Open Collections

UBC Theses and Dissertations

UBC Theses Logo

UBC Theses and Dissertations

High melodrama : an English translation of Knut Hamsun's The game of life (Livets spil, 1896), with an… Grabowski, Simon 1971

Your browser doesn't seem to have a PDF viewer, please download the PDF to view this item.

Item Metadata

Download

Media
831-UBC_1971_A8 G73.pdf [ 10.21MB ]
Metadata
JSON: 831-1.0102147.json
JSON-LD: 831-1.0102147-ld.json
RDF/XML (Pretty): 831-1.0102147-rdf.xml
RDF/JSON: 831-1.0102147-rdf.json
Turtle: 831-1.0102147-turtle.txt
N-Triples: 831-1.0102147-rdf-ntriples.txt
Original Record: 831-1.0102147-source.json
Full Text
831-1.0102147-fulltext.txt
Citation
831-1.0102147.ris

Full Text

HIGH MELODRAMA An English translation of Knut Hamsun's The Game of Life (Livets s p i l , 1896), with an extensive c r i t i c a l introduction SIMON GRABOWSKE B.A., University of B r i t i s h Columbia, 196? M.A., University of Washington, 1968 A THESIS SUBMITTED IN PARTIAL FULFILMENT OF THE REQUIREMENTS FOR THE DEGREE OF MASTER OF ARTS in the Department of Comparative Literature We accept this thesis as conforming to the required standard THE UNIVERSITY OF BRITISH COLUMBIA Ap r i l , 1971 I n p r e s e n t i n g t h i s t h e s i s i n p a r t i a l f u l f i l m e n t o f t h e r e q u i r e m e n t s f o r a n a d v a n c e d d e g r e e a t t h e U n i v e r s i t y o f B r i t i s h C o l u m b i a , I a g r e e t h a t t h e L i b r a r y s h a l l m a k e i t f r e e l y a v a i l a b l e f o r r e f e r e n c e a n d s t u d y . I f u r t h e r a g r e e t h a t p e r m i s s i o n f o r e x t e n s i v e c o p y i n g o f t h i s t h e s i s f o r s c h o l a r l y p u r p o s e s may be g r a n t e d by t h e H e a d o f my D e p a r t m e n t o r by h i s r e p r e s e n t a t i v e s . I t i s u n d e r s t o o d t h a t c o p y i n g o r p u b l i c a t i o n o f t h i s t h e s i s f o r f i n a n c i a l g a i n s h a l l n o t be a l l o w e d w i t h o u t my w r i t t e n p e r m i s s i o n . D e p a r t m e n t T h e U n i v e r s i t y o f B r i t i s h C o l u m b i a V a n c o u v e r 8, C a n a d a D a t e ABSTRACT. The introduction to the" present study of Knut Hamsun's The Game  of L i f e (Livets s p i l , 1896) sums up the strange f a i l u r e of t h i s play, a remarkable work by a famous author, to gain any measurable recogni-t i o n ; a number of pos s i b l e reasons are suggested, among them the mem-bership of L i v e t s s p i l i n the s o - c a l l e d Kareno-trilogy, the other two plays of which are rather weak. Plots of a l l three plays are provided. - The introductory chapter i s followed by a general survey of Hamsuns dramatic production. Considerable space i s given to a comparison between the l a s t of h i s s i x plays, In the Grip of L i f e ( L i v e t i v o l d , 1910) and Wedekind's Per Marquis von Keith ( 1 9 0 0 ) . - The remaining two long chap-ters - Part Three and Pour - are devoted to an exhaustive examination °f L i v e t s s p i l . In Part Three, the method used i s that of an i n t e r p r e -t a t i v e i n v e s t i g a t i o n ; the main characters and symbols/symbolic forces of the play are analyzed i n depth and c o r r e l a t e d . S p e c i a l consideration i s given to the character c o n s t e l l a t i o n Teresita-Jens S p i r , as compared to the c o n s t e l l a t i o n Edvarda-Glahn i n Hamsun's famous novel Pan (1894). F i n a l l y , the consistency of the play with the general story l i n e of the t r i l o g y i s demonstrated. - The method followed i n Part Four i s that of a dramatic-aesthetic close-reading. The focus here i s on general drama-t i c e f f e c t i v e n e s s , and on the many s p e c i a l elements i n the play which go i n t o the creation of a f a n t a s t i c universe on stage. Part A discusses three aspects of dramatic technique basic to the r e s t l e s s s t y l e of L i -vets s p i l . S p ecial a t t e n t i o n i s given to the p r i n c i p l e of external i n -t r u s i o n , the subtle disturbance of the dialogue from a source outside of the immediate sphere of a c t i o n . Part B demonstrates t i r e r i n t r i n s i c a l -l y f a n t a s t i c nature of a large number of the play's primary and secon-dary elements: The basic premises from which the action derives, char-acter appearances and the nature and function of props, the symbolic suggestiveness of l i g h t and sound e f f e c t s , and the suggestive uses and implications of s p a t i a l distance. - F i n a l l y , i n the conclusion, the two basic methods of a n a l y s i s followed are confronted with each other, and i t i s demonstrated how Hamsun r e a l i z e d i n L i v e t s ^ s p i l some of the goals he had set himself f i v e years e a r l i e r i n h i s advocacy of a more psy c h o l o g i c a l l y oriented modern l i t e r a t u r e i n Norway. TABLE OF CONTENTS I . CRITICAL STUDY Pa r t One INTRODUCTION A - l P a r t Two HAMSUN AS A DRAMA5EIST A - l l P a r t Three LIVETS SPIL: A COMPREHENSIVE INTERPRETATIVE ANALYSIS A-21 P a r t Four LIVETS SPIL: A COMPREHENSIVE AESTHETIC ANALYSIS A-52 A. GENERAL ASPECTS OF DRAMATIC STYLE A-52 a. F l u i d i t y of d i a l o g u e , 1: I n t e r n a l i n t r u s i o n A-53 b. F l u i d i t y of d i a l o g u e , 2: E x t e r n a l i n t r u s i o n A-58 c. High-suspense dialogue A-70 B. SPECIAL FANTASTIC AND FANTASTIC-DRAMATIC ELEMENTS AND EFFECTS A-75 a. Premises, s i t u a t i o n s , events A-75 b. Props as s p e c i a l d r a m a t i c - f a n t a s t i c energy sources A-77 c. S p e c i a l f e a t u r e s i n the v i s u a l appearance of the ch a r a c t e r s A-79 d. L i g h t and sound as primary t r a n s m i t t e r s of the f a n t a s t i c A-81 e. Distance f a c t o r s and the c r e a t i o n of dramatic f o r c e f i e l d s A-85 CONCLUSION A-88 I I . THE PLAY Knut Hamsun's The Game of L i f e ( L i v e t s s p i l ) , t r a n s l a t e d from the Norwegian B-2 -B-64 Part One: INTRODUCTION The s e l e c t i o n , f o r purposes of c r i t i c a l study, of h i t h e r -to "undiscovered" works of l i t e r a t u r e i s a two-edged sword. On the one hand, i t r e l i e v e s the l i t e r a r y c r i t i c of the ob-l i g a t i o n to f a m i l i a r i z e himself with the utterances, often vast i n both number and scope, of previous c r i t i c s on the subject; on the other hand, i t imposes on him the burden of c< v i n c i n g the reader that the work which he has "discovered" i s indeed e n t i t l e d to such a discovery, i n other words: that i t s undiscoveredness, up t i l l t h i s point, was the f a i l u r e , not of the work i t s e l f , but of a l l the previous c r i t i c s who f a i l e d to see i t s true value, or even to get acquainted with-i t . Generally speaking, t h i s i s anything but an easy task; f o r i n t h i s world, the most natural tendency, even f o r pre-sumably quite sophisticated c r i t i c a l audiences, i s to assume that ' i f the work r e a l l y held such s i g n i f i c a n t value, some-body would surely have brought i t to a t t e n t i o n long ago.' Knut Hamsun's four-act play The Game of L i f e (Livet .sroll, 1896) i s very much a case i n point. To be sure, a u t h o r i a l lack of fame has presented no b a r r i e r to the discovery of any of Hamsun's works; f o r throughout at l e a s t the second half of h i s l i f e , Hamsun enjoyed worldwide reputation as a n o v e l i s t , and even some rather i n s i g n i f i c a n t works of his managed to get t r a n s l a t e d and read, on the mere strength of h i s name, i n a number of countries outside Norway. I t would therefore be n a t u r a l l y assumed that anything by Hamsun which i s not known at a l l - hardly even i n his own country - could possibly hold any, l e t alone any s t r i k i n g , value. And so, t h i s i s p r e c i s e l y the assumption which confronts the author of the present study, i n his c r i t i c a l capacity of the "discoverer" of L i v e t s s p i l . How could a b r i l l i a n t play by a famous author have f a i l e d so u t t e r l y to a t t r a c t any attention? F i r s t of a l l we may assume that the l i t e r a r y reeognition of a work, written d i r e c t l y f o r t h e s t a g e w i l l t e n d t o be dependent, a t l e a s t i n a f a i r measure, on some i n i t i a l s t a g e s u c c e s s , p r e c e d i n g o r c o i n c i d i n g w i t h t h e p u b l i c a t i o n o f i t . U n l e s s t h e a u t h o r has a l r e a d y been e s t a b l i s h e d as a d r a m a t i s t , a s h o r t d r a m a t i c work l i k e L l y j s t s ^ j s j o i l , d e v o i d o f any p o l e m i c a l o r i n o t h e r ways t e m p o r a l l y i n s p i r e d " s e n s a t i o n " v a l u e , might appear t o o i n -s u b s t a n t i a l t o a t t r a c t t h e a t t e n t i o n o f a r e a d i n g p u b l i c t r a -d i t i o n a l l y o r i e n t e d i n terms o f , n o t p l a y s , b u t r a t h e r n o v e l s o r b o o k - l o n g c o l l e c t i o n s o f (short s t o r i e s . As we s h a l l see i n t h e f o l l o w i n g c h a p t e r , Hamsun, d e s p i t e a q u a n t i t a t i v e l y n o t i n s i g n i f i c a n t d r a m a t i c p r o d u c t i o n , n e v e r r e a l l y e s t a b l i s h e d h i m s e l f as a d r a m a t i s t , and so i t has been g e n e r a l l y assumed t h a t no one o f h i s p l a y s c o u l d be s i g n i f i c a n t l y b e t t e r t h a n t h e r e s t o f them. More s p e c i f i c a l l y , L i y e t s s p i l happened t o be t h e m i d d l e member o f a t r i l o g y - known as t h e K a r e n o - t r i -l o g y , a f t e r i t s p r o t a g o n i s t , t h e L a p p - b o r n p h i l o s o p h e r I v a r Kareno - t h e two o t h e r p l a y s o f w h i c h can h a r d l y be s a i d t o e x h i b i t any s t r i k i n g f e a t u r e s o f q u a l i t y w h a t s o e v e r . ( A l -t h o u g h th e l a s t p l a y i s q u i t e amusing i n p l a c e s and would p r o b a b l y l e n d i t s e l f t o an i n t e r e s t i n g p r o d u c t i o n . ) As f a r as p l o t i s c o n c e r n e d , t h e r e i s l i t t l e o r no need f o r L i v e t s s p i l t o be r e a d o r seen w i t h i n t h e c o n t e x t o f t h e t r i l o g y ; i n f a c t , I doubt t h a t t h e r e a r e any r e f e r e n c e s i n i t t o t h e preceding-p l a y w h i c h c a n n o t be r e a d i l y g r a s p e d w i t h o u t knowledge of t h a t p l a y i t s e l f , o r even o f i t s e x i s t e n c e . However, t h e p r e -d i l e c t i o n o f academic c r i t i c i s m f o r t h e f a c t s of l i t e r a r y h i s t o r y has p r e v e n t e d , L i v e t s s p i l f r o m coming i n t o v i e w as a p l a y i n i t s own r i g h t , a p a r t from i t s membership i n t h e Kareno-t r i l o g y . I t i s h a r d l y an e x a g g e r a t i o n t o say t h a t i t has n e v e r been a c c o r d e d any r e a l i d e n t i t y beyond t h e mere f a c t o f t h i s membership. And, s i n c e t h e K a r e n o - t r i l o g y as a whole i s remembered p r e d o m i n a n t l y i n i t s c a p a c i t y o f one o f Hamsun'® weaker c r e a t i o n s , t h e e q u a t i o n o f t h e i d e n t i t y o f L i v e t s s j p i l w i t h i t s member-ship i n t h i s t r i l o g y has been v a s t l y d e t r i m e n -t a l t o i t s own d r a m a t i c r e p u t a t i o n . The p r e s e n t c r i t i c a l s t u d y does n o t u n d e r t a k e t o d e a l i n d e t a i l w i t h t h e whole K a r e n o - t r i l o g y , i t s c h i e f s u b s t a n c e having been limited to a comprehensive analysis of Livets S u i l on respectively the interpretative and the dramatic-aesthetic level. However, since some of the interpretative chapters w i l l contain references to the other two plays, and since I do not want to leave the reader entirely without knowledge of the trilogy in general, a brief outline of a l l i t s plots w i l l be presented in the following, section. 1 • At the... Gates of the Kingdom (Ve-d rigets port, 1895'). At the opening of the trilogy, Kareno i s twenty-nine years old; he i s completing a major philosophical-political work, presenting his theories which stand in sharp opposition to the prevailing l i b e r a l views of the philosophical community. In Act One, Kareno receives a v i s i t from. Professor Gylling, an i n f l u e n t i a l adherent of M i l l and Spencer, on whom the pub- . l i c a t i o n of his xvork - and, with that,, his financial security and entire academic career - depends. Gylling suggests cer-tain revisions in the book, but Kareno soon realizes that these would be tantamount to a more or less total repudia-tion of his be l i e f s . To these d i f f i c u l t i e s , beginning marital troubles are being added: Kareno's wife, Elina, unable to understand his absorption in his work, interprets his perpe-tual absent-mindedness to the effect that he i s attracted to their maid, and accuses him of no longer loving her. Act Two presents an evening party at Kareno 1s house. One of the v i s i t o r s i s Endre Bondesen, a flippant journalist who ingratiates himself with Elina - who f l i r t s away vigorously with him in the hope that she w i l l manage to arouse the jealousy of her husband. Also, there are Carsten Jerven, a young scholar, with his fiancee, Kathalia Hovind. Jerven, who has been Kareno 1s philosophical brother-in-arms, has given in to Gyllings demands and revised his dissertation in accordance with the views of the latter; this, in addition to his doctoral degree, has earned him a stipend which w i l l enable him to marry. He offers Kareno the honorarium for his dissertation as a loan and leaves the dissertation - to be read, as he asks, "with f o r b e a r a n c e " . When the guest;: have l e f t , Kareno s t a r t s r e a d i n g , and, immediately d i s c o v e r i n g Jerven's i d e o l o g i c a l somersault, he f u r i o u s l y c a l l s out " T r a i t o r ! " , j u s t as the c u r t a i n f a l l s . In Acts Three and Four we see Kareno 'breaking w i t h J e r v e n : He sends the money back, and, when Jerven twice comes to p l e a d w i t h him, he again r e f u s e s to accept i t . In the mean-time, N a t h a l i a has broken her engagement with. Jerven, making a resumption of i t contingent upon the l a t t e r ' s o b t a i n i n g Kareno's f o r g i v e n e s s , as i n d i c a t e d through an acceptance of the l o a n . Turned down by both Kareno and N a t h a l i a , Jerven swears t h a t he w i l l take revenge. In the end, Kareno h i m s e l f i s l e f t h i g h and dry when E l i n a , having now become t o t a l l y enamoured w i t h Bondesen, takes o f f together w i t h the j o u r n a -l i s t ; as a c o n c l u d i n g t a b l e a u of h i s b i t t e r f a t e , we see the b a i l i f f and h i s a s s i s t a n t s a r r i v i n g to impound the p e n n i l e s s p h i l o s o p h e r 1s possessions. 2» L i v e t s . s p i l . Kareno, ten years o l d e r than i n the f i r s t pla^/, has a r r i v e d at a s m a l l t r a d i n g - p o s t on the coast of Northern Norway where he has become engaged as a t u t o r f o r the two l i t t l e sons of a wealthy merchant, Mr. Oterman. As quarrymen b l a s t away a h i l l o c k on Mr. Oterman's propeicty i n order to open up the b u i l d i n g - s i t e which the l a t t e r has promised Kareno (Kareno wants to b u i l d a tower w i t h a cupola of g l a s s i n which to w r i t e . a n d conduct c e r t a i n experiments of mental tra n s c e n d -ence), a massive deposit of marble r e v e a l s i t s e l f underneath the seemingly w o r t h l e s s r o c k s . Oterman now claims the s i t e f o r h i m s e l f , . g i v i n g Kareno i n s t e a d a . p r o t r u d i n g headland near-by. T e r e s i t a , Mr. Oterman's daughter, makes q u i t e u n v e i l e d advances to Kareno, but the l a t t e r remains r e l a t i v e l y im-pervious to them. A t r a v e l l i n g band of musicians and a strange o l d man v i s i t the p l a c e , and we hear about a danger-ous, epidemic nerve f e v e r approaching from the n o r t h . I t i s s e v e r a l months l a t e r , autumn and storm. Kareno r e -c e i v e s a telegram announcing the ar3?ival of h i s w i f e . T e r e s i t a , who has more o r l e s s r e j e c t e d , h e r f o r m e r s u i t o r , t h e t e l e g r a p h i s t J e n s S p i r , and t h i n k s h e r s e l f madly i n l o v e w i t h Kareno, r e s o l v e s t o p r e v e n t t h e a r r i v a l o f t h e s h i p c a r r y i n g Mrs. Kareno on b o a r d : When Kareno asks t o have h i s lamp f i l l e d - h i s t o w e r w i t h i t s w e i r d g l a s s c o n t r a p t i o n on t h e head-l a n d a l s o a c t s as a l i g h t h o u s e f o r t h e s h i p s - she sends t h e o l d man, Thy, w i t h an empty lamp, so t h a t t h e l i g h t s t a r t s f a d i n g a f t e r a few m i n u t e s , and t h e s h i p l o s e s i t s way i n t h e dangerous s k e r r i e s . (The demonic T e r e s i t a i s w a t c h i n g t h e lamp fad.ing i n t h e t o w e r t h r o u g h a p a i r o f b i n o c u l a r s . ) E v e n t u a l l y t h e s h i p r u n s aground, and some o f t h e quarrymen go o u t i n Oterman's b o a t t o t r y t o save t h e p a s s e n g e r s . A c t Three t a k e s p l a c e on a n i g h t - d a r k day i n t h e m i d d l e o f t h e w i n t e r ; t h e p r e s e n c e o f many p e o p l e - a l o c a l market i s j u s t b e i n g h e l d - p l u s t h e combined e f f e c t s o f n o r t h e r n l i g h t s , a b l o o d - r e d moon, and t h e d r a m a t i c a r r i v a l , a t l a s t , o f t h e m y s t e r i o u s and f r i g h t e n i n g f e v e r , l e n d s an a l m o s t o p e r a t i c q u a l i t y t o t h e whole a c t . A l o v e a f f a i r between T e r e s i t a and Kareno seems now m a n i f e s t l y i n t h e making, and Kareno, t a k i n g advantage o f t h e d e p a r t u r e o f a f i s h i n g - b o a t f o r t h e s o u t h , p e r s u a d e s h i s w i f e t o l e a v e , under t h e p r e t e x t o f w a n t i n g t o p r o t e c t h e r a g a i n s t . t h e e p i d e m i c . A t t h e end o f t h e a c t , T e r e -s i t a has f a l l e n i l l , and J e n s S p i r goes away i n a b o a t t o f e t c h t h e d o c t o r f o r h e r . The f i n a l a c t t a k e s p l a c e t h e f o l l o w i n g s p r i n g . The l e a d i n g c h a r a c t e r s a r e now a l l more or- l e s s i n a s t a t e o f d i s s o l u -t i o n : Oterman, h a u n t e d by t h e i d e a o f how much he c o u l d have g o t t e n f o r t h e m a r b le i f he hadn't s o l d t h e q u a r r y i n g r i g h t s r i g h t away, has gone v i r t u a l l y i n s a n e ; T e r e s i t a , h a v i n g t u r n e d h e r b a c k on b o t h Kareno and J e n s S p i r , now p u r s u e s t h e s u p e r v i s i n g e n g i n e e r o f t h e q u a r r y , o n l y t o r i d i c u l e him a l i t t l e l a t e r , t h u s a c t i n g o p e n l y as t h e nymphomaniac she i s ; Jens S p i r , f i r e d from h i s j o b months ago.when he had l e f t t h e s t a t i o n t o f e t c h t h e d o c t o r . f o r T e r e s i t a , has become t h o r o u g h l y d e s t i -t u t e ; and K a r e n o , b a f f l e d and d e j e c t e d by T e r e s i t a ' s r e j e c -t i o n o f him, d r i f t s a r o u n d r e s t l e s s l y , u n a b l e t o r e t u r n t o h i s w r i t i n g . The end o f t h e p l a y i s t u r n e d i n t o a v i r t u a l m a e l s t r o m o f f a n t a s t i c melodrama as Oterman s e t s f i r e t o K a r e -no ' s tower t o escape from h i s p r o m i s e - g i v e n t h e day t h e mar b l e was f o u n d - t h a t l i e would f i n a n c e t h e p r i n t i n g o f t h e t r e a t i s e Kareno has been w o r k i n g on, and T e r e s i t a i s s h o t t o d e a t h by a c c i d e n t , Oterman a l s o l o s e s h i s two l i t t l e s o n s , t h e momentary, a c c i d e n t a l p r e s e n c e o f whom i n t h e tower he had known n o t h i n g a b o u t . Kareno l o s e s a l l h i s m a n u s c r i p t s , t h e r e s u l t o f y e a r s o f work, i n t h e f i r e . 3* E y e n i n g glow ( A f t e n r ^ d e , 1 8 9 8 ) . Kareno, now f i f t y , has moved t o g e t h e r a g a i n w i t h h i s w i f e ; a f t e r many y e a r s o f f i n a n c i a l i n s e c u r i t y and i s o l a t i o n f r om t h e e s t a b l i s h e d academic and c u l t u r a l community, he i s now a r r i v i n g i n m a r k e d l y i m p r o v e d ci3?cumstances : h i s w i f e ' s l a r g e i n h e r i t a n c e i s j u s t coming due, and h i s l o n g - s t a n d i n g p o s i t i o n as a l e g e n d a r y o u t s i d e r and l e a d e r o f t h e r a d i c a l p a r t y "The M o u n t a i n " has c o n s o l i d a t e d h i s renown t o t h e p o i n t where e s t a b l i s h m e n t a l p o l i t i c a l c i r c l e s , r e p r e s e n t e d by Bondesen -now e d i t o r o f t h e l e a d i n g newspaper - a r e s t a r t i n g t o c o u r t him, h o p i n g t o draw him away from h i s p a r t y and use him f o r t h e i r own p u r p o s e s . E l e c t i o n s b e i n g c l o s e , Bondesen wants t o per s u a d e Kareno t o a c c e p t c a n d i d a c y f o r a p a r l i a m e n t s e a t w h i c h would o t h e r w i s e go t o J e r v e n (whom, t h e j e a l o u s newspaper-man hopes t o s c a n d a l i z e a f t e r h a v i n g d i s c o v e r e d him i n an i n -t i m a t e s i t u a t i o n w i t h Kareno' s maid, w i t h whom he was a l s o h a v i n g an a f f a i r h i m s e l f ) . Kareno i s caugh t i n a p a r a l y z i n g dilemma: On t h e one s i d e he i s b e i n g b e l e a g u e r e d by a l l t h o s e e s t a b l i s h e d f o r c e s o f s o c i e t y who, h a v i n g r e f u s e d t o honour him f o r t w e n t y y e a r s , a r e now c o u r t i n g him w i t h p r o m i s e s o f a l l t h e r e w a r d s t h a t were c o n s i s t e n t l y d e n i e d him; on t h e o t h e r . s i d e he f a c e s h i s o b l i g a t i o n s t o h i s a d m i r i n g p a r t y com-r a d e s , as w e l l a s . t o h i s own p e r s o n a l , d e s p e r a t e myth about n e v e r g r o w i n g o l d , n e v e r c h a n g i n g . The u n r e s o l v e d dilemma w i t h w h i c h A c t One ends i s f u r t h e r s h a r p e n e d i n A c t Two: I n a f r i g h t e n e d p r o t e s t a g a i n s t t h e i n c r e a s i n g weakening o f h i s •own d e t e r m i n a t i o n which, he f e e l s , he t e l l s h i s comrades t h a t t h e y can count on him: he w i l l s t a n d by them i n t h e e l e c t i o n . But i n e f f e c t he i s t h o r o u g h l y t i r e d out now and on t h e b r i n k of g i v i n g i n t o t h e o t h e r s i d e ; h i s f e e b l e moves t o pack up and l e a v e E l i n a and t h e d a n g e r o u s l y c o m f o r t a b l e h o u s e h o l d a r e becoming i n c r e a s i n g l y u n r e a l , d r e a m l i k e . I n A c t Three, t h e f i n a l , l o n g a c t , a s e r i e s o f g r o t e s q u e s i t u a t i o n s i s u n r o l l e d as Kareno r e c e i v e s v i s i t s f r o m a number o f p e o p l e w i t h whom he would n e v e r p r e v i o u s l y have dreamt o f d e a l i n g : H i s o l d ene my J e r v e n -- who has been working a g a i n s t him p i t i l e s s l y f o r t w e n t y y e a r s - comes t o ask him n o t t o a c c e p t c a n d i d a c y f o r th e c r u c i a l p a r l i a m e n t s e a t ; a young a r t i s t comes t o draw a p i c t u r e o f him f o r Bondesen's newspaper; t h e m i n i s t e r o f c u l -t u r e pays him a v i s i t and e n t i c e s him w i t h p r o m i s e s o f a p r o -f e s s o r s h i p a t t h e u n i v e r s i t y i f he w i l l s t a y o u t s i d e t h e e l e c t i o n r a c e . I n t h e end t h e e m b i t t e r e d Kareno, l u r e d by t h e p r o s p e c t o f a t t a i n i n g t o t h e v e r y i n s i g n i a o f e s t a b l i s h e d power w h i c h have f o r so many y e a r s been u s e d a g a i n s t him, g i v e s i n t o Bondesen and h i s w i f e : he a c c e p t s c a n d i d a c y f o r th e p a r l i a m e n t and c a n c e l s h i s membership i n "The Mountain 1'-An a b o r t i v e a t t e m p t , by h i s young, f a n a t i c second-in-command. T a r e , t o a s s a s s i n a t e him, f u r t h e r s o l i d i f i e s h i s chances o f d e f e a t i n g J e r v e n i n t h e e l e c t i o n . The g r o t e s q u e e n d i n g shows Kareno on h i s way i n t o t h e u l t i m a t e r e a c t i o n a r y l i f e - s t y l e ^ f o l d - a g e c o n s e r v a t i s m . There i s no doubt t h a t , a t t h e t i r e when Hamsun w r o t e t h e K a r e n o - t r i l o g y , i t s theme - t h e g r a d u a t e d e f e a t o f y o u t h f u l r a d i c a l i s m by t h e a d v e r s e f o r c e s o f . . i f e , age, and s o c i e t y •-was o f g r e a t i m p o r t a n c e t o Hamsun h i m s e l f . The t h i r t y - y e a r o l d a u t h o r who was c a t a p u l t e d i n t o fame w i t h Hunger i n 1890 ma have.been young i n terms o f mere n u m e r i c a l age; b u t e x i s t e n t i a l l y , i . e . i n terms o f t h e e n t i r e preceding- decade o f g r a v e h a r d s h i p s and d i s a p p o i n t m e n t s w h i c h he had endured, he may w e l l have f e l t t h a t he had l o s t h i s whole y o u t h i n t h e p r c e e s o f c o n q u e r i n g t h e o b s t a c l e s t o t h e r e c o g n i t i o n he so " a r d e n t l y l o n g e d f o r . I t i s as i f he had managed t o r e m a i n young o n l y f o r as l o n g as t h e d e a d l y s t r u g g l e t o s t a y a l i v e had been c l a i m i n g h i s whole m e n t a l and p h y s i c a l b e i n g ; and t h a t , once he had a t l a s t a c h i e v e d t h a t w h i c h must g r a d u a l l y have come to'seem t o him The I m p o s s i b l e , t h e m e n t a l r e a c t i o n , l o n g o v e r -due, s e t i n . A f t e r Hunger, o n l y h i s g r e a t m a s t e r p i e c e M y s t e r i e s , and, t o some e x t e n t , h i s s a t i r i c a l n o v e l E d i t o r Lynge ( b o t h 1892) e x h i b i t f e a t u r e s o f t h a t same y o u t h f u l d a r e d e v i l t r y ; t h e f o l l o w i n g n o v e l , Shallow, . S o i l (1893), seems t i r e d t o i t s v e r y marrow, and even t h e c e l e b r a t e d r o m a n t i c s p i r i t o f Pan (1894) i s a n y t h i n g b u t t h e s p i r i t o f b l o s s o m i n g y o u t h : i t i s t h e r o m a n t i c t e s t a m e n t o f someone now u n m i s t a k -a b l y moving i n t o t h e shadows o f a c r i t i c a l e x i s t e n t i a l t i r e d -n e s s . When, a t t h e age o f t h i r t y • - f i v e , Hamsun s e t o u t t o w r i t e t h e K a r e n o - t r i l o g y , t h e C3?isis was m a n i f e s t l y coming t o a head: f o r h e r e , f o r t h e f i r s t t i m e , he u n d e r t o o k t o d e a l e x p l i c i t l y w i t h t h a t v e r y theme - y o u t h v e r s u s o l d age, and th e h o p e l e s s l y d e s t r u c t i v e e f f e c t s o f t h e l a t t e r on t h e hu-man s p i r i t - w h i c h he was g o i n g t o p u r s u e so a d d i c t e d l y i n a l m o s t a l l h i s w r i t i n g f o r t h e n e x t s e v e n t e e n y e a r s . U n f o r t u n -a t e l y , t h e v e r y f e a r - t h e f e a r o f waning i n s p i r a t i o n - w h i c h must have d r i v e n him on t o d e a l w i t h t h i s theme was a l s o i n -e x o r a b l y borne o ut i n t h e r e s u l t s o f h i s d e a l i n g s w i t h i t ; f o r , d e s p i t e t h e a l m o s t a b s u r d l y c o m i c a l q u a l i t i e s o f t h e l a s t p l a y o f t h e t r i l o g y , t h e r e i s n o t h i n g v e r y i n s p i r e d o r i n t e -r e s t i n g about K a r e n o 1 s h a r d s h i p s a t t h e hands o f t h e e s t a b l i s h -ment; a l s o , t h e s p e c i a l , Hamsunesque b r a n d o f a r i s t o c r a t i c r a d i c a l i s m p r o c l a i m e d by h i s d a r i n g " p h i l o s o p h e r " h e r o ••- t h e l a t t e r s p e a k s , among o t h e r t h i n g s , o f " d e f i a n c e , h a t r e d , r e -venge" as " e t h i c a l f o r c e s on t h e d e c l i n e " •- i s so i n s u b s t a n t i -a l l y and i m m a t u r e l y p r e s e n t e d as t o make i t a l m o s t i m p o s s i b l e t o f o l l o w K a r e n o 1 s t h o r n y campaign a g a i n s t society? - w i t h any r e a l s e r i o u s n e s s . Thus t h e t r u l y i n t e r e s t i n g f e a t u r e s o f Ham-sun's Kareno e f f o r t do n o t l i e w i t h t h e t r i l o g y as a whole, b u t r a t h e r w i t h t h e s t r a n g e l y p o e t i c , s t r a n g e l y f a n t a s t i c f a s h i o n i n w h i c h t h e t h e m a t i c and d r a m a t i c t e x t u r e o f t h e m i d d l e p l a y d e p a r t s from, and t r a n s c e n d s , t h o s e o f i t s r a t h e r wooden n e i g h b o u r s . F o r a l t h o u g h - as I s h a l l l a t e r t r y t o show - t h e e v e n t s o f L i v e t s s p i l r e m a i n f u l l y o p e r a t i v e w i t h i n t h e l a r g e r p r o g r e s s i o n scheme o f t h e t r i l o g y , t h e p l a y i t s e l f c o n s t i t u t e s a more s t r i k i n g d e p a r t u r e f rom r e a l i s m t h a n any-t h i n g Hamsun had w r i t t e n o r would e v e r w r i t e a g a i n . There i s some wry amusement t o he f o u n d i n t h e r e c o l l e c t i o n o f how, i n one o f t h o s e famous p o l e m i c l e c t u r e s on l i t e r a t u r e w i t h which he appe a r e d b e f o r e a s e r i e s o f Norwegian c i t y a u d i e n c e s d u r i n g t h e y e a r 1891, Hamsun, a m i d s t g e n e r a l c r i t i -c i s m o f , among o t h e r Norwegian a u t h o r s , I b s e n , l e v e l e d a . s p e c i a l a t t a c k a g a i n s t The Lady from t h e _ S e a -• p u b l i s h e d t h r e e years e a r l i e r - f o r what he d e s c r i b e d as i t s u t t e r a b s t r u s e n e s a . F o r t h i s was t h e y e a r b e f o r e Hamsun h i m s e l f p u b l i s h e d Mysteries, t h a t a s t o u n d i n g n o v e l w h i c h has now f o r a l m o s t e i g h t y y e a r s d e f i e d t h e f e e b l e p i e c e m e a l e f f o r t s o f i t s would-be i n t e r p r e t e r s , and f i v e y e a r s b e f o r e t h e p u b l i c a -t i o n o f L I v e t s . . s p i l ; two works compared t o w h i c h t h e p l a y about I b s e n ' s u p r o o t e d "mermaid" seems a l m o s t s e d a t e l y unab-struse, n o t t o say s i m p l e . U n d e n i a b l y , Hamsun's uncompromising q u e s t f o r p e r f e c t i o n and p r e c i s i o n i n h i s i m a g i n a t i v e w r i t i n g was n o t e x a c t l y d u p l i c a t e d i n h i s u t t e r a n c e s on t h e l e v e l o f p u b l i c d e b a t e . He would a c c u s e I b s e n o f a b s t r u s e n e s s a t one moment i f t h a t happened t o s u i t him, o n l y t o c o m p l a i n t h e n e x t moment about h i s l a c k o f p s j ^ c h o l o g i c a l i n s i g h t and t h e s i m p l i s t i c q u a l i t y o f h i s c h a r a c t e r c r e a t i o n s . I t i s d i f f i c u l t t o b e l i e v e t h a t t h e hawk-eyed Hamsun r e a l l y f o u n d a p l a y l i k e The Lady f r o m t h e Sea i n any way a b s t r u s e . We a r e u n d o u b t e d l y c l o s e r t o h i s c e n t r a l v i e w o f I b s e n when N a g e l i n M y s t e r i e s , r e f e r s t o t h e famous d r a m a t i s t by p r o c l a i m i n g t h a t "most o f h i s p l a y s a r e l i k e d r a m a t i z e d woodpulp." And y e t , when Hamsun s t a r t e d o u t , a few y e a r s l a t e r , as a d r a m a t i s t h i m s e l f , N a g e l ' s g i b e a g a i n s t I b s e n c o u l d h a r d l y have boomeranged b a c k i n t o a more r e a d y t a r g e t t h a n A t the. Gates o f t h e Kingdom; f o r t h i s i s n o t a p l a y i n w h i c h t h e d i a l o g u e i s seen t o r i s e s p e c t a c u -l a r l y above t h e woodpulp l e v e l - even i f , on t h e b a s i s o f t h e p l a y ' s c o n t e n t , a s p e c i a l c a s e f o r t h i s woodpulp q u a l i t y can be made. But i f t h i s f i r s t d r a m a t i c c r e a t i o n o f Hamsun's f a i l e d t o v i n d i c a t e him i n h i s p r e v i o u s c r i t i c i s m o f I b s e n , h i s n e x t one s u r p a s s e d v i r t u a l l y any o f I b s e n ' s p l a y s i n r e g a r d t o r e s i l i e n c e , i m a g i n a t i o n , and d r a m a t i c a & v e n t u r o u s -n e s s . C l e a r l y , L i v e t s s p i l was f a r removed f r o m t h e d r a m a t i c u n i v e r s e o f I b s e n , j u s t as i t was t o p r o v e f a r removed from any subsequent drama Hamsun was g o i n g t o c r e a t e . Thus o f t h e two i m p o r t a n t q u e s t i o n s one i s i m p e l l e d t o ask i n c o n n e c t i o n w i t h i t s o r i g i n , t h e f i r s t one -- t h e q u e s t i o n o f p o s s i b l e i n -f l u e n c e s and p a r a l l e l s - does n o t p r e c i s e l y r e l e a s e a f l o o d o f answers. Of t h e two g r e a t d r a m a t i c a d v e n t u r e r s o f t h a t t i m e , S t r i n d b e r g , i n 1896, had n o t even embarked m a n i f e s t l y upon t h e l a s t phase o f h i s d r a m a t i c c a r e e r ; w h i l e Wedekind. had two y e a r s e a r l i e r p u b l i s h e d o n l y t h e s e c o n d o f h i s m a j o r p l a y s , E r d g e i s t , f e a t u r i n g t h e f i r s t h a l f o f t h e famous h e r o i n e L u l u ' s c a r e e r . E x t e r n a l l y s p e a k i n g , t h e r e a r e v e r y c o n s p i c u o u s s i m i l a r i t i e s between t h e p r o g r e s s o f L u l u and t h a t o f T e r e s i t a , b u t on a more i n d i v i d u a l p s 7 / c h o l o g i c a l l e v e l t h e two c h a r a c t e r s seem r a t h e r d i f f e r e n t . S t i l l , a d e t a i l e d c o m p a r i s o n o f t h e s e two p l a y s might p r o v e a n y t h i n g b u t i r r e -l e v a n t , b u t u n f o r t u n a t e l y t h i s w ould e x p l o d e t h e framework o f t h e p r e s e n t s t u d y . The o t h e r q u e s t i o n w h i c h comes t o mind i s : Why d i d Hamsun, w i t h a h a l f - d e c a d e o f n o v e l i s t i c fame b e h i n d him, t a k e t h e s t e p i n t o t h e d r a m a t i c f i e l d ? J u d g i n g from h i s p o l e m i c p r o -c l a m a t i o n s o f p r e v i o u s y e a r s , p l u s h i s p r e v i o u s l a c k o f a c t u a l i n v o l v e m e n t w i t h drama, one might chance a guess t h a t he d i d i t t o e m u l a t e , from a now s e c u r e a u t h o r i a l p o s i t i o n , e.g. I b s e n i n t h e l a t t e r ' s own p r o v i n c e , so as t o add a new t e r r i -t o r y t o h i s a l r e a d y c o n q u e r e d grounds - r a t h e r t h a n out o f any spontaneous i n n e r u r g e t o seek h e i g h t e n e d p e r s o n a l e x p r e s s i o n t h r o u g h t h i s new medium. Such a guess w o u l d seem t o be f u r t h e r s u p p o r t e d by h i s c h o i c e o f s u c h a r e l a t i v e l y u n i n s p i r e d main, theme f o r t h e t r i l o g y as a whole. But a f t e r t h e i n i t i a l p l a y , he changed h i s d r a m a t i c s t y l e and v i s i o n c o m p l e t e l y - o n l y t o r e t u r n i n t h e l a s t p l a y t o a d i a l o g u e (and s t a g e atmosphere) as l i n e a r as t h a t f o r w h i c h he had t a k e n I b s e n t o t a s k . On t h e b a c k g r o u n d .of t h i s s t r a n g e c h a p t e r , as w e l l as s u b s e q u e n t , s t r a n g e l y a m b i t i o u s d r a m a t i c a t t e m p t s , Hamsun's e x c u r s i o n i n t o w r i t i n g f o r t h e s t a g e becomes a somewhat p u z z l i n g s u b j e c t . So, i f we c a n n o t answer w i t h any immediate d o f i n i t e n e s s t h e q u e s t i o n o f what prompted t h i s e x c u r s i o n , l e t us a t l e a s t examine t h e q u a n t i t a t i v e and q u a l i t a t i v e r e s u l t s o f i t . JT wo : HAMSUN"AS A DRAMATIST Hamsun's c a r e e r as a w r i t e r i s p r o b a b l y one o f t h e l o n g e s t i n l i t e r a r y h i s t o r y . From t h e p u b l i c a t i o n o f From_ t h e I n -t e l l e c t u a l L i f e o f Modern A m e r i c a i n 1889 t o t h e appearance o f h i s l a s t n o v e l The R i n g i s C l o s e d i n 1936, t h e r e i s a span of f o r t y - - s e v e n y e a r s ; i f one i n c l u d e s h i s l a s t book, On .Over-S£2.:/ L^.