A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P R S T U V W X Z

Plays: The Father; Countess Julie; The Outlaw; The Stronger

A >> August Strindberg >> Plays: The Father; Countess Julie; The Outlaw; The Stronger




DOCTOR. Just as you like.

CAPTAIN. No, as you like. Which is it to be?

DOCTOR. You must decide that, Captain.

CAPTAIN. No, it's not for me to decide. You must say which you
prefer. I have no preference in the matter, none at all.

DOCTOR. Oh, but I really cannot decide.

CAPTAIN. For heaven's sake, Doctor, say which you prefer. I have no
choice in the matter, no opinion, no wishes. Haven't you got
character enough to know what you want? Answer me, or I shall be
provoked.

DOCTOR. Well, if it rests with me, I prefer to live here.

CAPTAIN. Thank you--forgive me, Doctor, but nothing annoys me so
touch as to see people undecided about anything. [Nurse comes in.]
Oh, there you are, Margret. Do you happen to know whether the rooms
in the wing are in order for the Doctor?

NURSE. Yes, sir, they are.

CAPTAIN. Very well. Then I won't detain you, Doctor; you must be
tired. Good bye, and welcome once more. I shall see you tomorrow, I
hope.

DOCTOR. Good evening, Captain.

CAPTAIN. I daresay that my wife explained conditions here to you a
little, so that you have some idea how the land lies?

DOCTOR. Yes, your excellent wife has given me a few hints about
this and that, such as were necessary to a stranger. Good evening,
Captain.

CAPTAIN [To Nurse]. What do you want, you old dear? What is it?

NURSE. Now, little Master Adolf, just listen--

CAPTAIN. Yes, Margret, you are the only one I can listen to without
having spasms.

NURSE. Now, listen, Mr. Adolf. Don't you think you should go
half-way and come to an agreement with Mistress in this fuss over
the child? Just think of a mother--

CAPTAIN. Think of a father, Margret.

NURSE. There, there, there. A father has something besides his
child, but a mother has nothing but her child.

CAPTAIN. Just so, you old dear. She has only one burden, but I have
three, and I have her burden too. Don't you think that I should
hold a better position in the world than that of a poor soldier if
I had not had her and her child?

NURSE. Well, that isn't what I wanted to talk about.

CAPTAIN. I can well believe that, for you wanted to make it appear
that I am in the wrong.

NURSE. Don't you believe, Mr. Adolf, that I wish you well?

CAPTAIN. Yes, dear friend, I do believe it; but you don't know what
is for my good. You see it isn't enough for me to have given the
child life, I want to give her my soul, too.

NURSE. Such things I don't understand. But I do think that you
ought to be able to agree.

CAPTAIN. You are not my friend, Margret.

NURSE. I? Oh, Lord, what are you saying, Mr. Adolf? Do you think I
can forget that you were my child when you were little?

CAPTAIN. Well, you dear, have I forgotten it? You have been like a
mother to me, and always have stood by me when I had everybody
against me, but now, when I really need you, you desert me and go
over to the enemy.

NURSE. The enemy!

CAPTAIN, Yes, the enemy! You know well enough how things are in
this house! You have seen everything from the beginning.

NURSE. Indeed I have seen! But, God knows, why two people should
torment the life out of each other; two people who are otherwise so
good and wish all others well. Mistress is never like that to me or
to others--

CAPTAIN. Only to me, I know it. But let me tell you, Margret, if
you desert me now, you will do wrong. For now they have begun to
weave a plot against me, and that doctor is not my friend.

NURSE. Oh, Mr. Adolf, you believe evil about everybody. But you see
it's because you haven't the true faith; that's just what it is.

CAPTAIN. Yes, you and the Baptists have found the only true faith.
You are indeed lucky!

NURSE. Anyway, I'm not unhappy like you, Mr. Adolf. Humble your
heart and you will see that God will make you happy in your love
for your neighbor.

CAPTAIN. It's a strange thing that you no sooner speak of God and
love than your voice becomes hard and your eyes fill with hate. No,
Margret, surely you have not the true faith.

