Early Plays, by Henrik Ibsen

[HEMMING. Shortly afterwards OLAF Liljekrans from the, background. The moon rises.]

HEMMING. The golden ring unto me she has granted, Then still is she true, I am not deceived! 'Twas only in jest that she scolded and ranted As though she were bitterly grieved. All will I venture, no more will I dread!

HEMMING. [Despondent.] And yet, I am only a penniless swain, And early tomorrow is she to be wed!

HEMMING. [Quickly.] But into the forest the bridegroom is fled; O, if he should never come home again!

[OLAF comes slowly forward between the rocks in the background. He walks dreaming, his head uncovered, and his hands full of flowers which he tears to pieces and scatters on the way; his whole behavior during the following indicates an unsettled mind.]

OLAF. [Without noticing HEMMING.] If only I knew What she meant, could somehow the riddle unravel!

HEMMING. What is it that weighs On your mind, that you wander in here for three days?

HEMMING. And what is the game that here you do play,— Your cheek is white, and your forehead is gray!

OLAF. Be not so amazed that my cheek is white, Three nights have I fought so strange a fight; Be not so amazed that my forehead is gray, Three nights have I been in the elfen play.

OLAF. My mother's estate! Where stood it of late? 'Tis here, as it seems, that I have my home! The wood has become my ancestral hall, The river's roaring, the pine-trees' moan, Is sweeter to me than my mother's call.

OLAF. [With increasing rapture.] Aye, here it is quiet! Aye, here it is fair! Behold, my hall for the feast I prepare.

OLAF. [Continuing.] When the day has died, When slumber the birds, when fades the cloud, Then here will she come so young and so proud!

OLAF.

   Know you when it was that I saw her here first?
   I rode late one evening from Guldvik hall,
   Some kind of feast I seem to recall.
   My spirit was heavy, my heart full of woe!
   That something had grieved me is all that I know.
   I rode all alone up the mountain side,
   At midnight I passed by the river so wide;
   Then heard I beyond a melodious wail,
   That rang like a song over mountain and dale.
   It seemed a plaintive, bewitching lay;
   I folded my hands, I tried to pray,
   But tied was my tongue and my thoughts went astray;
   The strains did beguile and lure me away.
   'Twas now like weeping and now like laughter,
   'Twas now full of mirth, and now ever after
   As were it the cry of a perishing man,
   As were it a soul in the anguish of death,
   That I heard in the song so beguiling, that ran
   Like a stream around me!—I scarce got my breath!
   So sorely bewildered was I in my soul;
   It was as if powers both gentle and strong
   Enticed me and lured me away from my goal,
   I needs must come up, I was carried along.
   And ever rang out the mysterious call;
   How far I rode on I no longer recall.

HEMMING. [Aside.] And the bride, of whom the minstrel sang,—she too had to follow—

OLAF.

   My foal stopped short, I awoke in a maze,
   I looked around with a wondering gaze;
   'Twas all so pleasant and fair! But what land
   I was in I could not understand!
   I stood in a valley;—a deep peace lay
   Over all like dew in the night!
   The moon on the edge of the tarn did play;
   It seemed to laugh as it vanished away
   In the rolling billows so bright!
   My head was heavy, my spirit oppressed,
   I yearned for nothing but sleep;
   I laid me down 'neath a linden to rest
   In the whispering forest so sweet!

   I ventured then into the elf-maidens' play;
   The fairest of maidens gave me a bouquet
   Of snow-drops blue and of lilies white;
   She pierced my soul with her glances so bright,
   And whispered to me what nobody knows,—
   A word I'll keep ever in mind:
   "Olaf Liljekrans! know you where happiness grows,
   Know you the hour when peace you will find?
   Of all the flowers on the hill over yonder
   Must you the fairest one find,
   And bit by bit you must tear it asunder
   And scatter it far to the wind,
   Then—only then will you happiness find!"

OLAF.

   That very same day
   My mother's estate grew cramped and narrow!
   Through thicket, o'er highway, I hastened away
   To the grove so pleasant with bow and with arrow!
   There met I again the elf-maiden fair.

OLAF. I took my betrothal ring, shot with it there Right over her head, far into the air; Now is she evermore bound!