^§..k1i£, w h i c h showed him a t an u n d i m i n i s h e d h e i g h t as a p r o s a i s t , t h i s span grows t o s i x t y y e a r s . I t i s s i g n i f i c a n t t h a t a l l o f h i s p l a y s a r e w r i t t e n w i t h i n a p e r i o d o f f i f t e e n y e a r s out o f h i s e n t i r e c a r e e r ; t h e f i v e f i r s t p l a y s a r e even w r i t t e n w i t h i n a p e r i o d o f e i g h t y e a r s . I n t h e t w e n t i e s , Ham-sun r e p o r t e d l y e n t e r t a i n e d p l a n s f o r a renewed d r a m a t i c e f f o r t - one w h i c h was t o show how drama r e a l l y ought t o be written! - b u t n o t h i n g came o f i t . We know t h a t Hamsun had l i t t l e l o v e f o r t h e t h e a t r e and i t s w o r l d , and t h e f a c t t h a t he d i d n o t p u r s u e t h e w r i t i n g o f drama a f t e r he had e n t e r e d c o n c l u s i v e l y i n t o t h e w r i t i n g o f h i s l o n g e r n o v e l s s u g g e s t s t h a t he f e l t no a l l - i m p o r t a n t c a l l i n g as a d r a m a t i s t . .For t h e l i t e r a r y c r i t i c , t h i s i s a dangerous awareness t o work w i t h i n , f o r i t may v e r y e a s i l y b i a s him a g a i n s t t h e a c t u a l t e x t s so as t o cause him t o seek i n t h e s e , f rom t h e v e r y b e g i n n i n g , p r i m a -r i l y t h e e v i d e n c e o f an i n f e r i o r d r a m a t i c a b i l i t y and t a l e n t , - t h u s c l o s i n g h i s mind t o t h e s u b s t a n t i a l amount o f c o u n t e r -evidence which, he might o t h e r w i s e f i n d i n t h e p l a y s . I n t h e case of a t l e a s t one of t h e p l a y s , t h e one t h a t forms t h e s u b j e c t c f t h e p r e s e n t s t u d y , t h i s c o u n t e r - e v i d e n c e i s so s t r i k i n g t h a t v/e a r e f o r c e d t o c o n c l u d e t h a t Hamsun's f a i l u r e to s u c c e e d i n t h e f i e l d o f drama was t h e r e s u l t of a l a c k of a c t u a l e f f o r t , r a t h e r t h a n a l a c k o f b a s i c d r a m a t i c t a l e n t . . I t i s l i k e l y , i n p t h e r words, t h a t h i s s t r a n g e and. e x t r a o r d i -nary t a l e n t i n t h e r e a l m o f f i c t i o n m i g h t have been c a p a b l e of b e i n g c h a n n e l l e d i n t o drama i n s t e a d , and i n t h a t c a s e we might have g o t t e n a whole body o f b i z a r r e and f a n t a s t i c a v a n t -garde drama, on t h e s o a r i n g s c a l e o f i m a g i n a t i o n o f L i v e t s s j o i l i t s e l f . I am s a y i n g " i n s t e a d " , because i t i s not l i k e l y t h a t s u c h an e f f o r t would have a l l o w e d for t h e continued., s i m u l t a n e o u s a v a i l a b i l i t y o f t a l e n t i n t h e a r e a o f l o n g e r f i c t i o n . B ut s u c h s p e c u l a t i o n s , o f c o u r s e , a r e j u s t p u r e t h e o r i z i n g . I t h i n k , however, t h a t one g e t s c l o s e r t o r e a l i t y i f one r e c o g n i z e s t h a t Hamsun's o r i g i n a l i t y as a d r a m a t i s t e x i s t e d above a l l i n t h e sphere o f t h e f a n t a s t i c , t h e u n r e a l ; and t h a t h i s e n t r a n c e , a t t h e t u r n o f t h e c e n t u r y , from, an i n i t i a l phase o f " n e o - r o m a n t i c " w r i t i n g i n t o a phase o f i n -c r e a s i n g r e a l i s m t h u s l o g i c a l l y p ut an end t o whate v e r p o s s i b i -l i t y o f a new and t r u l y "modern" drama L i v e t s sp: 1 m i g h t o r i -g i n a l l y have seemed t o h e r a l d . The s i x p l a y s t h a t Hamsun wr o t e f a l l c o n v e n i e n t l y and c h r o n o l o g i c a l l y i n t o two c a t e g o r i e s , p r e c e d i n g and f o l l o w i n g t h e t u r n o f t h e c e n t u r y : t h e t r i l o g y (189^-98), p l u s t h e t h r e e i n d i v i d u a l p l a y s Monk Vendt (Munken.. Vendt, 1902), Queen Tamara ( D r o n n i n g Tamara, 1903), and I n the G r i p o f . L i f e ( L i v e t i v o l d , 1910). Taken as a whole, t h e t r i l o g y c o n t a i n s e l e m e n t s b o t h o f Hamsun's n e o - r o m a n t i c w r i t i n g and o f h i s subsequent r e a l i s m , f r o m t h e f i r s t deca.de of t h e c e n t u r y . On th e one hand, t h e p h i l o s o p h e r Kareno, w i t h h i s a r i s t o c r a t i c r a d i c a l i s m and h i s un.comp.ro mi s i n g i d e a l s , i s i n p a r t a de-sc e n d a n t o f N a g e l , t h e r o m a n t i c hero and ' m i n d - a t - t h e - c e n t e r ' °f M y s t e r i e s . On t h e o t h e r hand, the main theme o f t h e t r i l o -gy as a whole i s age, t h a t i s , t h e i n e s c a p a b l e e f f e c t s of o l d age upon t h e i d e a l i s m - however s t r o n g ' and u n c o m p r o m i s i n g -o f one's y o u t h . "Old age" - w h i c h t o Hamsun s t a r t e d a t f i f t y and w h i c h he was b e g i n n i n g t o f e a r now i n h i s m i d - t h i r t i e s , w i t h Pan f o r m a l l y showing him a t t h e h e i g h t s o f r o m a n t i c y o u t h - was t o become one o f t h e dominant elements i n t h e m i d d l e phase o f h i s p r o d u c t i o n , from a r o u n d t h e t u r n o f the c e n t u r y t o 1 9 1 2 ( t h e p u b l i c a t i o n o f Look Eack on H a p p i n e s s (Den s i s t o g.l e do ) ), d u r i n g which p e r i o d h i s own s i m u l t a n e o u s , and o f t e n d i f f i c u l t , .adjustment t o t h e l o s s o f y o u t h was r e -f l e c t e d i n most o f the t h i n g s he w r o t e . I n t h e t r i l o g y , how-o v e r , t h e age theme does n o t emerge e x p l i c i t l y u n t i l t h e l a s t p l a y , when Kareno has a c t u a l l y r e a c h e d t h e age o f f i f t y and d e f e c t s t o t h e e s t a b l i s h m e n t ; and t h e v i o l e n t c a r i c a t u r e i n w h i c h t h i s d e f e c t i o n i s p r e s e n t e d makes i t d i f f i c u l t t o t h i n k of even t h i s p l a y as a t o t a l l y ' r e a l i s t i c ' p l a y . I t i s chrono l o g i c a l l y p a r a d o x i c a l - b o t h i n terms of Hamsun's own p r o d u c -t i o n and t h e h e r o ' s age i n each of the p l a y s •- t h a t the f i r s t p l a y , A t t h e Gates o f t h e Kingdom, s h o u l d convey such a gene-r a l i m p r e s s i o n o f " f l a t " r e a l i s m as i t does. W h i l e i t i s p o s -s i b l B t o j u s t i f y t h i s , as I s h a l l l a t e r t r y t o do, i n terms o f t h e e x t e r n a l c o n d i t i o n s a t t e n d i n g t h e h e r o , one may a l s o i n p a r t v i e w i t as a c e r t a i n g r o p i n g f o r d r a m a t i c e x p r e s s i o n on Hamsun's p a r t , - as i f t h e mere t e c h n i c a l e f f o r t o f w r i t i n t h i s f i r s t p l a y had n o t a l l o w e d f o r t h e m a intenance of a supe o r d i n a t e d r a m a t i c p o i n t o f v i e w , a g e n e r a l a r t i s t i c v i s i o n . There i s a c e r t a i n d r a m a t i c awkwardness about some of the-s c e n e s , n o t a b l y A c t I I , s u g g e s t i v e o f t h e n o v i c e p l a y w r i g h t ; however, i n L i yets s p i l , i m m e d i a t e l y a f t e r , 'there i s no con-c e i v a b l e s i g n o f t h e n o v i c e w h a t s o e v e r , and, a f t e r a l l - t h e d r a m a t i c i n a d e q u a c i e s o f A t t h e _ Gates of__the i Kingdom were t o r e a p p e a r much l a t e r , i n t h e t o t a l d r a m a t i c i n d i s p o s i t i o n o f Queen Tamara. The two. subsequent . p l a y s , Monk Vondt and Queen Tamai-a, a r e " r o m a n t i c " , above a l l , i n t h e o r d i n a r y , s u p e r f i c i a l sense of t h e word. W h i l e th e b o l d e c c e n t r i c i t y and r o m a n t i c i s m o f L i v e t s s p i l had been c r e a t e d on t h e b a s i s o f a f o r m a l l y " r e a -l i s t i c " s i t u a t i o n and s e t t i n g , t h e s e two new p l a y s t o o k th e f u l l s t e p away f r o m a c o n t e m p o r a r y r e a l i t j r i n t o t h e d i s t a n t r e a l m s o f t h e e v e r - " r o m a n t i c " p a s t , r e s p e c t i v e l y l a t e e i g h t e e n t h - c e n t u r y Northern Norway and l a t e t w e l f t h - c e n t u r y G e o r g i a . Where Hamsun's r o m a n t i c i s m of t h e ' n i n e t i e s had m a t e r i a l i z e d i m m e d i a t e l y f r o m w i t h i n , i n t o t a l c o n s i s t e n c y w i t h h i s a r t i s t i c v i e w p o i n t , we now see him t r e a t a f o r m a l l y ' r o m a n t i c 1 s u b j e c t - m a t t e r f r o m t h e o u t s i d e , - t h a t i s , t h e r o m a n t i c universes o f t h e s e two p l a y s a r e ones w h i c h a r e n o t c r e a t e d c o e x t e n s i v e l y out o f h i s own w r i t i n g , b u t w h i c h e x i s t , so t o speak, i n t h e i r e n t i t y b e f o r e h a n d , a p a r t f r o m t h e w r i t e r h i m s e l f . I n f a c t , Monk vonat i s a v e r y i n s t r u c t i v e example o f how s u c h an " o u t s i d e c r e a t i o n " may come a b o u t . D u r i n g t h e f i r s t phase o f h i s w r i t i n g , Hamsun had d e v e l o p e d a s o r t o f s t o c k c y c l e o f r o m a n t i c m o t i f s , c e n t e r i n g a r o u n d a group o f l e g e n d a r y f i g u r e s f r om N o r t h e r n Norway o f t h e p a s t - I s e l i n , D i d r i k , Munken Vendt - w h i c h t i m e and a g a i n he i n t r o d u e e s i n t o t h e p h a n t a s i e s o f h i s r o m a n t i c h e r o e s of t h i s p e r i o d , n o t a b l y L i e u t e n a n t G l ahn i n Pan. I n y i c t p o r i a , t h e t h i r d book w h i c h young Johannes p u b l i s h e s d e a l s w i t h I s e l i n and D i d r i k , and t h i s book, Hamsun w r i t e s , was " s o f t and s t r o n g as w i n e " . T h i s b r i e f l i t t l e c h a r a c t e r i z a t i o n e p i t o -m i z e s Hamsun's whole a t t i t u d e t o t h e D i d r i k - I s e l i n m o t i f c y c l e . One f i n d s i t h a r d t o u n d e r s t a n d h i s p a r t i c u l a r f a s c i n a t i o n w i t h t h i s m a t e r i a l . Whenever I have come a c r o s s i t i n h i s w r i t i n g s , i t has s t r u c k me, n o t as ' s o f t and s t r o n g as w i n e ' , b u t r a t h e r as t e d i o u s and o d d l y i r r e l e v a n t . I n n e i t h e r o f t h e s e c a s e s has t h e r e been any m i s t a k i n g t h a t t h i s i s a f o r e i g n m a t e r i a I , i . e . s o m e t h i n g w h i c h does n o t grow o r g a n i -c a l l y out o f t h e h e r o ' s own i n d i v i d u a l i t y , b u t r a t h e r a p r i -v a t e hobby-horse of t h e a r t i s t ' s w h i c h t h e l a t t e r , a l w a y s c a r r y i n g i t a r o u n d w i t h him, has now once a g a i n seen h i s chance t o i n t r o d u c e i n t o a g i v e n c o n t e x t . I t i s one o f t h e few i n s t a n c e s where Hamsun's t e c h n i q u e o f w r i t i n g down whole i n d e p e n d e n t p a s s a g e s t h a t came i n t o h i s head and u s i n g them l a t e r i n an a p p r o p r i a t e c o n t e x t shows c l e a r l y and t o c o n s i d -e r a b l e d i s a d v a n t a g e . A t any r a t e , t h o t i m e had now come t o b u i l d t h e h o bby-horse i t s own e x p l i c i t , f u l l - s c a l e p o e t i c monument, and s o , i n 1900, Hamsun s e t out t o w r i t e Monk  Vendt. The r e s u l t i s a v e r s i f i e d m o n s t r o s i t y i n e i g h t a c t s , -i m p r e s s i v e , l i k e a H o l l y w o o d e p i c , by t h e s h e e r amount o f e f f o r t t h a t must have gone i n t o i t , b u t h a r d l y by any drama-t i c e f f e c t i v e n e s s as a whole. Q u i t e c l e a r l y , Hamsun had been t r y i n g t o emulate P e e r Gynt; b u t d e s p i t e t h e s p o r a d i c marks o f g e n i u s w h i c h Monk Vendt does a f t e r a l l show, he came no-where n e a r s u c c e e d i n g . I f e v e r t h e r e m i g h t have been a t i m e f o r t a p p i n g t h e p o e t i c s o u r c e s o f t h i s q u a i n t m o t i f c y c l e , t i m e , i n 1900, had r u n out f o r Hamsun. He had p r o b a b l y l i v e d w i t h t h i s m a t e r i a l t o o l o n g , so t h a t i t had g r a d u a l l y a c q u i r e d an e x i s t e n c e o f i t s own, as an i n d e p e n d e n t p o e t i c complex a p a r t f rom him. Through t h e p r o l o n g e d s t o r a g e o f t h i s roman-t i c m a t e r i a l , he had, i n o t h e r words, a u t o m a t i c a l l y been p l a c e d o u t s i d e o f i t ; t h u s i t was no l o n g e r r o m a n t i c i n any p e r s o n a l , e x i s t e n t i a l s e n s e , b u t m e r e l y " e x o t i c " . He was, moreover, now d e f i n i t e l y e n t e r i n g i n t o a new, r e a l i s t i c phase of v i s i o n and t h u s , from t h e v i e w o f any su c h r o m a n t i c l o n g -t i m e baggage he was d o u b l y o u t s i d e . As a m a s s i v e t o u r - d e -f o r c e , Monk Vendt r e m a i n s i m p r e s s i v e , b u t t h e t h o u g h t o f two y e a r s o f c o n c e n t r a t e d , work h a v i n g been used, up on i t makes one s l i g h t l y u n c o m f o r t a b l e . No doubt Hamsun must have f e l t u n c e r t a i n , d u r i n g t h e s e e a r l y y e a r s o f t h e c e n t u r y , as t o what d i r e c t i o n he was a c -t u a l l y g o i n g , f o r t h e n e x t y e a r he t u r n e d out t o have com-m i t t e d a new r o m a n t i c drama, - t h i s t i m e , f o r t u n a t e l y , o n l y about one t h i r d t h e l e n g t h o f Monk Vendt, and n o t i n v e r s e . I t i s t h e i n t e n s e l y u n i n t r i g u i n g s t o r y o f t h e b e a u t i f u l Tama-ra., queen o f G e o r g i a , who has t o be v a n q u i s h e d i n war by h e r husband P r i n c e G e o r g i b e f o r e she can acknowledge him as h e r e q u a l i n t h e i r m a r r i e d l i f e . To be s u r e , t h i s m a t e r i a l was n o t o l d - t i m e baggage l i k e D i d r i k and. I s e l i n , i t was an i m -p o r t e d s o u v e n i r f rom Hamsun's j o u r n e y i n S o u t h e r n R u s s i a and Tu r k e y some y e a r s b e f o r e . The acco u n t o f t h e . R u s s i a n j o u r n e y was p u b l i s h e d t h e same y e a r ( I A e v e n t y r l a n d ) , b u t a p p a r e n t l y t h i s d i d n o t seem a s u f f i c i e n t u t i l i z a t i o n o f t h i s new s p l e n d i d m o t i f c y c l e ; l i k e I s e l i n & Co,, Tamara and h e r C a u c a s i a n p a l a c e r u i n s had t o have t h e i r own r o m a n t i c drama. Of c o u r s e i t i s l e g i t i m a t e f o r any a u t h o r t o f a l l p r i v a t e l y i n l o v e w i t h any s u c h body o f r o m a n t i c - e x o t i c m o t i f s t h a t he may come a c r o s s ; however, h i s p r i v a t e l o v e a f f a i r does n o t i n i t s e l f ~ n o t i n any way! - make t h e m a t e r i a l w o r t h y o f b e i n g p a s s e d on, as t h e most n a t u r a l t h i n g i n t h e w o r l d , t o t h e r e a d e r . On t h e c o n t r a r y , t o have t o a c q u a i n t h i m s e l f w i t h t h i s e x o t i c mate-r i a l w h i c h o b v i o u s l y means a l o t t o t h e a u t h o r b u t t o r e a d e r r e m a i n s f o r e v e r i r r e l e v a n t , o n l y t u r n s t h e l a t t e r a g a i n s t t h e a u t h o r ; t h e e f f o r t i n i t s e l f i s u n r e w a r d i n g , and i n a d d i t i o n t h e r e i s the a u t h o r 1 s own n a i v e and awkward d e l i g h t i n t h e m a t e r i a l , w h i c h now - g i v e n h i s f a i l u r e t o l i f t t h e l a t t e r out o f i t s i n a n e l y p r i v a t e , t r a v e l o g u e - l i k e s phere - comes t o seem a l l t h e more p i t i f u l and a b s u r d . I n d e e d , t h e s t r a n g e weakness, t h e u n c r i t i c a l r e v e r e n c e f o r t h e s e two b a n a l l y r o -m a n t i c m o t i f c y c l e s shows a r e m a r k a b l e p r o v i n c i a l i t y on t h e p a r t o f t h e o t h e r w i s e so s o p h i s t i c a t e d Hamsun. Seven y e a r s were t o p a s s a f t e r Queen Tamara b e f o r e a new p l a y by Hamsun, h i s l a s t one, appeared. I f L i y e t s s p i l had been s t r a n g e o n l y i n i t s e l f , as a p l a y , b u t c e r t a i n l y n o t as a l y r i c - d r a m a t i c a d d i t i o n t o t h e a l r e a d y e x i s t i n g n o v e l i s t i c f i r e w o r k s o f Mysterie_s and Pan, I n the_ Gri.p_ o f L i f e i s p r o b -a b l y t h e s t r a n g e s t o f a l l o f Hamsun's dramas; b u t i t i s so i n a s t r a n g e l y i n c o n s p i c u o u s way, so t h a t one may n o t r e a l l y become aware o f t h a t on f i r s t r e a d i n g i t . P a r a d o x i c a l l y , i t i s a l s o Hamsun's most r e a l i s t i c p l a y . I n t erms o f r e a l i s m , i t t h u s com.es c l o s e s t t o A t ^ t h e Gates o f the Kingdom; b u t where t h e d i a l o g u e o f t h e l a t t e r shows a. c e r t a i n , s q u a r i s h s t y l i z a t i o n , t h e d i a i c g u e o f I n _the_ G r i p , o f L i f e i s more p l a i n l y , more m a t t e r - o f - f a c t l y r e a l i s t i c t h a n any o t h e r d i a l o g u e , o f drama o r f i c t i o n , by Hamsun. At t h e same t i m e , t h e e v e n t s a r e m u l t i f a r i o u s , . i n t r i c a t e and r a t h e r u n u s u a l - i n c o m p a r a b l y more u n u s u a l t h a n i n A t t h e Gat es o f t h e Kingdom! - n o t t o say a d v e n t u r o u s . T h i s odd i n c o n g r u e n c e between c o n t e n t and e x p r e s s i o n , the t r i t e and t i r e d c i r c u m -s t a n t i a l i t y w i t h . w h i c h t h e e v e n t s , i n t h e m s e l v e s c o l o u r f u l and m e l o d r a m a t i c , a r e g r i n d i n g l y u n f o l d e d , i s t h e most b a f f l i n g and i n t r i g u i n g aspect of the p l a y . In In the .Grip of L i f e , Hamsun again deals d i r e c t l y w i t h the tragedy of age. Is i s the s t o r y of "Eonge , ;-Juliane, the once famous v a r i e t e s t a r who had been a r o y a l .mistress and the most c e l e b r a t e d and d e s i r e d of women. Now long past her youth, she i s married to an o l d , r i c h , h a l f - s e n i l e man, and l i v i n g i n f i n a n c i a l l y splendid, circumstances. But her l i f e i s s l o w l y t u r n i n g i n t o a tragedy; f o r , as she d e c l a r e s h e r s e l f , she "cannot l e t go": cannot a c c e p t the d e c l i n e , the changes, the p a i n f u l adjustments she has to make. "Do you know what my f a t e i s l i k e ? W e l l , you see, w i t h people l i k e me i t j u s t goes down-h i l l and d o w n h i l l . ' You remember, 1 always oay t h a t i t i s going t o end w i t h a negro ( l a u g h s ) . Yes, i t i s . r e a l l y t r u e . And yet I am not a b i t o l d and u g l y . " (Act I ) J u l i a n e ' s present l o v e r , the r u t h l e s s and. h e a r t l e s s antique d e a l e r Alexander B lumens chjzfn, has been another such step downwards. Younger than she and. f u l l y aware of her dependece on him, he has taken c y n i c a l advantage of her a l l along. Now she i s l o s i n g him. too. In the end, her prophecy comes t r u e : she does, l i t e r a l l y , end up w i t h a negro. There i s something i n t h i s d o w n h i l l p a t t e r n which reminds of T e r e s i t a ' s pro-g r e s s i n L i v e t s s p i l , or even more of Hedda Gabler's road from L^vborg to Tesinan to Brack; s c h e m a t i c a l l y viewed, i t i s the p a t t e r n from the p r o t o t y p e s of The swineherd, the f a b l e of the b e a u t i f u l p r i n c e s s who r e j e c t s one r o y a l s u i t o r a f t e r another, o n l y to end w i t h a vagabond. But J u l i a n e had not r e j e c t e d anyone, she had given h e r s e l f to each of them, j u b i l a n t l y , without arrogance;' she i s simple l i f e ' s v i c t i m , the desperate contender a g a i n s t age. The f i g u r e J u l i a n e had had i t s model i n r e a l l i f e , but so had. Blmnensch^n. I t i s the l a t t e r f a c t which i s of l i t e r a r y i n t e r e s t , because t h i s same model - the Munich a r t d e a l e r W i l l y Gretor - had a l s o been the prototype of K e i t h i n Wede-ki n d ' s Der Marquis von Keith, of 1 9 0 0 . (Hamsun had l i v e d i n M u n i c h f o r some t i m e , i n 1896;) The two d r a m a t i s t s have u s e d t h e i r o r i g i n a l i n a l m o s t t o t a l l y d i f f e r e n t ways. B o t h K e i t h and. Blumensch^n a r e , t o he s u r e , lame i n one l e g , e s s e n t i a l l y c r o o k e d and. d e a l i n g i n , r e s p e c t i v e l y , a r t and a n t i q u e s . But w h i l e Blumenschjrfn i s meanness p e r s o n i f i e d , a v i l e and c o n -c e i t e d l i t t l e scamp v i r t u a l l y w i t h o u t s y m p a t h e t i c f e a t u r e s , K e i t h i s an i n t e r n a t i o n a l l a r g e - s c a l e s w i n d l e r o f c o n s i d e r -a b l e e x i s t e n t i a l s t a t u r e , t h i e f and t h i n k e r i n one -person, a S i s y p h e a n con man and t r a g i c h e r o who i s d e f e a t e d by h i s own p e r p e t u a l s e l f - e x a m i n a t i o n and i n c o n s i s t e n c y . A c o m p a r i s o n o f t h e two p l a y s b r i n g s out some o f t h e p a r a d o x i c a l f e a t u r e s o f Wedekind's and Hamsun's r e l a t i o n t o one a n o t h e r ; p a r a d o x i c a l because as a u t h o r s , as s p i r i t s o f d a r e d e v i l t r y , t h e y a r e so v e r y a k i n , w h i l e as d r a m a t i s t s t h e y a r e q u i t e d i f f e r e n t , I n some r e s p e c t s , K e i t h h i m s e l f i s a l m o s t l i k e a German c o u s i n o f N a g e l ; y e t t o p u t a N a g e l i a n hero on t h e s t a g e r e q u i r e d a s o r t o f h e c t i c , h i g h - p a c e d comedy,.a d r a m a t i c e x t e n s i o n and o r c h e s t r a t i o n o f N a g e l * s c r a z y schemes and r e a s o n i n g s w h i c h was n o t i n Hamsun's own. d r a m a t i c f a s h i o n . I t i s t y p i c a l , i n t h i s c o n t e x t , t h a t J u l i a n e 1 s t r a g e d y , c r u e l and h a r s h t h a t i t may i n i t s e l f seem, l o o k s a l m o s t c a l m l y m e l a n c h o l i c b e s i d e t h a t o f L u l u , t h e h e r o i n e o f t h e famous double-drama E r d ^ e i s t (1894) and D i e Buchse d e r P a n d o r a (190-'-!-). L u l u ' s l i f e s t o r y f o l l o w s t h e same d o w n - t h e - s t a i r c a s e p a t t e r n , b u t h e r d e s c e n t t a k e s h e r t h r o u g h i n c r e a s i n g l y s o r d i d , i n c r e a s i n g l y , c r i m i n a l a r e a s o f l i f e , where she becomes e x p l o i t e d , n o t by one man a t a t i m e , b u t by e verybody a r o u n d h e r ; and when a t l a s t she "ends up w i t h a n e g r o " , i t i s n o t j u s t a p o l i t e , N o r w e g i a n -s p e a k i n g b l a c k manservant, i t i s J a c k t h e R i p p e r h i m s e l f who c u t s h e r up i n a g a r r e t i n London. L i k e w i s e , where J u l i a n e i.o t h e v i c t i m o f d e s i r e and age, w i t h L u l u i t i s j u s t , p l a i n l y and c o l o s s a l l y , d e s i r e ; f o r Wedekind, t h e c o n t e m p l a t i o n , i n drama, o f s o m e t h i n g as q u i e t l y m e l a n c h o l i c as age w o u l d have been a l u x u r y f o r w h i c h t h e r e was no t i m e . He, t o o , can be r a t h e r c i r c u m s t a n t i a l i n h i s dramas, y e t t h e c o n s t a n t b r e a t h -.lessnes's o f h i s d r a m a t i c pace matches, b a s i c a l l y , t h e h i g h a d v e n t u r e o f t h e h a p p e n i n g s t h e m s e l v e s . I n c o n t r a s t t o t h i s W e d e k i n d i a n p a c e , I n _th. e__Grip o f L i f e - scorns p a r t i c u l a r l y l o n g - w i n d e d . I n i t s e l f , i t i s a v o r y l o n g p l a y - c o n s i d e r a b l y l o n g e r t h a n an;/ o f Hamsun's o t h e r p r o s e p l a y s - and t h e s l o w development o f i t s e v e n t s makes i t seem even l o n g e r t h a n i t i s . When i n t h e end a l l e v e n t s have happened - and q u i t e a l o t has happened by t h e n , t o bo s u r e - i t has t a k e n s u c h a l o n g t i m e t h a t i t seems as t h o u g h n o t h i n g a t a l l . h a d happened. Some o f t h e s e e v e n t s , as I have a l r e a d y s a i d , a r e q u i t e a d v e n t u r o u s ; b u t i t i s an i m p l o s i v e , s e l f - d e v o u r i n g a d v e n t u r o u s n e s s , an a d v e n t u r -ousness w h i c h c o l l a p s e s , ao t o sa y , s l o w l y under i t s own w e i g h t , - as i f one were w a t c h i n g a dragon munching away s y s -t e m a t i c a l l y on i t s e l f , from t h e t a i l upward, t i l l n o t h i n g was l e f t . I t i s n o t i n any way s u r p r i s i n g t h a t t h i s p l a y s h o u l d have f o u n d i t s most c o n g e n i a l r e c e p t i o n - and p r o d u c t i o n - n o t i n S c a n d i n a v i a o r Germany, b u t i n R u s s i a . F o r t h e k i n d o f drama t h a t Hamsun had h e r e a r r i v e d a t , and w h i c h was a t s u c h a g r e a t remove f r o m , f o r i n s t a n c e , Wedekind and S t r i n d b e r g , comes c l o s e r t h a n any drama, c l o s e t o no drama as u n m i s t a k a b l y as t o t h a t o f T j e k h o v . I n R u s s i a t h e r e was p r o b a b l y b e t t e r t i m e t o watch t h i s s o r t o f i n t e n s i f i e d s t a t i c n e s s on t h e s t a g e . D u r i n g t h e decade f o l l o w i n g 19-10, Hamsun g r a d u a l l y f o u n d t h e form t h a t was g o i n g t o l a s t f o r t h e r e s t o f h i s c a r e e r : l o n g , e p i c n o v e l s , o b j e c t i v e o r r e a l i s t i c i n t h e sense t h a t t h e y p r e s e n t a l a r g e number o f c h a r a c t e r s w h i c h a re n o t j u s t s e -cond a r y f i g u r e s grouped a r o u n d a c e n t r a l h e r o , b u t a l l more o r l e s s e x t e n s i v e l y i n d i v i d u a l i z e d . When t h e r e i s a f i g u r e who i s k e p t more i n f o c u s t h a n t h e o t h e r s , t h e r e i s n o t t h e n r e a l l y a n y t h i n g more e x c e p t i o n a l about him t h a n about t h e r e s t ; he may be a l i t t l e d i f f e r e n t i n some r e s p e c t s , b u t he i s n o t i n h i m s e l f an e x t r a o r d i n a r y i n d i v i d u a l w i t h h i s own u n i q u e v i s i o n o f t h e w o r l d , - he i s n o t , i n o t h e r words, "the mind a t t h e c e n t e r " , - t h e convex-concave l e n s o f t h e s u b j e c t i v e v i e w p o i n t . D u r i n g t h e p r e c e d i n g m i d d l e phase, t h e r e had' been works w h i c h t e n d e d i n t h i s " o b j e c t i v e " d i r e c t i o n , b u t t h e r e had a l s o been f i r s t - p e r s o n l y r i c n a r r a t i v e s w i t h t h e "wande-r e r " a t t h e c e n t e r , e x i l e d echoes from t h e s u p e r - s u b j e c t i v e works of Hamsun's e a r l y p e r i o d when n a t u r e and t h e u n i q u e n e s s o f t h e I had s t i l l been immediate and a b s o l u t e v a l u e s on e a r t h . T h i s s e c o n d phase, t h e n , had r e a l l y been a m i x t u r e o f e v e r y t h i n g ; i t had been more o r l e s s o f a c r i s i s . I t i s h a r d -l y an e x a g g e r a t i o n t o s u g g e s t t h a t t h e c r i s i s had f u n d a m e n t a l l y l a s t e d f o r about f i f t e e n y e a r s ? f r o m a f t e r L i ^ e t s s p i l , t h e l a s t r e a l l y i n s p i r e d work o f Hamsun's n e o - r o m a n t i c p e r i o d t h r o u g h Look Back o n H a p p i n e s s , t h e l a s t o f h i s t i r e s o m e t h r e n o d i e s on t h e t r a g e d y o f becoming f i f t y . But most o f h i s p l a y s had been w r i t t e n d u r i n g p r e c i s e l y t h e s e y e a r s o f c o n -f u s i o n when he was e x p e r i m e n t i n g w i t h a number o f new, and h a l f - w a y o l d , a p p r o a c h e s t o h i s a r t . T h i s , I t h i n k , a c c o u n t s f o r t h e p r o b l e m a t i c outcome. I t would have t a k e n a f u l l , un-d i v i d e d commitment t o c r e a t e a g e n e r a l l y e f f e c t i v e , u n e q u i v o -c a l l y o r i g i n a l k i n d o f drama. G i v e n t h e b a s i c d i s u n i t y o f t h e s e y e a r s , and f a i l i n g t h e s u r p l u s o f u n t r o u b l e d , und.oub-t i n g energy w h i c h must s t i l l have been a v a i l a b l e t o Hamsun a t the t i m e when he c r e a t e d L i v e t s s p i l , s u c h a t o t a l commitment to one p a r t i c u l a r l i n e o f e x p e r i m e n t i n g was j u s t n o t p o s s i b l e M o r eover, w i t h t h e s o r t o f f u n d a m e n t a l awareness o f h i m s e l f a a n o v e l i s t w h i c h Hamsun must have p o s e s s e d , i t would have t a k e n a much g r e a t e r p e r p l e x i t y t o c a s t a l l f i c t i o n a s i d e and s t a k e EVERYTHING on drama. Thus th e d r a m a t i c s t a k e s r e m a i n e d few and r e l a t i v e l y s m a l l ; y e t t h e g a i n s s u f f i c e t o e l i m i n a t e any l o e s e l y p r e c o n c e i v e d o r accustomed n o t i o n o f t h e d a b b l e r . Part Three: L IVETS SPIL: A COMPREHENSIVE INTERPRETATIVE ANALYSIS I. I t w i l l be i n s t r u c t i v e to look at the Kareno-trilogy as a whole from the point--of-view of idealism versus naturalism, i n a way s i m i l a r to the common approach to .Ibsen's plays. I t w i l l then be seen that i n these terms the Kareno of At the Gates of the Kingdom, the f i r s t of the plays, d e f i n i t e l y maintains high i d e a l i s t i c goals and an unwillingness to compromise. However, the background i s also very d e f i n i t e l y a non-ideal-i s t i c 'one. The academic world which Kareno i s up against -represented by professor G y l l i n g - i s not i n any way s u s c e p t i -ble to h i s views. Due to i t s extensive power, i t i s also i n complete c o n t r o l of Kareno's academic fate and capable of t o t a l l y i s o l a t i n g him. Thus as long as he chooses to pursue his i d e a l i s t i c goals within t h i s academic context, he i s a c t u a l l y unable to advance towards them. Kareno's own house-hold represents an extension of t h i s " n o n - i d e a l i s t i c " back-ground. At c u r t a i n - r i s e , execution due to Kareno's f a i l u r e to pay h i s b i l l s i s only a few days away. As the play unfolds we see that Kareno i s unable to deal with h i s f i n a n c i a l problems, since he places a l l f a i t h i n the manuscript which he i s sub-mit t i n g f o r p u b l i c a t i o n . He continues to do so a f t e r h i s r e -f u s a l to r e v i s e and compromise, although i t should be obvious that under these circumstances r e j e c t i o n of the manuscript i s c e r t a i n . At the same time he refuses to consider the p o s s i b i -l i t y of accepting f i n a n c i a l support from h i s wealthy parents-in-law. F i n a l l y he refuses to receive help from his f r i e n d Jerven, because i n h i s d i s s e r t a t i o n the l a t t e r has abjured his former views and, i d e a l i s t i c a l l y speaking, "sold" him-s e l f . Thus on the domestic plane Kareno shows the same t o t a l r e f u s a l to compromise as i n matters of p h i l o s o p h i c a l convic-t i o n . But-just as, i n the l a t t e r sphere, Kareno i s excluded i n advance from any opportunity to f i g h t the b a t t l e f o r h i s i d e a l s , so i n the household sphere he i s exposed - and exposes himself - not to any grand and. t r a g i c defeat worthy of a great i d e a l i s t , hut to mere, t r i v i a l a t t r i t i o n . When i n the end Kareno's wife has l e f t him and, as a powerful con-c l u s i o n e f f e c t , the b a i l i f f enters with two a s s i s t a n t s to take away his possessions, we have the d e f i n i t e p i c t u r e of a man who i s not i n any way master of h i s own l i f e and circum-stances. Despite any admiration f o r Kareno's consistency, i t i s d i f f i c u l t at t h i s point to see him or h i s i d e a l i s t i c struggle as r e a l l y monumental. I t seems therefore a e s t h e t i c a l -l y consistent that - unlike i n most of Ibsen's " i d e a l i s t i c " plays - the potential"element of f a n t a s t i c a l i t y i n Kareno's aspir a t i o n s never pervades the atmosphere of the play i t -s e l f , - that the actual universe of the play never transcends a basic, immutable living-room realism and c o m i c - i r o n i c a l -s l i g h t l y s t y l i z e d - t r i v i a l i t y . I t i s t h i s element of unre-deemed, l o f t y a spirations which i s i r o n i c a l l y rendered through the s t u f f e d f a l c o n , the v i s u a l symbol of daring, soaring f l i g h t - but i n e f f e c t dead, devoid of movement, a l i f e l e s s shadow of the idea of i t s l i v i n g s e l f . I I . •The conditions which prescribe, a e s t h e t i c a l l y speaking, t h i s non-entrance of the f a n t a s t i c a l i t y aspects of Kareno 1s idealism into the general mood of At the Gates, of the King-dom are no longer present i n L i v e t s s p i l - In. f a c t , the non-i d e a l i s t i c - or n a t u r a l i s t i c - background f o r Kareno's s t r i v i n g has now been changed into one which provides unlimit-ed freedom f o r t h i s s t r i v i n g . One might conclude that t h i s new background i s an i d e a l i s t i c one, but that would obviously be i n c o r r e c t . I f by the term ' n a t u r a l i s t i c background' we r e f e r to the r e l a t i v i z a t i o n of values and the r e s u l t i n g h o s t i l i t y of the environment to i d e a l i s t i c s t r i v i n g , then ' i d e a l i s t i c background' means the r e c o g n i t i o n of absolute . values, i.e.a s o - c a l l e d moral universe. Now i n L i y e t s s p i l , Kareno has placed himself - at l e a s t from the view of h i s p h i l o s o p h i c a l pursuits - outside of any environment whatso-ever, at the outposts of c i v i l i z a t i o n . In the preceding play he had been v i c t i m i z e d - i n f a c t , t o t a l l y r e s t r i c t e d - by the r e l a t i v i z a t i o n of values i n the environment. This s i t u a t i o n we may c a l l " r e l a t i v i z a t i o n on a l e v e l of t r i v i a l i t y " . Nov/ by leaving that environment behind him he enters into a s i t u a -t i o n which i s apparently hospitable.to h i s s t r i v i n g , but t h i s s i t u a t i o n i s not, on the other hand, tantamount to the presence of a moral universe. In f a c t , the absence of a moral universe i s represented a l l e g o r i c a l l y through the character Thy, a strange o l d man who appears on a number of s i g n i f i c a n t occasions wanting to perform "an errand", as he says, but f a i l i n g each time to do so because nobody a c t u a l l y pays any atte n t i o n to him. In L i v e t s s p i l , then, the background of Kareno's a c t i v i t y as a thinker i s neither one of environ-mental value r e l a t i v i z a t i o n nor.one of re-es t a b l i s h e d abso-luteness of values. I t i s a new, f a n t a s t i c r e l a t i v i z a t i o n of values, the one which r e s u l t s from the t o t a l absence of any reac t i v e environment. This new s i t u a t i o n we may c a l l " r e l a -t i v i z a t i o n on a l e v e l of f a n t a s t i c a l i t y " . The constituents of t h i s new s i t u a t i o n are not d i f f i c u l t to discern. In At the Gates of the Kingdom, Kareno, then 29 years old, had s t i l l been hoping to gain recognition f o r him-s e l f and his ideas i n the t r a d i t i o n a l sense of acceptance by the academic world - although, of course, e n t i r e l y on h i s own terms, without compromise of any kind. This had proved im-possible. The end of the f i r s t play i s the beginning of ten years of i s o l a t i o n f o r Kareno. As a r e s u l t of h i s . r e j e c t i o n of Jerven, t h i s former f r i e n d of h i s had turned into h i s dead-l i e s t enemy; f o r Jerven had sworn that he would stand ready to thwart and crush Kareno 1s every attempt at recognition i n the future. In the beginning of L i v e t s , s p i l we learn that Jerven has kept h i s promise. Apparently Kareno had continued his struggle within that same environment, but the struggle v/as hopeless. When he f i n a l l y brought out h i s book, Jerven wrote against i t , with the r e s u l t that nobody bought i t . Vie must assume that gradually Kareno has come to accept and i d e n t i f y with t h i s hopeless s i t u a t i o n of h i s as something quite naturaO . "Yes, I am everybody's opponent," he answers when Oterman asks whether Jerven i s h i s enemy. I t i s t h i s gradual acceptance, no doubt, which has f i n a l l y made possible his r e t r e a t , at the age of 39, into No.rdla.nd where we f i n d him at the opening of the play. The r e t r e a t i s s i g n i f i c a n t i n a number of ways, Symbolically, such a r e t r e a t s i g n i f i e s an. i n d i v i d u a l 1 s . j o u r n e y , at some c r i t i c a l point of -exhaustion of h i s l i f e , i n t o h i s unconscious f o r the purpose of r e v i t a l i z a t i o n . In i t s e l f , Nordland, country of s o l i t u d e and mystery above the a r c t i c c i r c l e where anything may supposedly happen, i s of course an appro-p r i a t e symbol of the unconscious with i t s p o t e n t i a l f o r pro-found and powerful new impulses. In a more external sense, the change i s important through i t s i m p l i c a t i o n of f i n a n c i a l s e c u r i t y f o r Kareno: as tutor of Oterman's two young sons he has an easy job,.no economic worries and most of h i s time to himself; i n f a c t , he teaches only i n the forenoon and has the r e s t of the day o f f . This welcome change i f conditions i s of p a r t i c u l a r s i g n i f i c a n c e . i n the case of an i n d i v i d u a l l i k e Kareno. For the fantast, the personality of h i g h - f l y i n g s p i r - r i t u a l a s p i r a t i o n s of Kareno 1s type, the impingement of work and money problems jipon his e s s e n t i a l i n t e r e s t s i s p a i n f u l i n more than the ordinary sense; thus t h e i r removal s i g n i f i e s nothing l e s s than a t r a s i t i o n to the l e v e l of an uncondition-a l l y ' f a n t a s t i c ' l i f e , the d e f i n i t e romantic existence. (It i s c h a r a c t e r i s t i c that none of Ibsen's i d e a l i s t i c characters have to face any sort of d a i l y worries l i k e those confronting Kareno i n At the Gates .) That such a t r a n s i t i o n has a c t u a l l y taken place becomes obvious to us from the very beginning when we hear.about Kareno's unusual plans f o r b u i l d i n g a tower to work i n , and see the mining f o r the b u i l d i n g - s i t e sto.rt r i g h t away. While these manifestations are of course of a somewhat external, s i g n i f i c a n c e , the t r a n s i t i o n i s also r e -f l e c t e d on a more i n t e r n a l l e v e l , namely through the s i g n i -f i c a n t change of s t y l e about to take place i n Kareno's p h i -l o s o p h i c a l a c t i v i t y . A f t e r the p o l i t i c a l and c u l t u r a l p h i l o -sophlzings of h i s f i g h t i n g years he i s now entering i n t o a new phase of t h i n k i n g : "I have written my Sociology, now I write my Metaphysics. And I do not t i r e , I am f u l l of strength. I have brooded and speculated, I know everything that human beings know. But I want to know more." (Act I) The working conditions on which t h i s great p h i l o s o p h i c a l ven-ture i s to be based are of a corresponding magnificence. Kareno wants hi s tower to be round because he w i l l t r y to get. l i g h t i n from everywhere; the cupola i s going to be a l l glass, and i n the winter he wants to have a large r e f l e c t o r hanging i n s i d e i t . For he l i k e s l o t s of l i g h t . "Our eyes see a l l objects as round; I w i l l t r y to see surfaces. It i s n ' t impossible. I want to learn more, I want to f i n d out every-thing and f i x i t i n my mind. Glass and l i g h t , I say; glass and l i g h t . I place some hope i n that. Perhaps I could t r y by o p t i c a l f a l s i f i -c a t i o n to switch o f f my earthly cognition. I t should be p o s s i b l e . I w i l l incandesce my b r a i n with l i g h t and perhaps transport myself to c e r t a i n c l e a r states of being. Oh, how I want to get to the bottom of things." In actual f a c t , "glass and l i g h t " means much more than just the ingenious t e c h n i c a l device f o r c e r t a i n bold experiments. Like the gold of the alchemists, Kareno 1s "glass and l i g h t " has an independent metaphysical s i g n i f i c a n c e beyond i t s im-mediate concrete i m p l i c a t i o n s : i t has i t s e l f become the sym-bol of the t o t a l r e l a t i v i z a t i o n and transformation of accepted: r e a l i t y which Kareno proposes to undertake. "You see, Miss T e r e s i t a , our conceptions are i n no way absolute. We give them, a f i x e d foun-dation and then the^; are usable, they serve t h e i r purpose. Blows on a mining d r i l l produce sound. Very w e l l . But why shouldn't blows on a mining d r i l l be capable of producing l i g h t ? That depends on me. A person who i s born b l i n d w i l l e a s i l y learn to d i s t i n g u i s h be-tween a die and a" b a l l ; but open h i s eyes, and he won't know which was the die and which was the b a l l . . . When he began to. see, h i s whole point of view would have been changed: now things e x h i b i t q u a l i t i e s foreign to his conception of them. You see, what I want to do i s exactly the same thi n g : .convey myself into a p o s i t i o n .where I see transformed r e a l i -t i e s . And so, since nothing i s . t o t a l l y abso-lute-,; I may .just as well r a i s e the "chimera" to the throne, command i t to e x i s t as a f a c t , bestow v a l i d i t y upon i t , crown i t . . . Add to t h i s , that I may be able to s h i f t the e n t i r e ..basis f o r my observation of time. What, do I achieve by t h i s ? Great things; I am going te catapult my soul out to the shores.of e t e r n i -ty. " E t c This i f anything, i s " r e l a t i v i z a t i o n on a l e v e l of f a n t a s t i -c a l i t y " ... I t i s obvious that, i n correspondence with such extra-vagant designs f o r i n t e r n a l conquests, Kareno would -choose an extraordinary l o c a l i t y l i k e Nordland, i n i t s e l f ah e x t e r n a l i -zation, as i t were, of what he metaphysically speaks of as "the shore of e t e r n i t y " ; and i t i s also obvious that the dra-matization of Kareno 1s enterprise would have to take place at a l e v e l of f a n t a s t i c a l n e s s equal to these i n t e r n a l and ex-t e r n a l premises. So f a r , I have t r i e d to demonstrate how Kareno' s transition, from a s i t u a t i o n of t r i v i a l i t y i n At the Gates . to a s i t u a t i o n o f . f a n t a s t i c a l i t y i n L i v e t s s p i l has necessitated the creation, on the stage, of a romantic o r . f a n t a s t i c universe t o t a l l y d i f f e r e n t from the constraining microcosmos of the preceding play. The following'four chapters w i l l be devoted to an analysis of .the characters and t h e i r i n t e r r e l a t i o n with t h i s f a n t a s t i c universe.. I I I . The three mystical and powerful l i f e forces which govern, b a s i c a l l y , the important events o f Livets. s p i l and whose play with the characters has provided the t i t l e of the play i t s e l f are Logos, Eros and Mammon - or, i n terms corresponding to t h e i r dramatization i n the play: The dream of t o t a l cogni-t i o n , the dream of the all-absorbing•love, and-the dream of vast wealth. The immediate presence of a fourth powerful force, Nature, symbolized by the sea, the cycle of the year'-the four acts follow the four seasons i n succession: Summer, Autumn, Winter, Spring - and the ruggedness and desolation of the place, creates, from the view of ordinary human c i v i l i z a -t i o n , a momentous vacuum within which these forces are allowe the f u l l e s t p ossible play,' manifesting i t s e l f i n the extra-vagances of action and obsession to which the affected, charac t e r s are l e d . I t i s these extravagances, and the pregnant s e t t i n g within which, they are acted out, which provide the-' basic texture of f a n t a s t i c a l i t y of the'-, plsry. Of the numerous symbols i n L i vet s spil., each one f a l l s within the sphere, d i r e c t l y or i n d i r e c t l y , of one of these three, forces of destiny. Likewise, each of the four main characters - Kareno, Oterman, T e r e s i t a and Jens Spir - i s t i e to one of. the three forces. I have, already mentioned the s i g n i f i c a n c e of "glass and l i g h t " as a symbol of Kareno's p h i l o s o p h i c a l venture, and, with that,as an aesthetic symbol of the whole boldly romantic universe of'the play. However, the p r i n c i p a l symbol o f . i n t e l -l e c t u a l or p h i l o s o p h i c a l a s p i r a t i o n per se i s the t o w e r ' i t -s e l f . Pointing upwards i t s i g n i f i e s , of course, the-high aims of Kareno's i d e a l i s t i c s t r i v i n g . Most si g n i f i c a n t l y , , however, Kareno's tower has not been b u i l t onto a house, i n the. w e l l -known a r c h i t e c t u r a l t r a d i t i o n of Halvard Solness. It stands a l l by i t s e l f ; and so i t comes to s i g n i f y , above a l l . , the abstraction, the i s o l a t i o n , the loss of contact with human r e a l i t y a r i s i n g out of any deeply, one-sidedly i n t e l l e c t u a l preoccupation. Some of that same s i g n i f i c a n c e i s also i n part c a r r i e d by the other great symbol of the play, the marble quarry. When the marble i s f i r s t discovered, Kareno exclaims: " I ' l l be , b u i l d i n g my tower on marble ground!" The pure., abstract white ness of marble i s indeed a worthy foundation f o r a philoso-p h i c a l tower of t h i s kind. However, the primary function of the marble symbol l i e s , not with the marble which-has already seen the. l i g h t , but with that which i s s t i l l buried under-ground - i n -what., q u a n t i t i e s , only the earth i t s e l f knows -: the vast'subterranean r i c h e s , the idea of which takes •.. possession of Oterman as.soon as the i n i t i a l .astonishment has s t a r t e d to give way to speculation. The quarrying concession i s sold to a company f o r an extraordinary sum, but the .actual capacity of•the f i n d turns out to exceed by f a r the estimate on the basis of which tho transaction had been made. And now the demonic realm of the inorganic stakes i t s revenge upon Oterman fo r h i s profit-greedy v i o l a t i o n of its.