporting house and home, in order to provide strange men with feminine companionship. C'est l'amour, my friend!
TEMPTER. Yet this woman maintained she loved me, and that I didn't love her. But I loved her so much that I didn't want to talk to anyone else; I was afraid of being unfaithful if I found enjoyment in the company of others, even if they were guys. I got married for the sake of female companionship, and to enjoy it, I left my friends behind. I married to find company, but all I got was total loneliness! And I was providing for a household just to offer strange men female companionship. C'est l'amour, my friend!
STRANGER. You should never talk about your wife.
STRANGER. You should never discuss your wife.
TEMPTER. No! For if you speak well of her, people will laugh; and if you speak ill, all their sympathy will go out to her; and if, in the first instance, you ask why they laugh, you get no answer.
TEMPTER. No! Because if you say nice things about her, people will laugh; and if you say bad things, everyone’s sympathy will go to her; and if, in the first case, you ask why they’re laughing, you won’t get an answer.
STRANGER. No. You can never find out who you've married. Never get hold of her—it seems she's no one. Tell me—what is woman?
STRANGER. No. You'll never really know who you married. You can't understand her—it feels like she's nobody. Tell me—what is a woman?
TEMPTER. I don't know! Perhaps a larva or a chrysalis, out of whose trance-like life a man one day will be created. She seems a child, but isn't one; she is a sort of child, and yet not like one. Drags downward, when the man pulls up. Drags upward, when the man pulls down.
TEMPTER. I don't know! Maybe a larva or a chrysalis, from which a man will eventually emerge one day. She looks like a child, but she isn't; she's kind of childlike, yet not really. Pulls down when the man pulls up. Pulls up when the man pulls down.
STRANGER. She always wants to disagree with her husband; always has a lot of sympathy for what he dislikes; is crudest beneath the greatest superficial refinement; the wickedest amongst the best. And yet, whenever I've been in love, I've always grown more sensitive to the refinements of civilisation.
STRANGER. She always wants to argue with her husband; always has a lot of sympathy for what he dislikes; is the most harsh under the greatest superficial elegance; the naughtiest among the best. And yet, whenever I've been in love, I've become more aware of the nuances of civilization.
TEMPTER. You, I dare say. What about her?
TEMPTER. You, I guess. What about her?
STRANGER. Oh, whilst our love was growing she was always developing backwards. And getting cruder and more wicked.
STRANGER. Oh, while our love was growing she was always regressing. And becoming cruder and more evil.
TEMPTER. Can you explain that?
TEMPTER. Can you clarify that?
STRANGER. No. But once, when I was trying to find the solution to the riddle by disagreeing with myself, I took it that she absorbed my evil and I her good.
STRANGER. No. But once, when I was trying to solve the riddle by arguing with myself, I thought that she took in my bad and I took in her good.
TEMPTER. Do you think woman's particularly false?
TEMPTER. Do you think women are especially dishonest?
STRANGER. Yes and no. She seeks to hide her weakness but that only means that she's ambitious and has a sense of shame. Only whores are honest, and therefore cynical.
STRANGER. Yes and no. She wants to cover up her weakness, but that just shows she's ambitious and feels ashamed. Only dishonest people are straightforward, and that's why they're cynical.
TEMPTER. Tell me some more about her that's good.
TEMPTER. Tell me more good things about her.
STRANGER. I once had a woman friend. She soon noticed that when I drank I looked uglier than usual; so she begged me not to. I remember one night we'd been talking in a café for many hours. When it was nearly ten o'clock, she begged me to go home and not to drink any more. We parted, after we'd said goodnight. A few days later I heard she'd left me only to go to a large party, where she drank till morning. Well, I said, as in those days I looked for all that was good in women, she meant well by me, but had to pollute herself for business reasons.
STRANGER. I once had a female friend. She quickly noticed that when I drank, I looked worse than usual; so she pleaded with me not to. I remember one night we had been chatting in a café for hours. When it was almost ten o'clock, she urged me to go home and stop drinking. We said goodbye after wishing each other goodnight. A few days later, I found out she had left me just to go to a big party, where she drank until morning. Well, I thought, since back then I admired all the good qualities in women, she had good intentions for me but had to compromise herself for social reasons.
TEMPTER. That's well thought out; and, as a view, can be defended. She wanted to make you better than herself, higher and purer, so that she could look up to you! But you can find an equally good explanation for that. A wife's always angry and out of humour with her husband; and the husband's always kind and grateful to his wife. He does all he can to make things easy for her, and she does all she can to torture him.
TEMPTER. That's a good point; it makes sense. She wanted to make you better than her, more elevated and pure, so she could admire you! But you can come up with just as good a reason for that. A wife is always upset and annoyed with her husband, while the husband is always considerate and thankful to his wife. He tries his best to make things easier for her, and she does everything she can to drive him crazy.
STRANGER. That's not true. Of course it may sometimes appear to be so. I once had a woman friend who shifted all the defects that she had on to me. For instance, she was very much in love with herself, and therefore called me the most egoistical of men. She drank, and called me a drunkard; she rarely changed her linen and said I was dirty; she was jealous, even of my men friends, and called me Othello. She was masterful and called me Nero. Niggardly and called me Harpagon.
STRANGER. That's not true. It might seem that way sometimes. I once had a female friend who projected all her flaws onto me. For example, she was really in love with herself, so she called me the most self-centered man. She drank alcohol and labeled me a drunkard; she rarely changed her clothes and said I was dirty; she was jealous, even of my male friends, and called me Othello. She was controlling and called me Nero. Stingy and called me Harpagon.
TEMPTER. Why didn't you answer her?
TEMPTER. Why didn’t you reply to her?
STRANGER. You know why very well! If I'd made clear to her what she really was, I'd have lost her favour that moment—and it was precisely her favour I wanted to keep.
STRANGER. You know exactly why! If I'd told her what she really was, I would have lost her approval right then—and that was exactly what I wanted to keep.
TEMPTER. A tout prix! Yes, that's the source of degradation! You grow accustomed to holding your tongue, and at last find yourself caught in a tissue of falsehoods.
TEMPTER. At all costs! Yes, that's the source of downfall! You get used to biting your tongue, and soon you find yourself trapped in a web of lies.
STRANGER. Wait! Don't you agree that married people so mix their personalities that they can no longer distinguish between meum and tuum, no longer remain separate from one another, or cannot tell their own weaknesses from those of the other. My jealous friend, who called me Othello, took me for herself, identified me with herself.
STRANGER. Wait! Don't you think that married people blend their personalities so much that they can't tell what's theirs and what's theirs alone, they no longer stay separate from each other, or struggle to differentiate their own flaws from the other’s? My jealous friend, who referred to me as Othello, took me as her own, completely identifying me with herself.
TEMPTER. That sounds conceivable.
TEMPTER. That sounds plausible.
STRANGER. You see! You can often explain most if you don't ask who's to blame. For when married people begin to differ, it's like a realm divided against itself, and that's the worst kind of disharmony.
STRANGER. You see! You can usually make sense of most things if you don’t ask who’s at fault. Because when married couples start to disagree, it’s like a kingdom torn apart, and that’s the worst kind of disharmony.
TEMPTER. There are moments when I think a woman cannot love a man.
TEMPTER. Sometimes, I feel like a woman just can't love a man.
STRANGER. Perhaps not. To love is an active verb and woman's a passive noun. He loves and she is loved; he asks questions and she merely answers.
STRANGER. Maybe not. Love is an active verb, and "woman" is a passive noun. He loves, and she is loved; he asks questions, and she just answers.
TEMPTER. Then what is woman's love?
TEMPTER. So, what is a woman's love?
STRANGER. The man's.
STRANGER. The guy's.
TEMPTER. Well said. And therefore when the man ceases to love her, she severs herself from him!
TEMPTER. Well put. So when the man stops loving her, she cuts ties with him!
STRANGER. And then?
STRANGER. What's next?
TEMPTER. 'Sh! Someone's coming. Perhaps to take the house!
TEMPTER. 'Sh! Someone's coming. Maybe to take the house!
STRANGER. A woman or a man?
STRANGER. A woman or a man?
TEMPTER. A woman! And a man. But he's waiting outside. Now he's turned and is going into the wood. Interesting!
TEMPTER. A woman! And a man. But he's waiting outside. Now he's turned and is heading into the woods. Interesting!
STRANGER. Who is it?
STRANGER. Who’s there?
TEMPTER. You can see for yourself.
TEMPTER. You can see it for yourself.
STRANGER (looking out of the window). It's she! My first wife! My first love!
STRANGER (looking out of the window). It's her! My first wife! My first love!