HEMMING. [Aside.] His soul is enthralled, his mind is ill; All this Lady Kirsten shall know!

HEMMING.

   His wedding tomorrow his people prepare;
   Yet for his betrothed he seems little to care;
   'Tis little he knows that she is so near,
   And less that she holds another one dear!—
   He wanders around in the forest astray,
   And Ingeborg gave me the golden ring!
   His mother I'll seek without further delay;
   The saints only know what the morrow will bring!

SCENE IX

[OLAF LILJEKRANS enters again from the right.]

   "Of all the flowers on the hill over yonder
   Must you the fairest one find;
   And bit by bit you must tear it asunder,
   And scatter it far to the wind,—
   Then—only then will you happiness find!"
   These mysterious words give my spirit no rest.
   The fairest of flowers? And what is the test?
   Where will it be found? Is its beauty revealed
   In the fragrance or deep in the blossom concealed?
   Or hid in some magic power that I never
   Can possibly find if I search forever?
   So may there be virtue in many a spear
   Whose steel is rusty and out of gear;
   So too may a harp that no longer sings
   But hangs forgotten in the halls of mirth,
   Hide in its forsaken and dusty strings
   The strangest magic on earth.

SCENE X

[OLAF LILJEKRANS. ALFHILD from the back of the stage. She is fantastically dressed and adorned with flowers and garlands of leaves; she looks about anxiously until she discovers OLAF and runs joyfully to meet him.]

ALFHILD. Olaf! my handsome knight! I grew tired of waiting; I had to come here to meet you!

ALFHILD. I have so often told you that I never went beyond this valley until you visited me. My father has said that evil powers hold sway out there; only here among the mountains could I fare safely and without harm! O, let whatever power will hold sway; you are here, and that is enough for me! Come, let me look into your eyes! Truly, I have you again!

OLAF. Have me! Alas, Alfhild! You artful, you beautiful woman, indeed you have me again! My soul you have charmed so deeply, so deeply. Lead me whither and as far as you will, into the mountain, under the hill, to the grassy meadow, where song and refrain echo sweetly in the evening, on the bottom of the river, down under the rapids, where there are harps for powerful plaintive lays; wherever your home is, there I am ready to wander!

ALFHILD. Why speak you thus? You must surely know better than what you are saying.—Spirits and elves hold sway in mountain and hillock, and on the bottom of the river lives the nixie,—so father has said. Think you that I am an elf or—

OLAF. You are the fairest in the world; be you what you please, so long as you are mine!

ALFHILD. Yes, you! When you rode on your lonely path, I should go out to meet you and give you the drink of forgetfulness from the golden horn. I should mix therein my magic and charm so that you would forget both heaven and earth, forget where you were born and reared, what name you answered to, and where your kinsmen fared,—one thing alone should you remember, one thing alone should fill your mind and soul.

OLAF. Forsooth, then are you the elfen maid! For from the first hour you have practiced your magic on me.

OLAF. Through the meadow I rode, below where the river runs,—it was night and the songs and the plaintive lays echoed strangely around me....

OLAF. Bewildered I grew and lost my path; I wandered far, far in among the mountains; I discovered the beautiful valley, where no foot has trod, where no eye has feasted ere mine....

OLAF. A heavy slumber fell upon me in there; the elf maidens played in the meantime, and they drew me into their play....

OLAF. But when I awoke, there was affliction in my soul; homeward I rode, but down there I could no more be content; it seemed as if I had left behind me the richest and best in life, as if a wonderful treasure were held in store for me, if only I sought and found it....

OLAF. You came to meet me, fair and glowing as in this hour; I seized your hand, I looked you in the eye—heaven and earth, the beauty of all creation, was in your eye!....

OLAF. I came there the next night, I embraced you, I pressed you to my bosom,—the glory of heaven was in your embrace....

OLAF. And I came the third night; I had to come; I kissed your red lips; my eyes burned their way into your soul.—More than the glory of creation was therein! I forgot more than God and home, more than heaven and earth. I forgot myself.

ALFHILD. If it be a drink of forgetfulness which you speak of, then have I also charmed myself with it. I have fared as the minstrel who learned the nixie's songs in order to charm his sweetheart;—he charmed and charmed so long that at length the magic wove itself round his own soul too, and he could never win himself free therefrom.