-sleep. . L i t t l e ' b y ' l i t t l e , i t drives him insane. - In i t s e l f , t h i s lure of the subterranean stone-world and.its a l i e n a t i n g , maddening e f f e c t upon the v i c t i m i s a well-known romantic motif;-but the actual premise from which Oterman' s in.sa.nit3/ proceeds i s so h i l a r i o u s l y crazy that, with the exception of Gogol and a few other of the Russians, only Hamsun could possibly have put a madness of t h i s kind, before us. As the company goes on discovering marble f a r i n excess of.the estimated volume, Oterman, i n h i s newly-awakened greed, f e e l s cheated and s t a r t s viewing his f i n a n c i a l circumstances, not i n terms.-of the considerable amount of money he-.has a c t u a l l y made, but of that which he imagines he would have made i f the a d d i t i o n a l marble now being mined had been h i s . Thus i n his developing madness he r e g i s t e r s each new discovery, not i u s t as.an unrealized, opportunity, but as a concrete monetary l o s s , a f i n a n c i a l d i s -aster bringing him one step c l o s e r to the poorhouse! At f i r s t he puts the blame on the company, but l a t e r the idea enters his mind that t h i s whole economic -"ruin" i s being i n f l i c t e d , upon him d i r e c t l y by the white mineral i t s e l f - that he i s being l i t e r a l l y haunted, pursued by the marble: OTERMAN (mumbles, searching around on. the ground) : The y are a f t e r me., "'They are whisper-ing behind my back and pointing at me. They mean harm (stop_s). White mountains under the earth (measures out wide . wi t h_ h i s_.arms). As. b i g as t h i s . • (Act IV) Through i t s immediate e f f e c t , as well as the .incredible a t t i -tudes and actions a r i s i n g put of i t , Oterman's subterranean .obsession thus becomes one of the p r i n c i p a l sources of eccen-: ' • •' A - 2 9 t r i c i . t y and grotesqueness i n the play. ' • • From the viewpoint, of the- creation of a f a n t a s t i c r e a l i t y , Oterman remains the a r t i s t i c a l l y most successful character element i n L i vets ' s p i l . His madness derives it's e s s e n t i a l sub-stance from a symbol - the marble quarry — which i s i n it.--. , s e l f convincingly s u b s t a n t i a l and- powerful. In a l l . i t s formal., i n c r e d i b i l i t y , therefore, Oterman the figure' is . r e a l . The same-can hardly -be sai d .about the other a l 1-ccce'ntricity figure-i n the play, Thy, to whom I have already r e f e r r e d i n a pre-vious' context. The weakness of t h i s character i s that,; unlike-.Oterman, he has no immediate a f f i l i a t i o n with any correspond-ing symbolic r e a l i t y i n the play, and so i t s purported fan-t a s t i c properties, devoid'of a l l substance, remain a mere postulate: f o r Thy i s merely reported, on a number of occa-sions i n the play, to have the surname "Ju s t i c e " , without t h i s ever being spontaneously j u s t i f i e d or at lea s t 'accounted •for. (To be sure, the plague which i s approaching from the North throughout the two f i r s t acts and arrives i n Act Three might be viewed as such a symbolic r e a l i t y corresponding to Thy. But Thy i s not connected with the plague i n any.organic way; his a f f i l i a t i o n with i t , being merely that of a mysterious messenger, i s wholly s u p e r f i c i a l and a r b i t r a r y at best.) On the whole, i t i s hard to escape.the f e e l i n g that with Thy, f a n t a s t i c a l i t y i s achieved only through the. mere superimposi-t i o n of allegory:-, a matter of double regret, i n a play which has-otherwise so b r i l l i a n t l y steered .clear of p r e c i s e l y such devices'. . , Before leaving the two spheres of symbols - Mammon and the supremacy o f the i n t e l l e c t - considered so f a r , I should l i k e ' to draw at t e n t i o n to one-particular group of symbols f a l l i n g , i n d i r e c t l y , within the sphere of the latter-, - or, tmore to the point,connected to i t through the. r e l a t i o n s h i p of. contrast. Since 'the supremacy of.the i n t e l l e c t ' , c o n s t i t u t e s the one end of the r e l a t i o n s h i p , t h i s a f f i l i a t e d group of symbols can be described d i a m e t r i c a l l y as representing the counter-force' o'£ i n t u i t i o n ; In t h i s group we f i n d .three symbols, each one connected with' one of the male- characters. The telegraph symbolizes an important aspect of Jens Spir's p e r s o n a l i t y which I . w i l l come.back to l a t e r . The indigenous population, of the place, the Lapps,symboli7.es • the o r i g i n a l force of i n s t i n c t and i n t u i t i o n from which Kareno the philosopher - himself of Lapp descent - has become separated and which he has f a i l e d '• -to re-integrate into his o v e r - i n t e l l e c t u a l i z e d existence. F i n a l l y , the mute ins i g h t into the nature of the minerals . possessed by the second quarryman, Hjzfjer, symbolizes a dark sexual i n s t i n c t , an. e r o t i c i n t u i t i o n of p r i m i t i v e and imme-diate fprcefulness on the part of t h i s man - who has once ' been sentenced to hard labour f o r rape. Of the two quarrymen i t i s Hjzfjer who - as Kareno p u t s ' i t - "understands rock" ; i t i s also he who l i g h t s the fuse. The conclusion of Act One brings the sudden r e a l i s a t i o n that T e r e s i t a has been having an a f f a i r with him. IV. . . . : • We now turn to the sphere of the t h i r d great l i f e force i n the play, Eros. In t h i s sphere, we do not have t h e . c o n s t e l l a -t i o n of a character and a governing symbol ,- l i k e Oterman and the subterranean or Kareno and the'-tower - but rather. a num-ber of symbols subsidiary to a ce n t r a l figure,' T e r e s i t a , i n whom the force asserts i t s e l f d i r e c t l y and continuously, and. who can therefore h e r s e l f i n part be looked upon as a symbo-l i c representation of i t . One such subsiduary e r o t i c symbol i s the music - both that of the band i n Act One (and.possibly Act Three) and that played on the piano from i n s i d e the house by T e r e s i t a h e r s e l f .at the beginning and middle of Act .Two. The mood of the.piano music r e f l e c t s the mood of Teresita's own e r o t i c longings. In. Act Two these are being i n c r e a s i n g l y focused on. Kareno. •Teresita has learned from Jens Spir - who, i n his capacity of telegraph operator, i s the master of a l l , l o c a l secrets -that Kareno's wife i s on her way. On the f i r s t occasion of her playing, the music i s j u s t " b e a u t i f u l " (as Jens Spir,' who has been l i s t e n i n g outside, c a l l s i t ) ; on the second occasion i t is' f r e n z i e d , obsessed. This i s a f t e r T e r e s i t a has conceived and executed her mad design, f o r sinking the ship that c a r r i e s Kareno 1 s wife on board. In the desperate storm,, and without the guidance of a lighthouse, the approaching- mail-boat i s i n danger of • grounding, rand so Kareno has asked, to have his lamp - which he o r d i n a r i l y only uses to work by - sent out to the, tower. T e r e s i t a has sent Thy with i t , but - as' the ubiquitous, a l l - i n t u i t i n g Jens S p i r who has met him .on the way and taken. a look into the lamp had r i g h t l y guessed - the lamp was empty. And now.Teresita i s again heard playing .inside- the- house, • wi l d l y , while l i g h t i s streaming out' of the windows.- - I t i s noteworthy j i n t h i s context,' that l i g h t has a. dual • symbolic function in•the play. While i n connection with Kareno i t serves mainly as an i n t e l l e c t u a l symbol, i t s i m p l i c a t i o n s • i n reference to T e r e s i t a are always e r o t i c . This goes f o r Kare-no ' s lamp i t s e l f - a re c u r r i n g symbol also i n At _the Gates - which i n Act One T e r e s i t a had exaltedly proposed'to f i l l every day once he got his 'tower b u i l t ; and even more s.o f o r the lamp which i s l i t repeatedly when she i s i n the house, i l l u m i n a t i n g the stage with the whole white-hot erotomania of her unseen presence. This e r o t i c l i g h t symbolism i s c a r r i e d .'to i t s climax near .the conclusion of Act Two. As shots and distress-rocket's are being f i r e d from the b o i l i n g ocean and the quarrymen are going out i n a boat to rescue the passen-gers, T e r e s i t a , at the climax of excitement, once again i n -v i t e s Jens Spir. to come, with her into the house.. • ONE OF- THE QUARRYMEN (to T e r e s i t a ) : Your lamp i s smoking. • . TERESITA: Is i t ? Yes, l e t . - i t smoke. I ' l l ' ; turn i t up more (turns i t up). Jens S p i r . , JENS .SPIR: Here. TERESITA. (motioning towards . the_ house) : Gome, l e t ' s go i n " t h e r e . ; JENS SPIR (takes l:.cr l a n t e r n . i n - h i s hand). . TERESITA:. .Ho-ho, l e t ' s~go" in' there . A red . cock i s crowing i n s i d e me (up the steps followed by Jens S p i r ) . '• • • ' .In Norwegian, 'the crowing of the red cock' i s a popular.;, synonym'for f i r e , - especially'-' incendiary f i r e . Given the whole s i t u a t i o n , as well as the t r a d i t i o n a l sexual connotations of the colour red, Teresita's ex.it. words i n t h i s act present the powerful, l o g i c a l amalgamate of two basic aspects of her being: extreme e r o t i c obsession.and .extreme destructiveness. It i s through t h i s obsession, not through T e r e s i t a as a whole,.that the force of Eros finds i t s c e n t r a l expression i n the play. While Teresita's p e r s o n a l i t y can be viewed as the sum of.her s e x u a l i t y and her a t t i t u d e to i t , the sexual drive i t s e l f , through the sway i t holds over her, appears as an independent complex, a supra^-personal l i f e .force which has taken up residence i n her. This strangely c o l l e c t i v e charac-te r of her Eros i s expressed symbolically through the strange features of Teresita's own appearance., - the features by'which again and again, Jens Spir find.s himself so p a r t i c u l a r l y and i n o r d i n a t e l y aroused. , JENS SPIR (passionately): You, you your-s e l f make a diffe r e n c e to me. Your-stone eyes a f f e c t me, your protruding feet and your long hands. Whenever I see you coming, s i n smoulders i n me' l i k e dark-red roses. (Act I I I ) Stone-eyes, long hands, protruding feet - not everybody may f i n d t h i s to be of basic sexual appeal. "God bless you, she has a man's hands," i s Mrs. Kareno's only comment on her, -which may, on the.other hand, just be a statement of j e a l -ousy. At any rate, there i s something extraordinary, almost non-human about these features, eminently suggestive of some powerful and crude primordial p r i n c i p l e i n h a b i t i n g the young g i r l . Lieutenant Glahn i n Pan had been captivated by s i m i l a r features i n Edvarda. And the 'sin' which smoulders i n Jens Sp i r l i k e dark-red roses.whenever he sees T e r e s i t a approaching on her remarkable feet, seems to be the very archetype of sexual appetite and enticement. However, T e r e s i t a does not at a l l want to acknowledge t h i s dark-red endowment, she wants to have i t c r e d i t e d to Jens S p i r himself: TERESITA: I. love someone who doesn't go a f t e r me and. grab me. You're .just a vermin' on earth, Jens S p i r , you are nothing more. You have taught me 'your h o r r i b l e manners. JENS SPIR: Which, by the way, you knew before. - ' TERESITA: Oh no, that i s n ' t true. I didn't ' know much before. But you-were a quick l i t t l e creature. These few l i n e s give the essence of t h e i r whole r e l a t i o n s h i p . I t i s Jens S p i r who i s r i g h t : i f he has taught her 'anything, i t i s nothhng' out what she knew before. But i t i s impossible f o r T e r e s i t a to accept t h i s " horrible manner", her own a l l -pervading sensual urge and 'awareness, as a fundamental part of h e r s e l f , and integrate i t i n t o her p e r s o n a l i t y . She can only allow -herself, to see, i t i n somebody else of a matching d i s p o s i t i o n . Moreover, such a person then becomes nothing but a mirror.of her own s e l f , since she w i l l always' only recog-nize, the purely carnal aspects - that which she thinks of as base and corrupted - taking them c a t e g o r i c a l l y for the whole. Thus when she t a l k s _ o f Jens Spir's brutishness and h i s de-praved smile, she i s merely equating a l l of him with h i s •sensual desires, construing these, at the same time, accord-ing to the judgement of her own disclaimed sensuality. The bad which she thinks she sees i n him i s only the p r o j e c t i o n of her i n a b i l i t y to accept h e r s e l f . The psychological c o n f l i c t a r i s i n g out of t h i s dichotomy provides the whole dramatic foundation f o r the character T e r e s i t a . Her powerful sexual urge assigns her n a t u r a l l y to a man l i k e Jens S p i r , who, matching her on a l l sensual counts, i s equipped to s a t i s f y her q u a n t i t a t i v e l y as well a,s q u a l i t a -t i v e l y . "I am longing .for you when you are away," she t e l l s him; "I want you badly." She treats him d i f f e r e n t l y when he i s , .present.' Time.. and 'again she has had to give i n to . t h i s urge, but she i s s t i l l unable to accept i t n a t u r a l l y , and so her basic dependence on Jens Spir also continues to be un-acceptable to her. This c o n f l i c t underlies her whole- ambiva-lent behaviour, towards him, - which i n turn becomes the basis of h i s own ambivalence and ambiguity. Moreover, the i n t e l l e c -. • A-'•;•'-!-t u a l superstructure of refinement and irony of someone l i k e Jens Spir i s bound to.enhance Teresita'sself--consciousness, so as to make her f e e l constantly under observation, constant-l y exposed - exposed, no doubt, p a r t i c u l a r l y with regard to the prominence of 'those desires and d i s p o s i t i o n s i n her which she i s so eager to disown. On t h i s background.there may be d e f i n i t e advantages to an a f f a i r on the rocks with a s t r a i g h t animal l i k e H^jer - who probably renders as ready service and. keeps h i s mo\ith shut into the bargain. In Rosa, the second of the two l i t t l e ; n o v e l s about Benoni Hartvigsen,. there are simi-l a r implications in. Edvarda's a f f a i r with G i l b e r t the Lapp. Such an a f f a i r lacks any dimension of communication beyond the immediate sexual one. But while Edvarda harbours a v i r t u a l l y s u p e r s t i t i o u s admiration f o r Gilbert' and so has no f e e l i n g s whatsoever of s u p e r i o r i t y towards him, i t appears that Tere-s i t a has just more or' le s s been using Hjzfjer. In the r e l a t i o n -ship with Jens Sp i r , the existence, .schematically speaking, of an a d d i t i o n a l dimension i s what makes him Teresita's equal; but i t i s also that which, taken together with the un-ambiguously sexual dimension, creates the whole ambiguity and embarrassment of the r e l a t i o n s h i p . The conclusion which Teresita. has drawn from a l l t h i s and through which she i s , i n e f f e c t , t r y i n g to resolve - or rather escape. - the c o n f l i c t , i s that "she loves somebody who doesn't go a f t e r her and grab her". Not s u p r i s i n g l y , such a person has to be something s p e c i a l , someone d e f i n i t e l y apart from .ordinary men. . TERESITA: Your're so boring. You're just • an ordinary human being. I'm t i r e d of you. JENS SPIR: But Kareno? TERESITA: No, no, he.is not of t h i s world. . Whenever I meet him I gaze f i x e d l y at him and whisper YES. For I f e e l i t ' s the moon that i s coming to me and wants something. (Act I I ) • S t i l l , a moon of t h i s sort i s characterized l e s s through what i t wants than through what i t doesn't want. TERESITA: Do you know why I want to be with^you so much,,. Kareno? KARENO: No. TERESITA: Because you don't s i n . No, you are not ~ev~en aware that you have leave to s i n . KARENO: Well, I never...! TERESITA: And that's why I want to be with you. KARENO (sm i l i n g ) : I've heard good ones l i k e • that from you before. (Act I) As f o r Teresita's demand f o r something ' s p e c i a l ' , both Kareno and, l a t e r , c h i e f engineer Brede from the company, seem, to q u a l i f y . Kareno i s a daring philosopher, a professed v i -sionary who speaks of glass and l i g h t ; h i s asceticism, h i s s e l f - w i l l e d i s o l a t i o n from the r e s t of humanity magnifies him, i n her eyes, beyond human scope, endows him with the mystique and splendour of a s t y l i t e . She speaks of him i n terms sugges-t i v e of p r e c i s e l y such a resplendent and enigmatic i n s u l a r i t y , terms l i k e "the moon" and "a green i s l a n d " . As f o r Brede, he i s no prophet, to be sure, but then he i s exceptional i n other ways. An expert and organizer i n h i s f i e l d , . h e possesses the natural authoritativeness of the modern-day, no-nonsense pr o f e s s i o n a l , a product of money and streamlined e f f i c i e n c y . His p o s i t i o n as the b i g company's man-on-the-spot, supervisor of the whole remarkable mining e x p l o i t , f urther enhances him and establishes him as.something prominent within the context. So does, paradoxically, h i s own v i s u a l lack of streamlined-ness. "His hump, maybe," answers.Teresita when the r e j e c t e d Kareno asks her what she loves i n him. This.contrast be-tween vocation-based prominence and general p h y s i c a l appearance i s s i g n i f i c a n t . I t r e i t e r a t e s a s i m i l a r contrast i n Kareno himself from before the time when, through h i s display of "vulgar and ludicrous s i n " , he had "disappointed" T e r e s i t a . TERESITA: You weren't the one I hoped you were, Kareno. I've t o l d you before. You are a human being l i k e a l l the others, f u l l of vulgar and ludicrous s i n . I'm t i r e d of you. KARENO: But once, once you d i d love me? TERESITA: Dear me, do you think I loved your Lapp face and your spindly legs? Alas, no, you are-no-beauty. But you were so quiet, I thought you were f u l l of something from another world; f o r your face moved me. And then' you disappointed me.. (Act IV) Nor does i t take long before,' through a s i m i l a r misinterpreting of Teresita's favour, the poor engineer must repeat Kareno's mournful nose-dive into d e r i s i o n . TERESITA (vehemently): No, I say. Don't speak to me any more. What i n the world are you thinking of? Do you think you can be a 'lover? (looks him up and down).. BREDE: I think I can have a sincere love f o r you. TERESITA (uneasy): But that wasn't what I sought; no, i t wasn't. (Hard): How do you dare to k i s s me on my neck, l i t t l e runt! 'What d i d T e r e s i t a a c t u a l l y seek i n these two'unsuccess-f u l lovers? One wouldn't immediately connect two men of such highly d i f f e r e n t s o c i a l and occupational stations as Kareno-and Brede - the hermit and the decision-maker, the philosopher and the engineer. Yet i n the l i g h t of Teresita's s e l e c t i o n of them as a l t e r n a t i v e s to Hj^jer and, e s p e c i a l l y , Jens S p i r , the s i m i l a r i t i e s between them become quite obvious. From her point-of view, the s p e c i a l knowledge, the formal d i s t i n c t i o n of the "expert" which they both possess, gives them status of demi-gods, worthy of her s p i r i t u a l a s p i r a t i o n s : p l a c i n g them i n a category f a r above that ordinary crowd of which - through the mere disp l a y of ordinary, carnal desire - everybody else i s automatically shown to be a member. Kareno's tower and Brede's-p i s t o l - the engineer i s also an expert'shot - can both he seen as symbolic representations of t h i s s c i e n t i a l d i s t i n c t i o n i n the two men. On a symbolic l e v e l , however, the p h a l l i c character of these representations points to a p l a i n sexual urge as the true content of Teresita's s p i r i t u a l escapades. Given t h i s i d e n t i t y , i t does not look as i f the l a t t e r was going to provide much of an escape from the former: f o r sooner of l a t e r even a philosopher, l e t alone an engineer, w i l l think himself i n v i t e d to take that l i t t l e step down from h i s pedestal which'is tantamount, by d e f i n i t i o n , to instant membership i n the " c a r n a l i t y crowd"... As.an insurance against e a r t h l i n e s s , the pedestal i t s e l f , then,, i s but of temporary 'efficacy. The ultimate, insurance - that i s , the f a i l - s a f e escape mechanism -b u i l t , u n f a i l i n g l y , into each such s p i r i t u a l escape.de - l i e s i n that very contrast p e c u l i a r to Teresita's chosen i d o l s , w h i c h ! have already c a l l e d attention to: f o r i t i s t h i s con-, t r a s t , t h i s discrepancy between i n t e l l e c t u a l and. v i s u a l - and, i n the last' a n a l y s i s , amatorial - appeal which assures, her, from the outset,.of.a safe r e t r e a t . So long as the r e l a t i o n s h i p remains " s p i r i t u a l " , she can concentrate on the knight and ignore the countenance, thus g r a t i f y i n g her sexual urge by imagining h e r s e l f i n love, with the v i c t i m of her admiration. On the other hand, the thought of a c t u a l l y going to bed with one of these knights would.be absurd to her. As actual candi-dates f o r sex, Kareno and Brede are p l a i n l y unacceptable t o T e r e s i t a . Nowhere i s t h i s basic view of them' summed up more sha t t e r i n g l y than i n her s c o r n f u l reprimand of Brede: "How do you dare to k i s s me on my neck, l i t t l e runt!" Thus v/here the shining armour of s p i r i t u a l i t y ends, the e r o t i c repulsion automatically becomes a c t i v a t e d , precluding any s u s c e p t i b i l i t y whatsoever on her part to the feeble advances of her wooers. Through t h i s c r u c i a l s h i f t of focus she doublecrosses, not only the unfortunate lover-to-be,.but, e s p e c i a l l y , her own e r o t i c demon, the i n i t i a t o r of a f f a i r s and escapades a l i k e . Evidently, no such somersault•would ever be possible v i s - a - v i s someone l i k e Jens Spir, with an immediate sexual s p e l l inescap-ably at the center of the r e l a t i o n s h i p . In the long run, however, there i s really- no escape from the e r o t i c demon. It i s c h a r a c t e r i s t i c that each new attempted step away' from.'Jens Spir i s i n e f f e c t one step down f o r Tere— . s i t a , so as to i n d i c a t e that she i s also getting f a r t h e r away from the centre of her own i n s t i n c t . With Hjzfier, she i s s t i l l on sexual t e r r i t o r y , although, presumably, t h i s a f f a i r i s de-vo i d of a l l s u b t l e r aspects offered .by. the .relationship with Jens Spir.-With Kareno, she i s getting i n t o the realm of the escapade - where, through the fundamental ambivalence of her choice,sex has i n e f f e c t been precluded from the very beginning. F i n a l l y , with Brede, t h i s basic unnaturalness of the escapade gains .paramountcy through enhanced emphasis -. to the point of grotesqueness - on the features i n him r e l i e d upon by T e r e s i t a to preclude sexual a t t r a c t i o n . As to o r i g i n a l i t y of mind the' engineer i s ' also at l e a s t one s i z e smaller than Kareno.. I n every respect a c a r i c a t u r e , then, of Teresita's shining knight, he constitutes the terminal s t a t i o n on her mad race against" Eros. From here she can go no further, only back to Jens S p i r . But just as the repudiation of her r e l a t i o n s h i p with Jens Spir had, i n essence, been a r e b e l l i o n against Nature, so her p r o -posal to destroy him now leads l o g i c a l l y to her own destruc-t i o n . The p i s t o l which she ordeiB Thy to bring Jens S p i r - i t i s , s i g n i f i c a n t l y , Brede's p i s t o l - goes o f f i n Thy's hands. Rushing to the scene, Jens ..Spir finds T e r e s i t a dead and one b u l l e t l e f t In the p i s t o l ; he takes the p i s t o l with him and t e l l s Thy t o come and g e t . i t the next day. The i r r e s o l v a b l e r e l a t i o n s h i p has at l a s t been resolved in t o the death of both: since the two were r e a l l y one, one's death, leaves no room fo r the s u r v i v a l of the other. V. T e r e s i t a and Jens Spir had appeared made f o r each other, yet i n a paradoxical way t h i s very fact seemed to create b a r r i e r s of tension and antagonism between them which i n the long run proved insurmontable; and so, what ought to. have been the simplest and most obvious thing gradually turned into the most complicated and unachievable. B a s i c a l l y , t h i s pattern constitutes the recipe of a t y p i c a l love r e l a t i o n s h i p • i n Hamsun. Given the great c o m p a t i b i l i t y of the hero and the heroine,•the : d i f f i c u l t i e s which they put i n . t h e i r own way come to seem much more t r a g i c than any d i f f i -c u l t i e s caused by a lack of c o m p a t i b i l i t y or by circumstances outside of the r e l a t i o n s h i p . While there i s nothing r e a l l y t r a g i c , e.g., about the outcome of Nagel's and Dagny Kielland's r e l a t i o n s h i p - i n f a c t , a d e f i n i t e understanding between them would probably have l e d to considerable d i s t r e s s f o r both of them - RVibro's r e t r e a t from Charlotte (at the end of E d i t o r L_2;n.g.e) at the very moment when she declares her love to him s t r i k e s one with deep sadness. A f t e r Pan and Livets s p i l we meet the pattern again i n the c e n t r a l love r e l a t i o n s h i p s of V i c t o r i a , Honk_ Vendt and Segelfoss Town.,In the three l a t t e r works, the c o n f l i c t i s somewhat s t y l i z e d , •- the emphasis be-ing, romantically, on the pride which hinders each of the two lovers from g i v i n g i n to the other. This pride i s always an important element, i n the c o n f l i c t ; however, i n Pan and L i v e t s s p i l , the actual substance of the c o n f l i c t goes f a r beyond i t In these two works, the c o n f l i c t of the r e l a t i o n s h i p has i t s immediate r o o t s ' i n an inner c o n f l i c t p e c u l i a r to the heroine: the clash between her immediate e r o t i c i n s t i n c t and a c e r t a i n romantic notion i n her which we may c a l l "the dream of the p r i n c e " . While, as a f a c t o r of motivation, the .latter" might seem rather abstract i n comparison with the former, i t never-theless proves to-be at l e a s t as powerful. Edvarda's and Teresita. 1 s "dream of t h e prince" can only.be f u l l y understood i n terms of t h e i r s p e c i a l background, that i s : the -circumstances of t h e i r upbringing which we are able to deduce from the general data of the two works. Both Edvard and T e r e s i t a are the only daughter of the l o c a l magnate of a small and rather isolated- place; .both have l o s t t h e i r mother, p r i o r to t h e i r adolescence. Given these circumstances, i t i s easy to imagine the extent to which each of these young g i r l s must have been s p o i l e d at home, as well as the general atten-t i o n - e s p e c i a l l y male - which i n t h e i r capacity as l o c a l princesses they must have been enjoying. "The dream of the prince" i s a product of these two forms of a t t e n t i o n . Only the best has been good enough f o r Edvarda and T e r e s i t a , and so i t has become natural f o r them to attach extravagant expectations to.everything, i n c l u d i n g the idea of .their future husband. At the same time, the "dream" i s also a sublimation of t h e i r sexual urge. From the point of view of a "spoiled princess", s e x u a l i t y i n i t s l o c a l , more or l e s s p r i m i t i v e forms may well have come to represent something- un-a t t r a c t i v e , a phenomenon d i f f i c u l t to r e c o n c i l e with the idea of a romantic, rose-coloured l i f e . With T e r e s i t a , we have seen how the discrepancy.between t h i s anti-sexual view and the actu-a l , strong a s s e r t i o n of her own sexuality l e d to-a p e r s i s t e n t ambivalence i n her attitude toward Jens S p i r . In Edvarda's' case,, the anti-sexual tendency i s much l e s s e x p l i c i t , and hardly'.even conscious; s t i l l , i t enables her to override the strong sexual a t t r a c t i o n which she f e e l s towards Glahn. Even .in her case,.as i t turns out, the "prince" - according to the basic notion, i n i t s most abstract.form - is . n o t only connected with, the idea of wealth, education, g e n t i l i t y , - he i s also someone who i s u n a f f i l i a t e d with the idea, of sex. . Both Jens S p i r and Glahn have an immediate sexual appeal. Furthermore, they are not distinguished by wealth, g e n t i l i t y or "education" i n the t r a d i t i o n a l sense; Glahn i s even-capable of seeming quite uncouth at times. Thus i n competition with any r i v a l who possesses one or more of these assets, i n c l u d i n g the paradoxical advantage of 'a s o l i d lack of sex appeal, they are rather weak. Generally, as we have seen, t h i s lack of sex appeal i s concretized by a p h y s i c a l defect, or some mark- of unattrac'tiveness - a further p e c u l i a r i t y i n the strange p'vt^arn;. underlying'the. heroine 1s s h i f t of favour. Edvarda temporarily-switches her'attention from the a t h l e t i c Glahn to.the doctor, who i s lame i n one l e g ; l a t e r she marries the baron, who has also been shortchanged by nature i n various respects. T e r e s i t a moves on - from Jens Spir .and H^jer - to Kareno who i s not very good-looking,.thence to Brede who i s even le s s so.;In e f f e c t , however, they both remain t i e d to the man who has be-come the center of t h e i r sexual.awareness. In. India, years a f t e r t h e i r love a f f a i r i n Nordland, Glahn receives a l e t t e r containing a proposal.-from Edvarda; he chooses death In order 'to l i b e r a t e himself'from her, - or, more to the point, from h i s own insuperable pride which forbids him to return to her.-.Teresita i s driven further and further by her compulsory urge to. humiliate Jens - S p i r , - u n t i l f i n a l l y , i n order to l i b e r a t e h e r s e l f , she wants him k i l l e d ; i n s t e a d , s h e i s k i l l e d h erself,^ a. v i c t i m of chance - or perhaps, as.Jens S p i r puts i t , ' " b l i n d . j u s t i c e " . Where Edvarda l i v e d on, T e r e s i t a perished. In T e r e s i t a , the repression of sexuality through the pursuit of the "dream of the prince" had been.far greater. Or s a i d i n another manner: the main emphasis i n t h i s dream had been on the anti-sexual constituent or aspect of i t , while i n Edvarda i t had been on the external, "glamorous" aspects, such as g e n t i l i t y , d i s t i n c t i o n and so on. Teresita's repudiation of Jens Spir thus constitutes a f a r greater "treachery - against Nature" than Edvarda's repudiation of Glahn; i t i s t h i s very treachery which l i t e r a l l y b ackfires on her, as i f Nature were revenging i t s e l f d i r e c t l y by destro7/ing the one who had attempted to destroy i t . This d i f f e r e n c e i s also r e f l e c t e d by the constrasting pre-sentations of the two characters Glahn and Jens S p i r . Edvarda recognizes the. animal magnetism of Glahn's eyes, h i s "dyre-b l i k " (animal's eyes) as she c a l l s i t , as a d e f i n i t e asset. (She' claims that a f r i e n d of hers has used t h i s d e s c r i p t i o n about Glafeh.) To. her, t h i s symbol of h i s sexual -power'is not i n i t i a l l y i r r e c o n c i l a b l e with the "dream of the prince". On the contrary, as the doctor l a t e r points out, Edvarda had temporarily taken Glahn- f o r her prince, e s p e c i a l l y on account of t h i s magnetic f e a t u r e ' i n him. Romance and sex appeal, i n other words, are not d i r e c t l y incongruent i n Edvarda's view. But while Glahn had an animal's eyes, Jens Spir,.as T e r e s i t a claims to have conceived of him from the beginning, was "a quick l i t t l e creature" - quite a sordid twist to the romantic magnetism of "dyreblik"! And she speaks contemptuously of his red beard - another sexually suggestive c h a r a c t e r i s t i c - which he combs with a lead comb i n order to darken i t . Edvarda merely betrays s e x u a l i t y without condemning i t ; to T e r e s i t a , i t i s something e x p l i c i t l y e v i l . That Jens Spir does comb his beard f o r exactly t h i s purpose, s i g n i f i e s that he has l e t him-s e l f be forced into,the r o l e which T e r e s i t a has assigned to him: he symbolically accedes to the evilness of h i s s e x u a l i t y by t r y i n g to obscure the symbol of i t . The sexual values that t i e these two lovers together are not only betrayed, they are even d i s t o r t e d . The. d i f f e r e n t • s t r u c t u r e s of Pan .and L i v e t s s p i l cause a A-4-2 certain' d i f f i c u l t y .in the comparison of the two r e l a t i o n s h i p s In Pan, we followed Edvarda's and Glahn's love story c l o s e l y from the beginning to the-end. When L i ve t s_ _sp_i 1 s t a r t s , the r e l a t i o n s h i p between T e r e s i t a and Jens S p i r apparently has already culminated; moreover, .each of the acts.takes place at an i n t e r v a l of about three months, a f a c t which puts the bulk of th e . r e l a t i o n s h i p outside the framework of the play. .Most of the important events of.the a f f a i r are l e f t to the imagination; we ju s t have to construct them on the basis of what.is shown on.the stage. Thus while we learn a l o t about T e r e s i t a h e r s e l f , no d i r e c t i n s i g h t i n t o the r e l a t i o n s h i p i s provided through an independent c h a r a c t e r i z a t i o n of Jens S p i r the way i t was through Glahn i n Pan. Or, more p r e c i s e l y : the f a s c i n a t i o n which Jens Spir holds f o r Teresita.beyond an imme diate sexual t h r i l l i s not documented i n the same e x p l i c i t , , d e t a i l e d manner as that which Glahn held f o r Edvarda. The keynote .of Glahn's'"fascination dimension" i s hi s r e l a tionship, with Nature. His i n t u i t i v e d i s p o s i t i o n - manifested i n h i s a b i l i t y to sense and take signs from everything that goes on i n the mysterious wilderness around, him - i s based on a genuine e r o t i c vision' of Nature. It makes Eros h i s own ba-s i c , spontaneous way of expression, - makes him, e r o t i c a l l y speaking, l i k e a natural force himself. Glahn possesses the power of the' p r i m i t i v e , yet at the same time, his extreme per ceptiveness, h i s poetic v i s i o n and sense of d e t a i l are any-thing but p r i m i t i v e features. He thus e x h i b i t s that strange blend of innocence and knowledge which i s t r u l y romantic. Jens .Spir i s d e f i n i t e l y not.romantic i n t h i s sense. Sensu-a l l y , he i s as g i f t e d as Glahn, but there i s nothing of the l a t t e r ' s innocence i n bis sensuality, only knowledge.. Nor i s this•knowledge, l i k e Glahn's, of an i n s t i n c t i v e kind. One would rather c a l l i t - and with i t , h i s whole power of sensu-a l i t y - demonic. Love, to. him, i s not the divine feast' of Nature; i t i s " s i n , smouldering l i k e dark red roses" ... In-deed, Jens S p i r does not have a "dyreblik", - he has, as Mrs. Kareno so perceptively observes, "lygtemands^jne" I (The impli c a t i o n being that h i s eyes have the f l i c k e r i n g lure of the will-o'-the-wisp.) His red beard i s perhaps h i s most important symbol of demonic sexuality; i t c a l l s t o mind the d i a b o l i c a l o l d s o l d i e r i n H.