TEMPTER. It seems she's left her second husband recently... and arrived here with number three; who, if one can judge by certain movements of his back and calves, is escaping from a stormy scene. Oh, well! But she didn't notice his spiteful intentions. Very interesting! I'll go out and listen.
TEMPTER. It looks like she recently left her second husband... and came here with her third; who, judging by how his back and calves are moving, seems to be running away from a dramatic situation. Oh, well! But she didn’t notice his mean intentions. Very interesting! I’ll step out and listen.
(He disappears. The WOMAN knocks.)
(He vanishes. The WOMAN knocks.)
STRANGER. Come in!
STRANGER. Come on in!
(The WOMAN comes in. There is a silence.)
(The WOMAN comes in. There is a silence.)
WOMAN (excitedly). I only came here because the house was to let.
WOMAN (excitedly). I only came here because the house was available for rent.
STRANGER. Oh!
Whoa!
WOMAN (slowly). Had I known who wanted to let it, I shouldn't have come.
WOMAN (slowly). If I had known who was behind it, I wouldn’t have come.
STRANGER. What does it matter?
STRANGER. What’s the difference?
WOMAN. May I sit down a moment? I'm tired.
WOMAN. Can I sit down for a second? I'm exhausted.
STRANGER. Please do. (They sit down at the table opposite one another, in the seats occupied by the STRANGER and the LADY in the first scene.) It's a long time since we've sat facing one another like this.
STRANGER. Please do. (They sit down at the table opposite each other, in the seats occupied by the STRANGER and the LADY in the first scene.) It's been a while since we’ve sat across from each other like this.
WOMAN. With flowers and lights on the table. One night...
WOMAN. With flowers and lights on the table. One night...
STRANGER. When I was dressed as a bridegroom and you as a bride...
STRANGER. When I was dressed as a groom and you as a bride...
WOMAN. And the candle flames were still as in prayer and the flowers pensive....
WOMAN. And the candle flames were still like they were in prayer, and the flowers were thoughtful...
STRANGER. Is your husband outside?
STRANGER. Is your husband out there?
WOMAN. No.
WOMAN. Nah.
STRANGER. You're still seeking... what doesn't exist?
STRANGER. You're still looking for... something that isn't real?
WOMAN. Doesn't it?
Doesn't it?
STRANGER. No. I always told you so, but you wouldn't believe me; you wanted to find out for yourself. Have you found out now?
STRANGER. No. I always said that, but you wouldn't listen; you wanted to see for yourself. Have you figured it out now?
WOMAN. Not yet.
Not yet.
STRANGER. Why did you leave your husband? (The WOMAN doesn't reply.) Did he beat you?
STRANGER. Why did you leave your husband? (The WOMAN is silent.) Did he hit you?
WOMAN. Yes.
WOMAN. Yeah.
STRANGER. How did he come to forget himself so far?
STRANGER. How did he end up losing himself like this?
WOMAN. He was angry.
WOMAN. He was upset.
STRANGER. What about?
What's going on?
WOMAN. Nothing.
WOMAN. Zero.
STRANGER. Why was he angry about nothing?
STRANGER. Why was he mad about nothing?
WOMAN (rising). No, thank you! I won't sit here and be picked to pieces. Where's your wife?
WOMAN (getting up). No, thanks! I’m not going to sit here and let you tear me apart. Where's your wife?
STRANGER. She left me just now.
STRANGER. She just dumped me.
WOMAN. Why?
WOMAN. Why?
STRANGER. Why did you leave me?
STRANGER. Why did you walk away from me?
WOMAN. I felt you wanted to leave me; so, not to be deserted, I went myself.
WOMAN. I sensed you wanted to leave me, so to avoid being left behind, I left instead.
STRANGER. I dare say that's true. But how could you read my thoughts?
STRANGER. I have to say that’s true. But how could you know what I was thinking?
WOMAN (sitting down again). What? We didn't need to speak in order to know one another's thoughts.
WOMAN (sitting down again). What? We didn't have to say anything to understand each other's thoughts.
STRANGER. We made a mistake when we were living together, because we accused each other of wicked thoughts before they'd become actions; and lived in mental reservations instead of realities. For instance, I once noticed how you enjoyed the defiling gaze of a strange man, and I accused you of unfaithfulness.
STRANGER. We messed up when we were living together because we kept accusing each other of bad thoughts before they turned into actions; and we were caught up in mental doubts instead of dealing with the truth. For example, I once saw how you seemed to like the dirty look from some guy, and I called you out for being unfaithful.
WOMAN. You were wrong to do so, and right. Because my thoughts were sinful.
WOMAN. You were wrong to do that, but also right. Because my thoughts were sinful.
STRANGER. Don't you think my habit of 'anticipating you' prevented your bad designs from being put in practice?
STRANGER. Don't you think my habit of 'anticipating you' kept your bad plans from being carried out?
WOMAN. Let me think! Yes, perhaps it did. But I was annoyed to find a spy always at my side, watching my inmost self, that was my own.
WOMAN. Let me think! Yeah, maybe it did. But I was irritated to have a spy constantly by my side, watching my innermost self, which should have been mine alone.
STRANGER. But it wasn't your own: it was ours!
STRANGER. But it wasn't just yours: it was ours!
WOMAN. Yes, but I held it to be mine, and believed you'd no right to force your way in. When you did so I hated you; I said you were abnormally suspicious out of self-defence. Now I can admit that your suspicions were never wrong; that they were, in fact, the purest wisdom.
WOMAN. Yes, but I thought it was mine and believed you had no right to barge in. When you did, I hated you; I said you were overly suspicious for self-protection. Now I can acknowledge that your suspicions were never misplaced; they were, in fact, the wisest insight.
STRANGER. Oh! Do you know that, at night, when we'd said good-night as friends and gone to sleep, I used to wake and feel your hatred poisoning me; and think of getting out of bed so as not to be suffocated. One night I woke and felt a pressure on the top of my head. I saw you were awake and had put your hand close to my mouth. I thought you were making me inhale poison from a phial; and, to make sure, I seized your hand.
STRANGER. Oh! Do you know that at night, after we said goodnight as friends and went to sleep, I would wake up feeling your hatred suffocating me; and I considered getting out of bed to avoid it. One night, I woke up and felt something pressing on the top of my head. I saw that you were awake and had your hand near my mouth. I thought you were trying to make me breathe in poison from a bottle; and to be sure, I grabbed your hand.
WOMAN. I remember.
WOMAN. I remember that.
STRANGER. What did you do then?
STRANGER. What did you do next?
WOMAN. Nothing. Only hated you.
WOMAN. Nothing. Just hated you.
STRANGER. Why?
Why?
WOMAN. Because you were my husband. Because I ate your bread.
WOMAN. Because you were my husband. Because I shared your meals.
STRANGER. Do you think it's always the same?
STRANGER. Do you think it's always like this?
WOMAN. I don't know. I suspect it is.
WOMAN. I’m not sure. I think it is.
STRANGER. But sometimes you've even despised me?
STRANGER. But there have been times when you even hated me?
WOMAN. Yes, when you were ridiculous. A man in love is always ridiculous. Do you know what a cox-comb is? That's what a lover's like.
WOMAN. Yes, when you were foolish. A man in love is always foolish. Do you know what a show-off is? That's what a lover is like.
STRANGER. But if any man who loves you is ridiculous, how can you respond to his love?
STRANGER. But if any guy who loves you is absurd, how can you react to his love?
WOMAN. We don't! We submit to it, and search for another man who doesn't love us.
WOMAN. We don't! We just go along with it and look for another guy who doesn't love us.
STRANGER. But if he, in turn, begins to love you, do you look for a third?
STRANGER. But if he starts to love you, are you looking for someone else?
WOMAN. Perhaps it's like that.
WOMAN. Maybe it's like that.
STRANGER. Very strange. (There is a silence.) I remember you were always dreaming of someone you called your Toreador, which I translated by 'horse butcher.' You eventually got him, but he gave you no children, and no bread; only beatings! A toreador's always fighting. (Silence.) Once I let myself be tempted into trying to compete with the toreador. I started to bicycle and fence and do other things of the kind. But you only began to detest me for it. That means that the husband mayn't do what the lover may. Later you had a passion for page boys. One of them used to sit on the Brussels carpet and read you bad verses.... My good ones were of no use to you. Did you get your page boy?
STRANGER. Very strange. (There is a silence.) I remember you were always dreaming of someone you called your Toreador, which I translated as 'horse butcher.' You eventually got him, but he gave you no children and no support; only beatings! A toreador is always fighting. (Silence.) Once I let myself be tempted to try to compete with the toreador. I started to bike, fence, and do other things like that. But you just started to hate me for it. That means the husband can’t do what the lover can. Later you had a thing for page boys. One of them used to sit on the Brussels carpet and read you terrible poetry.... My good ones were no use to you. Did you actually get your page boy?