ALFHILD. High in the mountain there is a rocky ledge so steep that not even the eagle can fasten his claws thereon; there stands a lonely birch,—ill does it thrive, it is poor in leaves; but downward it bends its branches to the valley which lies far away; it is as though it longed for its sisters in the fresh and luxuriant grove, as though it yearned to be transplanted in the warm sunny life down below....

ALFHILD. Like the birch in the mountain was also my life; I longed to get away; I longed for you through the long, long years, even before I knew you existed. The valley became too cramped for me, but I did not know that beyond the mountains there was another valley like this one in here. The knights and the ladies that visited me every evening were not enough for me, and they told me nothing of the life beyond!

ALFHILD. No one like you! But every evening my father sang songs to me, and when the night came and my eyes were closed, they came to visit me, all those that live in my father's songs. Merry knights and beautiful ladies there were among them; they came with falcons on their hands, riding on stately steeds. They danced in the field, and laughter and merriment reechoed wherever they fared; the elves listened silently from behind each flower and the birds from the trees where they had fallen asleep. But with the coming of dawn they again disappeared; lonely I wandered; I decked myself with flowers and with green leaves, for I knew the next night they would come again. Alas, that life was after all not sufficient for me; a mighty longing rilled my bosom; it would never have been stilled if you had not come!

ALFHILD. But seldom he comes now; he has never been there since the night we first met.

ALFHILD. You have told me you rode late one summer night in the meadow where the river flows; there you heard strange songs which you only half understood, but which haunt and haunt you so that you will never forget them.

ALFHILD. You once heard my father's songs! It is on them that I have been nourished. In truth, neither have I fully understood them; they seemed to me to be the most precious treasure, to be life itself; now they mean little to me; they are to me but a token of all the glory that was to come. In all of them was there a handsome knight; I imagined him to be the best and most glorious thing in all the valleys, the best and most glorious as far as bird can fly, as far as clouds can sail. Olaf! it was you,—I know you again! Oh, you must tell me of your home, of the distant valley whence you come; life out there must be rich and glorious; there it must be that my birds all fly with the falling of the leaves; for when they again come to visit me, they have so much to tell that is strange, so many a marvel to sing about, that all the flowers begin to bud and to blossom, the trees to grow green, and the big and glorious sun to rise early and go tardily to rest, in order to listen to all the stories and songs. But little grasp I of all that they tell; you must interpret it for me, you must make everything clear that inwardly craves an answer.

OLAF. Little am I able to answer what you ask of my home. My home? If I have had a home other than this, then I remember but little about it. It is all to me like a misty dream which is forgotten in the hour we waken. Yet, come! far below us there lies a village; there it seems I remember I wandered before I saw you; there it seems to me that my kinsmen live. Do you hear how the river conjures and rushes; let us follow it; out on the ledge near the waterfall we can overlook the village where I—once had my home. Come, come!

ALFHILD. I am ready; I know it well enough; whether I wished to or not, I must follow you wherever you go.

CHORUS OF WEDDING GUESTS AND LADY. KIRSTEN'S PEOPLE
(From the forest to the left.)
Awake to our call, come free your will
From elves that hover around!

SCENE XI

[LADY KIRSTEN and HEMMING enter from the left.]

HEMMING. Yes, but whom he had in mind I could not quite make out; for his speech was strangely incoherent. Ingeborg he did not mean,—that is certain.

LADY KIRSTEN. Say nothing, good Hemming! say nothing of what he just said! You did well to let me alone know he was here. You shall be richly rewarded for this, but first we must find him again—

HEMMING. [As he looks out to the right.] See,—see there, in the moonlight, on the hill near the river,—yes, surely I think—

LADY KIRSTEN. Call Lord Arne and our people! We will meet again here; I bring Olaf with me!

LADY KIRSTEN. Do as I say; but say nothing of what you have heard and seen. You can say that Olaf came up here to hunt deer and bear, and that he went astray in the mountain.

LADY KIRSTEN. Is it true, then? Have evil sprites gained control over him? Yes, so I can pretend to Arne of Guldvik, but little I believe it myself;—and yet it is said it happened often enough in the days gone by. But it is elfen maids no doubt of flesh and blood that—. There he goes down to the river,—I must hasten!