-C. Andersen's The Red Shoes who put the dancing s p e l l on Karen's shoes and made them c l i n g perpetually to her f e e t . And T e r e s i t a f u r t h e r speaks of h i s "depraved smile" - which we do not.necessarily, l i k e her, have to con-strue as r e a l l y depraved, but which i s hardly, on the other hand, p r e c i s e l y innocent. S t i l l , the demonic q u a l i t y of Jens, Spir's "knowledge" does not. preclude the more immediate e l e -ment of i n t u i t i o n ; o n the contrary, i n t u i t i o n i s one of the most important aspects of h i s p e r s o n a l i t y . But i t i s not, l i k e Glahn's, an i n t u i t i o n based on an intimate r e l a t i o n s h i p with Nature; i t . i s thoroughly and uncannily i n t e l l e c t u a l , a funda-mental, all-round p e r s p i c a c i t y , capable of being used f o r con-crete purposes i n the game of l i f e . The s i g n i f i c a n t symbol of t h i s i n t u i t i o n i s .found i n Jens Spir's a f f i l i a t i o n with the telegraph. The telegraph i s Jens Spir's "profession", yet i n contrast to the heavy p r o f e s s i o n a l b a l l a s t of Kareno and Brede, i t i s not one which requires very, s u b s t a n t i a l s k i l l s ; and yet i t gibes' him a much greater, a much more general power v i s - a - v i s the goings-on of everyday l i f e than Kareno or Brede are able to derive from t h e i r s o l i d education. Symbolically A Jens Spir's p o s i t i o n at the place due to h i s a f f i l i a t i o n with the telegraph i s an important, almost mystical one; h i s power i s the natural- power of i n t u i t i o n , as against the a r t i f i c i a l , l i m i t e d power of acquired s k i l l s . The engineer i s a l o c a l Na-poleon i n matters of business decisions, a d i c t a t o r among the people working f o r him; yet v i s - a - v i s the e r o t i c r e a l i t y of T e r e s i t a he i s h e l p l e s s . Nor does Kareno•s synthesizing v i s i o n s of r e a l i t y make him any more f i t to meet r e a l i t y on i t s own, inexorable terms. Nevertheless, Jens Spir, l i k e a l l the others, eventually loses out in.the e r o t i c game. His equipment i s superior in. a l l respects,.yet he i s not r e a l l y a "strong" man; underneath-h i s b r i l l i a n t w i t and sarcasm run dangerously warm, currents of s e n s i t i v i t y , weakening the firmness of h i s s p e l l over T e r e s i t a and making i t impossible f o r him to transform i t i n t o a complete, e v e r l a s t i n g conquest. T e r e s i t a accuses Jens S p i r of being a r a s c a l , yet' the t r u t h i s that he i s not enough of.a r a s c a l to convince her that he i s stronger than her. To her, the d u a l i t y of h i s • p e r s o n a l i t y the whole mysterious dichoto my between s i n and s a i n t l i n e s s which intrigues'us and causes us to see him as a " f a n t a s t i c " f i g u r e - i s above a l l a sign of weakness; she claims that she would want to be -an honest man's wife,yet being 'an honest demon l i k e Jens Spir means "bei a. vulnerable demon, and she cannot surrender to anyone who i s vulnerable. His'great, s e l f - s a c r i f i c i n g act of s a i l i n g f o r • a doctor-when she has f a l l e n i l l and nobody else i s w i l l i n g to go out.in the raging winter storm, strips, him of a l l pretense of cynicism,.thus giving T e r e s i t a the d e f i n i t e upper hand. • Symbolically, as a r e s u l t of t h i s t r i p , he loses h i s p o s i t i o n .as. a t e l e g r a p h i s t ; without i t , ' he i s l i k e a dethroned magici.?. the target of incessant attempts by T e r e s i t a at h u m i l i a t i n g him. However, the compulsive way i n which she continues to taunt him now, only shows the undiminished strength of the t i e s ' t h a t bind.her to him. A f t e r a l l , her advantage over.him i s only external; i n death, they become .equals again. . VI. • One confusing thing- about L i v e t s s p i l as seen.in relation, to the r e s t of the Kareno-trilogy i s that Kareno does not seem to have been placed c l e a r l y at the center of the play. The t i t l e s of the three plays r e f l e c t t h i s incongruency. In the f i r s t play, Kareno i s the one who stands "at the gates of the kingdom" and r e s i s t s t h a t tempting i n v i t a t i o n of the establishment to enter which i s usually enough t o make a re-cognition-hungry young revolutionary succumb. In the l a s t play, the i n v i t a t i o n i s extended once more, and t h i s time Kareno accepts i t . The t i t l e of that play, Aftenr'gfde (Eve-, ning glow), r e f e r s i r o n i c a l l y to Kareno's "old- age" - he i s f i f t y now - as i f he were now entering into, some b e a u t i f u l , t r a n s f i g u r e d kind' of peace. But i t 'is only to the e s t a b l i s h -ment that t h i s peace has anything b e a u t i f u l about i t ; to . Hamsun, i t i s tantamount to s e n i l i t y . Even the stormiest, the most stubborn and implacable of r e v o l u t i o n a r i e s , Hamsun points out to us, w i l l eventually give i n - i f not e a r l i e r , then at-le a s t when be becomes f i f t y . . . • ' In the f i r s t , and 'the l a s t 'play then, the whole 'issue at stake i s whether Kareno i s going to stand firm on his p r i n -c i p l e s or not;.in the f i r s t he does, i n the l a s t he- doesn't. But what i s the r e l a t i o n s h i p ' o f L i v e t s s p i l to t h i s issue? C l e a r l y , since- i n - t h i s play .he has.placed himself e n t i r e l y outside any social'environment i n which the construct " r a d i -calism vs. conservatism" would have any meaning, there i s no e'stablishmental pressure, d i r e c t 03? indirect,- which, he could e i t h e r r e s i s t .or y i e l d to. A f t e r a l l , i n a small place above the polar c i r c l e no one cares a f a r t h i n g whether Kareno wants to send Gladstone and John Stuart M i l l to h e l l or whether he is-ready to throw himself i n the dust and worship them. Thus' many readers have undoubtedly conceived of the play .as a d i - ' . gression from the main issue of Kareno's l i f e as presented by 1 the f i r s t and the l a s t part of the t r i l o g y . To be sure, there are references i n Evening glow to the catastrophe which struck Kareno i n Nordland ten years e a r l i e r when a l l h i s papers burned. I t i s to this , time, he claims, that .his doubts date back. But t h i s catastrophe happens at the very end of L i v e t s s p i l , and even i f i t would l a t e r prove to have been a turning-point i n Kareno's.life, e s s e n t i a l to an understanding of h i s i d e o l o g i c a l f r a i l t y i n Evening glow, it'would hardly'be a j u s t i f i c a t i o n f o r the w r i t i n g and presentation of L i v e t s s p i l i t s e l f . However, f a r from being a digression from the issue of Kareno's. steadfastness, L i v e t s s p i l i s the. r e a l key to a comprehensive understanding.of t h i s issue. For i n the long run, the steadfastness of a r a d i c a l thinker v i s - a - v i s the estab- -lishment i s not an a f f a i r between him and the establishment, i t i s an a f f a i r between him and l i f e ; By moving h i s hero away from the acad e m i c - p o l i t i c a l b a t t l e f i e l d and placing'him', so to speak, at an Ultima Thule, Hamsun i n s t r u c t i v e l y shows, us that t h i s a f f a i r s may sometimes be s e t t l e d f a r from the mad-ding crowd. In f a c t , i t had probably been much easier f o r Kareno to keep h i s s p i r i t s high back i n h i s adverse environ- . ment; a f t e r a l l , the awareness of being everybody's enemy can be quite a considerable stimulus. In that case, to be sure, there i s mostly poverty t.o f i g h t , but that i s a c o l l e c t i v e e v i l , something one shares with most other people i n a s i m i l a r c o n t r o v e r s i a l p o s i t i o n . rTo be poor i s not ne c e s s a r i l y t o have been defeated by l i f e ; at l e a s t , i t i s not the kind, of defeat' which i n v a r i a b l y translates i t s e l f into subsequent compromise and renunciation. But to be shipwrecked i n love i s d e f i n i t e l y such a defeat.-The r e a l deserters and renegades are not prima- . r i l y the long-time sufferers, of poverty - a r t i s t s , p h i l o s o -phers - who have f i n a l l y been r e l i e v e d of t h e i r hardship's and accepted into•the mainstream of society; i t i s those, f i r s t and. foremost, whom love has made l i g h t of who lat.er be-come the hard-core guardians of morals and the established order. As i t turns out, then, the main the s i s of the t r i l o g y -that even the^ most stubborn and implacable r a d i c a l thinker w i l l i n due course assimilate into the establishment - i s q u a l i f i e d by the very p e r s o n a l i t y of i t s h:ero, by. the very nature of Kareno's stubbornness and i m p l a c a b i l i t y . For although Kareno claims ( i n Ac the Gates)-that t h i s stubbornness i s an obvious part of h i s Lapp heritage, i t has developed into something "quite d i f f e r e n t - the very opposite,- one might say, of that basic intimacy with the forces of Nature, that whole-i n t u i t i v e andadaptive relationship- to l i f e of which, i n Liv e t s sp_il, the Lapps may be seen as, a symbol. " L i f e t h e o r e t i c a l l y expressed' through thinking" - Kareno 1s d e f i n i t i o n of phi l o s o -phy as stated to Bondesen at the opening of Evening glow -t h i s i s the p o s i t i o n i n which, from the very beginning, we have seen him so t o t a l l y and hopelessly entrenched. Abstrac-t i o n - and i s o l a t i o n have become the hallmarks.of Kareno*s whole existence. I t i s a dangerous p o s i t i o n indeed. In h i s own' work, where i t was meant to- pave the way to unparalleled con-c l u s i o n s , i t leads..only to s t e r i l i t y . "Glass and light".may, conceptually speaking, r e f l e c t some basic and eternal p r i n -c i p l e s i n human' cognition; but as the sole, concrete basis f o r a ctual, systematic cognition they are just a r t i f i c i a l de-v i c e s , a"beautiful.and desperate gimmick, which, i n the way of r e s u l t s , w i l l produce nothing but an endless 'perpetuation of i t s ' own sublime transparence, - the transparence, not of l u c i -d i t y , but of sheer nothingness. The c u t t i n g of a l l t i e s to human r e a l i t y ' precludes any meaningful cognition about l i f e , -precludes, l i k e any.entrenchment i n a hedgehog p o s i t i o n of u t t e r extremity, the i n t e g r a t i o n of l i v i n g experience i n t o one's chosen form. It i s c h a r a c t e r i s t i c that the l o c a l i t y i t - ' s e l f means . l i t t l e to Kareno; a f t e r the many years' war .of • a t t r i t i o n i n an urban environment, one would have expected him. to look' to the great nature of the place f o r new strength;• but h e - i s only i n t e r e s t e d i n the seclusion which i t o f f e r s . As f a r as the uniqueness of the place i t s e l f i s .concerned, he might? as well.not be there.• The night, he explains, i s h i s time; he goes around every day waiting f o r ' i t ! Given t h i s im'perviousness to new experience, i t . i s no wonder that the high-powered motor of his i n t e l l e c t , however ingenious and economical, gradually runs i d l e However, the ultimate danger of Kareno's entrenchment l i e s 4 not i n s i d e h i s glass tower - a f t e r a l l , s t e r i l i t y seldom makes, i t s e l f f e l t , as an acute danger - i t l i e s outside, s l y l y i n wait. For, once outside h i s 'metaphysical f o r t r e s s , of glass or ivory, no one i s . s o hopelessly susceptible to the more serious germs of • l i f e as t h e - i n d i v i d u a l who. has been under-, the s p e l l of an extreme. Kareno's fate i n L i v e t s s p i l .shows c l e a r l y how the transcendence of such an extreme a t t i t u d e -when at l a s t i t comes about. - only, leads to the opposite ex-treme. It takes a long time f o r Kareno to "discover" Teresita'; but when h e . f i n a l l y discovers her - spurred on,, i n no small part, by the unwelcome a r r i v a l of h i s wife! - he does so with, a vengeance. For Kareno can only react i n terms-of extremes; he cannot integrate a new element, of existence into a given framework of activity,.cannot create a synthesis of a previous and a new content of l i f e . And so his whole'work, i s d i s c o n t i -nued: he ceases e n t i r e l y to be a philosopher and becomes ex-c l u s i v e l y a l o v e r . Into t h i s new confrontation with l i f e , he - l i k e most people who maintain a shutter between t h e i r work and the r e s t of l i f e - c a r r i e s none .of the i n t r i g u i n g q u a l i t i e s of 'mind which distinguished him i n h i s work. As a philosopher he had seemed a f a s c i n a t i n g person, as a lover die becomes l i k e any average admirer of T e r e s i t a . His eagerness to please, his aimless i d l i n g , h i s loss of i n d i v i d u a l i t y and i n t e l l e c t u a l a s p i r a t i o n s make him seem almost as banal as Brede; through h i s extreme involvement i n the wooing of Tere-s i t a , he loses a l l sense of personal purpose and. d i r e c t i o n . He goes on wooing her long a f t e r she has turned him down, making;himself only more ludicrous, more t r i v i a l , more empty. He has no s p i r i t u a l resources t o - f a l l back upon once he -h.8-3 been rejected; and so he sinks into t o t a l idleness, a mere shadow of the bold philosopher and "lonely f a l c o n " Ivar Kare-no. The road back to h i s work, back to h i s own i n d i v i d u a l i t y , i s closed. When he f i n a l l y makes up h i s mind to resume wri t i n g the.bell' has struck f o r Kareno. His " l i f e ' s work", as he c r i e s out, i s destroyed i n the f i r e ; but.we are l e f t with a f e e l i n g that i t wouldn't have made much difference whether i t had burned, or not. A f t e r a l l , beyond the bold fermentation of ex-periment and inquiry,'Kareno's "Metaphysics" with i t s chapter on Justice seemed about as c e r t a i n to s u b s t a n t i a l i z e as the great .work on human r e s p o n s i b i l i t y by A l f r e d Allmers. The lesson of L i v e t s s p i l , then, when seen i n r e l a t i o n to At the Gates of the Kingdom and Evening glow, modifies that of the other two plays and at the same time goes f a r beyond i t . Eor Hamsun does not "prove"' that even the most r a d i c a l thinker i s sooner or l a t e r going to s e l l out to the society against which he has r e b e l l e d . What he r e a l l y proves i s the f u t i l i t y of any p o l i t i c a l or p h i l o s o p h i c a l r a d i c a l i s m founded on a r a d i c a l l y abstract personal existence; the f u t i l i t y of any external i s o l a t i o n from society which i s p a r a l l e l e d , i n t e r n a l l y , by an i s o l a t i o n from l i f e i t s e l f . Eor sooner or l a t e r even the most i s o l a t e d thinker i s going to confront some aspect of what Ibsen c a l l s "the .wonderful and mysterious l i f e on earth"; and then,, his f i n g e r s frozen from too many years of w r i t i n g i n the to.wer, h i s eyes weak from too many nights of waking, he w i l l , r e a c h abruptly l o r the source of t h i s new and dazzling varmth, ignorant that i t may burn as often as i t warms. But to get burnt and blinded i n t h i s unprepared and be-l a t e d manner i s a cross-roads of trauma to most wayfarers; from i t , only,few roads lead back to the barricades and a continued individual.development; most roads lead,into•ex-haustion, regression, reduction - and, eventually, the over-zealous adjustment to that very sheep-fold on which the ex-wolf had once been waging i t s , l o n e l y war. Interpreted i n t h i s manner, Livets, s p i l becomes a highly, meaningful, highly necessary stage on that twenty years' jour-ney of Kareno's from r e b e l l i o n to renegation which the t r i l o -gy describes. On the surface i t would have seemed more con-s i s t e n t to l e t the middle play maintain Kareno-on h i s accus-tomed b a t t l e f i e l d , showing how a.continued s e r i e s , o f p o l i t i c a l and academic, defeats were slowly wearing him'down, slowly eating away h i s enthusiasm and b e l i e f i n himself. By the time we came to the t h i r d play we would then f e e l that wo had ; been watching some sort of a "Rebel's Progress", the systema-t i c unfolding of a p o l i t i c o - p h i l o s o p h i c a l career, i t s chain of disappointments leading l o g i c a l l y to the.hero's f i n a l , ex-haustion and conversion. Instead of that, the story l i n e i s now interrupted by a strange excursion to Nordland: a .chapter of Kareno's private l i f e with l i t t l e or no r e l a t i o n to h i s basic struggle against the establishment. But i f the former alternative, would be l o g i c a l i n a schematic way, the l a t t e r i s so i n a .psychological 'way; thus of the two i t remains the . t r u l y l o g i c a l one. I t i s i n correspondence with t h i s very . diffe r e n c e that the strange f i g u r e of Leo Hjzfibro i n Evening glow - "?1 years old, pale and furrowed, with long grey h a i r and a f u l l beard' - assumes i t s s i g n i f i c a n c e . Clearly,' the function of H^ibro i s to show that the b a t t l e of the outsider may well be continued past any point of exhaustion and "old-age". It takes the events of L i v e t s s p i l - tho s p e c i a l nature of defeat i n that play and the s p e c i a l nature of exhaustion which goes along with i t - to explain Kareno's t o t a l s e l l - o u t i n Evening glow. S t i l l , Livetg_ s p i l remains inconsistent with the r e s t Of the t r i l o g y i n one formal respect, the one i n i t i a l l y mentioned: that Kareno.doesn 1t seem to stand as c l e a r l y a t the center as' i n the other two plays. The dif f e r e n c e i s not only apparent{• i t i s the 'result of 'a- t e c h n i c a l p e c u l i a r i t y which makes the play, so to speak,: b i f o c a l . On the one hand, we have Kareno and the- middle' chapter of h i s l i f e story, - on the other hand., we have another story, c l o s e l y modelled on Pan. Structurally-speaking,, .the play represents a forging of these two d i f f e -rent components, each,of which i s structured i n i t s own manner. The'Kareno-structure has"Kareno as i t s main f i g u r e , i n accord-ance with the character configuration of At the Gates and Evening glow. The 1 Eclvarda'-structure consists of a c a p r i -cious heroine'and her lover, plus a number of secondary male fi g u r e s whom- the heroine uses as temporary a l t e r n a t i v e s with-out f e e l i n g sexually a t t r a c t e d to them. In L i v e t s s n i l , Tere-s i t a and Jens Spir stand at the- center of the Edvarda-structure while Kareno i s employed as one of -its secondary male charac-t e r s . To be sure, the letdown which Kareno; suffers i n h i s r e -l a t i o n s h i p with T e r e s i t a i s needed as a prime Ingredient of the Kareno-story i t s e l f ; but the actual function performed by him within the Edvarda^-structure i s - , schematically, speaking, that of•a secondary .character. In actual f a c t , t h i s does hot have the e f f e c t of making Kareno. - appear as a secondary figure • vis-ra-vis the Teresita-Jens S p i r c o n s t e l l a t i o n . The e f f e c t i s ' rather on the character configuration, as a- whole:'the f o c i of the two structures r u l e each other out, so that the charac-t e r s assume more or less equal weight; and. t h i s equalization tendency even spreads to the' remaining f i g u r e s - Oterman, Brede, Mrs. 'Kareno, Thy - so as to present t h e impression of an en-semble i n which each character i s of immediate importance. •This, t h e n , confirms t h e o r i g i n a l f e e l i n g with regard . t o the t i t l e , of t h e play: that 'The-game of l i f e ' (Livets s p i l ) contains a.less s p e c i f i c reference to the hero of the t r i l o g y than 'the gates of the kingdom', (Ved r i k e t s port) or.'evening ' g l ° w ' (Aftenr^de)-. Of course, Kareno can s t i l l be viewed as the. pawn of that game'; but so can Oterman, Jens- Spir, T e r e s i t a , Brede - yes, even, i n some i n d i r e c t sense, Mrs. Kareno. Thus no sin g l e character ever becomes the center of the play. The , r e a l center, the point of g r a v i t y of everything that happens, remains outside', above the characters :' i t i s l i f e i t s e l f p u l l -ing'the s t r i n g s , v i s i b l e only through i t s agents, the mysteri-ous l i f e forces, and the obsession with which- they infect' t h e i r chosen vict i m s . Everything.seems predestined; viewed as a whole, the characters thus become an ensemble of marionettes, the unknowing p a r t i c i p a n t s i n a b i z a r r e and comical dance .of l i f e , where death, madness and desolation are the p r i n c i p a l r e w a r d s T h r o u g h h i s appearance i n each of the four acts, each time immediately p r i o r to the c e n t r a l event of the act, Thy formally assumes the r o l e of the messenger, God's emissary, the t r a d i t i o n a l leader of the round. But i t i s never revealed what Thy's message i s ; and on the two occasions where he per-sonally f u l f i l l s the plans of destiny - the bringing of the empty lamp and the f i r i n g of the p i s t o l - he does so without any knowledge or premeditation. "Justice,", as Jens S p i r says i n the end,"is a blind, animal." Does Thy himself know the con-tent of h i s message? We do not f i n d out; as f a r as we are con-cerned, he remains as b l i n d to the ways of fate as a l l the. others. . As an element of Kareno' s l i f e story, L i v e t s _ s j D i l remains, as I hope to have shown, f u l l y compatible with the general story l i n e of the t r i l o g y . As a play, however, i t f a r trans-cends i t s o r i g i n a l r o l e as a mere element of. that story l i n e and grows into an independent dramatic creation, beyond the compass of 'the t r i l o g y . Evidently,the events and characters involved i n Kareno's excursion t o Nordland became too great a temptation f o r Hamsun's poetic genius; and so everything i n t h i s play took on a l i f e of i t s own.,and the whole .play got i t s own poetic universe, i t s own poetic existence apart from the gene-r a l story of Kareno 1s career. From there i t lends i t s strange, generous l u s t r e to the surrounding chapters of the story. The f i n i s h e d t r i l o g y became a s o l a r system with L i v e t s s p i l at i t s poetic center. Part Four: LIVETS SPIL:' A COMPREHENSIVE AESTHETIC ANALYSIS In my previous, i n t e r p r e t a t i v e study of L i v e t s s p i l , my main emphasis has been on.an analysis of the main characters -Kareno, Oterman, T e r e s i t a , Jens S p i r ' - and t h e i r i n d i v i d u a l fates at the hands of powerful and mysterious forces. It has been demonstrated that the presence of these forces - as r e -presented by the fates of the characters and the apparatus of symbols..which express t h e i r p e r s o n a l i t y and endeavours - to-gether with the i n i t i a l s i t u a t i o n from which the play derives, provides the basic starscape of f a n t a s t i c a l i t y against which the events are acted out: that basic f a n t a s t i c a l i t y which i s immediately imparted through the very t i t l e - l i v e t s s p i l -i t s e l f . In pursuing t h i s i n t e r p r e t a t i o n of characters, events, and symbols, however, I have l e f t unconsidered u n t i l now the question of how these conceptual n u c l e i of f a n t a s t i c a l i t y are converted i n t o actual scenic and dramatic energy, that i s : what, from a t h e a t r i c a l point of view, makes Livets s p i l a thoroughly r e a l i z e d " f a n t a s t i c " play. The f a c t that t h i s sort of question should f a l l so l a r g e l y outside the customary scope of drama c r i t i c i s m i s r e g r e t t a b l e , though to some degree understandable. Thus i n the case of, e.g.,.a playwright l i k e Ibsen, i t i s f a i r l y easy to succumb to a common lack of con-cern with dramatic effectiveness and put a l l emphasis on i n -t e r p r e t a t i o n - since, a f t e r , a l l , Ibsen's dramas, with t h e i r i n t r i g u i n g i d e a t i o n a l labyrinths and t h e i r great appeal to. i n t e l l e c t u a l speculation, can be s o l i d l y enjoyed i n a deep, dark chair f a r from a l l f l i c k e r of the stage. In reading a play by Ibsen one may well be absorbed by i t to the point of f o r g e t t i n g that i t can also be played, not only read. But while a mere reading of L i v e t s . s p i l i s at l e a s t as absorbing to the reader as an Ibsen play, the constant awareness, above a l l , of i t s scenic elements makes i t impossible to forget that i t i s indeed a play: the more one reads i t , the more one wants to see i t on.the stage. Thus f o r the c r i t i c to bypass t h i s rare dramatic b r i l l i a n c e and deal with the play only from the angle of i n t e r p r e t a t i o n would be to ignore the very essence of i t s strange genius. . . , In t h i s concluding a n a l y s i s , then, I s h a l l t r y to trace the physiognomy of Livets s p i l with regard to some of i t s most immediate features of t h e a t r i c a l impact and effectiveness„ I am using the word ' t h e a t r i c a l ' as a.sort of amalgamative syn-• onym f o r 'dramatic' and ' f a n t a s t i c ' , due to the p e c u l i a r d i f -f i c u l t y of d i s t i n g u i s h i n g between these two q u a l i t i e s i n the play. In the majority of instances, the s p e c i a l e f f e c t s used toward a heightening of the dramatic i n t e n s i t y are r e a d i l y r e l a t a b l e to the realm of the f a n t a s t i c ; while, by the same token, m o s t ' e x p l i c i t l y 'eccentric' or ' f a n t a s t i c ' elements i n the play assert themselves, above a l l , through t h e i r a b i l i t y to operate on an immediately dramatic l e v e l . It i s p o s s i b l e , however, to s i n g l e out a few more general aspects, or'tech-niques, of i n t e n s i f i c a t i o n which can be treated as p r i m a r i l y 'dramatic' p r i n c i p l e s , i . e . , apart from t h e i r actual i n t e r -functioning with.the f a n t a s t i c context. In Part A of the present a n a l y s i s , three such aspects w i l l be discussed i n depth. Part B w i l l then be devoted to a broad survey of fan-t a s t i c elements, divided i n t o a t o t a l of f i v e sub-categories. Since most of these f a n t a s t i c elements assume the function of dramatic e f f e c t s , a number of elements implied but not dealt with i n Part A w i l l reappear i n B f o r e x p l i c i t examination. A. GENERAL ASPECTS OF DRAMATIC STYLE. a. F l u i d i t y .of dialogue, 1 : Internal i n t r u s i o n . One thing which can often make dialogue quite undramatic i s the neat and l o g i c a l l y uninterrupted -flow of a conversa- . tion.between two (or more) characters. A basic dramatic p i t -f a l l , i t . i s one, nevertheless, of which not a few dramatists remain quite unaware. By d e f i n i t i o n , the l o g i c a l flow i s broken at the moment when a l i n e x -,, following i n immediate, vocal continuation of a l i n e x n (spoken by another character) introduces a content belonging on a plane of thought d i f f e r e n t from that of x , and not connected with, the l a t t e r by any per-c e p t i b l e mental a s s o c i a t i o n . B' A A ' B A B _ A | *"* " P~* | "— ~~~ ' | . o . a . . . n . o O 8 ) i t , , i i t i v II l l - y II I I - . 11 l l - y - II 11-y- i i n v xn-2 x n - l x n x n + l n+2 • n+3 n+4 The graphic 'model depicts the course of a dialogue -- or a sec-t i o n of a dialogue, comprising a - t o t a l of seven l i n e s - be-tween characters A and B. The f i r s t three l i n e s are confined, to one plane of thought: B's l i n e continues the mental d i r e c -t i o n of A's preceding l i n e , and A c a r r i e s further on.in t h i s d i r e c t i o n with l i n e . x n . But B's following l i n e , x n + ] _ 9 departs' from t h i s d i r e c t i o n , switching the dialogue unmotivatedly to a new.plane of thought. A follows B" to the new plane (line: xn+2-^' ^>u't ^' with l i n e x n + ^ 5 immediately switches back, and the conversation continues on the previous plane of thought. Obviously, B's own thoughts about other natters'had f o r a mo-ment gained open precedlence over the current l i n e of conver-sation, and impelled him to jump, i n what seems an abrupt manner, to a t o t a l l y d i f f e r e n t plane. Thus h i s jump, x .. , i s "unmotivated" only i n terms of A's preceding l i n e x n; i n terms of what i s going on i n B's own head i t i s highly motivated. C l e a r l y , such- a technique r e f l e c t s a decided o r i e n t a t i o n to-ward "psychological realism" on the part of the dramatist. Note that, from the standpoint of "content" alone, the con- • v e r s a t i o n i n our example could have continued v/ith l i n e ^ n + ^ following immediately upon l i n e x . The l o g i c a l main trend has been preserved i n t a c t ; the vocal continuum (the dialogue as,a function of time/sound) remains unbroken; but :the actual dialogue - i . e . as a function of.time and the'spoken thought -moves forward discontinuously. The smooth flow of meaning has been momentarily interrupted. For the kind of i n t e r r u p t i o n described i n t h i s example, I have chosen- the term i n t e r n a l i n t r u s i o n , i . e . as opposed to external i n t r u s i on, where the l a t t e r s i g n i f i e s an i n t e r r u p t i o n of dialogue occurring from the outside. Through the d i s c o n t i n u i t y of spoken meaning be-tween A and B (with B as the i n t e r n a l element of " i n s t a b i l i -ty")*- we perceive a continuumof'thought on the part of B, ver b a l i z e d only f o r the duration of i t s b r i e f vocal inter-., r u p t i o n of the main trend of the. dialogue. B a s i c a l l y , then, each of the characters moves continuously along his own plane-of thought, and a commonality of dialogue along A's plane i s only maintained through a p o l i t e e f f o r t of the "unstable" element, B. The d i s c o n t i n u i t y may be c a r r i e d so far-, however, • that the characters speak v i r t u a l l y past each other -: each re v e a l i n g himself as being so involved with h i s own mental contents as to be incapable of tuning - i n to those of the other. Paradoxically, the very f a c t that A and B are not r e a l l y communicating h e i g h t e n s the dramatic i n t e n s i -ty of the dialogue, provided one fundamental dramatic require-ment has been met: At le a s t one of the characters must mani-f e s t l y (to us) want something from the other. The i n t r i n s i c a r t i s t i c v a l i d i t y of i n t e r n a l i n t r u s i o n lies-as already pointed out, i n the greater psychological realism which i t tends.to produce. Judged, further, as an agent cf dramatic s p e l l , i t i s seen to lend to the dialogue an irnmediat f l u i d i t y , a constant atmosphere of the unpredictable - i n i t -s e l f l i k e a promise of adventure - which i n t r i g u e s and e l e c -t r i f i e s 1 the. l i s t e n e r : KARENO: Our eyes see a l l objects as round; I w i l l t r y to see surfaces. (.....) Oh, how I want to get to the bottom of things. TERESITA: Have you been l i k e that long? KARENO: What do you mean - l i k e that? TERESITA: Oh, I just said that. ,'KARENO: No, r e a l l y , what do you mean? ' TERESITA: You're l i k e the moon ( c o l l e c t s her thoughts). Well, what i f i t doesn't 'work out? I f you don't get to the bottom of things? KARENO ( s i t s down): I w i l l t r y i n many ways. ( ) Miss T e r e s i t a , Goethe had more love f o r those who went astray on t h e i r own paths than f o r those who kept to the route on other people TERESITA (ab s t r a c t e d l y ) : Had he r e a l l y ? KARENO: I have written my Sociology, now I am w r i t i n g my 'Metaphysics* And I do not t i r o , . I am f u l l of strength. I have brooded and spe-culated; I know everything that human beings . . . . know,, But I want to know. more. TERESITA: Kareno,, they say you are married. KARENO (stare3___at_her)o (Two guarryrnen enter at~"tliis_ moment- from r i g h t . Etc. ) FIRST QUARRYMANTwear j.ng a" red"'"woo 1 1 en""scairf ) : Is t h i s the place? * ' , T (Act I, ?6. ) X Note that, at the very moment when T e r e s i t a seemed to have, landed the main dialogue on her own plane of preoccupation, the whole dialogue i s momentarily interrupted through the i n -troduction of a new. element of action. ('External i n t r u s i o n ' , se below under b.) TERESITA: Do you know what would be r e a l l y great? KARENO: What would be r e a l l y great? T e l l me.: TERESITA: It would be r e a l l y great, i f you achieved a l l that. KARENO (animated): You see, Miss T e r e s i t a , our conceptions are i n no way absolute. (<.„...) A person who i s born b l i n d w i l l e a s i l y learn to d i s t i n g u i s h between a die and a b a l l ; but open •• his eyes, and he won't know which was the die and which was t h e - b a l l . Well, then, I change my pre-vious point of departure, I was born b l i n d . TERESITA (wearily;I I'm not happy today. KARENO ( s i t - d o w n ) : Why aren't you happy? Arc you d i s s a t i s f i e d with me? TERESITA: With you? No. KARENO: You mustn !t be sad, TERESITA: Fancy that, a man who was born b l i n d wouldn't know? He couldn't t e l l a b a l l from a die? KARENO ( r i s e s ) : No,, Isn't that remarkable? ( E t c ) KARENO (dreajnihg): Add to t h i s , that I may be able to sh i f t ' the entir e basis f o r my observa-' t i o n of time. (.....) Suddenly I am confronted by my e i g h t i e t h year and I die. But I die young. My independent center of cognition calculates my age and^ finds that i t Is f i f t e e n years and ten days (stands f o r • a moment s i l e n t , then s i t s down). Knut Hamsun: Li v e t s s p i l , Samlede verker v o l . 14, pp. 7 1 - 1 2 5 , Gyldendal Nori'k""Forlag, Oslo 1 9 5 6 . A l l page references are to t h i s e d i t i o n . TERESITA: Kareno, they say y ° u a r © -married. KARENO (a f t e r a b r i e f pause): No, I am not married. Why do you ask? TERESITA: That's what I've heard. KARENO: I'm not married.Did Jens S p i r t e l l you that? He t e l l s you so many things. I was married once. TERESITA: But your wife i s s t i l l l i v i n g . KARENO (pensive): You ask twice i n the same-day i f I am married, what does that mean? If only you knew how I wish you wouldn't ask again. TERESITA: Just imagine, and then you die f i f t e e n years old, you say. Wasn't that what you said? ( n n n R s TERESITA: Ii know that i f I had the.power to do something to make you happy, I would do i t . (THY, a very o l d man, has come i n . Has come to a stop, standing erect, his cap i n his hand.'T-" KARENO: Who i s that?' TERESITA (turns round): That's Thy. KARENO: What does he want? . TERESITA: And' there i s never anything but sun-shine. Can you t e l l me why i t doesn't r a i n any more? (80.) F i n a l l y , i n the following passage from the opening of Act II , note the unsmooth p r o f i l e of the dialogue, the s p r i g h t l y zigzag of the sentences f l i c k e r i n g , f o r a b r i e f moment, be-tween T e r e s i t a , Oterman, and Jens Spir - l i k e gusts of a giddy scherzo from some winged piece of chamber music. The technique - i n i t s e l f simple - of disconnecting a l i n e from the previous one creates an immediate musical e f f e c t : TERESITA:'But Papa, you are making a l l the people leave. MR. OTERMAN: Can we pay them? (to JENS SPIR). People get shameless, Jens S p i r , they ask f o r r a i s e s , they bleed you to the l a s t drop. And i f they can't have i t the way they want, they leave. JENS SPIR: Your music was so b e a u t i f u l , Miss rj? Q "j** Q g i"t SL « TERESITA: Then I ' l l take the coffee to the o f f i c e f o r you. MR.OTERMAN: No I don't have time to drink i t . JENS. SPIR. (to TERESITA): You wouldn't have seen Kareno? I'm looking f o r him with a t e l e -gram. MR. OTERMAN (continues): And besides v/e can't a f f o r d t h i s l o r d l j ^ l i f e any longer. TERESITA: Kareno i s out•in the tower. MR. OTERMAN: I t e l l you, T e r e s i t a , you must not l i g h t the lamp•before four o'clock t h i s evening. You don't know, c h i l d , how much o i l we burn every-year ( e x i t ) . ( A c t 8 6 - 8 7 . ). b. F l u i d i t y of dialogue, 2 : E x t e r n a l i n t r u s i o n . It has been noted, already, how the dialogue between. Kareno and T e r e s i t a was momentarily interrupted by the en-trance of the two quarrymen, at a moment when i t had just reached a s i g n i f i c a n t point. A s i m i l a r i n t e r r u p t i o n - i.e.. through the appearance of another character.- occurs a l i t t l e l a t e r , when Oterman breaks i n at an even more c r u c i a l turn of the conversation: TERESITA: I don't understand myself. But i t ' s you I want to be with. KARENO: Where did you get that notion? MR. OTERMAN (coming towards them; laughing): It seems to be a bog I've given you, Kareno. (Act I, 79.) Mostly, however, non-person elements, rather than charac-te r s , , are used f o r purposes of i n t r u s i o n . In these l a t t e r cases, the e f f e c t of the i n t r u d i n g element i s that of supple-menting the dialogue on stage,.rather then i n t e r r u p t i n g i t . From a source mostly not present on the stage i t s e l f , a new impression-ingredient suddenly emerges into the t o t a l i t y of stage-impressions at a given moment and. i s "added", as i t were, to the immediate dialogue/action: asse r t i n g i t s e l f i n -dependently of the l a t t e r and without n e c e s s a r i l y becoming integrated i n t o i t . Rather, the i n t r u d i n g element continues' to exist.as a separate aesthetic dimension, of either l i g h t or sound, or both - lending pregnancy to the action on stage p r e c i s e l y because of i t s aesthetic disconnection from i t . Through the suddenness of i t s i n t r u s i o n , and i t s s p a t i a l and mental separation from the action-on-stage, t h e . t o t a l i t y of events becomes, a e s t h e t i c a l l y speaking, b i f o c a l , cleaving the: spectator's consciousness i n two as he t r i e s , bedazzled, to a s similate both the immediate dialogue and i t s new, a t t e n t i o n -usurping background. As with i n t e r n a l i n t r u s i o n ( i . e . i t s breaking up of dialogue i n t o two separate planes of thought).' so the e f f e c t of external i n t r u s i o n - the sudden j o l t i n g of dialogue through the contraposing of a separate non-dialogue dimension - i s that of creating a. t r a n s - l i t e r a l t o t a l i t y . , an opalescent dramatic f l u x approaching the free expression .of-music. Ever r e s t l e s s , the dramatic action i s not allowed to p e t r i f y into exclusive, one-dimensional dialogue. - In the following, I have listed, t h e . e s s e n t i a l instances of external i n t r u s i o n throughout the four acts of the play. ACT I: A f t e r a few minutes of conversation between Kareno and T e r e s i t a , the two quarrymen have entered with t h e i r equipment and ascended the s l a t e h i l l o c k i n the r i g h t h a l f of the stage. The f i r s t quarryman now s i t s down and s t a r t s turning the .• d r i l l ; . t h e second quarryman s t a r t s hammering. At the same moment, the band of t r a v e l l i n g musicians v i s i t i n g the place s t r i k e s up a piece somewhere out to the r i g h t , o f f stage. The hammering comes to coincide with the beat of the music. KARENO: Miss T e r e s i t a , now you've got your music a f t e r all-(coming back to her). L i s t e n how the mountain echoes every beat. Now I con-jure the Powers. Oh, I have great things brewing. TERESITA: I understand you better with music. (76-77.) The unseen music, and i t s precise merging with the hammering, comes as an odd surprise. For about f i v e minutes now, the con-versation, springy i n i t s e l f , remains a f l o a t on a l i q u i d mattress of sound. When both the music and the hammering suddenly stop, the very r e s t o r a t i o n of s i l e n c e f e e l s as much l i k e the i n i t i a t i o n of a new sound e f f e c t as did the o r i g i n a l i n i t i a t i o n of sound before (78). (An apt aesthetic comment on Kareno's speculations concerning the r e l a t i v i t y of sense-impressions.) A minute l a t e r , the hammering i s resumed, and the band breaks i n with a new piece at the exact same moment; t h i s time, the music i s more distant (79). Through t h i s s l i g h t r e l a t i v e change within the sound c o n s t e l l a t i o n , greater atten-t i o n i s imperceptibly a t t r a c t e d toward the action on the h i l l o c k , which had u n t i l now seemed peripheral.The conversation i t s e l f , however, having now entered i t s most s i g n i f i c a n t phase, continues to claim a l l d i r e c t attention. When i t reaches i t s f i n a l impasse - Kareno has been r e s i s t i n g T e r e s i t a 1 s ever more aggressive i n q u i r i e s about h i s wife and. ends up asking her to leave him alone - the music, then the hammering, stops again. The b l a s t i n g i s about to take place (81)..The conversation i s resumed b r i e f l y toward the end of tho act, when T e r e s i t a t e l l s Kareno that Jens S p i r has proposed to her; then interrupted again by Oterman's f i n a l appearance (85). - For a f u l l survey of how the long main conversation between Kareno and T e r e s i t a - i t extends over almost f i f t y percent of Act I - i s impinged upon by the various intruding elements,the following diagram w i l l be of s e r v i c e : - A p p a a r o r . e e -Comments w, work Qflworonce -Entrance of W m w by RrSt Quorry.