WOMAN. Yes. But his verses weren't bad, really.
WOMAN. Yeah. But his poems weren’t bad, actually.
STRANGER. Oh yes, they were, my dear. I know him! He stole my rhythms and set them for the barrel organ.
STRANGER. Oh yes, they really were, my dear. I know him! He took my rhythms and arranged them for the barrel organ.
WOMAN (rising and going to the door.) You should be ashamed of yourself.
WOMAN (standing up and walking to the door.) You should be embarrassed.
(The TEMPTER conies in, holding a letter in his hand.)
(The TEMPTER comes in, holding a letter in his hand.)
TEMPTER. Here's a letter. It's for you. (The WOMAN takes it, reads it and falls into a chair.) A farewell note! Oh, well! All beginnings are hard—in love affairs. And those who lack the patience to surmount initial difficulties—lose the golden fruit. Pages are always impatient. Unknown youth, have you had enough?
TEMPTER. Here’s a letter. It’s for you. (The WOMAN takes it, reads it, and falls into a chair.) A farewell note! Oh, well! All beginnings are tough—in relationships. And those who don’t have the patience to get past the early challenges—miss out on the rewards. Young one, are you done yet?
STRANGER (rising and picking up his hat). My poor Anna!
STRANGER (standing up and grabbing his hat). My poor Anna!
WOMAN. Don't leave me.
WOMAN. Please don't go.
STRANGER. I must.
I have to.
WOMAN. Don't go. You were the best of them all.
WOMAN. Please don’t leave. You were the greatest of them all.
TEMPTER. Do you want to begin again from the beginning? That would be a sure way to make an end of this. For if lovers only find one another, they lose one another! What is love? Say something witty, each one of you, before we part.
TEMPTER. Do you want to start over from the beginning? That would definitely put an end to this. Because if lovers only find each other, they end up losing each other! What is love? Come on, say something clever, both of you, before we go our separate ways.
WOMAN. I don't know what it is. The highest and the loveliest of things, that has to sink to the lowest and the ugliest.
WOMAN. I don't know what it is. The best and most beautiful things have to drop to the lowest and the ugliest.
STRANGER. A caricature of godly love.
STRANGER. A parody of divine love.
TEMPTER. An annual plant, that blossoms during the engagement, goes to seed in marriage and then sinks to the earth to wither and die.
TEMPTER. A yearly plant that blooms while you're engaged, seeds when you're married, and then fades away to the ground to wither and die.
WOMAN. The loveliest flowers have no seed. The rose is the flower of love.
WOMAN. The most beautiful flowers don’t have seeds. The rose is the symbol of love.
STRANGER. And the lily that of innocence. That can form seeds, but only opens her white cup to kisses.
STRANGER. And the lily represents innocence. It can produce seeds, but only reveals its white petals for kisses.
TEMPTER. And propagates her kind with buds, out of which fresh lilies spring, like chaste Minerva who sprang fully armed from the head of Zeus, and not from his royal loins. Oh yes, children, I've understood much, but never this: what the beloved of my soul has to do with.... (He hesitates.)
TEMPTER. And spreads her kind with buds, from which fresh lilies grow, like pure Minerva who emerged fully armed from Zeus's head, not from his royal body. Oh yes, kids, I’ve grasped a lot, but I’ve never understood this: what the love of my life has to do with.... (He hesitates.)
STRANGER. Well, go on!
STRANGER. Go ahead!
TEMPTER. What all-powerful love, that is the marriage of souls, has to do with the propagation of the species!
TEMPTER. What all-powerful love, which unites souls in marriage, has to do with reproducing the species!
STRANGER and WOMAN. Now he's come to the point!
STRANGER and WOMAN. Now he's finally getting to the point!
TEMPTER. I've never been able to understand how a kiss, that's an unborn word, a soundless speech, a quiet language of the soul, can be exchanged, by means of a hallowed procedure, for a surgical operation, that always ends in tears and the chattering of teeth. I've never understood how that holy night, the first in which two souls embrace each other in love, can end in the shedding of blood, in quarrelling, hate, mutual contempt—and lint! (He holds his mouth shut.)
TEMPTER. I've never understood how a kiss, which is an unspoken word, a soundless conversation, a quiet language of the soul, can be swapped, through a sacred ritual, for a surgical procedure that always ends in tears and chattering teeth. I've never grasped how that holy night, the first time two souls come together in love, can end in bloodshed, arguments, hatred, mutual disdain—and lint! (He closes his mouth.)
STRANGER. Suppose the story of the fall were true? In pain shalt thou bring forth children.
STRANGER. What if the story of the fall is real? You will give birth to children in pain.
TEMPTER. In that case one could understand.
TEMPTER. In that case, it makes sense.
WOMAN. Who is the man who says these things?
WOMAN. Who is the guy saying these things?
TEMPTER. Only a wanderer on the quicksands of this life. (The WOMAN rises.) So you're ready to go. Who will go first?
TEMPTER. Just a drifter on the shifting sands of this life. (The WOMAN rises.) So you're ready to leave. Who's going to go first?
STRANGER. I shall.
Sure thing.
TEMPTER. Where?
Where's the tempter?
STRANGER. Upwards. And you?
STRANGER. Looking up. And you?
TEMPTER. I shall stay down here, in between....
TEMPTER. I'm going to hang out down here, in between....
Curtain.
Curtains.
ACT IV
SCENE I
CHAPTER HOUSE OF THE MONASTERY
[A Gothic chapter house. In the background arcades lead to the cloisters and the courtyard of the monastery. In the middle of the courtyard there is a well with a statue of the Virgin Mary, surrounded by long-stemmed white roses. The walls of the chapter house are filled with built-in choir stalls of oak. The PRIOR'S own stall is in the middle to the right and rather higher than the rest. In the middle of the chapter house an enormous crucifix. The sun is shining on the statue of the Virgin in the courtyard. The STRANGER enters from the back. He is wearing a coarse monkish cowl, with a rope round his waist and sandals on his feet. He halts in the doorway and looks at the chapter house, then goes over to the crucifix and stops in front of it. The last strophe of the choral service can be heard from across the courtyard. The CONFESSOR enters from the back; he is dressed in black and white; he has long hair and along beard and a very small tonsure that can hardly be seen.]
[A Gothic chapter house. In the background, arcades lead to the cloisters and the courtyard of the monastery. In the center of the courtyard, there's a well with a statue of the Virgin Mary, surrounded by long-stemmed white roses. The walls of the chapter house are lined with built-in oak choir stalls. The PRIOR'S own stall is in the middle to the right and sits higher than the others. In the center of the chapter house stands an enormous crucifix. The sun shines on the statue of the Virgin in the courtyard. The STRANGER enters from the back, wearing a rough monk's cowl, a rope around his waist, and sandals on his feet. He stops in the doorway and looks at the chapter house, then walks over to the crucifix and stands in front of it. The last verse of the choral service can be heard from across the courtyard. The CONFESSOR enters from the back, dressed in black and white; he has long hair, a long beard, and a very small tonsure that's barely visible.]
CONFESSOR. Peace be with you!
CONFESSOR. Peace be with you!
STRANGER. And with you.
STRANGER. And with you too.
CONFESSOR. How do you like this white house?
CONFESSOR. What do you think of this white house?
STRANGER. I can only see blackness.
STRANGER. All I can see is darkness.
CONFESSOR. You still are black; but you'll grow white, quite white! Did you sleep well last night?
CONFESSOR. You're still black, but you'll turn white, really white! Did you sleep well last night?
STRANGER. Dreamlessly, like a tired child. But tell me: why do I find so many locked doors?
STRANGER. Dreaming without a care, like a sleepy child. But tell me: why do I see so many locked doors?
CONFESSOR. You'll gradually learn to open them.
CONFESSOR. You'll slowly learn to open them up.
STRANGER. Is this a large building?
STRANGER. Is this a big building?
CONFESSOR. Endless! It dates from the time of Charlemagne and has continually grown through pious benefactions. Untouched by the spiritual upheavals and changes of different epochs, it stands on its rocky height as a monument of Western culture. That is to say: Christian faith wedded to the knowledge of Hellas and Rome.
CONFESSOR. Endless! It goes back to the time of Charlemagne and has continually expanded through generous donations. Unaffected by the spiritual upheavals and changes of various eras, it stands on its rocky peak as a symbol of Western culture. In other words: Christian faith combined with the knowledge of Greece and Rome.
STRANGER. So it's not merely a religious foundation?