NURSE. Yes, go on being proud and hard in your learning, but it
won't amount to much when it comes to the test.

CAPTAIN. How mightily you talk, humble heart. I know very well that
knowledge is of no use to you women.

NURSE. You ought to be ashamed of yourself. But in spite of
everything old Margret cares most for her great big boy, and he
will come back to the fold when it's stormy weather.

CAPTAIN. Margret! Forgive me, but believe me when I say that there
is no one here who wishes me well but you. Help me, for I feel that
something is going to happen here. What it is, I don't know, but
something evil is on the way. [Scream from within.] What's that?
Who's that screaming?

[Berths enters from inner room.]

BERTHA. Father! Father! Help me; save me.

CAPTAIN. My dear child, what is it? Speak!

BERTHA. Help me. She wants to hurt me.

CAPTAIN. Who wants to hurt you? Tell me! Speak!

BERTHA. Grandmother! But it's my fault for I deceived her.

CAPTAIN. Tell me more.

BERTHA. Yes, but you mustn't say anything about it. Promise me you
won't.

CAPTAIN. Tell me what it is then.

[Nurse goes.]

BERTHA. In the evening she generally turns down the lamp and then
she makes me sit at a table holding a pen over a piece of paper.
And then she says that the spirits are to write.

CAPTAIN. What's all this--and you have never told me about it?

BERTHA. Forgive me, but I dared not, for Grandmother says the
spirits take revenge if one talks about them. And then the pen
writes, but I don't know whether I'm doing it or not. Sometimes it
goes well, but sometimes it won't go at all, and when I am tired
nothing comes, but she wants it to come just the same. And tonight
I thought I was writing beautifully, but then grandmother said it
was all from Stagnelius, and that I had deceived her, and then she
got terribly angry.

CAPTAIN. Do you believe that there are spirits?

BERTHA. I don't know.

CAPTAIN. But I know that there are none.

BERTHA. But Grandmother says that you don't understand, Father, and
that you do much worse things--you who can see to other planets.

CAPTAIN. Does she say that! Does she say that? What else does she
say?

BERTHA. She says that you can't work witchery.

CAPTAIN. I never said that I could. You know what meteoric stones
are,--stones that fall from other heavenly bodies. I can examine
them and learn whether they contain the same elements as our world.
That is all I can tell.

BERTHA. But Grandmother says that there are things that she can see
which you cannot see.

CAPTAIN. Then she lies.

BERTHA. Grandmother doesn't tell lies.

CAPTAIN. Why doesn't she?

BERTHA. Then Mother tells lies too.

CAPTAIN. H'm!

BERTHA. And if you say that Mother lies, I can never believe in you
again.

CAPTAIN. I have not said so; and so you must believe in me when I
tell you that it is for your future good that you should leave
home. Will you? Will you go to town and learn something useful?

BERTHA. Oh, yes, I should love to go to town, away from here,
anywhere. If I can only see you sometimes--often. Oh, it is so
gloomy and awful in there all the time, like a winter night, but
when you come home Father, it is like a morning in spring when they
take off the double windows.

CAPTAIN. My beloved child! My dear child!

BERTHA. But, Father, you'll be good to Mother, won't you? She cries
so often.

CAPTAIN. H'm--then you want to go to town?

BERTHA. Yes, yes.

CAPTAIN. But if Mother doesn't want you to go?

BERTHA. But she must let me.

CAPTAIN. But if she won't?

BERTHA. Well, then, I don't know what will happen. But she must!
She must!

CAPTAIN. Will you ask her?

BERTHA. You must ask her very nicely; she wouldn't pay any
attention to my asking.

CAPTAIN. H'm! Now if you wish it, and I wish it, and she doesn't
wish it, what shall we do then?

BERTHA. Oh, then it will all be in a tangle again! Why can't you
both--

[Laura comes in.]

LAURA. Oh, so Bertha is here. Then perhaps we may have her own
opinion as the question of her future has to be decided.

CAPTAIN. The child can hardly have any well-grounded opinion about
what a young girl's life is likely to be, while we, on the
contrary, can more easily estimate what it may be, as we have seen
so many young girls grow up.