*.* b y O U r r o o n b y OterHidn oC T t y L o h 9 P^ser.q. Conwsa.tion. i 1— i 1 1 f 1 of Ofce.-man bea^s ( n s y Cn>. _ (:"(&). e?u (n«). \8»> beg.'m. COKMENCLMEMi CND • RCC0MM£NC£MeN7 SECOND P«0 * C-- SOU.'* 0f50',-.'D OF SOUND The sound (a non-personal, or non-verbal, i n t r u s i o n ) supple-ments the conversation, i n what may be r e f e r r e d to as a con-trapuntal manner;tho occurrences listed, above the l i n e (per-sonal i n t r u s i o n s ) i n t e r r u p t i t . - Throughout the f i r s t h a l f of the conversation, where two mental planes of preoccupation are competing f o r the main d i r e c t i o n of the dialogue, f l u i d i t y i s derived l a r g e l y from ' i n t e r n a l ' i n t r u s i o n s , with hardly any external i n t rusions beyond the sound ( 7 5 - 7 8 ) . In the second h a l f , Teresita's plane has taken over the whole dialogue, and. so instead, i n addition to the switching on and o f f of sound, a t o t a l of four d i r e c t i nterruptions from the outside are used, here to maintain f l u i d i t y . The conversation between Kareno and T e r e s i t a i s v i r t u a l l y bombarded with i n t r u s i o n s of various kind_s.lt takes place, then,in an. atmosphere- which r e f l e c t s and magnifies i t s evolving tension, - in c r e a s i n g l y so, as Teresita's advances become p l a i n e r and p l a i n e r , and 'Kareno s t a r t s to become -unnerved'by her rather unblushing manner and questions„ But the t o t a l s i g n i f i c a n c e of t h i s mind- • cleaving•atmosphere extends f a r beyond the conversation i t s e l f . Through the constant f l u x of sound, speech, and happening, the fragmentation of the moment int o a s w i r l of separate e l e -ments, we perceive that r e a l i t y - the t o t a l r e a l i t y of the place and of 'the main characters involved - 'is.being r e s t r u c -tured i n a mysterious and meaning way. However, the task of charting and i n t e r p r e t i n g t h i s structure of elements requires, a f o c u s . s p e c i f i c a l l y on t h e i r f a n t a s t i c , rather than dramatic, aspects, and thus w i l l have to be deferred to Part B. ACT I I : In t h i s act, Hamsun again.uses a dual-element contra-puntal i n t r u s i o n e f f e c t , s i m i l a r to that -in Act I; t h i s time, however, i t i s based, not o n dual sound, but on a sound-light c o n s t e l l a t i o n . I t occurs- during the scene i n which Oterman i s t r y i n g to bribe the quarrymen int o " n o t f i n d i n g " any more marble on behalf of the company fo r which they are now work-ing, i . e . l e t him keep the r e s t i n secret. In the previous, scene, Teresita.has just assured Kareno that Thy has been, -sent to the' tower with h i s lamp. Kareno leaves, T e r e s i t a d i s -appears into the house, and Oterman enters, followed by the quarrymen, talking,.While he i s arguing with E$jer, l i g h t goes on i n s i d e the house, and music s t a r t s . MR. OTERMAN: In p a r t i c u l a r I f o r b i d you, . H0jer, to work so i n d u s t r i o u s l y a l l the • time to f l e e c e me. You have such keen eyes for looking down int o the earth. (The lame i s l i t i n s i d e the house, i t s l i g h t shines out of t he win do ws .'and"xlTumi.nat es the stage. Immediately af t e j C j f r e n z i e d -piano music.7 MR. OTERMAN:""Yes, my~dear fellow, your eyes are a l l too keen. I t was you who found the l a s t vein. SECOND QUARRYMAN: The engineer ordered me to look. • • rop.) The dialogue on the stage continues' f o r a while, with no apparent notice of the.emanations from the house. Again, t h i s " p a r a l l e l persistence", t h i s separation between main action and i n t r u d i n g element lias the e f f e c t of "cleaving the atten-t i o n " of the spectator. While we are following the i n t r i g u i n g argument on the stage (appurtenant, i n symbolic terms, to the '• realm of the inor g a n i c ) , we are being kept av/arc of T e r e s i t a 1 s mounting e r o t i c frenzy and the mad havoc.which i t . i s about to produce..After a few minutes' discussion, however, Oterman suddenly becomes aware that the lamp - vrtrich was not supposed to be l i t u n t i l four o'clock! - i s shining, and hurries i n s i d e to put i t out. Engineer Brede - whom Oterman probably wanted to avoid - enters. In the following, 'the contrapuntal e f f e c t s seem almost to take.over the action through a mys t e r i o u s . l i f e of t h e i r own. Again, evidently, the discontinuance of a l i g h t ' or a sound i s as much of a dramatic "event" as i t s i n c i p i e n c e . THIRD QUARRYMAN: Well, f o r my part, I just think the d e v i l has taken possession of him. ENGINEER BREDE: You don't need to have any .thoughts at a l l about that (the lamp goes out i n the house). ~ SOME QlTlRRYMEN: There, he has put the l i g h t • out, f o r God's sake. (Piano music stops. Dark stage. Roar from sea increases.) . ENGINEER" SRE^F^TOT'CE: A l l r i g h t , mcTve~5n ' . (engineer and quarrymen exit r i g h t ) . ' (Suddenly a_ b l a z i n g l i g h t goes on. in, .jbhe. tower. put, on the Eeadla'nd.''The glare i s thrown all""""around'. TENS ioPIR turns'"and Tooks._'in^_directipn, of tower,~J (TERESITA. comes "down steps with a burning lantern and a pa i r of binoculars ' JENS SPIR steps forwardT) ''"""• TERESITA 'Cgtarts) : Who Is that?" (93-94 ) As i n Act I, the music was l i n k e d quite accurately to i t s companion element. Despite the l o g i c a l connexion between them here, t h i s simultaneity creates an e f f e c t of puzzlement and suspense; the t i n y - l a g of the music behind the l i g h t when they stop even seems to underscore the simultaneity. But most s i g n a l l y , t h e i r place i s taken -- i . e . the contrapuntal dimen-sion i s c a r r i e d on - almost immediately by the sudden, i n -tense radiance from the tower. Of the following dialogue be-tween T e r e s i t a and Jens S p i r , more than h a l f i s supplemented by t h i s new and powerful element. The f i n a l e x t i n c t i o n of the l i g h t leaves the dialogue devoid of counterpoint f o r a bare minute and i s then.followed by a new sequence of sound and l i g h t : a succession of s i r e n whistles and shots from the doomed ship, topped hy the flaming streak from a d i s t r e s s -rocket ( 9 6 ) . Toward the end of tho act, as Kareno i s rushing around to arrange f o r the quarrymen to go out i n Oterman 1s ' •' boat, T e r e s i t a withdraws into the house with Jens S p i r . Pre-sently, amidst the f i r i n g of shots from the sea, l i g h t again goes on inside the house; shining s t e a d i l y out of the windows, I t presides over the l a s t few tumultuous moments of the act ( 9 8 ) . The whole second h a l f of t h i s act, then, can be seen as e s s e n t i a l l y structured through i t s contrapuntal elements alone: . ( 9 2 ) . BEGINN OP LAMPSHINE +PIANO ( 9 3 ) , ( 9 4 ) . END OF LAMPSHINE, END OF PIANO, BEGINN. OF LIGHT FROM TOWER ( 9 5 ) . END OF LIGHT FROM TOWER ( 9 6 ) . BEGINN. OF DISTRESS SIGNALS End of Act ( 9 8 ) . SECOND BEGINN. OF LAMPSHIN] ' - Of the above contrapuntal events, however, there are two - the l i g h t from, the tower and the d i s t r e s s signals -which do not appear to meet the c r i t e r i a , as established up to now, f o r what constitutes a counterpoint. I t has been sugges-ted that' the mind-cleaving, i . e . contrapuntal, e f f e c t of an intru d i n g element presupposes i t s non-incorporation i n t o the-main sphere of action upon which i t intrudes. (To be sure, remarks are made, e.g., about the music impinging on the con-, versa.tion i n Act I, but these are only occasional.) Obviously, an element which i s seen to be consciously and continuously perceived by somebody on the stage,-would reach us, as i t were, through the perceiving character, instead of d i r e c t l y from the outside; thus, i t i s only the de facto unintegrated element which d i v e r t s part of our attention, f o r c i n g our t o t a l experience into a -state of dividedness. In other words, s p a t i a l separation alone does not ensure an autonomous, contrapuntal dimension (or, as I have termed i t e a r l i e r , 'aesthetic separa-t i o n ' ) ; the element must be mentally separated, above a l l , from the action-on-stage, and has to emerge into our. attention i n a somewhat suddeh-, unexpected manner, i . e . independently of what i s going on at the given moment, and thus not defined i n terms of that. Its s i g n i f i c a n c e within the larger context being undefined, i t s appearance seemingly not bearing any re-levance to i t , the spectator i s forced to explore on h i s own the hidden relevance and s i g n i f i c a n c e suggested, a f t e r a l l , by the very i n s i s t e n c e of i t s presence.- The contrapuntal "mystique" which d i s t r a c t s us, i n part, away from the dialogue, i s r e -f l e c t e d back on the l a t t e r as an atmosphere of pervasive preg-nancy within which whatever i s being sai d i s f e l t to assume an enhanced s i g n i f i c a n c e , as i f i t were seen through some strangely coloured piece of glass-. Now i n the case of the tower l i g h t , 'mental separation' most c e r t a i n l y would not seem to have been achieved, since the l i g h t i s - t h e primary subject of the conversation between Tere-sita. and Jens S p i r . Was.the lamp empty? Is the -light dwind-l i n g ? are questions, indeed, which do not leave the l i g h t on the periphery of the action. Nor should the i n i t i a l appear-ance of the l i g h t element come as anything unknown or unex-pected to the spectator - who had already learned about the great importance of t h i s l i g h t and most probably.had i n f e r r e d Teresita's determination to obstruct i t s saving mission. S t i l l , i n s p i t e of these two basic hindrances, Hamsun, manages to. derive a highly contrapuntal e f f e c t from the tower l i g h t . F i r s t , surprise and mystique are made to supersede pre-paration and foreknowledge f o r and of the element through the interposing of one unrelated scene (Oterman, the quarrymen, the engineer); t h i s scene d i s l o c a t e s the issue of the lamp being on i t s way to the tower just enough for.the spectator not to be concretely concerned with when,' how, and whether- he i s a c t u a l l y going to.see the l i g h t appear. When the l i g h t f i n a l l y m a t e r i a l i z e s , i t does so - as e x p l i c i t l y i n d i c a t e d by the author - i n a sudden and -overpowering manner. ('Suddenly a bl_azing_light goes on i n j h e tower out _ on the headland. The' glare i s thrown a l l around.') This i s the f i r s t time we actually'see the "glass and l i g h t " of Kareno's ambitious i l l u m i n a t i o n project at work, and i t i s something quite d i f -ferent-, of course, from our awareness - concretely l i m i t e d by the p i c t u r e of a small hand-lantern - of the l i g h t being on i t s way out there. In the stormy, dark evening, the whole p o t e n t i a l for mystique and f a s c i n a t i o n inherent i n the symbol of the tower i s dramatically released by the sudden l i g h t . Moreover, t h i s happens i n the s i l e n c e preceding the actual, conversation between Teresita.and Jens S p i r (and following, as I have already pointed out, a scene p r i m a r i l y unrelated to the issue of the lamp); and so to us, the light.element does not. seer, to grow out of the main action, but rather to assert i t s e l f independently of i t , t o t a l l y from the outside. In s p i t e , then, or our foreknowledge' of the element, we are surprised and i n t r i g u e d by i t from the f i r s t moment. However, t o sustain the element as a counterpoint, throughout the. dialogue,- Hamsun now has to overcome the second hindrance to a mind.-cleaving e f f e c t : the lack of'mental separation' between the element and the main sphere of action. This i s achieved through the d i -gressions made.by the dialogue from the subject of the l i g h t e As a matter of f a c t , throughout the duration of the l a t t e r , more than h a l f of the'dialogue does not deal with the l i g h t at a l l . Several l i n e s are spoken, before the actual observation of i t i s i n i t i a t e d ( 9 4 ) - The conversation then centers on the empty, lamp, ( i d e n t i c a l , i n actual f act,-with .the l i g h t i n the tower, and yet experienced.as a e s t h e t i c a l l y d i f f e r e n t from i t ) . As the l i g h t s t a r t s decreasing, the dialogue deviates i n t o T e r e s i t a ! s tongue-lashing.of Jens Sp i r , interspersed with p e r i o d i c a l observations by the l a t t e r on the f l i c k e r i n g of the lamp ( 9 5 ) . Thus while.the l i g h t remains constantly at the basis of the -dialogue, most of the.dialogue deals with other things than the l i g h t ! It i s through these digressions, these very gaps of non-reference, that the contrapuntal e f f e c t i s . a f t e r . a l l achieved. The dialogue deviates, but the l i g h t r e -mains, and so;the spectator has t o concentrate on i t by him-s e l f , aside from the dialogue. C l e a r l y , t h i s invests the l i g h t with a s i g n i f i c a n c e and s p e l l b i n d i n g power f a r greater than that.which would have been possible- had we had to take i t i n v i a .the constant commenting of the characters (which eo i_pnso . would have set the hounds f o r our experience of i t ) . Now, the mystery of contrapuntal autonomy remains with the tower l i g h t t i l l i t dies; and t h i s mystery,, i n turn, i s r e f l e c t e d bach on the dialogue at large, enveloping every l i n e with an aura of pregnancy. ' ' In c o n t r a d i s t i n c t i o n to the tower l i g h t , the d i s t r e s s s i g n a l s , though s p a t i a l l y separated from the action-on-stage, do not assume contrapuntal function. For while. Kareno\s tower l i g h t contained within i t s e l f both i t s - r o l e of t h i s p a r t i c u l a r evening a n d Its e s s e n t i a l r o l e as an omni-nocturnal sym-bo l , the d i s t r e s s signals hold no s i g n i f i c a n c e beyond the immediate context which, has provoked them, no independent mystery or- s u r p r i s e . Moreover, they occur only at i n t e r v a l s , .and each occurrence prompts an immediate d i a l o g i c response. Their function within the dialogue - as well as the function of the tower l i g h t i n those instances where the l a t t e r , too,: serves as d i a l o g i c object - w i l l be discussed i n Part B. ACT I I I : Sound and l i g h t are used as outside elements through-out t h i s act, though perhaps not i n any markedly contrapuntal manner. The northern l i g h t s are present from c u r t a i n - r i s e (and presumably to the end); t h i s rules out the element of inc e p t i o n on t h e i r part, i . e . of a t t e n t i o n - d i v e r t i n g i n t r u s i o n . at.and.from a given moment. Thus i n lending atmosphere to the acti o n , the northern l i g h t s are absorbed in t o that atmosphere themselves. On two occasions, however, Hamsun states a change i n the appearance of tho northern l i g h t s . F i r s t , A MAN ( p o i n t s ) : Look how,red the ' '• Northern Lights are growing. SEVERAL (exclaim): As red as blood! A WOMAN:. Oh God! Oh God !• (104-OS.) And a l i t t l e l a t e r , A MAN: The wind i s r i s i n g . ANOTHER MAN: The night's getting c o l d • and' windy. The' Northern Lights are getting nagged. THE MAN.: There' s a r i n g around the moon. JENS SPIR (from r i g h t with a telegram i n his hand): Skipper Reiersen, yacht Southern Star. ' , (107-08.) Hamsun gives no stage d i r e c t i o n s for. these two changes, merely states them d i a l o g i c a l l y through observations :.',ade d i r e c t l y by characters on the.-stage. Since the coincidence of change•and observation would, by d e f i n i t i o n , ' r u l e out any contra-puntal e f f e c t , a d i r e c t o r who a c t u a l l y wanted to use these changes contrapuntally could do so b y placing them s l i g h t l y i n advance, of the observing comments, so as to allow them- a few. moments of attention-cleaving' impact p r i o r to' t h e i r l i n k -up with the dialogue. (Note also the sudden, int e r r u p t o r y entrance of Jens S p i r with a telegram. Contrary to what one would expect from the sudden i n t r o d u c t i o n into the action on stage of such an object as a telegram, the l a t t e r does not come int o any immediate focus on .stage; through a succession of r a p i d l y changing scenes, the a c t i o n continues independently of the telegram u n t i l , two pages l a t e r , the skipper (who has i n the meantime been fetched from the,prayer-house) turns up to c o l l e c t i t from Jens' S p i r . • At t h i s stage, the telegram - which orders the skipper to leave f o r another f i s h i n g l o c a t i o n - assumes some s i g n i f i c a n c e f o r the main p l o t , i n that i t enables Kareno f i n a l l y to get r i d of his wife; but i t i s c h a r a c t e r i s t i c of. Hamsun's technique.that, he s p l i t s the function of the t e l e -gram up, so to say, i n i t s basic plo t function (B), plus a purely intrusive.(and thus purely t e c h n i c a l ) function (A), separating the two i n regard to the temporal flow of stage events. Furthermore, i n the course of t h i s time i n t e r v a l , t h i s new (and rather h a s t i l y introduced) element i n the action can then become par11y forgotten, so as to maintain i n the spectator's mind a sort of sub-liminal waiting f o r (B) as the p o t e n t i a l r e v e l a t i o n of i t s actual s i g n i f i c a n c e . ) In t h i s act, Hamsun again uses the music band from Act I, st r u c t u r i n g i t s presence throughout the act i n a s i m i l a r l y elaborate way. As With the quarrymen's. hammering i n Act I, the music again i s c o r r e l a t e d with another element, t h i s time within the'dialogue i t s e l f . This l a t t e r element consists i n such conversation and action on stage as pertains to the a r r i v a l of the fever. The c o r r e l a t i o n i s a negative one: the music at f i r s t s t a r t s only at the cessation of the.presence of i t s "companion" element, and i s brought to a stop three .times by i t s re-emergence int o the action. Of the music's three appearances during the act, the second one' i s very' short, and the t h i r d one extremely short (104 & 111). The act opens with general conversation about the fever having a r r i v e d the day before; following the i n i t i a l . seriousness ,of the news that two l o c a l people have already died, the t a l k soon develops'into pure joking about the fever, interrupted by the Laestadian's austere "Don't joke about that, young man." (99.) At t h i s point, the conversation, has been exhausted, and the-band s t a r t s p l aying upstage, a t t r a c t i n g the crowd towards i t and leaving the downstage area, free f o r dialogue between, f i r s t Kareno and' h i s wife,' then Kareno and T e r e s i t a , , then Kareno and h i s wife again. At the point where E l i n a comes back and T e r e s i t a leaves' with Jens S p i r , the d i a l o g i c a l change of partnership i s p a r a l - ' leled.by a s h i f t i n the musical bo-ckground accompaniment: the music, according.to the stage d i r e c t i o n s , now p l a y s , c l o s e r (101). (Note how, during t h i s long musical sequence, the movement of the band - from distant to c l o s e r - i s the oppo-s i t e of i t s movement i n Act I, from close to more d i s t a n t . ) Towards the end of t h i s second h a l f of the music's f i r s t appearance, the fever f i n a l l y s t a r t s re-emerging into the p i c - • ture: a man comes to ask Oterman f o r room f o r a si c k woman, and a short argument between the two follows, r e - e s t a b l i s h i n g , suddenly and dramatically, the uncanny presence c f t h e ; f e v e r . The music now f i n a l l y stops (103). A f t e r a short while, the t a l k about the fever has simmered down again; the musicians take up a hew. position'downstage and s t a r t playing (104). When, almost immediately after,' the drunk man f a l l s down i n the snowj people motion to them to stop. A new wave of a g i t a t i o n about the fever follows, then gives way to a succession of subse-quent scenes showing no connection with the fever.,Toward the. , end of t h i s long s t r e t c h without music, the news that Teresita;: has f a l l e n i l l s t a r t s emerging into the dialogue on stage. The' musicians now take up a p o s i t i o n again and s t a r t playing quiet-l y . Immediately, a man enters with the message that the drunk man lias died, and people again motion to the band to stop (111). As i n Act I, each stopping of the music c a r r i e s as d i s -t i n c t an in t r u d i n g e f f e c t as the playing i t s e l f . ACT I V: In t h i s act, outside elements are l i m i t e d to the burning of the tower,which provides the contrapuntal back-ground f o r the f i n a l , chaotic sequence of the act, i . e . from the death of T e r e s i t a t i l l about the end of the play ( 1 2 2 - 2 5 ) ; however, throughout t h i s whole sequence, the attention-cleaving impact i s considerable. T e r e s i t a , shot to death by accident, -has just been c a r r i e d into the house when suddenly flames are ; seen to shoot up from the tower out cn the headland. Na.tu.ral-l y , the. immediate heaping- of t h i s new, shocking event upon the previous one i s v a s t l y melodramatic. Each of the two would, be v i o l e n t enough i n i t s e l f to claim our whole, undivided atten-t i o n , and so our attention now becomes v i o l e n t l y torn between, them. This s p l i t i s perpetuated throughout the .whole sequence, i n that none of the characters entering, successively, into the action on stage - with the exception of Thy who i s present a l l the time - share our simultaneous awareness cf both these events, but have to.be informed about one of them, or both. The f i r s t one to enter i s the maid, who has seen Oterman set f i r e to the tower'; she i s t o l d by Thy about Teresita's death and rushes into the house. A moment l a t e r , a s i m i l a r a r r i v a l i s performed by Oterman himself, who has the news' about his- • daughter broken to him by Jens S p i r . During the following d i a -logue between Jens S p i r and Thy, the former suddenly enters into.our (and Thy's) awareness of the tower burning; while Kareno, r e p l a c i n g Jens Spir on the stage a few moments l a t e r , learns about Teresita's death from Thy, then suddenly catches, sight of the f i r e which i s now beginning- to die down. F i n a l l y , the two s p a t i a l l y separated disasters melt together in t o the t h i r d , crowning one as Kareno informs Oterman that, i n addi-t i o n to h i s daughter's death, h i s two sons have been burnt to death i n the tower.,Only at t h i s point, then, a few seconds before c u r t a i n - f a l l , i s the b i - f o c a l i t y of events - and of our awareness of them - resolved back in t o one single focus of, action, l i m i t e d to the immediate stage area alone. c ° High-sus ponse dialogue. In Act I I , the most fundamentally dramatic,of the play's' four acts, Hamsun repeatedly uses a s p e c i a l kind of dialogue designed to produce an all-enveloping stage atmosphere of s i n i s t e r s i g n i f i c a n c e and suspense. T h e , f i r s t passage of t h i s kind - from early i n the act - is' brief,- but ominous: TERESITA: Do you think the ship w i l l be here i n h a l f an hour? JENS SPIR: Maybe. I f nothing happens between now and then. TERESITA (looks at him).: What could happen? JENS SPIR:" No7" what could happen? TERESITA.: The "approach to land? JENS SPIR: The approach.to land i s paved with d i s a s t e r s (pause). ( 8 7 - 8 8 ) The subsequent conversation between T e r e s i t a and Kareno i s massively suspense-building: KARENO (walks back and f o r t h ) : Tonight? Can you t e l l me i f i't r e a l l y says tonight? TERESITA (reads): Tonight. KARENO: Tonight (suddenly). There i s a storm . at sea today. TERESITA: There always i s i n the f a l l . KARENO: E s p e c i a l l y outside here, i t seems to me,. Let i t storm. • ' TERESITA: Yes, l o t i t storm. KARENO: I t ' s going to be a dangerous night. Shins may be wrecked. TERESITA: Why do you say that? KARENO: Let ships be wrecked a l l r i g h t , I say, TERESITA: You've turned so pale. KARENO: Mj.ss T e r e s i t a , I won rt be home f o r •any stranger'who comes asking for- me. TERESITA: You won't? ' KARENO: L i s t e n out there - ( l i s t e n s ) . Out there i n the night» TERESITA: It's the sea. KARENO: Did you hear screams? TERESITA: No, KARENO (takes a few steps across the. yard__andp l^sptens_bent_ forward; abruptly backj: My lamp, Miss T e r e s i t a ! ~" ( 8 9 - 9 0 . ) Note how the dark and foreboding pregnancy of these.brief and r a p i d l i n e s emanates, i n e f f e c t , from just one word, (or a few words) i n each of them, words of a basic and elementarily concrete dramatic suggestiveness. Let us imagine a p a r a l l e l dialogue i n which each l i n e would consist merely of the par-t i c u l a r word/words c o n s t i t u t i n g the e s s e n t i a l source of preg-nancy i n each l i n e of the o r i g i n a l dialogue: -: Tonight. -: Tonight. -: Storm. -: E s p e c i a l l y outside here. Dangerous night. Ships. -: Let ships be wrecked. -: Pale.. -: Stranger, comes asking. -: The night. -: The sea. -: Screams. -: Lamp ! Put together i n t h i s way, the words t e l l , i f not the pre-c i s e , actual story, then at l e a s t , most immediately and unmis-takably, a story - i . e . a story which would be t o t a l l y s e l f -contained at the semi-conscious perceiving l e v e l (the l e v e l , so to say, of spontaneous imagination) where the sense__of " p l o t " does not depend, on the s p e c i f i c a t i o n of subjects and objects functioning within a l o g i c a l l y ordered sequence of. actio n . C l e a r ^ , these are a l l woi'ds that p e r t a i n d i r e c t l y , i n a b r e a t h l e s s l y concrete and urgent manner, to fundamental quantities and forces within human experience: Time, space, darkness, l i g h t (light-in-d.arkness), dangerous journeys (ship-wrecks), raging elements and emotions, the a r r i v a l of a stran-ger. Thus i n the perceiver's mind the configuration of these words/lines i s transformed, as i t were, int o a kind of magic mystery'lampboard, b l i n k i n g f e v e r i s h l y i n a l l colours - where each, b l i n k i n g word, signals some spontaneous and intense emo-t i o n a l energy eruption. Through the key words of each l i n e , then, the dialogue at large becomes the f r e e e l y emotional -one might almost say musical - version of an i n t e l l e c t u a l l y formulatable p l o t sequence, the basic premises of which are that Kareno's unwelcome wife i s les s than an hour from land and that the weather may indeed f a c i l i t a t e any attempt to pre-vent her a r r i v a l . Once these p r e m i s e s - which we know before-hand to t h e i r f u l l extent - are given, they can be concretized . A - 7 2 i n t o p r i m i t i v e l y simple words, each, of which w i l l serve, against the background of the s i t u a t i o n given, as a highly compressed, h i g h l y charged representative' of i t s corresponding constituent at the premise l e v e l . ("Tonight" = the time s i t u a -t i o n , "ships" '= the ship carrj/ing Mrs. Kareno, and so on.) Thus.it may be s a i d that the dialogue of high suspense pre-sents the v e r b a l l y -compressed', narrowly concretized, version of a basic s i t u a t i o n of:high urgency (the* time fa c t o r i s always basic to t h i s kind of dialogue) and far-reaching human and/or material i m p l i c a t i o n s . In a dialogue of t h i s kind, each of these super-concrete key words ul t i m a t e l y serves as an emo-t i o n a l gateway to the entire range of actual p l o t premises -and the hopes and fears attached to them - behind; and each such word s u f f i c e s , by dint of a s s o c i a t i o n , to bring/keep t h i s whole spectrum of action ingredients a l i v e i n the reader's/ spectator's imagination. Thus i n the passage quoted, the word 'ships' comes to carry the weight.of the e n t i r e dramatis: action i n both the stage dimension and the (postulated/imagined) back-ground dimension; and so do the words 'how f a r ' , 'mail-boat', and 'lamp' i n t h i s concluding quote from the long, c l i m a c t i c dialogue between T e r e s i t a and Jens Spir l a t e r i n the act: JENS SPIR: Do you want to ask me how f a r the mail-boat has come? TERESITA: No.... But how f a r has i t come? JENS SPIR: I t ' s r i g h t offshore now. TERESITA: Of course i t ' s night offshore. JENS SPIR: I met Thy down on the road. TERESITA: I sent, him with the lamp. JENS SPIR: Yes, he c a r r i e d the lamp t h a t . i s now shining so b r i g h t l y out t h e r e . TERESITA" (impatient): I'm standing here t e l l i n g you that I sent Thy with the lamp-JENS SPIR: Yes. TERESITA: Yes? And.so? JENS SPIR: Nothing. I had a look into, the lamp, TERESITA: You had a look into i t ? JENS SPIR: It was empty. (94.) Again, the whole, vast range of progressing events have been channelled -into something as u l t i m a t e l y concrete and tangible as Kareno's empty lamp. The dramatic techniques outlined by me here i n Part A are not employed by Hamsun i n a t r u l y consistent degree " throughout the play; on the contrary, there i s a marked de-c l i n e i n the use of them a f t e r the f i r s t -half, when inc r e a s i n g -l y r a p i d changes of scenes - i . e . changes i n d i a l o g i c a l part- ; nership c o n s t e l l a t i o n s - take over as the primary means of maintaining the fast-moving, f l u i d kind, of dialogue basic to the. play. • Internal i n t r u s i o n -. the-momentary destruction of d i a l o -g i c a l l i n e a r i t y from within - belongs mainly to Act I, with i t s long, c e n t r a l dialogue between T e r e s i t a and Kareno; and so does external i n t r u s i o n of the personal category, i . e . the i n t r u s i o n of other' characters into the basic dialogue. In l a t e r acts, -such an i n t r u s i o n w i l l not be just momentary, but rather i n i t -s e l f come to occasion the t r a n s i t i o n to, a new scene (as when, e.g., Mrs. Kareno i n t e r r u p t s the conversation between Kareno and T e r e s i t a i n the beginning of Act I I I ) . As f o r external i n -t r u s i o n from non-verbal i n t r u s i o n sources - c h i e f l y p a r a l l e l , sequences of sound and l i g h t a c t i v i t y of various kinds - I have shown how, to the extent that such a c t i v i t y i s maintained d i s -t i n c t l y as a dimension of i t s own ( i . e . as uninvolved i n tho verbal action by any d i a l o g i c comment), i t s function becomes "contrapuntal", so as to divid.e- the spectator's attention be-tween the verbal foreground action and i t s e l f . ( A s already said, the s p e c i a l dramatic e f f e c t s d e r i v i n g from the incorporation of a non-verbal i n t r u s i o n sector into the verbal action w i l l be treated separately i n Part B.) While the use of non-verbal i n -t r u s i o n i s h i g h l y contrapuntal, i n t h i s a t t e n t i o n - d i v i d i n g sense, throughout the f i r s t two acts, the contrapuntal effect-i s more i n d i r e c t i n Act I I I , i n that the i n i t i a l , long musical sequence would tend, at l e a s t i n part, to melt into the general a c t i o n as mere "background" sound; although, on the other hand, the subsequent interconnection between the fever and the music does i n f a c t bestow some subtly contrapuntal q u a l i t i e s on the l a t t e r . Further, we have seen how, i n a d d i t i o n to h i s use of i n t r u s i o n techniques, Hamsun employs i n Act II the s p e c i a l technique of high-suspense dialogue; while in. contrast to the e l e c t r i f y i n g dramatic fireworks of t h i s act, Act I I I and, A- 7k • notably, Act IV seem almost pale i n t h e i r ' l i m i t e d e x h i b i t i o n of the dramatic techniques described here. The gradual decrease i n the use of these dramatic techniques throughout the play r e f l e c t s , as i t were, the fortunes of the 'j characters-themselves. The r e s t l e s s sub-surface disturbances of the dialogue i n Act I correspond to the clandestine emergence of the mineral realm, as well as of the power of uncontrolled passion, i n t o the everyday realm of human destiny. The t o t a l regnancy of passion i n Act I I , and the wild, and ru t h l e s s ex-cesses to which i t d r i v e s T e r e s i t a i n her pursuit of Kareno, pre-establishes t h i s act as the n a t u r a l l y c l i m a c t i c one as r e - ' gards dramatic i n t e n s i t y throughout the play. To be sure, her ; passion f o r Kareno seems to be undiminished i n Act I I I , but in'; t h i s act the' decline of the l a t t e r - as marked b y h i s absence from h i s work, and h i s " i d l i n g " - has already set i n : Kareno has begun to stagnate, and the a n t i c l i m a c t i c q u a l i t y of t h i s act herafds his f a l l from the heroine's favour i n Act IV. .In t h i s act, then, a fundamental q u a l i t y of d i s s o l u t i o n i s per-ceived; the scenes change r a p i d l y , and the i n t r u s i o n - e f f e c t e d tension and restlessness i n the longer d i a l o g i c a l sequences of' the f i r s t two acts i s replaced by the general f l u x of the mar-ket-place and of the popular confusion caused by the fever -scenes almost operatic i n their, use of comic mass superstition-and other motley, c h o i r - l i k e crowd e f f e c t s . In f a c t , the use of p r e c i s e l y Act I I I f o r such purposes shows an i n t e r e s t i n g struc-t u r a l correspondence with the way i n which s i m i l a r stage e p i -sodes - b a l l e t i n t e r l u d e s , b u r l e s q u e - r e l i e f mass scenes - have been placed within the progression scheme .of a number of 'dra-matic', (as opposed to 'comic') operas; namely at the r e l a t i v e l y advanced stage where a setback i n the hero's fortune has begun,, to m a terialize (as i n e.g. Bizet's Carmen, to which'the love story of L i v e t s s p i l bears some c e r t a i n schematic resemblance). F i n a l l y , then, the t o t a l absence of s p e c i a l energy e f f e c t s throughout most of Act IV, and the pale, exhausted mood which, i n contrast with the previous.acts, i t seems to produce, be-comes, on the aesthetic l e v e l , a general r e f l e c t i o n of the f i n a l downfall of the i n d i v i d u a l characters: the burnt-ouf ' • • ' . A - 7 5 hopes of Kareno and Jens S p i r , as well as the ultimate, t o t a l confusion of T e r e s i t a i n t h i s l a t e s t stage of her surrender to the e r o t i c demon. Only with the concluding series of cata-strophes do v/e return, once more, to the attention-expanding e f f e c t s from the f i r s t h a l f of the play. B. SPECIAL FANTASTIC AND FANTASTIC-DRAMATIC ELEMENTS AND EFFECTS. a. Premises, situations,•events. The use of a daring philosopher as the'hero of a play does not automatically transpose that.play to the l e v e l of the fan-t a s t i c ; of t h i s , At the Gates of the Kingdom i s an immediate example. Nor does the use of a remote l o c a l i t y l i k e Northern Norway.in i t s e l f make for. an outright n o n - r e a l i s t i c framework, as demonstrated by a number of Hamsun's r e a l i s t i c novels from a f t e r the turn of the century. But'for a dramatist to decioLe, as a s t a r t i n g - p o i n t , on a combination of the two, i s v i r t u a l l y tantamount t o a d e c l a r a t i o n that the play which he i s going to write w i l l be aiming, i n content, scope, and dramatic e f f e c t s , f o r something emphatically out of the ordinary. At the end of a .decade of l o n e l i n e s s and. disappointments, Kareno, e x i l e d from the p h i l o s o p h i c a l community i n the c i t y , i s pro-posing to i n i t i a t e a series of f a n t a s t i c perceptional experi-ments, tantamount to a departure from our realm of d a i l y - i.c-p h y s i c a l , time-bound - existence into the exclusive timeless realms of the mind at large; and he i s proposing, moreover, to conduct these experiments i n a s e t t i n g which i s i n i t s e l f l i k e a t r a n s i t i o n a l zone between human, time-bound r e a l i t y and the i n f i n i t e , timeless spaces of cosmos and mind. In t h i s border-zone, as i t were, between c i v i l i z a t i o n and eternity,, between the r e a l and the super-real (a p o t e n t i a l q u a l i t y i n the s e t t i n i n other words, which becomes manifestly a c t u a l i z e d through the c a t a l y t i c superimposition on i t of, p r e c i s e l y , a f i g u r e l i k e Kareno and h i s transcendental e n t e r p r i s e ) , a l l funda-mental e x i s t e n t i a l contrasts -between l i f e and death, summer and winter, sanity and madness, hope and r u i n a t i o n - become v a s t l y and p r i m i t i v e l y .magnified; t h e - l i g h t i s more penetrating and the darkness more engulfing, and everything may turn into i t s own.opposite without warning. In such a p o t e n t i a l super-r e a l i t y , then, _the laws o f everyday t r i v i a l i t y may become t o t a l l y suspended, so as to make room, at the r i g h t moment, f o r any prodigious event to happen. The r i g h t moment i s marked, i n the play, by Kareno's pr o p o s i t i o n to erect his wondrous glass tower - h i s curious meditation r e t r e a t that i s 'going t o "burn l i k e a s t a r among the mountains" - amidst the bleak rocks on Mr. Oterman's property by the sea, face to face with the desolate nature of the north.. Perched, as i t were, on the t r a n s i t i o n l i n e between the realms of time-boundness and transcendence, he w i l l t r y to penetrate i n t o the vertiginous secrets of the l a t t e r . But the transcendent realm accepts his challenge with a vengeance: the shining-'white marble emerging underneath the seemingly worthless s l a t e h i l l o c k (which was to provide space f o r the b u i l d i n g - s i t e f o r Kareno's tower) i s i n i t s e l f l i k e a great secret of Nature sudd.enly revealed. The throwing open of a t o t a l l y new view (towards the sea and the headland), h i t h e r t o blocked by the h i l l o c k - i n i t s e l f a rather extraordinary e f f e c t on a stage! - i . e . the. complete transformation, as a r e s u l t of the b l a s t i n g , . o f surroundings which have up to that very moment always been the same, s i g n i -f i e s that some i r r e v e r s i b l e transition.has taken place, the consequences of which cannot yet be foreseen. In addi'tion, the contrast between the casual, peripheral r o l e of the b l a s t i n g preparations i n the preceding action and the magnitude, sub-sequently, of the r e s u l t i t s e l f i s l i k e an'uncannily whispered assurance to the1 spectator that t h i s was anything but the t r i -v i a l , routine episode which i t might have seemed to be. The casual note ( i . e . casual with regard to the b l a s t i n g episode) on which the act ends further r e i t e r a t e s ..this contrast, so as to convey to us the surface impression that nothing r e a l l y