With ringing of bells we hurry along,
We wander in field and in dell!
O Christian, come, give heed to our song,
Wake up from your magic spell!

SCENE XII

[OLAF and ALFHILD come in from the right in the background. Later LADY KIRSTEN.]

ALFHILD.

    O, you must tell me still more of the world!
    Your words to my soul are refreshing indeed;
    It seems as if here in the wonders you tell
    My innermost longings you read!....

    Did you ne'er on a summer night sit by a tarn,
    So deep that no one could fathom it quite,
    And see in the water the stars so bright,
    Those knowing eyes that express with their flickering light
    Much more than a thousand tongues could possibly say?

    I often sat thus; I sought with my hands to capture
    The sparkling riddles below in the deep—
    I snatched after them, I would see them close,
    Then they grew blurred like eyes that weep,—
    It is idle to search and to seek—

    So too in my soul there was many a riddle
    I yearned to solve in the days that are gone!
    They tricked me as did all the stars in the deep,
    Grew stranger and stranger the more I brooded thereon!

OLAF.

    Am I not to myself a mysterious riddle?
    Am I Olaf Liljekrans, the nobly born,
    The knight so proud, who vaunted his race,
    Who laughed the singing of birds to scorn!
    And yet, from my heart I tear what I was!
    Happy I am,—and that can I understand—
    Your prophecy failed,—I should happiness find,
    When the fairest of flowers I had found in the land.
    Ah! happiness here I have found!

OLAF.

   The life that is yonder may go its own way;
   Here is my home; with you will I wander,
   My lovely wife! Alfhild, behold!
   Is it not as if here in the mountainous fold
   Were built for us two a bower so fair!
   The snowdrops in splendor stand garbed everywhere;
   In here there is feasting, there is joy, there is mirth,
   More real than any I have found on this earth!
   The song rings out from the river so deep;
   It is that which makes me both laugh and weep!
   The song of magic, the mysterious lay,
   Has made me so free, so happy and gay!

OLAF.

   Farewell to the village below I say!
   'Tis here that my bridal-bed I shall prepare;
   Farewell to the world forever and ay,—
   For here I shall hold my beautiful bride!

   My bride! What is it I say!
   Tell me—when first—I happened this way—
   Can you still remember the very first night?
   What was it I sought?—No longer I know!
   Did I come to fetch you—to—the village below?
   Did I come the wedding guests to invite?

OLAF.

   Our betrothal at Guldvik was held, you remember!
   For three weeks thereafter our wedding was planned—
   But it seems to me that,—no, my brow like an ember
   Burns hot! I will try no more to remember!

Olaf Liljekrans! Olaf Liljekrans!
Why sleep you so deep and so long?

OLAF.

   A memory of long ago,
   Which often comes back when I wander with you!
   'Tis evil,—it calls from the village below.

LADY KIRSTEN. [Aside, as she enters from the rear of the stage unobserved by the others.] Ah, there! He speaks; could I understand—!

   Yes, yes, I come; not alone will I ride!
   For ladies and knights shall heed my command,
   And come hither with song to greet my bride!
   For you shall be saddled my swiftest steed,
   The poet and minstrel shall ride in the lead,
   Thereafter shall follow the steward and priest,
   The people shall all be bid to the feast!
   Pages so courtly shall guide your steed,
   And beautiful flowers be strewn at your feet,
   The peasant shall bow to the ground like a weed,
   His wife shall curtsy to you as is meet!
   The church bell shall ring to the countryside:
   Now rides Olaf Liljekrans home with his bride!

     Now hasten we all
     To the wedding hall!
     The foal runneth light and gay!
     The hoofs resound
     On the grassy ground,
     As the merry swains gallop away!

LADY KIRSTEN. [Aside during the chorus.] Heaven he praised then! Hemming has told—!

They come, they come, their voices I hear!
How sweetly it sounds! O Olaf, behold!

LADY KIRSTEN.

   My poor unfortunate son!
   Now are you saved from the evil one!
   There comes Lord Arne with Ingeborg, your wife!

   Ingeborg!—With that have you shattered my life!
   My happiness then was not what it seemed!
   Alas, that you had to inform me of this!