STRANGER. So it's not just a religious basis?
CONFESSOR. No. It embraces all the arts and sciences as well. There's a library, museum, observatory and laboratory—as you'll see later. Agriculture and horticulture are also studied here; and a hospital for laymen, with its own sulphur springs, is attached to the monastery.
CONFESSOR. No. It includes all the arts and sciences too. There's a library, museum, observatory, and laboratory—as you'll see later. Agriculture and horticulture are also studied here; and there's a hospital for the public, complete with its own sulfur springs, attached to the monastery.
STRANGER. One word more, before the chapter assembles. What kind of man is the Prior?
STRANGER. One more thing before the chapter gathers. What kind of man is the Prior?
CONFESSOR (smiling). He is the Prior! Aloof, without peer, dwelling on the summits of human knowledge, and... well, you'll see him soon.
CONFESSOR (smiling). He's the Prior! Distant, unmatched, sitting at the peak of human knowledge, and... well, you'll meet him soon.
STRANGER. Is it true that he's so old?
STRANGER. Is it true that he's that old?
CONFESSOR. He's reached an unusual age. He was born at the beginning of the century that's now nearing its end.
CONFESSOR. He's hit a rare milestone. He was born at the start of the century that's now coming to a close.
STRANGER. Has he always been in the monastery?
STRANGER. Has he always been at the monastery?
CONFESSOR. No. He's not always been a monk, though always a priest. Once he was a minister, but that was seventy years ago. Twice curator of the university. Archbishop.... 'Sh! Mass is over.
CONFESSOR. No. He hasn't always been a monk, but he's always been a priest. He used to be a minister, but that was seventy years ago. He’s been the university curator twice. Archbishop... 'Sh! Mass is over.
STRANGER. I presume he's not the kind of unprejudiced priest who pretends to have vices when he has none?
STRANGER. I assume he's not the type of unbiased priest who pretends to have faults when he really doesn't?
CONFESSOR. Not at all. But he's seen life and mankind, and he's more human than priestly.
CONFESSOR. Not at all. But he's experienced life and people, and he's more relatable than a typical priest.
STRANGER. And the fathers?
STRANGER. What about the fathers?
CONFESSOR. Wise men, with strange histories, and none of them alike.
CONFESSOR. Wise people, each with their own unusual stories, and none of them the same.
STRANGER. Who can never have known life as it's lived....
STRANGER. Who can never have known life as it is lived....
CONFESSOR. All have lived their lives, more than once; have suffered shipwreck, started again, gone to pieces and risen once more. You must wait.
CONFESSOR. Everyone has lived their lives multiple times; they've experienced shipwrecks, begun anew, fallen apart, and risen again. You need to wait.
STRANGER. The Prior's sure to ask me questions. I don't think I can agree to everything.
STRANGER. The Prior is definitely going to ask me questions. I don't think I can agree to everything.
CONFESSOR. On the contrary, you must show yourself as you are; and defend your opinions to the last.
CONFESSOR. On the contrary, you need to be yourself and stand by your beliefs until the very end.
STRANGER. Will contradiction be permitted here?
STRANGER. Can I disagree here?
CONFESSOR. Here? You're a child, who's lived in a childish world, where you've played with thoughts and words. You've lived in the erroneous belief that language, a material thing, can be a vehicle for anything so subtle as thoughts and feelings. We've discovered that error, and therefore speak as little as possible; for we are aware of, and can divine, the innermost thoughts of our neighbour. We've so developed our perceptive faculties by spiritual exercises that we are linked in a single chain; and can detect a feeling of pleasure and harmony, when there's complete accord. The Prior, who has trained himself most rigorously, can feel if anyone's thoughts have strayed into wrong paths. In some respects he's like—merely like, I say—a telephone engineer's galvanometer, that shows when and where a current has been interrupted. Therefore we can have no secrets from one another, and so do not need the confessional. Think of all this when you confront the searching eye of the Prior!
CONFESSOR. Here? You’re still a kid, who’s grown up in a naive world, where you’ve played around with ideas and words. You’ve mistakenly thought that language, a tangible thing, can convey something as nuanced as thoughts and feelings. We’ve recognized that mistake, and so we speak as little as we can; because we understand, and can sense, the deepest thoughts of those around us. Our spiritual practices have sharpened our perception to the point where we’re all connected in a single chain; and we can pick up on feelings of joy and harmony when everything is in sync. The Prior, who has trained himself the hardest, can sense if anyone’s thoughts have wandered off course. In a way, he’s like—just like, I say—a telephone engineer’s galvanometer, which shows when and where an electrical current has been disrupted. Because of this, we have no secrets from each other, and therefore don’t need confession. Keep all of this in mind when you face the probing gaze of the Prior!
STRANGER. Is there any intention of examining me?
STRANGER. Are you planning to examine me?
CONFESSOR. Oh no. There are merely a few questions to answer without any deep meaning, before the practical examinations. Quiet! Here they are.
CONFESSOR. Oh no. There are just a few questions to answer without any deep meaning before the practical exams. Quiet! Here they are.
(He goes to one side. The PRIOR enters from the back. He is dressed entirely in white and he has pulled up his hood. He is a tall man with long white hair and along white beard-his head is like that of Jupiter. His face is pale, but full and without wrinkles. His eyes are large, surrounded by shadows and his eyebrows strongly marked. A quiet, majestic calm reigns over his whole personality. The PRIOR is followed by twelve Fathers, dressed in black and white, with black hoods, also pulled up. All bow to the crucifix and then go to their places.)
(He steps aside. The PRIOR enters from the back. He is dressed entirely in white and has pulled up his hood. He is a tall man with long white hair and a long white beard—his head resembles that of Jupiter. His face is pale, but full and smooth. His eyes are large, framed by shadows, and his eyebrows are prominent. A quiet, majestic calm surrounds his entire presence. The PRIOR is followed by twelve Fathers, dressed in black and white, with black hoods also pulled up. They all bow to the crucifix and then go to their places.)
PRIOR (after looking at the STRANGER for a moment.) What do you seek here? (The STRANGER is confused and tries to find an answer, but cannot. The PRIOR goes on, calmly, firmly, but indulgently.) Peace? Isn't that so? (The STRANGER makes a sign of assent with head and mouth.) But if the whole of life is a struggle, how can you find peace amongst the living? (The STRANGER is not able to answer.) Do you want to turn your back on life because you feel you've been injured, cheated?
PRIOR (after looking at the STRANGER for a moment). What are you looking for here? (The STRANGER is confused and tries to come up with an answer, but can't. The PRIOR continues, calmly, firmly, but kindly.) Peace? Is that right? (The STRANGER nods in agreement.) But if life is a constant struggle, how can you find peace among the living? (The STRANGER is unable to respond.) Do you want to turn away from life because you feel hurt or cheated?
STRANGER (in a weak voice). Yes.
STRANGER (in a faint voice). Yes.
PRIOR. So you've been defrauded, unjustly dealt with? And this injustice began so early that you, an innocent child, couldn't imagine you'd committed any crime that was worthy of punishment. Well, once you were unjustly accused of stealing fruit; tormented into taking the offence on yourself; tortured into telling lies about yourself and forced to beg forgiveness for a fault you'd not committed. Wasn't it so?
PRIOR. So you’ve been cheated and treated unfairly? And this unfairness started so early that you, as an innocent child, couldn’t even imagine you’d done anything wrong. Well, you were once wrongfully accused of stealing fruit; pressured into taking the blame for it; tortured into lying about yourself and forced to apologize for something you didn’t do. Isn’t that right?
STRANGER (with certainty). Yes. It was.
STRANGER (confidently). Yeah, it was.
PRIOR. It was; and you've never been able to forget it. Never. Now listen, you've a good memory; can you remember The Swiss Family Robinson?
PRIOR. It was, and you've never been able to forget it. Never. Now listen, you have a good memory; can you remember The Swiss Family Robinson?
STRANGER (shrinking). The Swiss Family Robinson?
STRANGER (shrinking). The Swiss Family Robinson?
PRIOR. Yes. Those events that caused you such mental torture happened in 1857, but at Christmas 1856, that is the year before, you tore a copy of that book and out of fear of punishment hid it under a chest in the kitchen. (The STRANGER is taken aback.) The wardrobe was painted in oak graining, and clothes hung in its upper part, whilst shoes stood below. This wardrobe seemed enormously big to you, for you were a small child, and you couldn't imagine it could ever be moved; but during spring cleaning at Easter what was hidden was brought to light. Fear drove you to put the blame on a schoolfellow. And now he had to endure torture, because appearances were against him, for you were thought to be trustworthy. After this the history of your sorrows comes as a logical sequence. You accept this logic?