LAURA. But as we are of different opinions Bertha must be the one
to decide.

CAPTAIN. No, I let no one usurp my rights, neither women nor
children. Bertha, leave us.

[Bertha goes out.]

LAURA. You were afraid of hearing her opinion, because you thought
it would be to my advantage.

CAPTAIN. I know that she wishes to go away from home, but I know
also that you possess the power of changing her mind to suit your
pleasure.

LAURA. Oh, am I really so powerful?

CAPTAIN. Yes, you have a fiendish power of getting your own way;
but so has anyone who does not scruple about, the way it is
accomplished. How did you get Doctor Norling away, for instance,
and how did you get this new doctor here?

LAURA. Yes, how did I manage that?

CAPTAIN. You insulted the other one so much that he left, and made
your brother recommend this fellow.

LAURA. Well, that was quite simple and legitimate. Is Bertha to
leave home now?

CAPTAIN. Yes, she is to start in a fortnight.

LAURA. That is your decision?

CAPTAIN. Yes.

LAURA. Then I must try to prevent it.

CAPTAIN. You cannot.

LAURA. Can't I? Do you really think I would trust my daughter to
wicked people to have her taught that everything her mother has
implanted in her child is mere foolishness? Why, afterward, she
would despise me all the rest of her life!

CAPTAIN. Do you think that a father should allow ignorant and
conceited women to teach his daughter that he is a charlatan?

LAURA. It means less to the father.

CAPTAIN. Why so?

LAURA. Because the mother is closer to the child, as it has been
discovered that no one can tell for a certainty who the father of a
child is.


CAPTAIN. How does that apply to this case?

LAURA. You do not know whether you are Bertha's father or not.

CAPTAIN. I do not know?

LAURA. No; what no one knows, you surely cannot know.

CAPTAIN. Are you joking?

LAURA. No; I am only making use of your own teaching. For that
matter, how do you know that I have not been unfaithful to you?

CAPTAIN. I believe you capable of almost anything, but not that,
nor that you would talk about it if it were true.

LAURA. Suppose that I was prepared to bear anything, even to being
despised and driven out, everything for the sake of being able to
keep and control my child, and that I am truthful now when I
declare that Bertha is my child, but not yours. Suppose--

CAPTAIN. Stop now!

LAURA. Just suppose this. In that case your power would be at an
end.

CAPTAIN. When you had proved that I was not the father.

LAURA. That would not be difficult! Would you like me to do so?

CAPTAIN. Stop!

LAURA. Of course I should only need to declare the name of the real
father, give all details of place and time. For instance--when was
Bertha born? In the third year of our marriage.

CAPTAIN. Stop now, or else--

LAURA. Or else, what? Shall we stop now? Think carefully about all
you do and decide, and whatever you do, don't make yourself
ridiculous.

CAPTAIN. I consider all this most lamentable.

LAURA. Which makes you all the more ridiculous.

CAPTAIN. And you?

LAURA. Oh, we women are really too clever.

CAPTAIN. That's why one cannot contend with you.

LAURA. Then why provoke contests with a superior enemy?

CAPTAIN. Superior?

LAURA. Yes, it's queer, but I have never looked at a man without
knowing myself to be his superior.

CAPTAIN. Then you shall be made to see your superior for once, so
that you shall never forget it.

LAURA. That will be interesting.

NURSE [comes in]. Supper is served. Will you come in?

LAURA. Very well.

[Captain lingers; sits down with a magazine in an arm chair near
table.]

LAURA. Aren't you coming in to supper?

CAPTAIN. No, thanks. I don't want anything.

LAURA. What, are you annoyed?

CAPTAIN. No, but I am not hungry.

LAURA. Come, or they will ask unnecessary questions--be good now.
You won't? Stay there then. [Goes.]

NURSE. Mr. Adolf! What is this all about?

CAPTAIN. I don't know what it is. Can you explain to me why you
women treat an old man as if he were a child?

NURSE. I don't understand it, but it must be because all you men,
great and small, are women's children, every man of you.

CAPTAIN. But no women are born of men. Yes, but I am Bertha's
father. Tell me, Margret, don't you believe it? Don't you?