Dear mother! a beautiful dream I have dreamed;
You waken me now,—there's an end to my bliss!

SCENE XIII

[The Preceding. ARNE, INGEBORG, HEMMING, WEDDING GUESTS, and LADY KIRSTEN from the left.]

LADY KIRSTEN. [Interrupting.] Of course not, Lord Arne! He went astray on the hunt and—

LADY KIRSTEN. Yet a stray one here and there! There is many a solitary family still dwells among the mountains since the time of the plague.

LADY KIRSTEN. [Softly and resolute.] You must! It will be your eternal shame if you—

LADY KIRSTEN. Faithfully has she nursed him; it is only fitting that she be rewarded.

HEMMING. [Softly and triumphant, as he brings forth the ring.] And I have Ingeborg's golden ring!

INGEBORG. [Takes the ring from him and says carelessly.] My ring! Aha,—so you have my ring, Hemming! Thanks, I shall now take care of it myself!

[HEMMING stands a moment dumfounded and then follows very slowly the rest, who all except ALFHILD go out to the left.]

SCENE XIV

ALFHILD.

     (Has observed in silent and childlike amazement
                   the preceding scene without however heeding the
                   action; when they are gone she suddenly comes to
                   herself as from a dream.)

   They are gone! Can I trust my eyes;—is it true?
   Yes, here in the moonlight they stood in full view!
   There I see them again down the mountain side,
   And I must go with them, for I am the bride!

   [Starts as if to rush out to the left.]

Alfhild! my child! And how come you here?
I have told you before—

ALFHILD.

   O my father dear!
   Now must I be free—as free as the wind,
   No longer can I in the hills be confined!

ALFHILD.

   The fair knight! He will carry me home!
   Now first do I grasp all the restless desire,
   That long has been smouldering in me like fire!
   We often have sat, as the river rushed by,
   While you sang of the princess enthralled in the hill!
   The princess, my father! the princess am I;
   But he, the fair knight, bent the troll to his will!—
   And now I am free to do what I may;
   I will hence into life and its motley affray!
   His words were like song! I am free as the wind;
   No power can stay me or hold me behind!

THORGJERD.

Poor child! You would down to the village below;
It will cost you your happiness; stay, do not go!

ALFHILD.

But, father, I must! Your sweetest lays
Will seem to me now like a misty haze!

THORGJERD.

   Then go, my Alfhild! and dream while you may,
   Your father will guard you alway!
   But look you take care of the crafty young swains
   With words so cunning and free!

ALFHILD.

   Away in the distant and sunny domains,—
   Where Olaf is, there must I be!
   There stands his castle with golden hall!
   From the ballads you sang his face I recall;
   The king's son is he, the knight who can ride,
   And I, the poor Alfhild,—I am his bride!
   Poor, did I say,—no, the princess on high,
   O, more than the princess,—his sweetheart am I!

   ALFHILD. Listen, he calls with his trumpet and horn!
   Farewell now, forest and flower and thorn!
   Farewell, my valley; you have cramped me too long,
   The whole world is calling with laughter and song!
   Tomorrow attired in gold I shall ride
   Away to the church as Olaf's bride!
   We shall sit on the throne of honor within—
   Ah, now shall my life in its fulness begin!

[She rushes out to the left. THORGJERD gazes after her thoughtfully. The chorus dies away in the distance as the curtain falls.]

SECOND ACT

[The enclosure on Lady Kirsten's estate. To the right is seen the main building with an opening in the gable; neither windows nor doors are visible. Further towards the back of the stage on the same side a small log church and a churchyard. On the left side a storehouse and other out-buildings. On both sides in the foreground simple benches of stone. It is afternoon.]

SCENE I

LADY KIRSTEN. [To herself.] Hard have I labored and struggled to bring things to this point; but now I shall give a feast that shall be heralded far and wide.

LADY KIRSTEN. [To the servants.] Be sure to see that on the banquet table—yet no, I shall attend to that myself. The wine shall be poured into the silver flagons; the large drinking horns shall be filled with the Italian cider; the ale is for the servants only, and likewise the homebrewed mead;—and listen, be sure to see that there are enough yellow candles in the church; the bridal party are not to go to the altar until late in the evening, and with red lights shall they be escorted on their way from the banquet hall to the church. Go now, all of you, and see that you remember, every one of you, the things I have told you.