PRIOR. Yes. Those events that caused you so much mental anguish happened in 1857, but at Christmas 1856, the year before, you tore up a copy of that book and, fearing punishment, hid it under a chest in the kitchen. (The STRANGER is taken aback.) The wardrobe was painted with an oak finish, and clothes hung in the top part while shoes sat below. This wardrobe seemed enormous to you since you were just a small child, and you couldn’t imagine it could ever be moved. But during spring cleaning at Easter, what was hidden was revealed. Fear led you to blame a classmate. And now he had to endure punishment because the evidence was against him, as you were seen as trustworthy. After this, the story of your suffering follows logically. Do you accept this logic?
STRANGER. Yes. Punish me!
STRANGER. Yes. Punish me!
PRIOR. No. I don't punish; when I was a child I did—similar things. But will you now promise to forget this history of your own sufferings for all time and never to recount it again?
PRIOR. No. I don't punish; when I was a child I did—similar things. But will you now promise to forget this history of your own sufferings forever and never talk about it again?
STRANGER. I promise! If only he whom I took advantage of could forgive me.
STRANGER. I promise! If only the person I took advantage of could forgive me.
PRIOR. He has already. Isn't that so, Pater Isidor?
PRIOR. He has already. Right, Pater Isidor?
ISIDOR (who was the DOCTOR in the first part of 'The Road to Damascus,' rising). With my whole heart!
ISIDOR (who was the DOCTOR in the first part of 'The Road to Damascus,' rising). Absolutely!
STRANGER. It's you!
It’s you!
ISIDOR. Yes. I.
ISIDOR. Yep. It's me.
PRIOR (to FATHER ISIDOR). Pater Isidor, say a word, just one.
PRIOR (to FATHER ISIDOR). Father Isidor, say something, just one thing.
ISIDOR. It was in the year 1856 that I had to endure my torture. But even in 1854 one of my brothers suffered in the same way, owing to a false accusation on my part. (To the STRANGER.) So we're all guilty and not one of us is without blemish; and I believe my victim had no clear conscience either. (He sits down.)
ISIDOR. It was in 1856 that I had to go through my torture. But even in 1854, one of my brothers went through the same thing because of a false accusation I made. (To the STRANGER.) So we're all at fault and none of us is without our own flaws; and I think my victim wasn’t innocent either. (He sits down.)
PRIOR. If we could only stop accusing one another and particularly Eternal Justice! But we're born in guilt and all resemble Adam! (To the STRANGER.) There was something you wanted to know, was there not?
PRIOR. If only we could quit blaming each other, especially Eternal Justice! But we're born into guilt and all reflect Adam! (To the STRANGER.) You had something you wanted to ask, right?
STRANGER. I wanted to know life's inmost meaning.
STRANGER. I wanted to understand the deepest meaning of life.
PRIOR. The very innermost! So you wanted to learn what no man's permitted to know. Pater Uriel! (PATER URIEL, who is blind, rises. The PRIOR speaks to the STRANGER.) Look at this blind father! We call him Uriel in remembrance of Uriel Acosta, whom perhaps you've heard of? (The STRANGER makes a sign that he has not.) You haven't? All young people should have heard of him. Uriel Acosta was a Portuguese of Jewish descent, who, however, was brought up in the Christian faith. When he was still fairly young he began to inquire—you understand—to inquire if Christ were really God; with the result that he went over to the Jewish faith. And then he began research into the Mosaic writings and the immortality of the soul, with the result that the Rabbis handed him over to the Christian priesthood for punishment. A long time after he returned to the Jewish faith. But his thirst for knowledge knew no bounds, and he continued his researches till he found he'd reached absolute nullity; and in despair that he couldn't learn the final secret he took his own life with a pistol shot. (Pause.) Now look at our good father Uriel here. He, too, was once very young and anxious to know; he always wanted to be in the forefront of every modern movement, and he discovered new philosophies. I may add, by the way, that he's a friend of my boyhood and almost as old as I. Now about 1820 he came upon the so-called rational philosophy, that had already lain in its grave for twenty years. With this system of thought, which was supposed to be a master key, all locks were to be picked, all questions answered and all opponents confuted—everything was clear and simple. In those days Uriel was a strong opponent of all religions and in particular followed the Mesmerists, as the hypnotisers of that age were called. In 1830 our friend became a Hegelian, though, to be sure, rather late in the day. Then he re-discovered God, a God who was immanent in nature and in man, and found he was a little god himself. Now, as ill-luck would have it, there were two Hegels, just as there were two Voltaires; and the later, or more conservative Hegel, had developed his All-godhead till it had become a compromise with the Christian view. And so Father Uriel, who never wanted to be behind the times, became a rationalistic Christian, who was given the thankless task of combating Rationalism and himself. (Pause.) I'll shorten the whole sad history for Father Uriel's sake. In 1850 he again became a materialist and an enemy of Christianity. In 1870 he became a hypnotist, in 1880 a theosophist, and 1890 he wanted to shoot himself! I met him just at that time. He was sitting on a bench in Unter den Linden in Berlin, and he was blind. This Uriel was blind—and Uriel means 'God is my Light'—who for a century had marched with the torch of liberalism at the head of every modern movement! (To the STRANGER.) You see, he wanted to know, but he failed! And therefore he now believes. Is there anything else you'd like to know?
PRIOR. The very innermost! So you wanted to learn what no one’s allowed to know. Father Uriel! (FATHER URIEL, who is blind, stands up. The PRIOR speaks to the STRANGER.) Look at this blind father! We call him Uriel in honor of Uriel Acosta, whom you’ve probably heard of? (The STRANGER shakes his head to indicate he hasn’t.) You haven’t? Every young person should know about him. Uriel Acosta was a Portuguese of Jewish descent, but he was raised in the Christian faith. When he was still quite young, he started to question— you know—question whether Christ was actually God; as a result, he converted to Judaism. Then he began studying the Mosaic writings and the immortality of the soul, which led the Rabbis to hand him over to the Christian clergy for punishment. Long after that, he returned to Judaism. But his thirst for knowledge was limitless, and he continued his research until he realized he’d reached absolute nothingness; in despair over not being able to uncover the final secret, he took his own life with a gunshot. (Pause.) Now look at our good father Uriel here. He, too, was once very young and eager to learn; he always wanted to be at the forefront of every modern movement and discovered new philosophies. I should mention that he’s a friend from my youth and almost as old as I am. Around 1820, he stumbled upon the so-called rational philosophy, which had already been buried for twenty years. This system of thought was supposed to be a master key that could unlock all mysteries, answer every question, and defeat all opponents—everything was supposed to be clear and simple. Back then, Uriel was a strong opponent of all religions, particularly following the Mesmerists, who were the hypnotists of that era. In 1830, our friend became a Hegelian, though admittedly quite late. Then he re-discovered God, a God who was present in nature and in humans, and realized he was a little god himself. Unfortunately, there were two Hegels, just as there were two Voltaires; and the later, more conservative Hegel had developed his All-godhead into a compromise with the Christian perspective. So Father Uriel, who never wanted to be out of step with the times, turned into a rationalistic Christian, given the thankless task of battling Rationalism and himself. (Pause.) I’ll cut the rest of Father Uriel’s sad story short. In 1850, he again became a materialist and an adversary of Christianity. In 1870, he took up hypnosis, then in 1880, theosophy, and by 1890 he wanted to end his life! I met him just around that time. He was sitting on a bench on Unter den Linden in Berlin, and he was blind. This Uriel was blind—and Uriel means 'God is my Light'—who for a century had marched with the torch of liberalism at the forefront of every modern movement! (To the STRANGER.) You see, he wanted to know, but he failed! And so now he believes. Is there anything else you’d like to know?
STRANGER. One thing only.
STRANGER. Just one thing.
PRIOR. Speak.
PRIOR. Talk.
STRANGER. If Father Uriel had held to his first faith in 1810, men would have called him conservative or old-fashioned; but now, as he's followed the developments of his time and has therefore discarded his youthful faith, men will call him a renegade—that's to say: whatever he does mankind will blame him.
STRANGER. If Father Uriel had stuck to his original beliefs in 1810, people would have labeled him conservative or old-fashioned; but now, as he’s kept up with the changes of his time and has let go of his youthful faith, people will call him a renegade—that is to say: whatever he does, society will criticize him.