important has been changed: t e l l i n g us at the same time, under-neath the surface, that everything has changed, .nothing w i l l ever be the same again. In ,each of the remaining three acts, the dramatic center of energy i s c o n s t i t u t e d by an event of s i m i l a r l y f a n t a s t i c proportions. (It should be noted that i n a l l four acts the appearance of Thy - the "wandering Jew", or " J u s t i c e " - t r y i n g -to d e l i v e r h i s perpetual "message", occurs as a kind of pre-. • lude or concomitant to the Central f a n t a s t i c event of the act.) By i t s e l f , the shipwreck i n Act T l might have appeared drama-t i c only i n a more ordinary, one-dimensional sense; but i t s basic dramatic energy p o t e n t i a l i s r e f r a c t e d into'a whole s p e c t r a l range of phantasmagoric fireworks through-the b r i l l i a n t nightmare e c c e n t r i c i t y of the circumstances and e f f e c t s sur-rounding i t - i . e . Teresita's staggering resolve to sink the whole ship, as well as the nature of,, and o r c h e s t r a l i n t e r -play between, the i n d i v i d u a l elements of the entire v i s u a l and auditory stagescape: the tower, the sending of the empty lamp, the binoculars, the lamp in.the tower and the observa-t i o n of i t through the binoculars,, the shots and.distress-rockets f i r e d from the sinking ship, the c a u s t i c , p l a y f u l d i a -logue with Jens S p i r on the s p e c t a t o r i a l brink of d i s a s t e r . -Act I I I i s the only act i n which the c e n t r a l f a n t a s t i c a l i t y ' does.not proceed from or involve Kareno 1s tower; here i t i s constituted by.the "nerve fever", the legendary epidemic which has been slowly-but s t e a d i l y approaching from the north and now' f i n a l l y h i t s the trading-post l i k e a mysterious and f r i g h t e n i n g v i s i t a t i o n . - F i n a l l y , i n Act IV, the crowning f a n t a s t i c event centers d i r e c t l y on the tower: spurred on by h i s insane, m a t e r i a l i s t i c passion, Oterman takes the f u l l step i n t o the committal of a crime as extravagant as that to which the chimerical passion of T e r e s i t a had driven her; and the tower i t s e l f , the construction of which had been the o r i g i n a l s t a r t i n g - p o i n t f o r the whole seri e s of darkly f a n t a s t i c happen-ings, i s destroyed by'the flames. "•','' 1 0• Props as s p e c i a l dramatic-fantastic energy sources. In a play i n which, as i n L i v e t s s p i l , a number of f o r -mally, very o b j e c t i v e l y r e a l but i n essence highly extraordina-ry events are acted out, within a v e r b a l l y l o g i c a l realm of p e r s o n a l a c t i o n , a g a i n s t t h e ba c k g r o u n d o f what one p e r c e i v e s ( t h r o u g h t h e extraord.in.ary, s y m b o l i c q u a l i t y o f t h e e v e n t s t h e m s e l v e s ) as t h e r e a l m o f a s u p r a - p e r s o n a l d i s p e n s a t i o n , t h e r e a r i s e s between t h e s e two r e a l m s a s p e c i a l a c t i o n space w i t h i n which, a l l n o n - v e r b a l , n o n - p e r s o n a l ( i : e . i n a n i m a t e ) e l e m e n t s c o n c r e t e l y p a r t i c i p a t i n g i n . t h e a c t i o n o f t h e p l a y w i l l assume a p a r t i c u l a r q u a l i t y , as. i t were, o f " o v e r - c o n -c r e t e n e s s " - i . e . a n . i d e n t i t y ( t o t h e p e r c e i v e r ) a p a r t f r o m and beyond t h e common s p a t i a l e v e r y d a y c o n t i n u u m o f human ag e n t s and i n a n i m a t e objects/phenomena w i t h i n w h i c h t h e y w o u l d o r d i n a r i l y be p e r c e i v e d . . G i v e n t h e sense (on t h e p a r t o f t h e s p e c t a t o r ) o f a m y s t e r i o u s , s u p r a - p e r s o n a l r e a l m b e h i n d t h e r e a l m o f immediate p e r s o n a l s t a g e a c t i o n , any a c t i o n e l e -ment on t h e s t a g e w h i c h i s n o t p e r s o n a l - i . e . n o t an a c t u a l , l i v i n g c h a r a c t e r - w i l l t e n d ( g i v e n a s u f f i c i e n t l y s i g n i f i -c a n t c o n t e x t ) t o be a t l e a s t s u b l i m i n a l l y c o n s t r u e d as b e i n g somehow c o n n e c t e d w i t h t h i s s u p r a - p e r s o n a l , t r a n s c e n d e n t r e a l m , r a t h e r t h a n w i t h t h e r e a l m o f human a c t i o n t o w h i c h i t f o r m a l l y b e l o n g s . T h i s i s bo r n e out. e s p e c i a l l y i n t h e case o f dynamic s o u n d - a n d - l i g h t p a r t i c i p a t i o n i n ' t h e . m a i n , a c t i o n ( I have d i s c u s s e d t h i s p a r t i c u l a r s u b j e c t u n d e r A.b., .and w i l l • r e t u r n t o i t i n a l i t t l e w h i l e ) , b u t a l s o i n t h e case o f a number o f h i g h l y n o t i c e a b l e p r o p s u s e d by Hamsun i n t h e p l a y . Thus i n A c t .II, T e r e s i t a 1 s l a n t e r n - a s s u m e s an i n d e p e n d e n t d o u b l e f u n c t i o n by, ( a ) : i n t e n s i f y i n g , on t h e 'stage', t h a t d a r k -n e s s i n w h i c h i t c o n s t i t u t e s t h e s o l e , m i n u t e p r e s e n c e o f . l i g h t ( t h e e f f e c t ' o f a t i n y , c o n c e n t r a t e d l i g h t s o u r c e a m i d s t an o t h e r w i s e t o t a l d a r k n e s s - a d e v i c e e x t e n s i v e l y r e l i e d on by e.g. K a f k a i n h i s n o v e l s - i s t h a t o f c o n v e r t i n g t h e f u n d a -m e n t a l c o n t r a d i c t i o n , b e t w een.darkness and l i g h t i n t o a k i n d o f m a g i c a l l i g h t - a n d - d a r k n e s s s i m u l t a n e i t y ) ; ( b ) : e s t a b l i s h i n g t h r o u g h t h e d a r k n e s s a . p o i n t o f c o r r e s p o n d e n c e w i t h . t h e d y i n g lamp i n K a r e n o 1 s t o w e r , t h u s a c c e n t u a t i n g t h e whole, f a n t a s t i c l a n t e r n , drama w h i c h i s b e i n g acted, out a c r o s s t h i s g r e a t d i s -t a n c e . However, t h e main l i n k between t h e f o r e g r o u n d a c t i o n and Kareno's lamp i s f u r n i s h e d by a n o t h e r f a s c i n a t i n g p r o p o f T e r e s i t a ' s , t h e p a i r o f b i n o c u l a r s t h r o u g h w h i c h she i s k e e p i n g watch over the sinking l i g h t on the headland, i n a d d i t i o n to ' t h e i r immediate^ s i n i s t e r i d e n t i t y as, so to speak, an i n s t r u -ment for/symbol of Teresita. 1 s crime and a receptacle f o r the extreme i n t e n s i t y of her'observation, the binoculars, through their, o p t i c a l siiperj.ority i n t h i s demanding context, become l i k e an independent, magically superior observing ag.ent, the superhuman gathering point of everything that i s going on. Thus i n terms of dramatic energy, the;/ almost seem to play the r e a l lead i n this- whole sequence. Other noticeable props, of a more one-dimensionally fan-t a s t i c - character , are- Thy 1 s strange shoes and the mysterious red v e i l . o f Mrs. Kareno (both i n Act I I I ) ; while the r e c u r r i n g presence, throughout Act IV, of Engineer Brede's p i s t o l grad-u a l l y endows t h i s object with an imperceptibly mounting s i g n i -f i c a n c e , so that, by the time T e r e s i t a i s k i l l e d . b y i t , i t has assumed an absurdly f a t e f u l autonomous e x i s t e n c e , . t o t a l l y apart from a l l the characters involved. - F i n a l l y , the t e l e -grams used i n Act T l and Act I I I constitute a more immediately obvious example of the p a r t i c u l a r "mysterious messenger" q u a l i t y i n the props to which I have pointed. In t h e i r i s o l a t e d enhanced concreteness, the telegrams - and most of the other s p e c i a l props with them -.become l i k e . d i s s o c i a t e d exclamation marks, independent explosions of mute, i r r e d u c i b l e mystery;, t h e i r ultimate point of reference i s - themselves. c. Special features i n the v i s u a l appearance of the characters. In my previous, i n t e r p r e t a t i v e a n alysis of the characters o f ' L i v e t s s p i l I r e f e r r e d .to a s i g n i f i c a n t feature i n the external appearance of Jens S p i r : h i s red beard which he combs with a lead comb to blacken i t . A symbol, i n i t s e l f , of demonic sexual i t y , t h i s feature assumes a p a r t i c u l a r q u a l i t y of the f a n t a s t i c through i t s i n c l u s i o n of two v i s u a l i d e n t i t i e s , i . e . a hidden, secret i d e n t i t y - the true,, red colour - behind the apparent one. - An examination of the other main characters shows that Kareno i s the' only one who has been l e f t without any p a r t i c u l a r external feature of oddness or f a n t a s t i c a l i t y . (With the p a r t i a l exception of Mrs. Kareno - whose t h e a t r i c a l l y mysterious red v e i l amounts, to be sure,, only to an episodic feature i n her appearance; but one, nevertheless,'which adds most s c i n t i l l a t i n g l y to the general phantasmagoria of Act III„) This would seem to be l o g i c a l l y accounted f o r by that other, i n t e l l e c t u a l f a n t a s t i c a l i t y endowment through which he i s d i s -tinguished: that of h i s eccentric metaphysical knighthood, and w i l d transcendence-bent cognition enterprises. - The e c c e n t r i -c i t y of Oterman's appearance materializes gradually through-out the play, i n proportion as h i s f r u s t r a t e d greed drives him f a r t h e r and f a r t h e r i n t o grotesque miserliness &n<L_ para-noia; while the p e c u l i a r c h a r a c t e r i s t i c s of h i s daughter -her "stone eyes", her "long-hands" and "protruding f e e t " -set- her up as a center of strangeness r i g h t from the opening of the f i r s t act. At the f a r end of the strangeness scale stands Thy, with h i s f a n t a s t i c shoes and general appearance of ' unearthliness - so unearthly, i n f a c t , as to place him s l i g h t -l y outside the sphere of a l l the other characters, i n an auto-nomous object zone s i m i l a r to that of the dramatic-fantastic props. F i n a l l y , the hunchbacked Engineer Brede, with his f u r -coat, h i s p i s t o l , and his feeble voice, i s the most immediate-l y t h e a t r i c a l character c r e a t i o n of the whole play. Taking the characters as a whole, then, the highly t h e a t r i -c a l appearance of i t s individual, members.might be seen as con-t r a d i c t o r y ' to • the f a c t that, i n the play,.they are a l l mem-bers of an. assumed realm of everyday l i f e , , and not the actual agents of f a n t a s t i c a l i t y - the source of the l a t t e r being the transcendent realm of the mysterious l i f e forces, the gradual penetration of which into the realm of the l i v i n g we witness throughout the play.' However, i t i s p r e c i s e l y t h i s t o t a l lack of autonomy i n the characters - the f a c t that they are not free agents i n regard to anything, but merely and e x c l u s i v e l y acted upon -, which makes natural t h i s very s t y l i z a t i o n of t h e i r appearances, a s t y l i z a t i o n so consistent as to reduce tho- to the b r i l l i a n t l y eccentric f i g u r e s of a chess game or a pack,of playing-cards. I f the playground of the l i f e forces i s trans-formed into looking-glass land, .it i s only reasonable that, t h e i r victims should be made-to look l i k e i t s f a n t a s t i c i n - . habitants. • Light and sound as primary transmitters of the f a n t a s t i c . The middle and l a s t of the three diagrams i n Part A showed how i t was possib l e to view extensive passages of, respective-l y , Act I and' Act I I of L i v e t s s p i l as structured i n terms o'f l i g h t and sound alone, i . e . , how these l a t t e r elements can be seen as making up a whole progressional dimension of t h e i r own, p a r a l l e l to the progressional dimension of the dialogue. In Part A, the examination of.these elements'was b a s i c a l l y oriented i n terms of the dialogue,~.i.e., we were asking the ques-t i o n of how t h e i r varied and per s i s t e n t impingement upon the dialogue served to enhance i t s f l u i d i t y . Given t h i s o r i e n t a -tion,- the e f f e c t of these i n t r u d i n g elements on the dialogue . were studied as an instance,of dramatic s t y l e , while the question of t h e i r i n t r i n s i c , f a n t a s t i c nature was postponed t i l l l a t e r . P r i o r to t h i s , however, I'had already r e f e r r e d to the d i f f i c u l t y , within a terminology such as that of the present study, of keeping the q u a l i t i e s of 1 dramatic 1.and 'fan-t a s t i c ' t r u l y and r e a d i l y apart. I f , on the one hand, the penetration of a f u l l - f l e d g e d , b a f f l i n g l y autonomous, non-verbal background dimension in t o the dimension of verbal for e -ground action would tend to make f o r a greater d i a l o g i c . f l u i d -i t y on the part of the l a t t e r , i t would also c o n s t i t u t e , on •the other hand, that, clash between two warring aesthetic dimen-sions which i s the ultimate essence of "unr e a l i t y " . Tho former e f f e c t , then, i s 'dramatic'., the l a t t e r - by i t s t r i g g e r i n g of a d u a l - r e a l i t y experience - ' f a n t a s t i c ' . By and large,, how-ever, the prolonged v a l i d i t y of the l a t t e r e f f e c t w i l l r e s t on the presupposition that, i n addition to the l o g i c a l reason f o r t h e i r occurrence, the in t r u d i n g elements somehow manifest a symbolic charge, so as to be suggestive/capable of being asso-c i a t e d with a transcendent realm beyond the immediate time-bound .reality f o r the "dramatic action. In order to demonstrate the actual a s s o c i a t i o n of l i g h t and sound elements with .such a transcendent realm, l e t us sub-divide the l a t t e r into - a number of i n d i v i d u a l sub-manif esta-^ tions,. i n accordance, with my previous designation of a number of so-called, l i f e forces, or mystical supra-hunmn p r i n c i p l e s governing the action of the play. While a number of these p r i n c i p l e s assert .themselves i n each act, i t i s po s s i b l e , on the other hand, to. see each act as centered around one such p r i n c i p l e i n p a r t i c u l a r , or around a confrontation between the act's c e n t r a l p r i n c i p l e and another one. The c e n t r a l p r i n c i p l e / c o n t e s t i n each act can be generally deduced, from the act's c e n t r a l f a n t a s t i c event ( i n accordance with the out l i n e of such events i n B.a.); on a more subtle l e v e l , how-ever, i t can be perceived, i n greater symbolic d e t a i l , through the structure of the l i g h t and sound events of the act.. A b r i e f survey follo w s : Act 1: The p r i n c i p l e of.Logos - Kareno's pro p o s i t i o n to extend his powers of• conscious, i n t e l l e c t u a l knowledge into a conquest of the deep. recesses of the'unconscious mind - i s introduced.. In. t h i s act, i t s association with any p o t e n t i a l l i g h t element remains i n d i r e c t : Kareno speaks of h i s tower which i s going to "burn l i k e a star among the mountains"; f u r t h e r , references are made to h i s lamp, and to the s i g n i f i c a n c e of l i g h t experi-ments fo r h i s future 'activity.. As the quarrymen commence t h e i r work on the s l a t e h i l l o c k , Kareno immediately t r i e s to usurp the sound of the hammering as a symbol f o r his transcen-dental e x p l o i t s . ("Listen how the mountain echoes every beat. Now I conjure the Powers. Oh, I have great things brewing."). However, as t h i s i s the only reference made to the hammering, the attempted a s s o c i a t i o n of i t with the aforesaid p r i n c i p l e does not m a t e r i a l i z e ; instead, the hammering i s l e f t alone to t e l l i t s own story - and so i s the music, 'which s t a r t e d simul-taneously with i t . While Kareno's and Teresita's conversation-i s meandering along l a b o r i o u s l y , a t o t a l l y d i f f e r e n t kind of dialogue i s taking place underneath i t , between these two i n -truding sound elements. Thus of the three p r i n c i p l e s competing throughout t h i s sequence,' Logos i s shown to be the weakest, by being represented on the dialogic, l e v e l only, through Kare-no; while Eros is.represented both d i a l o g i c a l l y (Teresita) and contrapuntally (the music), and the mysterious realm of, the Inorganic - symbolic of the lure of, and obsession with, vast mineral r i c h e s - i s represented contrapuntally, through •• A-83 . the hammering. Thus the l a t t e r two are set up against each other i n a kind of contrasty sound tapestry - reminding, i n i t s evocation of the mineral realm, of the two sequences fram-ing Wot an' s and Loge's mission to Nibelheira i n Wagner's Rhein-gol_d. For a b r i e f moment, the music seems to get the upper hand, then both sound elements cease simultaneously. There now follows an exchange between F i r s t Quarryman, Kareno, and 0te3:>-man concerning the mysterious softness of the rock. (The rock i s "as soft as clay".),A simultaneous recommencement of the hammering and the music follows, but how the music i s playing f u r t h e r away, thus a l t e r i n g the r e l a t i o n s h i p between the two decidedly i n favour of the hammering. The unsensational v i c -tory of the l a t t e r i n the subliminal, contrapuntal sound con-t e s t i s l i k e a subtle intimation to the e f f e c t that the t r u l y sensational event of the act i s going to m a t e r i a l i z e , not out of the wordy dialogue between T e r e s i t a and Kareno, but out of the.strangely wordless proceedings on the s l a t e h i l l o c k . Act I I : In t h i s act, the music a f f i l i a t e d with Eros (Teres i t a piano-playing) has a much more d i r e c t l y f a n t a s t i c q u a l i t y , i n accordance with the growth i n her e r o t i c obsession: suggesting that the l a t t e r has reached such proportions as w i l l allow un-conscious impulses of great violence and destructiveness to invsde the realm of her conscious decisions. The same q u a l i t y of f a n t a s t i c obsession i s conveyed by the l i g h t from her lamp .as i t i s shining, out of the windows,. i l l u m i n a t i n g the stage. The combined e f f e c t of the two i s - s o powerful as l i t e r a l l y to e s t a b l i s h T eresita's emotions . palpably on stage while pihysi-c a l l y she i s i n s i d e the house, unseen by us. (Again, t h i s i s . an u n r e a l i t y e f f e c t i n the best sense of the concept: She de-f i n i t e l y i s not present on the stage, yet she d e f i n i t e l y i s present on the stage...) • . The main sequence of the act i s centered around the con-t e s t between Logos and Eros., as represented by Kareno • s lamp i n the tower and Teresita's lantern with i t s cloak-and-dagger . atmosphere. (On the straightforwardly psychological l e v e l -which i s p r e c i s e l y the l e v e l that' i s so b r i l l i a n t l y rendered through the p a r a l l e l , contrapuntal events - one .perceives the defeat of Logos to be almost v i s i b l y the r e s u l t , not.so much of the actual l ack of kerosene as of i t s t o t a l Lack of support from Kareno 1s subconscious, the desire -of which to get r i d of • his wife had even been so consciously and e x p l i c i t l y expressed by him as to play st r a i g h t i n t o the long hands of T e r e s i t a and her Eros.) The•sound-and-light d i s t r e s s signals from the sinking ship following upon the extinction, of.the lamp are not, of course, of an. i n t r i n s i c a l l y f a n t a s t i c nature; although, by occurring at such a c l i m a c t i c moment and i n d i r e c t continua-t i o n of the preceding elements, they'-would most probably' be f e l t t o , i n h e r i t some of the f a n t a s t i c q u a l i t y of the l a t t e r . . . F i n a l l y , the mad agency of Eros i s conveyed to'.us .once more by T e r e s i t a 1 s • l a n t e r n , shining out of the windows' f o r a f e v e r i s h moment just before the c u r t a i n ' f a l l s . Acts I I I .and IV: These, two l a s t acts do. not r e a l l y e x h i b i t continuous contrapuntal, " f a n t a s t i c " sub-versions of the ver-bal a ction. The music i n Act I I I , through i t s subtle a f f i l i a -t i o n with the fever, does take on a decidedly f a n t a s t i c q u a l i -ty; one senses the existence of some secret, u n i n t e l l i g i b l e r e l a t i o n between the'two - the nature'of which i s further com-p l i c a t e d by the previous association" of the music with Eros. I n d i r e c t l y , then, the music may be seen as l i n k i n g these two forces -'Eros and Death, as represented.by the fever - t o -gether. - The l i g h t phenomena i n the sky - the northern Tights that turn'"as red as blood", as well as .the moon. with..a,ring . around i t - .become f a n t a s t i c within the given context, i . e . that of.the plague and of. l o c a l s u p e r s t i t i o n responding to i t . -F i n a l l y , a sense of the ultimate reign of chaos - of human consciousness d i s s o l v i n g in. the. grip of the forces of madness and destruction - i s conveyed.towards the end. of the act by the sound, passing r a p i d l y by,.of 'cowbells, barking dogs and trampling as of many animals', as the d e l i r i o u s T e r e s i t a has l e t a l l the,animals loose. The two c l i m a c t i c events of Act IV - and. of the whole play - find, primary expression through surprise e f f e c t s of, re s p e c t i v e l y , sound and l i g h t . The shot that k i l l s Teresita-c onstitutes a true moment of.unreality'because, at the same .L-o; time as i t i s seen to be t o t a l l y a c c i d e n t a l , i t i s f e l t -against the background of the whole succession of events leading up to i t - to .be the very•opposite. (On the metaphysi-c a l l e v e l , then, t h i s u n r e a l i t y proceeds from the idea o f . . i d e n t i t y between•Justice and Chance, as posited by Hamsun here toward the end of the play and represented through the strange f i g u r e of Thy.) The same kind of unreal moment i s created by the f i r e . i n Kareno's tower. This event, to be sure, i s not an accident, yet at the'moment when we see i t happening, i t i s bound to s t r i k e us with- amazement - only to make us r e a l i z e t h e next moment (when we t h i n k back to the basic data present, so to say, from the early stages of the play) that we ''know" that EXACTLY THIS was.going to happen ... "Total chance" vs. " t o t a l i n e v i t a b i l i t y " , and " t o t a l s u r p r i s e " vs. " t o t a l expec-tedness" are, then, the two components of magic simultaneity, c o n s t i t u t i n g the fantastic-dramatic q u a l i t y of, r e s p e c t i v e l y , the shot and.the f i r e i n the tower. • •* .e. Distance Factors and the c r e a t i o n of dramatic force f i e l d s . The s p e c i a l f a c t o r to be i s o l a t e d and I d e n t i f i e d i n t h i s concluding section was negatively implied i n the treatment of contrapuntal i n t r u s i o n e f f e c t s . The l a t t e r were characterized by mental separation from the sphere of the main action -. or, as we may appropriately term i t here, the center of a c t i o n . Given the absence' of d i a l o g i c connection between the i n t r u s i o n ' source and the center of actio n , the a t t e n t i o n of the spectator was s a i d to become divided between the two, as shown i n the diagram below. , Action Intrusion Center <||> . © S«>a*-ce " I t was f u r t h e r pointed out how the involvement of the i n -truding element i n the dialogue would r u l e out the s p e c i a l contrapuntal e f f e c t of the i n t r u s i o n . Through the establishment of an e x p l i c i t , i.e.- d i a l o g i c a l l y manifested, observational contact between the action center and the i n t r u s i o n source-, the l a t t e r i s set up as a (postulated) second center of action as p i c t u r e d i n the following diagram: (The dotted l i n e i n d i c a t e s the p o t e n t i a l simultaneous observa-t i o n a l contact between the spectator and Action Center II -the actual existence of which depends, of course, on.whether the l a t t e r i s v i s i b l e both to the actors and himself, or only to the a c t o r s . ) ' . ' • ' The d i r e c t i o n - apparent to' the spectator through the d i a -logue, gestures, etc. -• o f . a l l observational e f f o r t s of the actors towards the, more or l e s s remote, Center II brings'the l a t t e r dramatically into the main act i o n : e s t a b l i s h i n g , as i t were, a dramatic force f i e l d between the immediate stage area and t h i s distant,object of observation. The spectator, by par-t i c i p a t i n g i n the mental.concentration of the actors on Center I I , becomes Immediately involved i n t h i s dramatic force f i e l d ; thus to him, the action now comes to' comprise the e n t i r e force f i e l d , enabling him to project himself i n t o two d i f f e r e n t realms of stage r e a l i t y at the same time, one of which a t t r a c t his imagination, so to say, beyond the actual stage - instead of, as i n the more conventional theatre experience, l i m i t i n g him to the l a t t e r alone. Obviously, the p a r t i c i p a t i o n i n such an observational dramatic force f i e l d , while the actual d i a -logue i s subjected, i n large measure, to the creation and main tenance of observational suspense, w i l l engage the senses and the imagination of the spectator on a f a r greater scale than A c t i o n Cen te r I .. Act Von '•^ CeriT.er ^ H i i - O / the rather passive involvement i n , e.g., an ordinary, s p a t i a l l y self-contained dialogue between two characters on stage. An examination, from t h i s new angle, of the s p e c i a l e l e -ments and e f f e c t s which we have studied here i n Part B reveals a number of them to be s i g n i f i c a n t l y . c h a r a c t e r i z a b l e , within' the general context of the play, through t h e i r i n t r i n s i c a f f i n -i t y with the idea of distance :•• i . e . , to contain an immediate or p o t e n t i a l distance, f a c t o r , so as to make possible t h e i r use f o r the c r e a t i o n of a second center of action, as well as the r e s u l t a n t c r e a t i o n of an observational force f i e l d exploding the immediate confines of the stage. Re-stating, i n these new terms, what was s a i d e a r l i e r about e.g. the binoculars, we can now say that, through the observational function basic to ' p r e c i s e l y t h i s kind of instrument,, they become the very embodi-ment of the dramatic p r i n c i p l e of force f i e l d c r eation per se. As f o r elements.immediately suggestive of actual 'second cen-t e r s ' of action, the tower,.and i t s l o c a t i o n out on the head-land, i s an exemplary invention; and the use to which Hamsun puts i t - i . e . by extending i t s inherent distance f a c t o r to the v i s u a l e f f e c t s of the lamp and the f i r e , and p l a c i n g i t n a t u r a l l y within the whole shipwreck context - i s sublimely melodramatic. The successful e f f e c t , from that same point of view, of the d i s t r e s s signals from the ship derives from the f a c t that the ship i t s e l f i s not seen; thus the actual (postu-lated) event of the shipwreck, represented through the e l e -mentarily suggestive d i s t r e s s signals,comes to carry a f a r greater appeal to the spectator's imagination, i n t e n s i f y i n g further the force f i e l d between i t s e l f and Teresita-Jens S p i r . Note that, as a second action center, the shipwreck i s h a l f -way mental, i . e . i t i s maintained' as an action center only through the extension of the spectator's imagination beyond the representative perceivable point of the d i s t r e s s s i g n a l s . An example of an e x c l u s i v e l y mental a c t i o n center i s the plague the gradual approach of which we hear about i n the f i r s t two acts; these references to the'approaching epidemic creates a subtle force f i e l d between the general action i n . t h i s f i r s t ..half of the play and the supposed - and supposedly ever closer... p o s i t i o n reached hy the f e a r f u l v i s i t o r advancing from the n o r t h . As i n the case of observable second centers the b i n o -c u l a r s c o u l d be seen as a fundamental' embodiment of the p r i n -ciple' of f o r c e f i e l d c r e a t i o n , so the r o l e of telegrams/the t e l e g r a p h can be seen i n a s i m i l a r .way i n r e l a t i o n to p^urely imaginary f o r c e f i e l d s , i . e . f o r c e f i e l d s whose .second:center i s e x c l u s i v e l y mental. A few years a f t . . • L i v e t s . s p i l , ' S t r i n d -berg made b r i l l i a n t , -most thorough use ox the t e l e g r a p h e l e -ment i n h i s Dance of Death. . CONCLUSION. My'attempt t p execute a more or l e s s exhaustive c r i t i c a l survey of L i v e t s s p i l was c a r r i e d out, so t o speak, i n two i n -s t a l l m e n t s : the f i r s t , o r i e n t e d predominantly i n terms of an i n t e r p r e t a t i v e approach, the second i n terms of an approach predominantly concerned w i t h p a r t i c u l a r t e c h n i c a l f e a t u r e s of the p l a y . Obviously, behind the use of such an e x p l i c i t l y b i p a r t i t e procedure there i s always the s t a t e d / u n s t a t e d ex-p e c t a t i o n t h a t u l t i m a t e l y the tv/o w i l l come to g e t h e r : t h a t i n the end one w i l l be able to r e t u r n to the i n t e r p r e t a t i o n and see t h a t the author's p a r t i c u l a r techniques, which one has d i s c o v e r e d i n the work, do indeed serve the "meaning" of the l a t t e r - : t h a t , i n f a c t , they c o n s t i t u t e such an immediate e x p r e s s i o n of t h i s meaning t h a t the process of i d e n t i f y i n g and d e s c r i b i n g them becomes i n i t s e l f another path to an i n t e r p r e t a t i o n of the work. • In c o n c l u d i n g the p r e v i o u s , i n t e r p r e t a t i v e s e c t i o n of my survey I p o i n t e d t o the r e a l c e n t er - the "point of g r a v i t y " -o f , t h e p l a y as l y i n g o u t s i d e the. immediate sphere of the c h a r a c t e r s , i n t h a t realm - the realm o f " l i f e " i t s e l f - from whence t h e i r d e s t i n i e s are determined. In other words- L i v e t s s p i l i s a p l a y about Fate - the unpredictable,, a p p a r e n t l y random, yet minutely d i r e c t i o n a l game-,which, l i f e the chess-master...plays w i t h i t s human pawns:.the u n y i e l d i n g d i r e c t e d n e s s of which becomes c l e a r only at the very end, when the events of the beginning have come f u l l c i r c l e , and Kareno's a r c t i c Tower of Babel, that cognitional.challenge with which he had o r i g i n -a l l y "conjured the powers", i s destroyed by Oterman - who i n h i s turn has been nothing but the unknowing t o o l of the very forces that had been conjured up. The play, then, c l e a r l y possesses two d i f f e r e n t dimensions of reference: a surface, dimension of s i n g u l a r l y melodramatic events, plus a second, secret dimension which we perceive behind the f i r s t one: that of the mysterious, supra-human agency - the agency of "Fate" - •. of which these events are the external manifestation. It i s p r e c i s e l y f o r that reason - because the events i n the human, time-bound realm are b a s i c a l l y manifestations of a hidden, transcendent realm - that the author had to fashion these events on such an extravagantly melodramatic scale that the basic f a n t a s t i c a l i t y of the meeting between the two r e a l i t i e s -the f a n t a s t i c a l i t y of "Fate" - would automatically be conveyed by them. The apparent "melodrama" of L i v e t s s p i l i a a s p e c i a l , extremely s t y l i z e d version of the dramatic: a v e r t i g i n o u s l y sophisticated, v e r t i g i n o u s l y p r i m i t i v e c o n c r e t i z a t i o n , as i t were, of the very idea of the dramatic. I t i s , then, not just "melodrama", but high melodrama; a tapestry of exaggeratedly formalized, f a n t a s t i c events, lucent with the l i g h t from i t s own hidden, supra-human energy sources. With the possible exception of the somewhat a l l e g o r i c a l character of Thy, the play distinguishes i t s e l f most r a d i c a l l y from a morality play through t h i s very technique of i n d i r e c t n e s s : through the fa c t that these transcendent energy sources are formally t o t a l l y absent from the play, i . e . t h e i r hidden presence has to be extrapolated from the f a n t a s t i c q u a l i t y of the events - and, e s p e c i a l l y , of the many non-personal elements and e f f e c t s which f i l l the p l a y , l i k e a sub s i d i a r y , yet independent dimension of . happening, with t h e i r murmuring, multicoloured f l i c k e r of dreamlike i n t r u s i o n s . Through i t s subtle and complicated technique of suggesting, i n d i r e c t l y , a hidden, transcendent realm of influence behind i t s v i s i b l e , objective realm of action, L i v e t s s p i l came to j o i n Mysteries as the only other work i n which Hamsun succeeded i n opening up, underneath a semi-secretly transparent f l o o r of a c t i o n , those a c t u a l abysses of t r a n s c e n d e n t r e a l i t y which had been h e r a l d e d i n h i s l e c t u r e s on p s y c h o l o g i c a l l i t e r a t u r e and the s u b c o n s c i o u s , o f 1 8 9 1 . In M y s t e r i e s , tho enigmatic r e c o g n i -t o r y p r o j e c t i o n s , by Nagol, ; onto the r e a l i t y s u r r o u n d i n g him, of h i s own u n c o n s c i o u s mind grow t o ever l a r g e r p r o p o r t i o n s u n t i l f i n a l l y , t h r e a t e n e d by the f e a r of b e i n g e n g u l f e d by h i s u n c o n s c i o u s , he takes the s h o r t c u t t o a n n i h i l a t i o n ' t h r o u g h s u i c i d e . In L i v e t s s p i l , the i n d i v i d u a l u n c o n s c i o u s of Myste-r i e s - the mystery of one i n d i v i d u a l ' s r e - m a t e r i a l i z i n g • " f a t e " - has been e x t e r n a l i z e d , as i t were, i n t o a h i d d e n • - r e g i o n of c o l l e c t i v e d e s t i n y ; t h e i n t e l l e c t u a l , c h a l l e n g e posed to the l a t t e r and i t s a c c i d e n t a l exposure, i n tho e a r l y stages of the p l a y , are l i k e the c a r e l e s s opening of a door through which the subsequent i n v a s i o n of c o l l e c t i v e c o n s c i o u s n e s s by the realm of the u n c o n s c i o u s can take p l a c e . On the l e v e l of d r a m a t i c t e c h n i q u e , the w h i s p e r i n g , n o n - v e r b a l language .,of the many i n t r u s i o n (elements m a s t e r f u l l y echoes t h i s i n v a s i o n . I t I s i n d e e d i n t e r e s t i n g t h a t f o r s e v e n t y - f i v e y e a r s Lip7^ts_sp_il s h o u l d so t o t a l l y have escaped d i s c o v e r y ; and i t i s even more i n t e r e s t i n g t h a t i t s unmerited p l a c e i n the shadow s h o u l d have been shared, to a not i n a p p r e c i a b l e degree, by, p r e c i s e l y , • 1 M y s t e r i e s . To be sure, the l a t t e r has not been' l a c k i n g a f a i r -l y r e s p e c t a b l e c i r c u l a t i o n over the y e a r s ; but i s has never a c h i e v e d any genuine r e c o g n i t i o n , a n d i t i s o n l y now i n the p r o c e s s of b e i n g c r i t i c a l l y d i s c o v e r e d . However, the f a c t t h a t such a d i s c o v e r y i s a t l a s t b e g i n n i n g to dawn f o r M y s t e r i e s l e a v e s hope .that one day i t may a l s o dawn f o r L i v e t s s p i l ; i n l i t e r a t u r e o n e may presume,., i t i s never too l a t c ' % . , ', * The absence of any previous criticism within the particular area of Hamsun's drama is related in Ronald Popperwell's A Hamsun bibliography i n the Spring 1970 issue of SCANDINAVICA (Univ. of Cambridge). The availability of this exhaustive bibliography, plus the fact that the present study has been carried out without any reliance on existing Hamsun criticism, accounts for the absence of a bibliography i n the present context. I ,H g G A M E 0_F L I F E (1896) A play i n four acts by KNUT HAMSUN Translated from the Norwegian by SIMON GRABOWSKI Knut Hamsun: THE GAME OF LIFE, translated from the Norwegian by Simon Grabowski CHARACTERS MR. OTERMAN TERESITA, his daughter by his f i r s t marriage GUSTAV his sons by his second marriage ELLAS IVAR KARENO, candidate for a degree in philosophy, tutor MRS. KARENO JENS SPIR, telegraphist THY ENGINEER BREDE A MAID Skipper Rejersen, First quarryman, Second quarryman, A dubious-looking woman, A Laestadian, A serious man, A drunk man, A bible-peddler, A merchant, A clothes-merchant, An old woman, A young g i r l , A young boy, A band of musicians, market-goers, tradesmen, miners, common people, women, Lapps, Kvaens. (Landscape i n the North w i t h low mounta ins . A s l a t e h i l l o c k to the r i g h t and i n the center o f the foreground b l o c k s almost a l l the v i e w , but a p r o -t r u d i n g h i g h headland i s seen somewhat f u r t h e r out to the l e f t . I n the immediate foreground a narrow road c r o s s i n g the stage from r i g h t t o l e f t . ) (Summer a f t e r n o o n . D u l l sunshine , c a s t i n g p r a c t i c a l l y no shadow.) KARENO ( i s heard from the r i g h t ) : T h i s i s the p l ace I thought of. (enters a long the road and c l i m b s up on to the s l a t e h i l l o c k . He i s 39 years  o l d , and h i s h a i r i s comple te ly g r e y ) . T h i s would be a good s p o t , I thought . MR. OTERMAN ( f o l l o w i n g h im, s t o u t . 60 years o l d , j o v i a l ) : Oh, I see, -here ( c l imbs a f t e r him on to the h i l l o c k and looks about h i m ) . W e l l , y e s . Yes , o f course , go r i g h t ahead and b u i l d your c a b i n h e r e . You can have a l l the l a n d you want. KARENO: Thank y o u . You see, t h i s i s o n l y a f i v e minute walk from the house, so I can come here any t i m e . MR. OTERMAN: Perhaps you ought to c l e a r the ground f i r s t ? KARENO: I have two men coming to take care of t h a t . MR. OTERMAN: T h i s h i l l w i l l have to go, you k n o w . . . . I t ' s some k i n d o f tower you want to b u i l d , i s n ' t i t ? KARENO: Y e s . A round s t r u c t u r e . I want to s i t here and work. MR. OTERMAN: Why does i t have t o be round? KARENO: I t ' s an experiment. I want to t r y to a t t r a c t l i g h t from a l l a n g l e s . The dome w i l l be a l l g l a s s . MR. OTERMAN ( l a u g h i n g ) : So you w i l l be s i t t i n g i n a s o r t of cheese b e l l . KARENO: And i n the w i n t e r I want to have a powerful r e f l e c t o r hanging i n -s i d e the dome. I l i k e l o t s of l i g h t . MR. OTERMAN: What ideas you p h i l o s o p h e r s t h i n k up ! KARENO: My house i s go ing to burn l i k e a s t a r here among the mountains . MR. OTERMAN: And t h i s i s where you are go ing to s i t and w r i t e your, opus? KARENO: Complete i t . F i n i s h i t at l a s t (dreaming) . Oh, I ' v e w r i t t e n such a l o t a l r e a d y , great s t a c k s . I t has been a good year up here i n the N o r t h . MR. OTERMAN: And when you have finished the work? KARENO: Then I hope to get somebody to print i t . MR. OTERMAN: Well, that shouldn't be d i f f i c u l t for you. KARENO: I'm not so sure about that. I got someone to print the last one, but he would hardly do i t again. He lost money. MR. OTERMAN: The book didn't s e l l then? KARENO: No. Professor Jerven attacked i t . MR. OTERMAN: Really? Is he your enemy? KARENO: Yes, I am everybody's opponent. MR. OTERMAN: But this time you w i l l have a publisher, I'm sure. And i f the worst comes to the worst you can always have i t printed at your own expense. KARENO: I can't afford that. TERESITA (enters along the road from right, slender. 