NURSE. Lord, how silly you are. Of course you are your own child's
father. Come and eat now, and don't sit there and sulk. There,
there, come now.

CAPTAIN. Get out, woman. To hell with the hags. [Goes to private
door.] Svärd, Svärd!

[Orderly comes in.]

ORDERLY. Yes, Captain.

CAPTAIN. Hitch into the covered sleigh at once.

NURSE. Captain, listen to me.

CAPTAIN. Out, woman! At once!

[Orderly goes.]

NURSE. Good Lord, what's going to happen now.

[Captain puts on his cap and coat and prepares to go out.]

CAPTAIN. Don't expect me home before midnight. [Goes.]

NURSE. Lord preserve us, whatever will be the end of this!



ACT II.

[The same scene as in previous act. A lighted lamp is on the table;
it is night. The Doctor and Laura are discovered at rise of
curtain.]

DOCTOR. From what I gathered during my conversation with him the
case is not fully proved to me. In the first place you made a
mistake in saying that he had arrived at these astonishing results
about other heavenly bodies by means of a microscope. Now that I
have learned that it was a spectroscope, he is not only cleared of
any suspicion of insanity, but has rendered a great service to
science.

LAURA. Yes, but I never said that.

DOCTOR. Madam, I made careful notes of our conversation, and I
remember that I asked about this very point because I thought I had
misunderstood you. One must be very careful in making such
accusations when a certificate in lunacy is in question.

LAURA. A certificate in lunacy?

DOCTOR. Yes, you must surely know that an insane person loses both
civil and family rights.

LAURA. No, I did not know that.

DOCTOR. There was another matter that seemed to me suspicious. He
spoke of his communications to his booksellers not being answered.
Permit me to ask if you, through motives of mistaken kindness, have
intercepted them?

LAURA. Yes, I have. It was my duty to guard the interests of the
family, and I could not let him ruin us all without some
intervention.

DOCTOR. Pardon me, but I think you cannot have considered the
consequences of such an act. If he discovers your secret
interference in his affairs, he will have grounds for suspicions,
and they will grow like an avalanche. And besides, in doing this
you have thwarted his will and irritated him still more. You must
have felt yourself how the mind rebels when one's deepest desires
are thwarted and one's will is crossed.

LAURA. Haven't I felt that!

DOCTOR. Think, then, what he must have gone through.

LAURA [Rising]. It is midnight and he hasn't come home. Now we may
fear the worst.

DOCTOR. But tell me what actually happened this evening after I
left. I must know everything.

LAURA. He raved in the wildest way and had the strangest ideas. For
instance, that he is not the father of his child.

DOCTOR. That is strange. How did such an idea come into his head?

LAURA. I really can't imagine, unless it was because he had to
question one of the men about supporting a child, and when I tried
to defend the girl, he grew excited and said no one could tell who
was the father of a child. God knows I did everything to calm him,
but now I believe there is no help for him. [Cries.]

DOCTOR. But this cannot go on. Something must be done here without,
of course, arousing his suspicions. Tell me, has the Captain ever
had such delusions before?

LAURA. Six years ago things were in the same state, and then he,
himself, confessed in his own letter to the doctor that he feared
for his reason.

DOCTOR. Yes, yes, yes, this is a story that has deep roots and the
sanctity of the family life--and so on--of course I cannot ask
about everything, but must limit myself to appearances. What is
done can't be undone, more's the pity, yet the remedy should be
based upon all the past.--Where do you think he is now?

LAURA. I have no idea, he has such wild streaks.

DOCTOR. Would you like to have me stay until he returns? To avoid
suspicion, I could say that I had come to see your mother who is
not well.

LAURA. Yes, that will do very nicely. Don't leave us, Doctor; if
you only knew how troubled I am! But wouldn't it be better to tell
him outright what you think of his condition.

DOCTOR. We never do that unless the patient mentions the subject
himself, and very seldom even then. It depends entirely on the
case. But we mustn't sit here; perhaps I had better go into the
next room; it will look more natural.

LAURA. Yes, that will be better, and Margret can sit here. She
always waits up when he is out, and she is the only one who has any
power over him. [Goes to the door left] Margret, Margret!