PRIOR. Do you heed what men say? Father Clemens, may I tell him how you heeded what men said? (PATER CLEMENS rises and makes a gesture of assent.) Father Clemens is our greatest figure painter. In the world outside he's known by another name, a very famous one. Father Clemens was a young man in 1830. He felt he had a talent for painting and gave himself up to it with his whole soul. When he was twenty he was exhibiting. The public, the critics, his teachers, and his parents were all of the opinion that he'd made a mistake in the choice of his profession. Young Clemens heeded what men were saying, so he laid down his brush and turned bookseller. When he was fifty years of age, and had his life behind him, the paintings of his early years were discovered by some stranger; and were then recognised as masterpieces by the public, the critics, his teachers and relations! But it was too late. And when Father Clemens complained of the wickedness of the world, the world answered with a heartless grin: 'Why did you let yourself be taken in?' Father Clemens grieved so much at this, that he came to us. But he doesn't grieve any longer now. Or do you, Father Clemens?
PRIOR. Do you listen to what people say? Father Clemens, can I share with him how you listened to what people said? (PATER CLEMENS rises and gestures in agreement.) Father Clemens is our greatest figure painter. In the outside world, he's known by a different, very famous name. Father Clemens was a young man in 1830. He believed he had a talent for painting and threw himself into it wholeheartedly. By the time he was twenty, he was exhibiting his work. The public, the critics, his teachers, and his parents all thought he had made a mistake in choosing this profession. Young Clemens listened to what people were saying, so he put down his brush and became a bookseller. When he turned fifty, and looked back on his life, some stranger discovered the paintings from his early years; they were then recognized as masterpieces by the public, the critics, his teachers, and his relatives! But it was too late. And when Father Clemens lamented the cruelty of the world, the world replied with a callous grin: 'Why did you allow yourself to be fooled?' Father Clemens was so heartbroken by this that he came to us. But he doesn’t feel sad anymore now. Or do you, Father Clemens?
CLEMENS. No! But that isn't the end of the story. The paintings I'd done in 1830 were admired and hung in a museum till 1880. Taste then changed very quickly, and one day an important newspaper announced that their presence there was an outrage. So they were banished to the attic.
CLEMENS. No! But that's not the end of the story. The paintings I created in 1830 were appreciated and displayed in a museum until 1880. Taste shifted really fast, and one day a major newspaper declared that having them there was a disgrace. So, they were sent up to the attic.
PRIOR (to the STRANGER). That's a good story!
PRIOR (to the STRANGER). That's an awesome story!
CLEMENS. But it's still not finished. By 1890 taste had so changed again that a professor of the History of Art wrote that it was a national scandal that my works should be hanging in an attic. So the pictures were brought down again, and, for the time being, are classical. But for how long? From that you can see, young man, in what worldly fame consists? Vanitas vanitatum vanitas!
CLEMENS. But it's still not finished. By 1890, tastes had changed again so much that an art history professor claimed it was a national scandal for my works to be stored in an attic. So the paintings were taken down again, and for now, they're considered classic. But for how long? From this, you can see, young man, what worldly fame really is: Vanity of vanities, vanity!
STRANGER. Then is life worth living?
STRANGER. So, is life worth living?
PRIOR. Ask Pater Melcher, who is experienced not only in the world of deception and error, but also in that of lies and contradictions. Follow him: he'll show you the picture gallery and tell you stories.
PRIOR. Ask Father Melcher, who is skilled not just in the realm of deception and mistakes, but also in that of lies and contradictions. Follow him; he'll show you the art gallery and share some stories.
STRANGER. I'll gladly follow anyone who can teach me something.
STRANGER. I'm happy to follow anyone who can teach me something.
(PATER MELCHER takes the STRANGER by the hand and leads him out of the Chapter House.)
(PATER MELCHER takes the STRANGER by the hand and leads him out of the Chapter House.)
Curtain.
Curtains.
[Picture Gallery of the Monastery. There are mostly portraits of people with two heads.]
[Picture Gallery of the Monastery. There are mostly portraits of people with two heads.]
MELCHER. Well, first we have here a small landscape, by an unknown master, called 'The Two Towers.' Perhaps you've been in Switzerland and know the originals.
MELCHER. So, first up, we have a small landscape painting by an unknown artist, called 'The Two Towers.' Maybe you've been to Switzerland and are familiar with the real ones.
STRANGER. I've been in Switzerland!
STRANGER. I've been to Switzerland!
MELCHER. Exactly. Then near the station of Amsteg on the Gotthard railway you've seen a tower, called Zwing-Uri, sung of by Schiller in his Wilhelm Tell. It stands there as a monument to the cruel oppression which the inhabitants of Uri suffered at the hands of the German Emperors. Good! On the Italian side of the Gotthard lies Bellinzona, as you know. There are many towers to be seen there, but the most curious is called Castel d'Uri. That's the monument recalling the cruel oppression which the Italian cantons suffered at the hands of the inhabitants of Uri! Now do you understand?
MELCHER. Exactly. Near the Amsteg station on the Gotthard railway, you've seen a tower called Zwing-Uri, which Schiller mentioned in his Wilhelm Tell. It stands as a monument to the harsh oppression the people of Uri faced from the German Emperors. Good! On the Italian side of the Gotthard is Bellinzona, as you know. There are many towers there, but the most interesting one is called Castel d'Uri. That's the monument that remembers the severe oppression the Italian cantons experienced from the people of Uri! Now do you get it?
STRANGER. So freedom means: freedom to oppress others. That's new to me.
STRANGER. So freedom means: the freedom to oppress others. That's a new take for me.
MELCHER. Then let's go on without further comment to the portrait collection. Number one in the catalogue. Boccaccio, with two heads—all our portraits have at least two heads. His story's well known. The great man began his career by writing dissolute and godless tales, which he dedicated to Queen Johanna of Naples, who'd seduced the son of St. Brigitta. Boccaccio ended up as a saint in a monastery where he lectured on Dante's Hell and the devils that, in his youth, he had thought to drive out in a most original way. You'll notice now, how the two faces are meeting each other's gaze!
MELCHER. So, let's move on to the portrait collection without any more comments. Number one in the catalog: Boccaccio, with two heads—every portrait of ours has at least two heads. His story is well-known. The great man started his career by writing wild and immoral tales, which he dedicated to Queen Johanna of Naples, who seduced the son of St. Brigitta. Boccaccio eventually became a saint in a monastery where he taught about Dante's Hell and the devils he had once tried to expel in a very original way. Notice how the two faces are locked in each other's gaze!
STRANGER. Yes. But all trace of humour's lacking; and humour's to be expected in a man who knew himself as well as our friend Boccaccio did.
STRANGER. Yes. But there's no trace of humor; and you would expect humor from someone who understood himself as well as our friend Boccaccio did.
MELCHER. Number two in the catalogue. Ah, yes; that's two-headed Doctor Luther. The youthful champion of tolerance and the aged upholder of intolerance. Have I said enough?
MELCHER. Number two in the catalog. Ah, yes; that's the two-headed Doctor Luther. The young advocate for tolerance and the old supporter of intolerance. Have I said enough?
STRANGER. Quite enough.
STRANGER. That's enough.
MELCHER. Number three in the catalogue. The great Gustavus Adolphus accepting Catholic funds from Cardinal Richelieu in order to fight for Protestantism, whilst remaining neutral in the face of the Catholic League.
MELCHER. Number three in the catalog. The great Gustavus Adolphus accepting Catholic funds from Cardinal Richelieu to fight for Protestantism, while staying neutral regarding the Catholic League.
STRANGER. How do Protestants explain this threefold contradiction?
STRANGER. How do Protestants explain this three-part contradiction?
MELCHER. They say it's not true. Number four in the catalogue. Schiller, the author of The Robbers, who was offered the freedom of the City of Paris by the leaders of the French Revolution in 1792; but who had been made a State Councillor of Meiningen as early as 1790 and a royal Danish Stipendiary in 1791. The scene depicts the State Councillor—and friend of his Excellency Goethe—receiving the Diploma of Honour from the leaders of the French Revolution as late as 1798. Think of it, the diploma of the Reign of Terror in the year 1798, when the Revolution was over and the country under the Directory! I'd have liked to have seen the Councillor and his friend, His Excellency! But it didn't matter, for two years later he repaid his nomination by writing the Song of the Bell, in which he expressed his thanks and begged the revolutionaries to keep quiet! Well, that's life. We're intelligent people and love The Robbers as much as The Song of the Bell; Schiller as much as Goethe!