25 years old, dressed  in black, although i t is summer. She walks with her feet markedly  turned out): Yes, this is the place. I helped him choose i t . What do you think, Papa? MR. OTERMAN: It's a l l right. KARENO: I'm so grateful, your father i s going to give me a l l the land I need. MR. OTERMAN: I assure you, these rocks are yours. What do I need them for? (with a sweeping gesture) . I ' l l let you have a l l you see, clear down to the ocean.... Aren't the quarrymen coming? KARENO: They promised to come at once. TERESITA: There were two men coming along behind me. MR. OTERMAN: Well, well, Kareno, I'm glad that you are going to build your tower here with us. I am especially happy for my two l i t t l e boys; you're a good tutor. And i f their mother had been alive she would have said the same. KARENO: I thank you for your great kindness. MR. OTERMAN: If I can be of any help while you are building your tower I am at your disposal. TERESITA: Why, yes, Papa, he needs both horses and men. MR. OTERMAN: After a l l , the whole thing can be done in one day's work. (A band of musicians in along the road from l e f t ; they salute and stop.) MR. OTERMAN: Hello there....Ah (takes a coin out of his pocket and hands i t to Teresita, who passes i t on to Firs t Violin, who i s standing next to her). DOUBLE-BASS (grey-bearded and old; bows): Thank you, Mr. Consul. MR. OTERMAN (laughs heartily): No, I am not a consul. No more this year than last. Every year you c a l l me consul. DOUBLE-BASS (bows): Many thanks. MR. OTERMAN:' You're going North as usual? DOUBLE-BASS: Yes, up North, from door to door. And then back here again for the f a i r . MR. OTERMAN: But don't you know there's an epidemic in the North? DOUBLE-BASS: No, we don't know that. What is there in the North? TERESITA (to her father): He doesn't understand the word epidemic. MR. OTERMAN: There's an infectious disease up north, nerve fever. People are dying by the hundreds. DOUBLE-BASS: Yes, we know that. MR. OTERMAN: And yet you are going. Do you have to? DOUBLE-BASS: Oh yes, we have to. We have families back home, almost a l l of us. MR. OTERMAN: Well, then, the Lord be with you. Goodbye. DOUBLE-BASS: Many thanks for a l l your help (the band salute and exit right) . MR. OTERMAN: Oh yes, there are so many to help. So much need (looks at his watch). But what's happened to the quarrymen? KARENO (to Teresita): Did you notice that i t was the Double-bass who spoke for a l l of them. The Firs t Violin had to keep silent. It's always like that. TERESITA: The Double-bass was the oldest, I suppose. KARENO: Yes, he was. He was also the oldest. TERESITA: Papa, why didn't we get them to play a l i t t l e ? MR. OTERMAN: Yes, dear child, why didn't you say anything about it? Well, they w i l l be playing up by the houses soon (smiling). No, I had better go myself and t e l l those men to get a move on (down the h i l l and out to right). KARENO: Miss Teresita, now I ' l l get my tower. TERESITA (sits down by the road): Yes, now you'll get your tower. I think I'm looking forward to i t being there in the winter more than anything else. KARENO (sits down beside her): Why? TERESITA: Because then i t w i l l give out such bright light. And I won't f a i l to f i l l your lamp every day. KARENO: You w i l l f i l l my lamp? And I'm not doing anything for you. TERESITA: What are you looking at? (moves away a l i t t l e ) . . KARENO: What's the matter, Miss Teresita? TERESITA: You looked at me (composing herself). But then I suppose the result w i l l be that you'll be sitting here in the tower day and night. KARENO: No, I ' l l be coming home every night. TERESITA: Then I ' l l meet you. Or maybe you don't want me to? But I w i l l f i l l the lamp (suddenly). Kareno, I'm not happy today. KARENO: No, I've noticed that. Has something unpleasant happened to you today? TERESITA: No. KARENO: And you who can toss your head so proudly. TERESITA: But a l l that light you want to s i t in isn't healthy I'm sure. KARENO: It's a l i t t l e experiment. There w i l l be lenses high and low; I'm going to guide the light through a system of labyrinths. TERESITA: Well, I don't understand that. KARENO: Our eyes see a l l objects as round; I wi l l try to see surfaces. It isn't impossible. I want to learn more, I want to find out everything and f i x i t in my mind (rises enraptured). Glass and light, I say; glass and light. I place some hope in that. Perhaps I could try by optical f a l s i f i c a t i o n to switch off my earthly cognition. It should be possible. I w i l l incandesce my brain with light and perhaps transport myself to certain clear states of being (with emotion). Oh, how I want to get to the bottom of things. TERESITA: Have you been like that long? KARENO: What do you mean - like that? TERESITA: Oh, I just said that. KARENO: No, really, what do you mean? TERESITA: You're like the moon (collects her thoughts). Well, what i f i t doesn't work out? If you don't get to the bottom of things? KARENO (sits down): I w i l l try in many ways. I have other means to resort to. I have paced back and forth in my room at home and wept and thought i t out....Miss Teresita, Goethe had more love for those who went astray on their own paths than for those who kept to the route on other peoples'. TERESITA (abstractedly): Had he really? KARENO: I have written my Sociology, now I am writing my Metaphysics. And I do not t i r e , I am f u l l of strength. I have brooded and spec-ulated; I know everything that human beings know. But I want to know more. TERESITA: Kareno, they say you are married. KARENO (stares at her). (Two quarrymen enter at this moment from right. They carry d r i l l s , hammers, crow-bars, a fuse, powder, and water.) FIRST QUARRYMAN (wearing a red woollen scarf): Is this the place? KARENO: Oh, here they are (gets up). Yes, i t is (climbs the hillock and shows them). You w i l l have to d r i l l a hole here somewhere and blast away this hillock. FIRST QUARRYMAN: It's granite. We'll need two holes. SECOND QUARRYMAN (a dark young man of great beauty): It's mica. KARENO: D r i l l a hole for a start. (First quarryman sits down and turns the d r i l l ; second quarryman stands upright and hammers. At this moment the band strikes up off-stage right. The hammering and the beat of the music become one.) KARENO: Miss Teresita, now you've got your music after a l l (coming back to her). Listen how the mountain echoes every beat. Now I conjure the Powers. Oh, I have great things brewing. TERESITA: I understand you better with music. KARENO: What I want to do is so simple when you think about i t . I want to let myself be taught by the world of phenomena, I want to liste n at i t s door. Do you think that's so fantastic? If I succeed, then I shall have seen more than human beings have ever seen. TERESITA: Do you know what would be really great? KARENO: What would be really great? T e l l me. TERESITA: It would be really great, i f you achieved a l l that. KARENO (animated): You see, Miss Teresita, our conceptions are in no way absolute. We give them a fixed foundation and then they're usable, they serve their purpose. Blows on a mining d r i l l produce sound. Very well. But why shouldn't blows on a mining d r i l l be capable of pro-ducing light? That depends on me. A person who is born blind w i l l easily learn to distinguish between a die and a b a l l ; but open his eyes, and he won't know which was the die and which was the b a l l . Well, then, 1 change my previous point of departure, I was born blind. TERESITA (wearily): I'm not happy today. KARENO (sits down): Why aren't you happy? Are you dissatisfied with me? TERESITA: With you? No. KARENO:, You mustn't be sad. TERESITA: Fancy that, a man who was born blind wouldn't know? He couldn't t e l l a ball from a die? KARENO (rises): No. Isn't that remarkable? When he began to see, his whole point of view would have been changed: now things exhibit qualities foreign to his conception of them. You see, what I want to do is exactly the same thing: convey myself into a position where I see transformed r e a l i t i e s . And so, since nothing is totally absolute, I may just as well raise the "chimera" to the throne, command i t to exist as a fact, bestow validity upon i t , crown i t . TERESITA: When you stand like that and speak you look as though you were flying away on a swan. KARENO (smiles): I ' l l s i t down (sits down). On a swan? On the contrary. I'm sitting on my old black horse who i s stomping along at a trot. Its t a i l sweeps the ground. TERESITA: You have something white on your elbow. Wait (takes out her handkerchief and brushes his sleeve). KARENO: It must be rock dust. Thank you very much (dreaming). Add to this, that I may be able to shift the entire basis for my observation of time. What do I achieve by this? Great things. I am going to catapult my soul out to the shores of eternity. Yes (inspired by his own words, rise s ) . If I could totally halt my stream of perception, time would disappear. If I could reduce the speed of my mental current only five times, I would turn my constructs upside down. Day and night would alternate every four minutes; the crops would be sown, would ripen and be harvested a l l in one moment. Suddenly I am confronted by my eightieth year and I die. But I die young. My independent center of cognition calculates my age and finds that i t i s fifteen years and ten days (stands for a moment silent, then sits down). TERESITA: Kareno, they say you are married. KARENO (after a brief pause): No, I am not married. Why do you ask? TERESITA: That's what I've heard. KARENO: I'm not married. Did Jens Spir t e l l you that? He t e l l s you so many things. I was married once. TERESITA: But your wife is s t i l l l i v i n g . KARENO (pensive): You ask twice in the same day i f I am married, what does that mean? If only you knew how I wish you wouldn't ask again. TERESITA: Just imagine, and then you die fifteen years old, you say. Wasn't that what you said? KARENO: Your mind wanders so restlessly today, Miss Teresita. TERESITA (suddenly gets up. moves away a few steps and comes back): I know something that'you and Papa wouldn't like very much. KARENO: Do you? TERESITA: I cook an exquisite meal and give i t to our dog. KARENO: Well, your father would hardly punish you for that. TERESITA: And then I invite a hungry young man to come and watch (brief  pause). KARENO: I don't know why you're te l l i n g me this (the music becomes louder). TERESITA: I'm t e l l i n g you because i t was whispered in my ear. Why else, would I say i t ? .... Listen, now the music is growing sweeter. KARENO: To me i t seems to be getting louder. TERESITA: Now i t is tender (throws herself down where she was sitting b^forel .• (The music stops. The quarrvmen stop hammering.'. FIRST QUARRYMAN (pulls the d r i l l out and examines i t : speaks down to KARENO): This is the softest rock I ever d r i l l e d . KARENO (gets up and is about to answer). TERESITA (uneasy): Was that wrong, too, the last thing I said? KARENO: Was i t wrong? No, not at a l l , Miss Teresita. FIRST QUARRYMAN: It's as soft as clay. KARENO: It's mica, didn't you say? (gets up on the hillock'. . Clay? FIRST QUARRYMAN: Now I don't know what i t is any more (waters the hole). KARENO: Well, whatever i t i s . D r i l l away (climbs down again). MR. OTERMAN (from right): Have the quarrymen come? KARENO: They are d r i l l i n g . The rock is remarkably soft. FIRST QUARRYMAN: Almost like clay. MR. OTERMAN (laughing): Like clay? (up onto the hillock in continued con-versation with quarrymen). KARENO (to TERESITA): Was i t wrong, what you said? Perhaps I have hurt you somehow lately. • TERESITA: No, you have not. (While the quarrymen start hammering again, the music strikes up a new piece, this time further away. Hammering  and beat of music become one.) KARENO: Would you tell me what's the matter with you today? • TERESITA: No, no, no (looks at him). Do you want to know? (gets up). Anyway, there's nothing the matter with me. . KARENO: You used to be so gay. TERESITA: Now the music could stop, I think. ' KARENO: Miss Teresita,you wanted i t yourself, didn't you? TERESITA: I knew you would say that (vehemently). Well, now I don't want it any more, you see. KARENO: I could go and tell the musicians. TERESITA (imploring): No,.don't go (changes). Well, all right, you don't have to stay here i f you'd rather go. KARENO: I don't understand you. TERESITA: I don't understand myself (throws herself down again). But it's you I want to be with. KARENO: Where did you get that notion? MR. OTERMAN (coming towards them; laughing): It seems to be a bog I've given you, Kareno. KARENO: A bog? MR. OTERMAN: The d r i l l sinks in deep with every stroke. Won't you come and look? (back to the quarrymen). KARENO: Certainly (about to climb the hillock). TERESITA (gets up).: Forgive me. KARENO: No, I have nothing to forgive you. TERESITA: Wait a moment, there's another spot of white (brushes him wi th handkerchief). There. Now you can go. KARENO (again about to climb the hillock). ' B - l l TERESITA: Are you leaving now? KARENO (looks at her): No (down again). TERESITA: Now you're thinking something about me, aren't you. KARENO: I think you are in a very restless mood. TERESITA: I know that i f I had the pox^ er to do something to make you happy, I would do i t . (THY, a very old man, has come in. Has come to a stop, standing  erect, his cap in his hand.) KARENO: Who is that? TERESITA (turns around): That's Thy. KARENO: What does he want? TERESITA: And there is never anything but sunshine. Can you tell me why it doesn't rain any more? KARENO: But i t rained the day before yesterday. TERESITA: No, i t didn't. KARENO: I assure you.... TERESITA: Well, let's not start a fight about that, too. I'd rather give in. It rained the day before yesterday (brief pause). KARENO: I've seen you like this once before. TERESITA: Day and date now. I'm sure you know. KARENO: It was the first time I met you; the very first day. It was one year ago. TERESITA: I hope you got a good impression of me. KARENO: I don't think that's what you hope. You haven't even thought about it...,What does that man want anyway? He doesn't leave. TERESITA: That's Thy.,..Do you know why I want to be with you, so much, Kareno? KARENO: No. TERESITA: Because you don't sin. No, you are not even aware that you have leave to sin. KARENO: Well, I never...! TERESITA: And that's why I want to be with you. KARENO (smiling') : I've heard good ones like'that from you before. B - I 2 TERESITA: T h e r e ' s that man standing there . I won't say anything to him unless he speaks f i r s t ( suddenly) . Good day, Thy. THY: Good d a y . TERESITA: Do you want me to t a l k to you? THY: No. TERESITA: Where are you going t h i s time? THY: Far away. TERESITA: Always b a r e f o o t . A r e n ' t you cold? THY: No. TERESITA (turns to KARENO) : C e r t a i n days are meted out to human beings for the d u l l s u f f e r i n g nobody knows the source o f . Then the whole earth l i e s there s t a r i n g at you with h o s t i l i t y . KARENO (to THY): Do you want to speak to M r . Oterman? THY (does not answer). TERESITA (determined): One q u e s t i o n . KARENO: Do you want that man to hear i t ? TERESITA: Your w i f e — i s she f a i r or dark? KARENO: Miss T e r e s i t a ! ' , TERESITA: F a i r or dark? KARENO: She w a s . f a i r . I don' t remember. TERESITA: Very f a i r ? KARENO: Yes, very f a i r . She had a f a i r face . TERESITA: But she i s n ' t young any more? KARENO: Yes she was a l s o very y o u n g . . . . L e a v e me a lone . (The music s tops . The quarrymen stop hammering.) MR. OTERMAN (comes): So. The hole i s d r i l l e d n o w . . . . B u t l o o k , t h e r e ' s Thy. Good day, Thy. THY: Good day. MR. OTERMAN: B r i s k and a c t i v e , as u s u a l . Wearing w e l l . THY: I can j u s t drag myself around. MR. OTERMAN: Yes, yes. But then you are an old man now, Thy (gets a  coin out of his pocket and hands i t to him). KARENO (to TERESITA) : He didn't thank him. TERESITA (to herself): Imagine, the whole big, thick earth l i e s there and stares up at you with the most horrible h o s t i l i t y . KARENO: Your father gives money to everybody. He is always-giving.,' MR. OTERMAN:. Yes, yes, Thy, the Lord be with you. THY: I have a message. MR. OTERMAN (patronizingly): You have a message today, Thy? (calls to  quarrymen)• Right, put the charge in now and get i t over with. FIRST QUARRYMAN: We're just putting i t i n . TERESITA: Papal Kareno thinks you're so generous. MR. OTERMAN (laughing): Really? You see^ I'm not so rich that giving away a crown makes me poorer. THY: I wanted to say something. MR. OTERMAN: Did you? ....I have enough to make ends meet, and there are many who don't even have that. Now the fever i s raging in the Kors-fjord, there i s incredible want among the people. I've sent some flour up north; but how far does that gol The pestilence i s spread-ing, i t v i s i t s house after house; children are dying. Any moment we may have i t here. TERESITA: Here? MR. OTERMAN: It's coming south. TERESITA: , I w i l l watch over you, Kareno. MR. OTERMAN (puts his arm around her): You dear child (lets go of her). Tell me, Kareno, what would you advise me to do with my two l i t t l e boys? Should they go into business? KARENO: The one, yes. He i s a real speculator. He finds sea birds' eggs and sells them in the kitchen. MR. OTERMAN: That's Gustav. KARENO: With the other one i t ' s music and dreams of travelling. MR. OTERMAN: That's Elias. He takes after his mother. I've thought of. spending something on that boy, i f I can afford i t . Send him away from here. Teresita, you'll have to practise with him now and then. TERESITA: Now ask Kareno what he would advise you to do with me. MR. OTERMAN (smiles and chucks her under the- chin): With you, you l i t t l e t r o l l ? You belong in an institution. Ha ha. Yes, you do. To make a lady of you (embraces her) . Oh, you'll see, somebody w i l l come and take you away one day. Sadly enough. FIRST QUARRYMAN (calls out): Watch outl Fire I MR. OTERMAN: Oh, they're going to blast now. Off with you (leads TERESITA to the l e f t ) . THY: I have a message. MR. OTERMAN: Oh, there's no time for that now. Make sure you get out of the way. Over here. FIRST QUARRYMAN (calls out) : Watch out there'. Fire'. THY: I wanted to say something. MR. OTERMAN (goes to him and leads him to right): Don't you see they're lighting a fuse. Are you crazy, manl Get awayl (motions him away;  hurries with TERESITA and KARENO out to l e f t ) . (FIRST QUAF.RY.-iAn moves away with signs of fear. SECOND QUARRYMAN lights the fuse and walks calmly off. .THY stands for a moment  scowling humbly after MR. OTERMAN. MR. OTERMAN is heard calling  out loudly from l e f t : Look out, manl The fuse is smoking. THY slowly walks off-stage right: the charge goes off. White rocks  r o l l away. The view is thrown open, at the back are seen low masses  of rock, to the l e f t a high neck of land and far out on the same side  a glimpse of blue sea. To the right a few red cottages.) (The music is heard playing far away.) FIRST QUARRYMAN (confidently approaches the blasting-site and calls out): Come b-a-c-kl SECOND QUARRYMAN (coming): It is white rock. MR. OTERMAN (from right): Is i t white rock? KARENO (follows); Is i t white rock? FIRST QUARRYMAN: It is white rock/ I think i t is a rare kind of rock. MR. OTERMAN: But Jesus Christ....? SECOND QUARRYMAN (pokes with a crow-bar). MR. OTERMAN: What is it? SECOND QUARRYMAN: It's marble (puts down crow-bar). KARENO: Marble? FIRST QUARRYMAN: Just what I would have said. It's marble. MR. OTERMAN: That's impossible. Look again, Hj6jer. FIRST QUARRYMAN: Yes, look again, Hj6jer. Hurry up, will you. SECOND QUARRYMAN (again pokes with crow-bar): It's marble (puts down crow-bar) . FIRST QUARRYMAN: That's what i t is. It's marble, no question. KARENO: Imagine, marble 1 (runs down to TERESITA, who has followed from  right). Did you hear, it's marble. I will be building my tower on marble foundation (returning to the blasting-site). TERESITA (follows): Marble? FIRST QUARRYMAN: Yes. A thin layer of slate, and underneath pure, sheer marble. KARENO: How strange i t is! Quite a place to build on, isn't it....What happened to the man? TERESITA: What man? KARENO: The old man. TERESITA: He left. KARENO: Twice he tried to say something. TERESITA: Papa, what was i t Thy wanted to say? MR. OTERMAN (thoughtfully): Yes, what did Thy want to say? KARENO: He had a message. MR. OTERMAN: A message (collects his thoughts): Oh, he always has. He is so old. Some people believe he is the wandering Jew. It was Thy you were asking about, wasn't it? KARENO: Yes. MR. OTERMAN: He was badly cheated in his youth, swindled out of everything he had. Since then he has been like this. KARENO: What did he want from you? MR. OTERMAN: I don't know....Some people call him Justice. KARENO: Justice? MR. OTERMAN: Yes. He's crazy....Well, I must go home and get some more work done (looks at his watch). It strikes me your tower will have to be moved elsewhere. KARENO: Moved? MR. OTERMAN: Since there's marble underneath. There may well be treasures around us. KARENO: That's exactly why i t should be built here. The thought makes me happy,- I shall work well here, in these radiant surroundings.... I was really struck to hear that that man is called Justice. I'm just writing my chapter on the wise Nemesis. FIRST QUARRYMAN: Shall we carry on? KARENO: Clear i t away.' Level the site. (MR. OTERMAN goes down on to the road and out to right lost in thought. The quarrymen poke the ground with crow-bars.) KARENO (down): For that very reason. Just because the site less....Have you noticed something peculiar about those Miss Teresita? TERESITA (follows): No. KARENO: One of them talks, speaks for both, gives the warnings. The other remains silent and lights the fuse. It's also the other one who understands rock. TERESITA: That's Hj6jer. He was once sentenced to hard labour. KARENO: What? TERESITA: That's where he learned stone-breaking. KARENO: What was he sentenced for? TERESITA: For rape....Do you know, I've just realized what's wrong with me today. KARENO: What is it? ' : TERESITA: Jens Spir proposed to me (watches him). KARENO: Did he really? . TERESITA: What do you say to that? KARENO: Now I understand your restlessness the whole day. TERESITA (smiles): You do, don't you? That's what's making me restless, you see (laughs). It's.gone to my head. KARENO: So I can congratulate you? TERESITA: Well, what do you think I should do? KARENO: It isn't settled? TERESITA: No. KARENO: Well, what can one say? Yes, I think so. That i s , i f you yourself....After a l l , an.outsider can't very well....But I think so. is so price-two men, TERESITA: I wish you didn't. KARENO: Don't misunderstand me. I can't have any opinion, can I? TERESITA: Because I don't think I should. KARENO: Well, then you shouldn't, should you. You shouldn't say yes, I mean. TERESITA: If I say yes, that w i l l be the end of i t . I . .• • KARENO: You don't mean that. TERESITA: And nobody w i l l be sorry. MR. OTERMAN (extremely pale and deeply affected, entering from right): But this is marble (points). KARENO: So? MR. OTERMAN: There w i l l be no cabin built here. KARENO: But....you gave me the site. Clear down to the ocean, you said. MR. OTERMAN: But i t ' s m a r b 1 e, do you hear. I ' l l give you the headland out there. Build your tower there. I want everything around here examined; there may well be marble everywhere. God bless your soul, man. KARENO: On.the headland? Out there? (points). MR. OTERMAN: Yes. Out among the breakers with the tower. There I t w i l l stand as a lighthouse for the ships (to SBSO-ND QUARRYMAN. pointing). Make another hole here, R/jer. FIRST QUARRYMAN: Right away. MR. OTERMAN: Because there may well be treasures worth a fortune here (goes down on to the road and out to right). TERESITA: Did your joy collapse, Kareno? KARENO: Did you notice, Miss Teresita, how pale he was? There were eels wriggling in his eyes. TERESITA: Thy's eyes? KARENO: No, your father's eyes. There were eels wrtsgling in them. (The quarrvmen start dr i l l i n g . ) KARENO: Are you coming along to the new site? TERESITA: No. I'm going home to Jens Spir. KARENO: Oh yes, I forgot. I'm sorry (bids her goodbye and exits to the l e f t ) . TERESITA (looks after him; softly): Kareno (folds her arms. Pause. Suddenly she calls out) . Hj6jer. SECOND QUARRYMAN (moving towards her). TERESITA: I don't want to again, ever. Do you hear? (stamps her foot). Don't come again (out to right). ACT TWO (At Mr. Oterman's house. To the right a wide, stately flight of stone steps and part of the main building with windows. Scenery from first act, seen from another angle. On the headland a high, tower-like building has been constructed. Sea with skerries against which the waves are breaking.) (Autumn and some snow. Distant roar of the sea. It is three o'clock in the afternoon. It is growing dark. Piano music is heard from the house.) (Jens Spir, a 30 year old man with a beard, by the steps. He is smoking and listening to the music. Mr. Oterman enters quickly from right, walks past the steps and turns around the farthest corner of the house. In a l i t t l e while he comes back.) MR. OTERMAN: Rough sea today. JENS SPIR: Storm. MR.. OTERMAN: Anything new on the line, Jens Spir? (Music stops). JENS SPIR: Some ships wrecked up north last night. TERESITA (out on the steps): Papa, your coffee is getting cold. MR. OTERMAN: I'm busy. Where are the boys? TERESITA: I don't know. MR.. OTERMAN: Now, i f you had known, you could have told me where they are. I need them. TERESITA: I ' l l look for them. • MR. OTERMAN: There is work everywhere and I have nobody to do i t . TERESITA: But Papa, you are making all the people leave. MR. OTERMAN: Can we pay them? (to JENS SPI?)' People get shameless, Jens Spir, they ask for raises, uney oleed you to the last drop. And i f they can't have i t the way they want, they leave. JENS SPIR: Your music was so beautiful, Miss Teresita. TERESITA: Then I ' l l take the coffee to the office for you. MR. OTERMAN: No, I don't have time to drink i t . JENS SPIR (to TERESITA): You wouldn't have seen Kareno? I'm looking for him with a telegram. MR. OTERMAN (continues): And besides we can't afford this lordly l i f e any longer. TERESITA: Kareno is out in the tower. MR. OTERMAN: I tell you, Teresita,"you must not light the lamp before four o'clock this evening. You don't know, child, how much oil we burn every, year (exit right, past the farthest corner of the main  building). TERESITA: Are you s t i l l looking for Kareno? JENS SPIR: No. TERESITA: No? JENS SPIR (smiling): I'm standing here listening to your beautiful music of course. / TERESITA: Let me see the telegram once more. JENS SPIR: I've sealed i t . TERESITA: Did i t say Eiina? JENS SPIR: Yes. TERESITA: Arriving tonight. Elina? JENS SPIR: Yes, something like that. TERESITA: You're right. That must be from his wife. JENS SPIR: How would I know? . TERESITA: What time is it? JENS SPIR: It's, three o'clock. TERESITA: It's three o'clock. In an hour she'll be here. Here with us (leans against,the banister). JENS SPIR: I told you this bit of news just to let you know in time, Miss Teresita. TERESITA: Of course. And I didn't misunderstand you. Ha ha (GUSTAV and ELIAS in from left each with his snow shovel on his shoulder). JENS SPIR: What have, you been doing, boys? GUSTAV: We keep the road to the tower open. The snow is blocking i t all the time. JENS SPIR: Was Kareno out there? GUSTAV: Yes. ELIAS: Yes, he was out there. TERESITA: Papa has been asking for you. He's in the office. (GUSTAV and ELIAS put the shovels away and walk playing past the main building  and exit right.) TERESITA: Are you waiting for your beloved to say something, Jens Spir? JENS SPIR: No. TERESITA: I long for you when you're away. I want you badly. JENS SPIR: It ought not to be true. TERESITA: Why ought i t not to be true? JENS SPIR: You ought not to long for a man who knows so l i t t l e that he loves you, Miss Teresita. TERESITA: Do you think the ship will be here in half an hour? JENS SPIR: Maybe. If nothing happens between now and then. TERESITA (looks at him): What could happen? JENS SPIR: No, what could happen? . TERESITA: The approach to land? JENS SPIR: The approach to land is paved with disasters (pause). TERESITA (laughs): What funny wrinkles you have in your face. Ha ha. JENS SPIR: It's because of you that I have wrinkles. TERESITA: You're so boring. You're just an ordinary human being; I'm tired of you. JENS SPIR: But Kareno? TERESITA: No, no, he is not of this world. Whenever I meet him I gaze fixedly at him and whisper YES. For I feel it's the moon that is coming to me and wants something. JENS SPIR: Have you heard of Ishtar? '. TERESITA: What?. JENS SPIR: I said Ishtar. TERESITA (laughs again): God, do you look like some melancholy cat out of a fairy-tale 1 JENS SPIR: That you could make into the proudest fool in the world; TERESITA: You don't mean half of what you say. JENS SPIR: No, 1 don't. TERESITA: Why do you say i t then? . . JENS SPIR: That's my strategy. TERESITA: And deep down you are filled with shamelessness towards me. JENS SPIR: Yes. TERESITA: That's your strategy, too? JENS SPIR: No, that's my principle. TERESITA: How well you answer for yourself. Ha ha. JENS SPIR: You should know how i t wears me out, too. TERESITA (tired, looks into the air): Yes, yes, Jens Spir. It may well happen that you tire me out in the.end, and that I give in to you. It's not impossible (turns towards him). But i f you only knew how you disgust me. JENS SPIR (makes a deep bow). TERESITA: Why do you bow so deep? JENS SPIR: To hide that I was laughing. TERESITA: Did you laugh? (spitefully). At which of us? JENS SPIR (smiles): You were not wrong, Miss. < TERESITA: There is Kareno (calls out). Kareno (KARENO from left). JENS SPIR: I'm looking for you. TERESITA: Have you come from the tower? ; KARENO: Yes. TERESITA: Have you finished out there for today? KARENO: Yes. TERESITA: He's finished out there for today. JENS SPIR: You s t i l l believe in light and glass, Kareno? KARENO: I don't believe in anything. But I have hopes of everything. JENS SPIR: And keep your holy lamp burning. KARENO: I've been working with great success lately. A few things have become clear to me. The night is my time. JENS SPIR: What experiences do you have then? (takes the telegram out  of his pocket). KARENO: Night is what matters to-me, every day I go around waiting for i t . And when i t f i n a l l y comes, I s i t down out there and speculate. Once in a while I manage to see farther than I have ever seen. TERESITA: Are you expecting visitors? KARENO: Visitors? Me? (smiles). What visitors would I be expecting here? JENS SPIR (holds up the telegram). KARENO: What's that? TERESITA: That's for you. KARENO: For me? JENS SPIR (shows him): Sign.here (hands him a pencil). KARENO: Who in the world could that be from? ....Here, did you say? JENS SPIR (shows him): Yes, sign here. KARENO (signs): A telegram. Are you sure i t ' s for me? JENS SPIR: Maybe i t ' s an appointment. You are being acknowledged. KARENO: I expect no acknowledgement (signs). JENS SPIR: What would you rather have? The ribbon or the cross? (exits  laughing to right, waving the receipt). TERESITA: Shall I read i t to you? KARENO: Yes, please. Oh no, thank you (laughs). It can't be a l l that bad (opens the telegram and reads). TERESITA: Ribbon or cross? KARENO (walks back and forth): Tonight? Can you t e l l me i f i t . r e a l l y says tonight? .ERESITA (reads): Tonight. KARENO: Tonight (suddenly). There is a storm at sea today. TERESITA: There always is in the f a l l . -KARENO: Especially outside here, i t seems to me. Let i t storm. TERESITA: Yes, let i t storm. KARENO: It's going to be a dangerous night. Ships may be wrecked. TERESITA: Why do you say that? " KARENO: Let ships be wrecked allright, I say. TERESITA: You've turned so pale. KARENO: Miss Teresita, I won't be home for any stranger who comes asking for me. TERESITA: You won't? KARENO: Listen out there (listens). Out there in the night. TERESITA: It's the sea. KARENO: Did you hear screams? TERESITA: No. KARENO (takes a few steps across the yard and listens bent forward;  abruptly back): My lamp, Miss Teresital TERESITA: Your lamp? But you have finished in the tower for today? KARENO: The mail boat is coming. It wouldn't do. TERESITA: Let the mail boat come. KARENO (disturbed): Can't you see it's getting dark? And that the sea is smashing over a l l the rocks? TERESITA (up to him; close): Very well! You shall have your lamp. KARENO (joyfully): Yes, thank you so much. But quickly, will you? There is not much time. TERESITA: You shall have your lamp, I say (up the steps and into the house). MR. OTERMAN (entering from where he went out): Are you there? I was just thinking about you, Kareno. KARENO: Can I be of any assistance? MR. OTERMAN: Yes, that's exactly what you can be, i f you want to. You can do a bit of work for me. I can't cope with everything. KARENO: What kind of work, Mr. Oterman? MR. OTERMAN: All kinds of work, in the office, in the store, down at the jetty. You teach in the morning and have the whole afternoon free. (THY has entered from left. He stands erect and serious, cap in hand.) KARENO: There is a man standing over there. MR. OTERMAN (turns): Thy....Are you here again? THY: Yes. MR. OTERMAN: Where do you come from? THY: From the North. MR. OTERMAN: Where the fever is? THY: The fever is coming closer and closer. MR. OTERMAN: What do you want? THY: I have a message. MR. OTERMAN: Always a message. Go inside, there's my cup of coffee in there for you (leads THY towards the steps). THY: I want to say something. MR. OTERMAN: Some other time (calls). Teresita, give my coffee to Thy (waves him off). THY (up on the steps and into the house; scowls back). MR. OTERMAN: There I saved my crown. KARENO: He wanted to say something. MR. OTERMAN: I haven't got time. I have to be everywhere. My servants have left and I can no longer afford help. It's getting too expen-sive for me. KARENO: You're joking, Mr. Oterman. You with your riches. MR. OTERMAN (shakes his head sadly): You don't know what you're saying. KARENO: Didn't you sell the marble quarry for a vast sum of money? MR. OTERMAN: Yes, but perhaps I could have got more for i t . You're not counting what I've lost. Just think i f I had waited t i l l now. KARENO (worried): No, listen to the sea. MR. OTERMAN: And a l l these losses and daily expenses are ruining me. I am not exaggerating. KARENO:. I'm on pins and needles to get my lamp. MR. OTERMAN: Are you going out to the tower tonight? KARENO: Yes. MR. OTERMAN: You spend more and more time out there. What's the good of it? KARENO: I'm working on my treatise. MR. OTERMAN: You write and write on masses of paper. It swells beyond all limits. Who is going to print it? KARENO: You are, Mr. Oterman. You promised that. MR. OTERMAN: I did? KARENO: The day you found the marble. MR. OTERMAN (laughs): God bless you. One says these things. KARENO: Yes, you said i t . MR. OTERMAN: But one doesn't mean them. KARENO: One doesn't mean them? MR. OTERMAN (laughs): But it's impossible man, don't you see? KARENO: I have three adult witnesses against you. MR. OTERMAN: You have? Three witnesses? (changes). When will your work be finished? KARENO: . I don't know. In a few months. MR. OTERMAN (pleading): But I assure you, you have to give me an extension. It involves a lot of money. What are you thinking of I There is no great hurry to get your work published. Let i t mature within you for a few years. I advise you to for your own sake. KARENO: It has matured within me for twenty years. MR. OTERMAN: You are stripping me bare, a l l of you. You have no pity (stares towards left). Do you see those black dots there? Those are the quarrymen. Now they are coming home, now they've done a day's work out in my rocks, in my marble. Oh, they're a gang (hurries to meet the quarrymen). TERESITA (down the steps): Haven't you left? KARENO: Left, Miss Teresita? I'm waiting for the lamp. TERESITA: It has been sent. Everything is in order. ii-26 KARENO: I'm waiting for i t , I'm standing here waiting and waiting. Every minute is precious. TERESITA: The lamp is out there. It will be l i t any moment now. KARENO: Who carried it? TERESITA: Thy. KARENO: Thy? TERESITA: Justice. KARENO (off, disappears around the farthest corner of the house'). (Voices are heard. TERESITA goes up the steps and into the house. Quarrymen with tools on their shoulders enter from left. Ahead of  them MR. OTERMAN who walks and stops, walks and stops, talking.) MR. OTERMAN: You're finding more and more, you're sniffing under every tuft and there is marble everywhere. How can you defend that? FIRST QUARRYMAN: You'll have to talk to the engineer about that. He'll be right along. MR. OTERMAN: In particular I forbid you, H/6jer, to work so industriously a l l the time to fleece me. You have such keen eyes for looking down into the earth. (The lamp is l i t inside the house, its light shines out of the win- dows and illuminates the stage. Immediately after, frenzied piano  music.) MR. OTERMAN: Yes, my dear fellow, your eyes are al l too keen. It was you who found the last vein. SECOND QUARRYMAN: The engineer ordered me to look. ' MR. OTERMAN: I have no dealings with the engineer. THIRD QUARRYMAN: And we have none with you. (JENS SPIR enters from  right and stands by the step? .) FIRST QUARRYMAN: It's true what he says. We have nothing to do with you. MR. OTERMAN: Are you crazy, al l of you? FOURTH QUARRYMAN: We're not your workers. MR. OTERMAN: Whose workers are you then? FOURTH QUARRYMAN: The company's. FIRST QUARRYMAN: That's correct. We are the company's workers. MR. OTERMAN: You are on my books, almost a l l of you. What do you say to that? (changes). Don't you know old Oterman, my friends? SOME QUARRYMEN: Well, yes, what is i t you want us to do? MR. OTERMAN (pulls some of them forward with him): What do I want you to do? Quarry a reasonable amount of marble and then don't find any more. Simply don't find any more--anywhere. SOME QUARRYMEN (who have been listening): W_.ll, I never..... MR. OTERMAN (to everybody): I ' l l make i t up to you. I don't have much, believe me; but a l i t t l e money I will give ycu. I ' l l borrow some. (Rising murmur and laughter.) MR. OTERMAN: I ' l l cross out all the old debts. FOURTH QUARRYMAN: As far as that's concerned I am not on your books. MR. OTERMAN: I want my marble to myself. VOICES: Here comes the engineer (all look to left). MR. OTERMAN (swerves around') : Nothing but losses on all sides. Cheats and swindlers every one of them (to Jens Spir). Isn't that true, Jens Spir. VOICES: Now talk to the engineer. MR. OTERMAN: I have nothing to talk to the engineer about (discovers the  lamp is l i t inside). Isn't there a light on inside already? JENS SPIR: Yes. MR. OTERMAN: Didn't I say we can't afford all this waste of o i l ! Four o'clock, I said. Not before four o'clock. JENS SPIR: Miss Teresita is playing. MR. OTERMAN: I shall turn off the lamp again (up the steps and into the house). . FOURTH QUARRYMAN: He didn't dare speak to the engineer. THIRD QUARRYMAN: I think the devil has.taken possession of him. SOME QUARRYMEN (laughing): Yes, I think so, too. SECOND QUARRYMAN: Remember he did a lot of good before. ENGINEER BREDE (from left. He is small and hunch-backed; speaks in a feeble voice: dressed in fur-coat and vet is cold): Why have you stopped here? FIRST QUARRYMAN: We've been talking with Mr. Oterman. FOURTH QUARRYMAN: You wouldn't recognize him as the same man. THIRD QUARRYMAN: Well, for my part, I just think the devil has taken possession of him. ENGINEER BREDE: You don't need to have any thoughts at a l l about that (the  lamp goes out in the house). SOME QUARRYMEN: There, he has put the light out, for God's sake. (Piano music stops. Dark stage. Roar from sea increases.) ENGINEER BREDE's VOICE: A l l right, move on (engineer and quarrymen exit  right). (Suddenly a blazing light goes on in the tower out on the headland.  