NURSE. Yes, Ma'am. Has the master come home?

LAURA. No; but you are to sit here and wait for him, and when he
does come you are to say my mother is ill and that's why the doctor
is here.

NURSE. Yes, yes. I'll see that everything is all right.

LAURA [Opens the door to inner rooms]. Will you come in here,
Doctor?

DOCTOR. Thank you.

[Nurse seats herself at the table and takes up a hymn book and
spectacles and reads.]

NURSE. Ah, yes, ah yes!
[Reads half aloud]
Ah woe is me, how sad a thing
Is life within this vale of tears,
Death's angel triumphs like a king,
And calls aloud to all the spheres--
Vanity, all is vanity.
Yes, yes! Yes, yes!
[Reads again]
All that on earth hath life and breath
To earth must fall before his spear,
And sorrow, saved alone from death,
Inscribes above the mighty bier.
Vanity, all is vanity.
Yes, Yes.

BERTHA [Comes in with a coffee-pot and some embroidery. She speaks
in a low voice]. Margret, may I sit with you? It is so frightfully
lonely up there.

NURSE. For goodness sake, are you still up, Bertha?

BERTHA. You see I want to finish Father's Christmas present. And
here's something that you'll like.

NURSE. But bless my soul, this won't do. You must be up in the
morning, and it's after midnight now.

BERTHA. What does it matter? I don't dare sit up there alone. I
believe the spirits are at work.

NURSE. You see, just what I've said. Mark my words, this house was
not built on a lucky spot. What did you hear?

BERTHA. Think of it, I heard some one singing up in the attic!

NURSE. In the attic? At this hour?

BERTHA. Yes, it was such it sorrowful, melancholy song! I never
heard anything like it. It sounded as if it came from the
store-room, where the cradle stands, you know, to the left-- -- --

NURSE. Dear me, Dear me! And such a fearful night. It seems as if
the chimneys would blow down. "Ah, what is then this earthly life,
But grief, afiction and great strife? E'en when fairest it has
seemed, Nought but pain it can be deemed." Ah, dear child, may God
give us a good Christmas!

BERTHA. Margret, is it true that Father is ill?

NURSE. Yes, I'm afraid he is.

BERTHA. Then we can't keep Christmas eve? But how can he be up and
around if he is 111?

NURSE. You see, my child, the kind of illness he has doesn't keep
him from being up. Hush, there's some one out in the hall. Go to
bed now and take the coffee pot away or the master will be angry.

BERTHA [Going out with tray]. Good night, Margret.

NURSE. Good night, my child. God bless you.

[Captain comes in, takes off his overcoat.]

CAPTAIN. Are you still up? Go to bed.

NURSE. I was only waiting till-- --

[Captain lights a candle, opens his desk, sits down at it and takes
letters and newspapers out of his pocket.]

NURSE. Mr. Adolf.

CAPTAIN. What do you want?

NURSE. Old mistress is ill and the doctor is here.

CAPTAIN. Is it anything dangerous?

NURSE. No, I don't think so. Just a cold.

CAPTAIN [Gets up]. Margret, who was the father of your child?

NURSE. Oh, I've told you many and many a time; it was that scamp
Johansson.

CAPTAIN. Are you sure that it was he?

NURSE. How childish you are; of course I'm sure when he was the
only one.

CAPTAIN. Yes, but was he sure that he was the only one? No, he
could not be, but you could be sure of it. There is a difference,
you see.

NURSE. Well, I can't see any difference.

CAPTAIN. No, you cannot see it, but the difference exists,
nevertheless. [Turns over the pages of a photograph album which is
on the table.] Do you think Bertha looks like me?

NURSE. Of course! Why, you are as like as two peas.

CAPTAIN. Did Johansson confess that he was the father?

NURSE. He was forced to!

CAPTAIN. How terrible! Here is the Doctor. [Doctor comes in.] Good
evening, Doctor. How is my mother-in-law?

DOCTOR. Oh, it's nothing serious; merely a slight sprain of the
left ankle.