MELCHER. They say it's not true. Number four in the catalog. Schiller, the author of *The Robbers*, who was offered the freedom of the City of Paris by the leaders of the French Revolution in 1792; but he had already become a State Councillor of Meiningen by 1790 and a royal Danish Stipendiary in 1791. The scene shows the State Councillor—and friend of his Excellency Goethe—receiving the Diploma of Honour from the leaders of the French Revolution as late as 1798. Just think about it, the diploma from the Reign of Terror in 1798, when the Revolution was over and the country was under the Directory! I would have liked to have seen the Councillor and his friend, His Excellency! But it didn't matter, because two years later he paid back his nomination by writing the *Song of the Bell*, in which he expressed his gratitude and asked the revolutionaries to keep it down! Well, that's life. We're intelligent people and love *The Robbers* just as much as *The Song of the Bell*; Schiller just as much as Goethe!
STRANGER. The work remains, the master perishes.
STRANGER. The work endures, the master fades away.
MELCHER. Goethe, yes! Number five in the catalogue. He began with Strassburg cathedral and Götz von Berlichingen, two hurrahs for gothic Germanic art against that of Greece and Rome. Later he fought against Germanism and for Classicism. Goethe against Goethe! There you see the traditional Olympic calm, harmony, etc., in the greatest disharmony with itself. But depression at this turns into uneasiness when the young Romantic school appears and combats the Goethe of Iphigenia with theories drawn from Goethe's Goetz. That the 'great heathen' ends up by converting Faust in the Second Part, and allowing him to be saved by the Virgin Mary and the angels, is usually passed over in silence by his admirers. Also the fact that a man of such clear vision should, towards the end of his life, have found everything so 'strange,' and 'curious,' even the simplest facts that he'd previously seen through. His last wish was for 'more light'! Yes; but it doesn't matter. We're intelligent people and love our Goethe just the same.
MELCHER. Goethe, yes! Number five in the catalog. He started with the Strassburg Cathedral and Götz von Berlichingen, celebrating Gothic German art over that of Greece and Rome. Later, he challenged Germanism and advocated for Classicism. Goethe against Goethe! You can see the traditional Olympic calm, harmony, etc., in a glaring disharmony with itself. But this depression turns into unease when the young Romantic school emerges and fights against the Goethe of Iphigenia using theories from Goethe's Götz. The fact that the 'great heathen' eventually converts Faust in the Second Part, letting him be saved by the Virgin Mary and the angels, is usually ignored by his fans. Also, it’s striking that a man with such clear vision would find everything so 'strange' and 'curious' towards the end of his life, even the simplest things he used to understand. His last wish was for 'more light'! Yes; but it doesn’t matter. We’re smart people and love our Goethe just the same.
STRANGER. And rightly.
STRANGER. And that's justified.
MELCHER. Number six in the catalogue. Voltaire! He has more than two heads. The Godless One, who spent his whole life defending God. The Mocker, who was mocked, because 'he believed in God like a child.' The author of the cynical 'Candide,' who wrote:
MELCHER. Number six in the catalog. Voltaire! He has more than two sides. The Godless One, who spent his whole life defending God. The Mocker, who was mocked, because 'he believed in God like a child.' The author of the cynical 'Candide,' who wrote:
In my youth I sought the pleasures
Of the senses, but I learned
That their sweetness was illusion
Soon to bitterness it turned.
In old age I've come to see
Life is nought but vanity.
In my youth, I chased the pleasures
Of the senses, but I discovered
That their sweetness was an illusion
Soon turning to bitterness.
In old age, I've come to realize
Life is nothing but vanity.Dr. Knowall, who thought he could grasp everything between Heaven and Earth by means of reason and science, sings like this, when he comes to the end of his life:
Dr. Knowall, who believed he could understand everything in the universe through reason and science, sings like this when he reaches the end of his life:
I had thought to find in knowledge
Light to guide me on my way;
Yet I still must walk in darkness
All that's known must soon decay.
Ignorance, I turn to thee!
Knowledge is but vanity.
I thought I would find in knowledge
A light to guide me on my path;
Yet I still have to walk in darkness
All that’s known will soon fade away.
Ignorance, I turn to you!
Knowledge is just vanity.But that's no matter! Voltaire can be put to many uses. The Jews use him against the Christians, and the Christians use him against the Jews, because he was an anti-Semite, like Luther. Chateaubriand used him to defend Catholicism, and Protestants use him even to-day to attack Catholicism. He was a fine fellow!
But that doesn’t matter! Voltaire can be used in many ways. The Jews use him against the Christians, and the Christians use him against the Jews, because he was an anti-Semite, like Luther. Chateaubriand used him to defend Catholicism, and Protestants still use him today to attack Catholicism. He was a remarkable guy!
STRANGER. Then what's your view?
STRANGER. So what's your take?
MELCHER. We have no views here; we've faith, as I've told you already. And that's why we've only one head—placed exactly above the heart. (Pause.) In the meantime let's look at number seven in the catalogue. Ah, Napoleon! The creation of the Revolution itself! The Emperor of the People, the Nero of Freedom, the suppressor of Equality and the 'big brother' of Fraternity. He's the most cunning of all the two-headed, for he could laugh at himself, raise himself above his own contradictions, change his skin and his soul, and yet be quite explicable to himself in every transformation—convinced, self-authorised. There's only one other man who can be compared with him in this; Kierkegaard the Dane. From the beginning he was aware of this parthenogenesis of the soul, whose capacity to multiply by taking cuttings was equivalent to bringing forth young in this life without conception. And for that reason, and so as not to become life's fool, he wrote under a number of pseudonyms, of which each one constituted a 'stage on his life's way.' But did you realise this? The Lord of life, in spite of all these precautions, made a fool of him after all. Kierkegaard, who fought all his life against the priesthood and the professional preachers of the State Church, was eventually forced of necessity to become a professional preacher himself! Oh yes! Such things do happen.
MELCHER. We don’t have opinions here; we have faith, as I mentioned before. And that's why we only have one leader—placed directly above the heart. (Pause.) In the meantime, let’s check out number seven in the catalog. Ah, Napoleon! The product of the Revolution itself! The Emperor of the People, the Nero of Freedom, the suppressor of Equality, and the 'big brother' of Fraternity. He’s the most clever of all the two-faced, because he could laugh at himself, rise above his own contradictions, change his identity and his essence, and still find himself completely understandable in every transformation—convinced, self-justifying. There’s only one other person who can be compared with him in this: Kierkegaard the Dane. From the start, he was conscious of this unique birth of the soul, whose ability to multiply by taking cuttings was like giving birth in this life without conception. And for that reason, and to avoid becoming life's fool, he wrote under various pseudonyms, each of which represented a 'stage on his life's journey.' But did you realize this? The Lord of life, despite all these precautions, made a fool out of him in the end. Kierkegaard, who spent his whole life battling against the clergy and the professional preachers of the State Church, ultimately had to become a professional preacher himself! Oh yes! Such things do happen.
STRANGER. The Powers That Be play tricks....
STRANGER. The Powers That Be play tricks....
MELCHER. The Powers play tricks on tricksters, and delude the arrogant, particularly those who alone believe they possess truth and knowledge! Number eight in the catalogue. Victor Hugo. He split himself into countless parts. He was a peer of France, a Grandee of Spain, a friend of Kings, and the socialist author of Les Misérables. The peers naturally called him a renegade, and the socialists a reformer. Number nine. Count Friedrich Leopold von Stollberg. He wrote a fanatical book for the Protestants, and then suddenly became a Catholic! Inexplicable in a sensible man. A miracle, eh? A little journey to Damascus, perhaps? Number ten. Lafayette. The heroic upholder of freedom, the revolutionary, who was forced to leave France as a suspected reactionary, because he wanted to help Louis XVI; and then was captured by the Austrians and carried off to Olmütz as a revolutionary! What was he in reality?
MELCHER. The Powers play tricks on tricksters and deceive the arrogant, especially those who only think they have the truth and knowledge! Number eight in the catalog. Victor Hugo. He fragmented himself into countless parts. He was a peer of France, a Grandee of Spain, a friend of Kings, and the socialist author of Les Misérables. The peers naturally labeled him a renegade, while the socialists called him a reformer. Number nine. Count Friedrich Leopold von Stollberg. He wrote a fanatical book for the Protestants, then suddenly converted to Catholicism! Inexplicable for a sensible person. A miracle, right? A little journey to Damascus, maybe? Number ten. Lafayette. The heroic champion of freedom, the revolutionary who was forced to flee France as a suspected reactionary because he wanted to help Louis XVI; and then was captured by the Austrians and taken to Olmütz as a revolutionary! What was he really?
STRANGER. Both!
Both!
MELCHER. Yes, both. He had the two halves that made a whole—a whole man. Number eleven. Bismarck. A paradox. The honest diplomat, who maintained he'd discovered that to tell the truth was the greatest of ruses. And so was compelled—by the Powers, I suppose?—to spend the last six years of his life unmasking himself as a conscious liar. You're tired. Then we'll stop now.