LADY KIRSTEN. God knows this wedding is costing me more than I well can bear; but Ingeborg brings with her a good dowry and besides—Oh, well, Arne I shall no doubt be able to manage and rule as I see fit, if he is first—

SCENE II

[LADY KIRSTEN. OLAF comes from the house in festive garb; he is pale and thoughtful.]

OLAF. [To himself.] Yesterday and today! There is but a midsummer night between the two, and yet it seems to me that both autumn and winter have overtaken my soul since the time I wandered up there on the mountain side—with her, with Alfhild!

LADY KIRSTEN. Quite so, my son! I like to see you dressed in gold and in silk. Now one can see by your dress who it is that is bridegroom tonight. I see you have rested.

LADY KIRSTEN. [Changing the subject.] We shall have a merry time today, I think.

OLAF. There are indications of a storm. Do you see how heavily the clouds are gathering in the west?

LADY KIRSTEN. The brighter the festive candles will shine when you go to the church tonight.

OLAF. [Paces back and forth a few times; at length he stops before his mother and says.] If I had married a poor man's daughter, without family or wealth,—tell me, mother, what would you have done?

LADY KIRSTEN. Cursed you and gone to my grave in sorrow!—But tell me, why do you ask?

LADY KIRSTEN. That I can believe; for you have always held your family in high honor. But be merry and gay; tomorrow Ingeborg will sit in there as your wife, and then you will find both peace and happiness.

OLAF. The fairest of flowers which I was to pick asunder and scatter far to the winds.

LADY KIRSTEN. In the ladies' room your betrothed sits with all her maids; little have you talked with her today. Do you not want to go in?

OLAF. [Lively.] Nothing shall be lacking to her from this day. Shoes with silver buckles I shall give her; she shall wear brooches and rings. The withered twigs shall be put away; I shall give her a golden necklace to wear.

LADY KIRSTEN. I was speaking of Ingeborg, your betrothed. Olaf! Olaf! You make me anxious and worried,—so strange are you. I could really almost believe that she had bewitched you.

OLAF. That she has! Yes, forsooth, mother, I have been bewitched. I have been in the elf maidens' play; happy and gay I was as long as it lasted, but now—. Through long, long years I shall be weighed down with woe as often as I call it to mind.

LADY KIRSTEN. If she were a witch, the stake would surely be hers; but she is a crafty and wily woman who has lured you on with her fair speech.

LADY KIRSTEN. Yes, yes, but beware! Remember, whatever she is, tomorrow you are wed; it would be both sin and shame to you if you longer took notice of her.

LADY KIRSTEN. And Ingeborg, whom you have betrothed and who loves you, yes, Olaf! loves you with all her heart—the punishment of heaven would be visited on you, in case you—

LADY KIRSTEN. I will not speak of our own circumstances; but you can easily see that Arne's daughter can help us greatly in one thing or another; our affairs have been going from bad to worse, and if the harvest should fail this year I should not in the least be surprised if we had to take up the beggar's staff.

LADY KIRSTEN. With Arne's money we can mend everything; an honorable place you will win for yourself among the king's men. Think this carefully over; if you have promised Alfhild more than you can fulfil—and I seem to notice in her something like that in spite of her quiet demeanor—why, speak with her about it. Tell her,—well, tell her anything you please; empty-handed she shall not go away from here,—that you can freely promise. See, here she comes! Olaf, my son! think of your betrothed and your noble race, think of your old mother who would have to go to her grave in shame, in case—be a man, Olaf! Now I go in to look after the banqueting table.

SCENE VIII

OLAF.

OLAF.

OLAF.

HEMMING.

SCENE IX

[OLAF LILJEKRANS enters again from the right.]

SCENE X

SCENE XI

[LADY KIRSTEN and HEMMING enter from the left.]

SCENE XII

ALFHILD.

OLAF.

OLAF.

OLAF.

OLAF.

OLAF.

LADY KIRSTEN.

SCENE XIII

SCENE XIV

ALFHILD.

ALFHILD.

ALFHILD.

THORGJERD.

ALFHILD.

THORGJERD.

ALFHILD.

SECOND ACT

SCENE I

SCENE II