CAPTAIN. I thought Margret said it was a cold. There seem to be
different opinions about the same case. Go to bed, Margret.

[Nurse goes. A pause.]

CAPTAIN. Sit down, Doctor.

DOCTOR [Sits]. Thanks.

CAPTAIN. Is it true that you obtain striped foals if you cross a
zebra and a mare?

DOCTOR [Astonished]. Perfectly true.

CAPTAIN. Is it true that the foals continue to be striped if the
breed is continued with a stallion?

DOCTOR. Yes, that is true, too.

CAPTAIN. That is to say, under certain conditions a stallion can be
sire to striped foals or the opposite?

DOCTOR. Yes, so it seems.

CAPTAIN. Therefore an offspring's likeness to the father proves
nothing?

DOCTOR. Well-- -- --

CAPTAIN. That is to say, paternity cannot be proven.

DOCTOR. H'm-- --well-- --

CAPTAIN. You are a widower, aren't you, and have had children?

DOCTOR. Ye-es.

CAPTAIN. Didn't you ever feel ridiculous as a. father? I know of
nothing so ludicrous as to see a father leading his children by the
hand around the streets, or to hear it father talk about his
children. "My wife's children," he ought to say. Did you ever feel
how false your position was? Weren't you ever afflicted with
doubts, I won't say suspicions, for, as a gentleman, I assume that
your wife was above suspicion.

DOCTOR. No, really, I never was; but, Captain, I believe Goethe
says a man must take his children on good faith.

CAPTAIN. It's risky to take anything on good faith where a woman is
concerned.

DOCTOR. Oh, there are so many kinds of women.

CAPTAIN. Modern investigations have pronounced that there is only
one kind! Lately I have recalled two instances in my life that make
me believe this. When I was young I was strong and, if I may boast,
handsome. Once when I was making a trip on a steamer and sitting
with a few friends in the saloon, the young stewardess came and
flung herself down by me, burst into tears, and told us that her
sweetheart was drowned. We sympathized with her, and I ordered some
champagne. After the second glass I touched her foot; after the
fourth her knee, and before morning I had consoled her.

DOCTOR. That was just a winter fly.

CAPTAIN. Now comes the second instance--and that was a real summer
fly. I was at Lyskil. There was a young married woman stopping
there with her children, but her husband was in town. She was
religious, had extremely strict principles, preached morals to me,
and was, I believe, entirely honorable. I lent her a book, two
books, and when she was leaving, she returned them, strange to say!
Three months later, in those very books I found her card with a
declaration on it. It was innocent, as innocent its it declaration
of love can be from a married woman to a strange man who never made
any advances. Now comes the moral: Just don't have too much faith.

DOCTOR. Don't have too little faith either.

CAPTAIN. No, but just enough. But, you see, Doctor, that woman was
so unconsciously dishonest that she talked to her husband about the
fancy she had taken to me. That's what makes it dangerous, this
very unconsciousness of their instinctive dishonesty. That is a
mitigating circumstance, I admit, but it cannot nullify judgment,
only soften it.

DOCTOR. Captain, your thoughts are taking a morbid turn, and you
ought to control them.

CAPTAIN. You must not use the word morbid. Steam boilers, as you
know, explode at it certain pressure, but the same pressure is not
needed for all boiler explosions. You understand? However, you are
here to watch me. If I were not a man I should have the right to
make accusations or complaints, as they are so cleverly called, and
perhaps I should be able to give you the whole diagnosis, and, what
is more, the history of my disease. But unfortunately, I am a man,
and there is nothing for me to do but, like a Roman, fold my arms
across my breast and hold my breath till I die.

DOCTOR. Captain, if you are ill, it will not reflect upon your
honor as a man to tell me all. In fact, I ought to hear the other
side.

CAPTAIN. You have had enough in hearing the one, I imagine. Do you
know when I heard Mrs. Alving eulogizing her dead husband, I
thought to myself what a damned pity it was the fellow was dead. Do
you suppose that he would have spoken if he had been alive? And do
you suppose that if any of the dead husbands came back they would
be believed? Good night, Doctor. You see that I am calm, and you
can retire without fear.

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