MELCHER. Yes, both. He had the two halves that made a whole—a complete man. Number eleven. Bismarck. A paradox. The honest diplomat who claimed he’d found that telling the truth was the biggest trick. And so he was pushed—by the Powers, I guess?—to spend the last six years of his life revealing himself as a deliberate liar. You're tired. Then we'll stop here.
STRANGER. Yes, if one clings to the same ideas all one's life, and holds the same opinions, one grows old according to nature's laws, and gets called conservative, old-fashioned, out of date. But if one goes on developing, keeping pace with one's own age, renewing oneself with the perennially youthful impulses of contemporary thought, one's called a waverer and a renegade.
STRANGER. Yes, if someone sticks to the same ideas their whole life and maintains the same opinions, they age according to nature's rules and get labeled as conservative, old-fashioned, or outdated. But if someone continues to develop, keeping up with their time and refreshing themselves with the ever-young energy of modern thought, they get called a waverer and a renegade.
MELCHER. That's as old as the world! But does an intelligent, man heed what he's called? One is, what one's becoming.
MELCHER. That's ancient! But does a smart person pay attention to what they're called? It's more about who you're becoming.
STRANGER. But who revises the periodically changing views of contemporary opinion?
STRANGER. But who updates the constantly shifting perspectives of modern opinion?
MELCHER. You ought to answer that yourself, and indeed in this way. It is the Powers themselves who promulgate contemporary opinion, as they develop in apparent circles. Hegel, the philosopher of the present, himself dimorphous, for both a 'left'-minded and a 'right'-minded Hegel can always be quoted, has best explained the contradictions of life, of history and of the spirit, with his own magic formula. Thesis: affirmation; Antithesis: negation; Synthesis: comprehension! Young man, or rather, comparatively young man! You began life by accepting everything, then went on to denying everything on principle. Now end your life by comprehending everything. Be exclusive no longer. Do not say: either—or, but: not only—but also! In a word, or two words rather, Humanity and Resignation!
MELCHER. You should answer that yourself, and honestly, this is the way to do it. It’s the Powers themselves who shape contemporary opinion as they evolve in apparent circles. Hegel, the philosopher of today, presents a dual perspective since both a 'left'-leaning and a 'right'-leaning Hegel can always be referenced. He has best explained the contradictions of life, history, and the spirit with his own powerful formula. Thesis: affirmation; Antithesis: negation; Synthesis: understanding! Young man, or rather, relatively younger man! You started life by accepting everything, then moved on to denying everything outright. Now, finish your life by understanding everything. Stop being exclusive. Don’t say: either—or, but rather: not only—but also! In short, or two words to sum it up, Humanity and Resignation!
Curtain.
Curtain.
[Choir of the Monastery Chapel. An open coffin with a bier cloth and two burning candles. The CONFESSOR leads in the STRANGER by the hand. The STRANGER is dressed in the white shirt of the novice.]
[Choir of the Monastery Chapel. An open coffin with a shroud and two burning candles. The CONFESSOR leads the STRANGER in by the hand. The STRANGER is wearing the white shirt of the novice.]
CONFESSOR. Have you carefully considered the step you wish to take?
CONFESSOR. Have you thought carefully about the decision you want to make?
STRANGER. Very carefully.
Stranger. Very cautiously.
CONFESSOR. Have you no more questions?
CONFESSOR. Do you have any more questions?
STRANGER. Questions? No.
STRANGER. Questions? Nope.
CONFESSOR. Then stay here, whilst I fetch the Chapter and the Fathers and Brothers, so that the solemn act may begin.
CONFESSOR. Then stay here while I get the Chapter and the Fathers and Brothers, so that the solemn act can begin.
STRANGER. Yes. Let it come to pass.
STRANGER. Yeah. Just go with it.
(The CONFESSOR goes out. The STRANGER, left alone, is sunk in thought.)
(The CONFESSOR exits. The STRANGER, now alone, is deep in thought.)
TEMPTER (coming forward). Are you ready?
TEMPTER (coming forward). Are you ready?
STRANGER. So ready, that I've no answer left for you.
STRANGER. I'm so ready that I don't have an answer for you anymore.
TEMPTER. On the brink of the grave, I understand! You'll have to lie in your coffin and appear to die; the old Adam will be covered with three shovelfuls of earth, and a De Profundis will be sung. Then you'll rise again from the dead, having laid aside your old name, and be baptized once more like a new-born child! What will you be called? (The STRANGER does not reply.) It is written: Johannes, brother Johannes, because he preached in the wilderness and...
TEMPTER. Near death, I get it! You’ll have to lie in your coffin and pretend to be dead; the old you will be buried under three shovels of dirt, and a De Profundis will be sung. Then you’ll rise again from the dead, having tossed aside your old name, and be baptized again like a newborn! What will you be called? (The STRANGER doesn’t respond.) It says: Johannes, brother Johannes, because he preached in the wilderness and...
STRANGER. Do not trouble me.
STRANGER. Don’t bother me.
TEMPTER. Speak to me a little, before you depart into the long silence. For you'll not be allowed to speak for a whole year.
TEMPTER. Talk to me for a bit before you head into the long silence. Because you won't get to speak for an entire year.
STRANGER. All the better. Speaking at last becomes a vice, like drinking. And why speak, if words do not cloak thoughts?
STRANGER. All the better. Finally speaking becomes a bad habit, like drinking. And why talk if words don't cover up our thoughts?
TEMPTER. You at the graveside.... Was life so bitter?
TEMPTER. You at the graveside.... Was life really that harsh?
STRANGER. Yes. My life was.
STRANGER. Yes. My life was.
TEMPTER. Did you never know one pleasure?
TEMPTER. Have you never experienced a pleasure?
STRANGER. Yes, many pleasures; but they were very brief and seemed only to exist in order to make the pain of their loss the sharper.
STRANGER. Yes, many pleasures; but they were very brief and seemed only to exist to make the pain of losing them even sharper.
TEMPTER. Can't it be put the other way round: that pain exists in order to make joy more keen?
TEMPTER. Can't we say it the other way: that pain exists to make joy feel more intense?
STRANGER. It can be put in any way.
STRANGER. It can be said in any way.
(A woman enters with a child to be baptized.)
(A woman enters with a child for baptism.)
TEMPTER. Look! A little mortal, who's to be consecrated to suffering.
TEMPTER. Look! A little human, who's destined for suffering.
STRANGER. Poor child!
STRANGER. Poor kid!
TEMPTER. A human history, that's about to begin. (A bridal couple cross the stage.) And there—what's loveliest, and most bitter. Adam and Eve in Paradise, that in a week will be a Hell, and in a fortnight Paradise again.
TEMPTER. A human story, that's about to start. (A bridal couple crosses the stage.) And there—what's most beautiful, and also the most painful. Adam and Eve in Paradise, that will be Hell in a week, and Paradise again in a fortnight.
STRANGER. What is loveliest, brightest! The first, the only, the last that ever gave life meaning! I, too, once sat in the sunlight on a verandah, in the spring beneath the first tree to show new green, and a small crown crowned a head, and a white veil lay like thin morning mist over a face... that was not that of a human being. Then came darkness!
STRANGER. What is the most beautiful, the brightest! The first, the only, the last that ever gave life meaning! I, too, once sat in the sunlight on a porch, in the spring beneath the first tree to show new leaves, and a small crown adorned a head, and a white veil lay like light morning mist over a face... that was not that of a human. Then came darkness!
TEMPTER. Whence?
Temptation. Where from?
STRANGER. From the light itself. I know no more.
STRANGER. From the light itself. I don’t know anything else.
TEMPTER. It could only have been a shadow, for light is needed to throw shadows; but for darkness no light is needed.
TEMPTER. It must have been just a shadow, since you need light to create shadows; but darkness doesn't require any light at all.
STRANGER. Stop! Or we'll never come to an end.
STRANGER. Hold on! Otherwise, we'll never finish.
(The CONFESSOR and the CHAPTER appear in procession.)
(The CONFESSOR and the CHAPTER walk in a procession.)
TEMPTER (disappearing). Farewell!
TEMPTER (disappearing). Goodbye!
CONFESSOR (advancing with a large black bier-cloth). Lord! Grant him eternal peace!
CONFESSOR (walking forward with a large black funeral cloth). Lord! Grant him eternal peace!
CHOIR. May he be illumined with perpetual light!
CHOIR. May he be filled with eternal light!
CONFESSOR (wrapping the STRANGER to the bier-cloth). May he rest in peace!
CONFESSOR (wrapping the STRANGER in the burial cloth). May he rest in peace!
CHOIR. Amen!
CHOIR. Amen!
Curtain.
Curtain.
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