The glare i s thrown a l l around. JENS SPIR turns and looks in direction  of tower.) (TERESITA comes down steps with a burning lantern and a pair of bino- culars. JENS SPIR steps forward.) TERESITA (starts): Who is that? JENS SPIR: Me. TERESITA: What do you want? I don't like you following me a l l the time. JENS SPIR (smiles): I was standing here listening to your beautiful music again. TERESITA: Yes, but I don't l i k e i t , you see. JENS SPIR: Why are you carrying a lantern? TERESITA: What's that to you? I don't want to s i t in the dark in there. JENS SPIR: Are you afraid tonight? TERESITA: Afraid? JENS SPIR (points to binoculars): What are those for? TERESITA: Yes, don't you think I ought to explain to you about that? (looks  through binoculars out towards tower). How merrily that light i s shining over there. JENS SPIR: Do you want to ask me how far the mail boat has come? TERESITA: No....But how far has i t come? JENS SPIR: It's right offshore now. TERESITA: Of course i t ' s right offshore. JENS SPIR: I met Thy down on the road. TERESITA: I sent him with.the lamp.. JENS SPIR: Yes, he carried the lamp that is now shining so brightly out there. TERESITA (impatient): I'm standing here telling you that I sent Thy with the lamp. JENS SPIR: Yes. TERESITA: Yes? And so? JENS SPIR: Nothing. I had a look into the lamp. TERESITA: You had a look into it? JENS SPIR: It was empty. TERESITA (lowers the binoculars and holds the lantern up to his face): Was i t empty, Jens Spir? JENS SPIR (stares at her): No. TERESITA (with binoculars to her eyes): I believe the light is fading. JENS SPIR: Is the light fading? TERESITA (hands him binoculars): It's sinking. JENS SPIR (with binoculars to his eyes): He is lighting up the place for his wife's arrival. TERESITA: Is i t sinking? JENS SPIR: Yes. TERESITA (puts lantern down and leans against banister): Do you know what is so sad? JENS SPIR: No? That Mrs. Kareno is coming? TERESITA: That you are such a wicked soul. JENS SPIR (with binoculars to his eyes): Now the lamp is going out. TERESITA: Because just think, i f you weren' %, then I could have been a decent man's wife. JENS SPIR (looks at her, smiling): You, Miss Teresita? TERESITA (in a rage): Ha ha, you comb your red beard with a lead comb to blacken i t . JENS SPIR: Yes. TERESITA: I saw you do i t today, JENS SPIR: Yes. TERESITA: Yes, because the beard i s the only thing on you that will turn red.' JENS SPIR: Now the lamp is flickering. TERESITA (clasps her hands): > Great God, i t is Kareno I love. Now I'm thinking of him. JENS SPIR (lowers binoculars and laughs). TERESITA: You laugh. You always laugh. Smirk. JENS SPIR: I laugh to hide how sad I am. TERESITA: Your human sadness moves me very l i t t l e . JENS SPIR: That makes no difference to me. It is not your pity I'm asking for. TERESITA: Yes, what does make a difference to you? I have never seen you enthusiastic. JENS SPIR (passionately): You, you yourself make a difference to me. Your stone eyes affect me, your protruding feet and your long hands. When-ever I see you coming, sin smoulders in me l i k e dark-red roses. I want you, Teresita, I always want you (reaches out for her). TERESITA (withdraws): I don't want to any more. JENS SPIR: Yes, you want to. I shall ask you constantly. TERESITA (stamps her foot): I never want to again. JENS SPIR (smiles). TERESITA: There you smiled your depraved smile again. Oh, that mouth of yours i s an indecency in your face. JENS SPIR: There, the lamp has gone out. TERESITA: It has gone out? Now? (seizes binoculars and looks). JENS SPIR: It is done. TERESITA (throws the binoculars on the steps and resumes her former posture): I love someone who doesn't go after me and grab me. You're just a vermin on earth, Jens Spir, you are nothing more. You have taught me your horrible manners. JENS SPIR: Which, by the way, you knew before. TERESITA: Oh, no, that isn't true. 'I didn't know much before. I remember that. ; But you were a quick l i t t l e creature. JENS SPIR: And Kareno, he's the moon? TERESITA': Yes, Kareno is like a green island that I come to and stay with. JENS SPIR: A beautiful thought. TERESITA: But now hear an even more beautiful one. I once dreamt about a big green flower and myself. I wish I had never awoken. , JENS SPIR: Sela (a siren is heard from the sea). TERESITA: What is that? JENS SPIR: A steamship signalling. TERESITA: Are there steamships off here tonight? JENS SPIR: So i t seems. TERESITA: Now you're standing there letting yourself be humiliated inch by inch. It does you good, you enjoy i t (suddenly flies at him). Oh, I'm going to hit you (hits him across the chest). JENS SPIR: Harder! (Siren is heard again.) TERESITA: It's sounding again? JENS SPIR: And i t s t i l l makes you wonder. TERESITA: I hit you, Jens Spir. JENS SPIR: You hit me with a flower. (A shot is heard from the sea.) TERESITA: What was that? JENS SPIR: A distress-shot. TERESITA: How it's seething out there. The steam-whistles and the shots and the storm. It's the twittering of demons. (New whistlings, interrupted by shots.) JENS SPIR: Tonight Kareno's lamp would have been useful i f i t hadn't gone out. TERESITA: Was the lamp empty, Jens Spir? JENS SPIR: No. TERESITA: It was empty. JENS SPIR: How daring of you to confess so many murders. (Muted turmoil, tramping, voices. A streak of fire rises from the sea.) TERESITA: What was that fire? JENS SPIR: It was a rocket. TERESITA: Do you think it's sheer disaster out there? JENS.SPIR: Most likely, yes. TERESITA: There shall be no one between him and me. Bow, Jens Spir, bow deep to my deed. JENS SPIR (bows deep and smiles). TERESITA: Deeper 1 Disgracefully deep. I annihilate anyone who comes in our way. I love him, oh, I stand on tiptoe for him. JENS SPIR: Listen! There are people running around here. TERESITA: He must be here soon now. JENS SPIR: Do you want to stay here? TERESITA:. I want to see him. KARENO'S VOICE (distant): The lamp is going out. The ship.... TERESITA: There he i s . It was his voice. KARENO'S VOICE (closer): The lamp! The lamp. JENS SPIR: Was the lamp empty, Miss Teresita? KARENO (enters, breathless): The lamp is going out. I saw i t going out and ran off. TERESITA: It has gone out. KARENO (turns around): Yes, i t has gone out. It went out just now. There was something wrong with i t . TERESITA: It was empty. KARENO: Was i t empty? God help you, how terribly wrongly you have acted. SECOND QUARRYMAN (from right with a lantern): Is Mr. Oterman here? JENS SPIR: No. TWO OTHER QUARRYMEN (also from right; one with a lantern): Where's Mr. Oterman? JENS SPIR: In the office maybe. SECOND QUARRYMAN: We must put out the boat. KARENO: Yes, go out and rescue. May God reward you, go out immediately. THE TWO OTHER QUARRYMEN: We have to have Mr. Oterman"s boat. KARENO: Take i t ! Take i t ! j (runs around the corner of the building and  calls). Mr. Oterman! TERESITA (nods her head): He's going to save her. ONE OF THE QUARRYMEN (to TERESITA): Your lamp is smoking. TERESITA: Is it? Yes, let i t smoke. I ' l l turn i t up more (turns i t up). Jens Spir. JENS SPIR: Here. TERESITA (motioning towards the house): Come, let's go in there. JENS SPIR (takes her lantern in his hand). TERESITA: Ho-ho, let's go in there. A red cock is crowing inside me (up  the steps followed by JENS SPIR). KARENO'S VOICE: And then they have to have your boat (KARENO in extreme  agitation from right, followed by MR. OTERMAN). MR. OTERMAN: My boat? (to QLARRYMEN). What's going on? (Shots from the sea.) SECOND QUARRYMAN: There, you heard what's going on. (Light streams out from the windows of the house. THY has come.) MR. OTERMAN: My boat? Do you think it's that bad out there? KARENO: Yes, yes, man. The ship is in distress, do you hear? THY: The ship has run aground. KARENO: It has run aground! Quick, boys! (drives the quarrymen past  farthest corner of main building and out). MR. OTERMAN (calls): Be careful with that boat, do you hear! (exit after  them). THY: Wait a moment. I wanted to....(stops and stands alone, t a l l , erect. cap in hand). ACT THREE (Market place on MR. OTERMAN's property; booths, tents, open stalls.) (Tradesmen, common people of the sea, Lapps, Kvaens, men and women. Band of musicians from Act One. Quarrymen.) (Afternoon i n the winter. Moonlight and Northern Lights. Snow. Lanterns are burning. People are moving to and fro i n the camp.) A MERCHANT (at his booth); Any news today? A CLOTHES-MERCHANT (outside his tent): No news as far as I know. A MAN: The fever has come. KARENO (strolling aimlessly around in the crowd): Has the fever come? THE MAN: The market people brought i t here; i t started yesterday. KARENO: Has anyone died? THE MAN: Two have died. THE MERCHANT (his hand at his side): For a whole year now I've been hearing about that fever. I'm not afraid of i t any more. A YOUNG BOY: I know a good cure for the fever. A VOICE: What cure i s that? THE YOUNG BOY: You take to your feet and run for three days. SEVERAL (laughing): Some run. THE YOUNG BOY: Then you stop and catch your breath by a wall. THE VOICE: By a ...? THE YOUNG BOY: By a wall. And into that wall you drive a n a i l . SEVERAL: A nail? What for? THE YOUNG BOY: And on that nail you hang yourself (loud laughter in the  crowd). THE YOUNG BOY: That is my cure for the fever (more laughter). A LAESTADIAN (holding up his finger): Don't joke about that, young man. (The band of musicians start playing upstage.) THE YOUNG BOY: Hey! (takes hold of a g i r l and starts dancing). (Gaiety. Most of the crowd moves towards the music.) THE MERCHANT: How's business? THE CLOTHES-MERCHANT: Bad. ; THE MERCHANT: I'm not complaining. If i t keeps on like this I ' l l have to wire for more goods. THE CLOTHES-MERCHANT: And bring them here on a special ship? THE MERCHANT: Yes. On a special ship (into booth). THE CLOTHES-MERCHANT: Ha ha. Who is going to believe himl (goes into tent). (MRS. KARENO, a woman of 33 with light hair and beginning to grow plump, approaches from where band is playing. She is followed by.TERBSITA and JENS SPIR.) MRS. KARENO: You disappeared, Ivar. KARENO: I'm idling around here. MRS. KARENO: Are you walking around thinking? KARENO: It's so strange. These people here are my kin. My instinct recognizes them. I greeted a girl just now. She crossed her hands over her head.arid greeted me back. Then my Lapp blood beat toward her. MRS. KARENO: Would you rather be alone? KARENO: . Yes. MRS. KARENO: Come, let's go (turns back with the two others). TERESITA (returning): Would you rather be alone? KARENO: No. TERESITA: Your wife is standing there looking at us. KARENO: Now she has left....Listen, I followed you here to the market place. I knew you were here. TERESITA (wondering): Did you follow me? KARENO (after looking at her): Yes, your surprise was genuine. You think too well of me, Miss Teresita, you don't suspect me of anything. For instance, I might be thinking of you all the time, be full of madness for you, and you would not believe i t . TERESITA: No, I couldn't hope for that. KARENO: We meet every day like two invisible beings, without blending. But I can't get away from you any more. Again and again you are in front of me. Who are you? TERESITA (in awakening joy): Am I yours? KARENO: I don't know, I don't know. No, you are not mine. How can you ask about that? Is i t true that on that day last fall you would have sent the mail-boat to the bottom of the sea? TERESITA: I don't know. All I thought of was you. KARENO: You don't bat an eyelid. You do wrong in full view of God and feel no scruples about i t . TERESITA: I only feel one thing at a time. KARENO: A red cock was crowing inside you, you said. TERESITA:" I didn't say i t to you. KARENO: No, I heard i t later. Somebody told me. But I have never been able to forget that a red cock crowed inside you. TERESITA: And then your wife arrived. KARENO: Why do you say that? TERESITA: When is she going away? KARENO: I don't know....Oh, your beautiful, soft stole! (lifts her stole to  his mouth). TERESITA: You kiss my stole (pulls i t to her and kisses the same place). KARENO: What did you do just then? TERESITA: Good or bad. I don't know.....Kareno. KARENO: Yes? TERESITA: What did I do? KARENO: Yes? TERESITA: I kissed.you. MRS. KARENO (with JENS SPIR): Would you rather we didn't disturb you? KARENO: You're not disturbing us. TERESITA: Yes, yes, you are disturbing us, Jens Spir. JENS SPIR: It seems to me you could well show a l i t t l e appreciation of my desire to be near you, Miss. TERESITA: There, again you said something you didn't mean (after thinking  it over). Well, I ' l l go with you (leaves with JENS SPIR). (Music plays closer.) MRS. KARENO (looks after them) : God bless you, she has a man's hands. KARENO: Who? MRS. KARENO: No, what I wanted to say was: you've become so boring lately. KARENO: Really. MRS. KARENO: So lifeless. You weran't like that before. KARENO: No, many things were different before. MRS. KARENO: I don't know what's the matter with you (swirls away). But . really you don't think I want to hang around here and be serious al l the time. KARENO: No, do as you like, Elina. MRS. KARENO: Because I just don't feel like i t (moves close to him and puts  her arm in his). KARENO (frees himself): No, not that. MRS. KARENO: Not that either? Not even that? You know, I won't stand for this any longer. KARENO: I just prefer to be alone, that's a l l . MRS. KARENO: Perhaps you would really have been glad to see me go down that evening last fall when I came here? KARENO: No, Elina. You were welcome. I was expecting you. MRS. KARENO: And the first thing you asked about was what had happened to my open eyes. Ha ha. KARENO: Yes, what happened to them? They were quite blue. MRS. KARENO (sings): Tahitaho; that's the Charivari waltz (points after TERESITA and JENS SPIR). There they are coming back. KARENO: Who are coming? MRS. KARENO: She treads her shoes over....Oh God, what a dry stick you have become (swirls around). You bore me stiff with your transfigured soul. KARENO: Why did you come then? MRS. KARENO: No, that's too much. Are you asking why I came? To my lawfully wedded husband? KARENO: Whom you have managed to live without for ten years. MRS. KARENO (sings): Tahitaho; that's the Charivari waltz 'swirls, around). I'm no longer the l i t t l e farm g i r l , let me tell you. Goodbye (leaves  between tables to the right). (MR. OTERMAN from the same direction, thinner, in worn clothes. He  picks something up from the ground and puts i t into his pocket. Mumbles in an undertone.) THE MERCHANT (in his doorway): Good day, Mr. Oterman. MR. OTERMAN: I was just saying to myself that people get worse and worse about wasting things. I find fish-hooks and nails and buttons every-where in the snow. THE MERCHANT (his hand at hia side): Do you really mean to say, Mr. Oterman, that we should start picking up things like that? In our modern times? MR. OTERMAN (continuing): It's just as i f everybody had become ricK. As i f they had chestfuls of goods and gold (to KARENO). Do you know where the boys are? KARENO: By the merry-go-round. MR. OTERMAN: I so often think about what I will have to leave them. I think about i t day and night. For I have nothing. THE CLOTHES-MERCHANT (in his door): Ha ha. Oh, there will be a l i t t l e something left over, Mr. Oterman. MR. OTERMAN: I keep a tutor for them. I pay for their education with great sacrifices. That's the only thing I can do. TERESITA (with JENS SPIR): Did your wife leave? KARENO: Yes. MR. OTERMAN (continues): But how long will I be able to afford it? (to KARENO). I said, how long will I be able to afford to keep such an expensive tutor for them? TERESITA (to KARENO): Are you coming with us? KARENO: Yes (goes with TERESITA and JENS SPIR). A MAN (coming): Can we find space for a sick woman? MR. OTERMAN: At m y house? THE MAN: She fell sick on the boat. She's already delirious. MR. OTERMAN: I haven't any room. People come and ask for rooms, they crowd in everywhere; but they don't pay their way. THE MAN: It's the fever. MR. OTERMAN: I don't see how I could do i t , ray good man (again finds  something on the ground and puts i t in his pocket). THE MAN: You won't deny us that charity. MR. OTERMAN: I don't want the fever in the house. Are you crazy? THE MAN: We shall take her inside. You can't refuse (turns and walks  quickly off). (Music stops. More and more people appear. Laughter and loud gaiety.) MR. OTERMAN: I can't refuse? Am I to keep a hospital for everybody? A VOICE IN THE CROWD: Now the fever has broken out. A YOUNG GIRL: The fever? THE VOICE: There are two people lying in our boathouse. ANOTHER VOICE: And two in ours (the gaiety fades). A MAN (coming): What's going on? THE OTHER VOICE: It's the fever. THE LAESTADIAN (holding up his finger): It's God's punishment. A DRUNK MAN: What is God's punishment? Eh? What is God's punishment? A THIRD VOICE: Keep quiet, Aron. THE DRUNK MAN: Hee hee. I only wanted to know what was God's ....what was God's punishment. Hee hee. (Band of musicians into foreground. greeting MR. 0I1RMAN.) MR. OTERMAN: I haven't got anything for you any more. I haven't got anything. What do you want? DOUBLE-BASS: We don't want anything, Mr. Consul, sir. We are playing. MR. OTERMAN: Yes. You play and play and make lots of money; but what do I do? You'll have to pay rent this year. DOUBLE-BASS: Rent? We're not staying on the premises. MR. OTERMAN: No, you are not staying. That's exactly the smart thing about i t . You have no expenses. But you're raking in money (out  between booths to the right). THE MERCHANT (his hand at his side): Ha ha. That man has completely lost his senses. THE DRUNK MAN: Yes. Hee hee. Lost his senses....He1s crazy (suddenly  greeting the merchant very seriously and respectfully). I say he is crazy. THE MERCHANT: He's shrinking daily. His riches have destroyed him. THE DRUNK MAN: Yes. Hee hee. It's the damndest thing I've seen, the way his riches went and destroyed him (again greets the merchant). I say, it's the most....that it's the damndest.... (Gaiety increases again. The musicians breathe on their fingers and  take up a position by merchant's booth.) A VOICE: How many glasses have you had today, Aron? (Laughter from the  crowd.) THE DRUNK MAN: V e° How many glasses? (greets merchant for the third time). I say, it's some of the damn-dest I .... (to a man who pulls at his  sweater). Let go, will you. (Music plays.) THE DRUNK MAN (sings with many gestures): Twelve-year-old girls and glasses full (starts dancing). A SERIOUS MAN: Is that a way to behave where the fever is raging! SEVERAL: You may say so. (Suddenly the drunk man falls down in the snow.) THE SERIOUS MAN: So, no more pranks from you today, Aron (over to him, wanting to get him on his feet). Get up, do you hear (to crowd). He's blue in the face. SEVERAL: What? (quickly over). THE SERIOUS MAN: He must have had a stroke. (Several motion to band; music  stops.) THE SERIOUS MAN: Give a hand there, and let's get him inside. (The drunk  man is carried away.) THE LAESTADIAN (holding up his finger): God's knife struck him. THE YOUNG GIRL: I'm sick. I feel cold. OLDER WOMEN: Go home, child. Go home. THE YOUNG GIRL: I can't. Help me. (The young girl is helped away.) A BIBLE-PEDDLER (at his table): These are grave times. Come and buy the word of God (holds out pamphlets). A MAN (points): Look how red the Northern Lights are growing. SEVERAL (exclaim): As red as blood! A WOMAN: Oh God! Oh God! FIRST STONE-CUTTER: Oh no ! My watch has stopped?! SECOND STONE-CUTTER: Has i t stopped? (looks at his watch). It's five o'clock. FIRST STONE-CUTTER (looks at his watch, shakes i t , listens): I don11 understand this. It worked al l right up to now. It has stopped at five. THE LAESTADIAN (holding up his finger): Think of the end. THE WOMAN: Oh God! Oh GodI ANOTHER MAN: So many strange things are happening these days. In my parish a strange calf has been born. A THIRD MAN (to a fourth): And didn't you hear a fly last night? THE FOURTH MAN: Yes. I was lying for a long time listening to i t . A fly in the middle of the winter. THE THIRD MAN (to the second): What was the calf like? THE WOMAN (cries out): Be quiet! Don't say i t ! (other women surround her  and lead her aside). ONE OF THE WOMEN: Be quiet. She's pregnant. A FIFTH MAN: I met a man at the wharf. SEVERAL (crowding around him): A man? What about him? FIFTH MAN: His feet were not like human feet. They were club-feet. SEVERAL: Both of them? FIFTH MAN: Both. A KVAEN (cries out to heaven): Jtfaala! ONE (to fifth man): Didn't you talk to him? FIFTH MAN: I greeted him but he didn't answer. He was holding his cap in his hand. ANOTHER: What happened to him? FIFTH MAN (who has turned around): There he stands (points to THY) . (THY has on his feet a pair of fantastic shoes with heels forward  and toes back. He is holding his cap in his hand.) SEVERAL (drawing back): God save us 1 A LAPP (crosses his hands over his head and calls out): Ibmel! Ibmel! A MAN: Who is that? SKIPPER REJERSEN (old, in high sea boots): Do you know him? A FISHERMAN: No. A WOMAN (dressed in a man's sweater): I don't know him either. SCATTERED VOICES: Me neither. THE BIBLE-PEDDLER: Methinks I recognize him. THE LAESTADIAN (holding up his finger): It is Thy. Justice. A FATHER (to his son); Come and say a prayer with me. THE SON: I only know the fisherman's prayer. THE FATHER: Come and say the fisherman's prayer (leaves with son). THE MAN (to THY): Why do you go around with shoes like that? THY: Do you know me? THE MAN: No. THY (to another): Do you know me? THE OTHER: No. I don't know you either. THY: You a l l know me and shun me. When you see my tracks in the snow you turn around and walk the other way. SEVERAL (in dread): Look at his shoes. THY: When I walked north you walked south. For twenty years you have avoided me. Now I have caught you. AN OLD WOMAN (pleading): Come and pray for. us. THY: I have a message. (A shot booms.) LAPPS (cross their hands over their heads): Ibmel! Ibmel! WOMEN: What was that? THE OLD WOMAN: Jesus Christ! SECOND STONE-CUTTER: It was only blasting over at the quarry. THE LAESTADIAN (holding up his finger): Don't joke about i t , young man. SECOND STONE-CUTTER (taken aback): Did you ever hear such a fool! It was only blasting, I say. THE OLD MAN (in ecstasy): You shall pray for us. This way (leads THY away). THY: But....? There was something I wanted to....? (THY is led away. Most of the people follow him; TERESITA, JENS SPIR and KARENO stay back. Further away a few scattered people are seen  walking between booths and tents.) ' THE KVAEN (calls out to heaven): Jumalal (rushes after the crowd). KARENO: What's going on here? People keep shouting God in a l l kinds, of languages. JENS SPIR: It's the symphony of cheeses. TERESITA: Are you going, Jens Spir? JENS SPIR: Yes, you are right about that. I really have station duty. I hope you'll excuse me (takes his leave and goes out right). KARENO: This i s getting impossible for me. You are tearing me away and disturbing a l l my peace. TERESITA (quietly): Yes, you have also disturbed mine. KARENO: I don't work any more, I'm not getting my chapter about Justice completed because I keep thinking of you. The tower stands empty, my l i f e ' s work i s crumbling. TERESITA: Does that trouble you? KARENO (takes hold of her stole): No, no. It's sweet. TERESITA: I never thought I would see this day. KARENO: Teresita I TERESITA:. Yes? KARENO: Your name alone bubbles through me. It rustles like a silken banner. TERESITA: Yes, when you are calling me. KARENO: Teresita! TERESITA: Yes? What do you want? (throws her arms around his neck). Oh no, wait a l i t t l e , I want to kneel. Yes, yes, don't say anything, I want to be yours completely (kneels). Do you love me now? KARENO: Yes ( l i f t s her up v. TERESITA (against his shoulder): Say i t again. Say i t a l l the time. KARENO: Why did you kneel? TERESITA: I was obeying someone. KARENO: You were like a snake, why were you like that? You l i f t e d your head and arched your back. I have to see your wondrously strong neck. TERESITA: I have been wringing my hands for you, Kareno. I have been stan-ding in my room staring at the wall and listening for you....Breathe on me. KARENO (breathes on her). TERESITA: More. It's like starlight. I'm l i f t e d soundlessly from the earth. (More people are seen in the camp again.) KARENO (embraces her suddenly): Come, let us go. TERESITA: Go? KARENO: Are we to stand here among a l l these people? TERESITA: Where do you want to take me? KARENO: There (points to the right). Home. TERESITA (after a moment's consideration): Where your wife i s (slowly  walks away from him). KARENO: My wife? (vehemently). She is not ray wife. Not any more. Never. TERESITA (turns around): Is she leaving tonight? (slowly walks out to the  right). KARENO (stands for a moment considering, then hurries out across market  place). A MAN: The wind i s rising. ANOTHER MAN: The night's getting cold and windy. The Northern'Lights are getting jagged. THE MAN: There's a ring around the moon. JENS SPIR (from right with a telegram in his hand): Skipper Rejersen, yacht Southern Star. THE OTHER MAN: He's not here. A THIRD MAN: He's in the prayer-house. I ' l l go and fetch him (out to right). A DUBIOUS-LOOKING WOMAN (from right in thick red v e i l ) : Is that for me? JENS SPIR: The telegram? No. Are you expecting something? THE DUBIOUS-LOOKING WOMAN: Yes. I'm expecting a telegram from some Brazilian diamond merchant or other with glowing eyes. JENS SPIR: Oh. Who are you? THE DUBIOUS-LOOKING WOMAN: My name is Mora; Tahitaho....And who are you? JENS SPIR: Are you making the rounds of the market? THE DUBIOUS-LOOKING WOMAN: Of course. I'm amusing myself. JENS SPIR: Have you come from the prayer-house? THE DUBIOUS-LOOKING WOMAN: Ha ha. My poor wordly heart....Is there anything else you want to know, Mr. Jens Spir? JENS SPIR: Do you know me? THE DUBIOUS-LOOKING WOMAN: You have eyes like a will-o-the-wisp. JENS SPIR: Where are you going? THE DUBIOUS-LOOKING WOMAN: Wherever you want. JENS SPIR (starts): You can always talk. With that thick v e i l over your face. THE DUBIOUS-LOOKING WOMAN (with a passionate gesture tears v e i l off her  hat, stares at JENS SPIR for a moment and pockets v e i l as she goes  out to right). JENS SPIR: Mrs. Kareno! (MR. OTERMAN i n conversation with ENGINEER BREDE in from l e f t , followed by quarrymen in smocks with tooi, :ix shoulders.) MR. OTERMAN: It's not that i t i s marble; but that you f i n d i t . You keep on finding i t . You aren't leaving me enough marble for a single step. ENGINEER BREDE: I have no instructions from the company to leave you any steps. MR. OTERMAN: But we could come to some agreement about i t . I ' l l make i t worth your while. ENGINEER BREDE (to the quarrymen): In any event, I c a l l you as witnesses to Mr. Oterman's words. You heard them? FIRST QUARRYMAN: Yes. (ENGINEER BREDE coldly l i f t s his hat and goes out to right, followed  by quarrymen.) MR. OTERMAN: It's my marble. THE BIBLE-PEDDLER (with pamphlets i n his hands): Come and buy the word of God. MR. OTERMAN: Me? Can I afford to buy anything? A man who has been cheated. THE BIBLE-PEDDLER: Here are words from the Bible for every day of the year. Here i s Nelly the Negro woman or the flower of Sumatra. Here is The Quiet Comforter. MR. OTERMAN (shakes his head): I can't. THE BIBLE-PEDDLER (disgusted): You can't? With a l l your money? MR. OTERMAN: May God forgive you for what you say. I have lost everything. THE BIBLE-PEDDLER: Then I w i l l make you a g i f t of this book. MR. OTERMAN (greedily grabbing i t ) : Thank you (pockets the book). BYSTANDERS: He accepts i t . He has no shame. THE BIBLE-PEDDLER: And may i t be a blessing unto you. MR. OTERMAN: These people are rich every one of them, Jens Spir. They make money beyond belief. JENS SPIR: I met your daughter. She was i l l . MR. OTERMAN: Is Teresita i l l ? (looks around on the ground and now and  then puts something in his pocket). JENS SPIR: I believe she's got the fever. She was shivering when she went home. SKIPPER REJERSEN (followed by several others from right): Skipper Rejersen, yacht Southern Star. JENS SPIR (delivers the telegram to him and points): Sign here (to MR. OTERMAN). As I said, your daughter i s i l l . MR. OTERMAN: What do you want me to do, Jens Spir? (continues searching  further up the market-place). JENS SPIR (abruptly seizes receipt and goes after MR. OTERMAN). A MAN: What news, skipper? SKIPPER REJERSEN (having f i n a l l y opened telegram): Sailing orders. They are fishing cod in the s t r a i t . (KARENO and MRS. KARENO from right.) KARENO: As I was saying, i t was good I found you at once. You m u s t leave, Elina. MRS. KARENO: But I'm not the least afraid of the fever, do you hear. KARENO: It goes from man to man. I can't allow you to stay here any longer. THE MAN: What time do you s a i l , skipper? SKIPPER REJERSEN: Tonight. THE MAN: You couldn't get a better wind. Right behind you. SKIPPER REJERSEN: But i t gets s t i f f towards night (looks up into the a i r ) . KARENO (to SKIPPER REJERSEN): Where are you sailing? SKIPPER REJERSEN: South. (KARENO draws SKIPPER REJERSEN aside and talks to him.) A MAID (bare-headed and with a white kitchen apron quickly in/from right) Is Mr. Oterman here? (catches sight of him). Hr. Oterman, Miss Teresita i s i l l . KARENO (with a start): Teresita? MR. OTERMAN (followed by JENS SPIR): Is i t the fever? THE MAID: Yes. She wants the doctor. MR. OTERMAN: What? I have nobody here to fetch the doctor. THE MAID: I could talk to some of the quarrymen. MR. OTERMAN (to JENS SPIR): Perhaps you think i t ' s a small expense to send a boat for the doctor (to maid). You have to bargain with them, do you understand. They're a bunch-of bastards when i t comes to charging for things (goes on searching through the  market-place). (Maid hurries out to right.) KARENO: I have spoken to that man, Elina. You can go with him. MRS. KARENO (with an expression of disappointment): With that old fellow SKIPPER REJERSEN: But we have to leave soon. Be on the wharf i n an hour (exit across market-place). KARENO (feverishly): Right, go home and get ready (leads the unwilling MRS. KARENO out to the right). MRS. KARENO*S VOICE: With that old fellow! (More people have come. The musicians breathe on their fingers  and again take up their positions.) THE MERCHANT (in his door): It's no good, I ' l l have to send a wire. THE CLOTHES-MERCHANT (in his door): For new goods? MERCHANT: For a larger shipment of new goods (reenters booth). THE CLOTHES-MERCHANT: He hasn't had one customer today (reenters tent). MR. OTERMAN (to JENS SPIR, who is leaving): Are you going home, Jens Spir? JENS SPIR: Yes. MR. OTERMAN: Cancel that boat, w i l l you. JENS SPIR: Cancel it? MR. OTERMAN: Yes. I think my daughter is getting better, thank God. JENS SPIR: How do you know that? MR. OTERMAN: I have thought about i t . Oh, i t ' s sheer ruin on a l l sides (up the market-place). JENS SPIR (follows). (Music starts playing quietly.) A MAN (coming): Aron is dead. SEVERAL: Is he dead? (motions to musicians who stop). WOMEN: Oh GodI Oh GodI THE SERIOUS MAN: There, you see how short l i f e i s . THE LAESTADIAN (holding up his finger): The wages of sin i s death. (Laments and murmurs.) THE BIBLE-PEDDLER: These are serious times, people. Come and buy the word of God. THE MAID (again i n from right; c a l l s ) : Mr. Oterman, none of the quarrymen wants to go for the doctor. MR. OTERMAN (followed by JENS SPIR): They don't want to go? MAID: No. They're afraid there'll be a storm coming up by ni g h t f a l l . MR. OTERMAN (with joy): A saving is a saving (to maid). T e l l Teresita she'll get well tomorrow, JENS SPIR (after thinking i t over): T e l l Teresita I am going. MR. OTERMAN: You? THE MERCHANT (out from booth with telegram in his hand): I have a telegram here. If you would send"it immediately. JENS SPIR (tears envelope open and reads): You aren't selling anything? MERCHANT (his hand at his side): That's no concern of yours. JENS SPIR (hands telegram back to him): You are asking your boss for the return fare? MERCHANT (furious): Are you going to send the telegram? JENS SPIR (throws telegram away): No. I have other things to do (to maid). Go home (buttons his coat, presses his hat down on his head and disappears across market-place). (Maid out t o r i g h t . ) MERCHANT ( c a l l s a f t e r JENS S P I R ) : Y o u ' l l answer f o r t h i s ( p i c k s te legram  up and leaps i n t o b o o t h ) . THE CLOTHES-MERCHANT (who has been s t and ing i n h i s d o o r ) : Ha h a . Those were the new goods ( i n ) ' (The sound o f c o w b e l l s , b a r k i n g dogs and t r a m p l i n g as of many  animals passes r a p i d l y b y . ) TERESITA (from r i g h t i n unbuttoned dress and d i s h e v e l l e d h a i r ; l ooks  around h e r ) : I s n ' t he here? SEVERAL: Who? TERESITA: I d o n ' t want to get the f e v e r ; why do I have to? I was l y i n g i n my bed , but I got up aga in and came h e r e . I want to be out h e r e . SEVERAL: What b e l l s are those? TERESITA: I d i d t h a t . I l e t a l l the animals l o o s e . SEVERAL: Why? TERESITA: L i s t e n how the cows are r u n n i n g . Why i s i t so q u i e t here? S t r i k e up , m u s i c i a n s ; I have a crown here ( f i n d s a crown i n h e r  pocket and ho ld s i t u p ) . THE SERIOUS MAN: She has the f e v e r . TERESITA: Now l i f e i s r o a r i n g and the dogs are b a r k i n g . No, s t r i k e up, m u s i c i a n s . I have my new l o v e ' s month. THE SERIOUS MAN: T h i s i s blasphemous. AN OLD WOMAN (bu t ton ing TERESITA's d r e s s ) : Oh, i s n ' t i t a p i t y . I t ' s T e r e s i t a Oterman. THE LAESTADIAN (holds up h i s f i n g e r wanting to speak) . TERESITA: T e l l him when he comes t h a t I was here l o o k i n g f o r h i m . T e l l him t h a t . I ' v e been l o o k i n g f o r twenty years ( to LAESTADIAN). Oh, you God's s l a v e , what do you t h i n k of me? THE OLD WOMAN (takes o f f her shawl and puts i t around TERESITA's s h o u l d e r s ) : L e t me h e l p you ( leads her away). THE LAESTADIAN: S i n no more. TERESITA ( turns a round) : S i n no more? Oh, you God's s l a v e , I do not s i n , I 'm obeying someone. I keep l o o k i n g everywhere, day and n i g h t . THE SERIOUS MAN: I t must be her f a t h e r she i s t a l k i n g about . Where i s M r . Oterman? (THY i s s t and ing downstage t o the l e f t . ) THE OLD WOMAN: Come now, child. TERESITA: There i s Thy. You shall have the crown (throws the coin'to, him  and goes out to the right with the old woman). (THY hurries forward, stumbles in his shoes and fal l s . ) THE SERIOUS MAN: Did you fa l l ? (hands coin to THY and helps him o\j his feet). SOME IN THE CROWD (standing on their toes): Who f e l l ? OTHERS: Justice. ACT IV (Same place as Act T J O , but without snow. Calm sea.) (Late afternoon i n the spring. Sunshine.) (Maid at the window, cleaning panes on the outside. MR, OTERMAN enters from right, thinner and more poorly dressed, mumbling loudly to himself, searching around on the ground with his eyes.) MR. OTERMAN (to himself): They keep finding more, every day they find more (stops and spreads his arms as though measuring). Great, white masses under the earth (walks). They aren't leaving me enough for a table-top (catches sight of maid). I was just saying, you must not waste soap, you and the others. MAID: No, we won't waste soap. MR. OTERMAN: You must wash with water. Things get incredibly clean with just water. MAID: I ' l l t e l l the young lady. MR. OTERMAN: Is Teresita inside? MAID: No, she went out with the engineer. MR. OTERMAN: And then you must go and look for me now and then, when you think I've been gone too long. MAID: Yes,, we'll look for y'ou, MR. OTERMAN: Because you haven't been looking after me enough lately. I might f a l l i l l , nobody knows. MAID: No. MR. OTERMAN: And then.... (looks around him) then one or other, of those quarrymen might be lying i n wait to get me. MAID: Yes. MR. OTERMAN: Because they're a l l robbers, those quarrymen, every one o f them (to JENS SPIR who comes sauntering around the farthest corner o f the building i n somewhat worn clothes). Anything new on the line today, Jens Spir? JENS SPIR: On what line? MR. OTERMAN: The telegraph l i n e . JENS SPIR: You forget that I have been fired by the cable company. MR. OTERMAN: Yes, that's true, you have been fired. What are you doing now? JENS SPIR: Nothing. I don't work. One gets stupid and coarse from working. MR. OTERMAN: You happy man, who can l i v e a l l the same. I'm t o i l i n g . JENS SPIR (to maid): Is Miss Teresita in? THE MAID: No, she went out with the engineer. MR. OTERMAN: I said, I'm t o i l i n g . JENS SPIR: Each to his fancy (to KARENO, coming from right). Are you idling, l i k e me? KARENO: I'm i d l i n g . JENS SPIR: And looking at humanity with a l l the indulgence i t deserves... So, Miss Teresita i s out with the engineer? MAID: Yes (closes window and polishes panes on the inside). (KARENO turns and walks out.) JENS SPIR: There, he's gone....One piece of news I have though (nods his  head towards l e f t , indicating). They've found a new vein over there. MR. OTERMAN (spins around): A new vein again? Jens Spir, they don't stop they find new veins every day. There i s no end to i t . JENS SPIR: tt was found this morning (leans against banister). MR. OTERMAN: This morning, this morning. Another new vein (with small. disturbed steps out to right). (TERESITA and ENGINEER BREDE from l e f t . ENGINEER BREDE carries a  pistol in his hand.) ENGINEER BREDE (takes his hat of f ) ; Well, this i s where I have to leave you, Miss. TERESITA: Say that i t makes you sad. ENGINEER BREDE: It makes me desperate....Do you want to keep the pistol? TERESITA: No, thank you. ENGINEER BREDE: And I hope to see you soon (takes leave and turns back). TERESITA (to JENS SPIR): If that i s you standing there, I'd rather go back with the engineer. JENS SPIR: It's not me. It was me once. TERESITA: You're always harping on that. Why were you fired, Jens Spir? JENS SPIR: Because I l e f t the office one day last winter. TERESITA: And fetched the doctor for me? JENS SPIR: Yes. TERESITA: Am I not kind to give you an opportunity to t e l l me that once more? JENS SPIR: I thank you. TERESITA (annoyed): But why did you do it ? I didn't ask you to. And now I have to walk around here and look at your thin unemployed face a l l the time. JENS SPIR: It pains me that I displease you. TERESITA: You are getting more and more hoilow-cheeked, your clothes are getting worn out. JENS SPIR: But then I am also displaying myself here to earn your pity. TERESITA: T e l l some more l i e s . Why have you come here, did you say? JENS SPIR (slowly): I have come here, Miss Teresita, to thank you for the meal your maid brought me this morning. TERESITA: But you sent the food back, didn't you? JENS SPIR: Yes, I sent i t back. TERESITA: And yet you thank me? JENS SPIR: Yes, yet I thank you. TERESITA (after some consideration): Well then, you have done i t . Then what? JENS SPIR: Do you intend to go on sending me food? TERESITA: Do you intend to go on needing i t ? JENS SPIR: Because in that case I would ask you to be good enough to stop. TERESITA (laughing): I can't promise that I w i l l do i t again either, Jens Spir; You mustn't take that for granted. You have to look for a job again. JENS SPIR: Thank you, that's a l l (walks away). TERESITA (grazing after him): You're really priceless today. What would the consequences be i f I sent you a bowl of soup this afternoon? JENS SPIR (turns around): The consequences could be, Miss Teresita, that at some suitable moment I shall walk up to you and catch you by the wrist and hold two crowns out to you in a significant manner (stares  at her for a moment, then walks slowly out to the right). KARENO (from farthest corner of the building; nervously): Teresita? TERESITA (passes her hand across her forehead). KARENO: You were out. I've been looking for you. You have been with the engineer. TERESITA: What did he mean by that? He talked about giving me two crowns in a significant manner? KARENO: Who? TERESITA: That's what he said. Can you understand i t ? (a light dawns  upon her). Ah! (stamps on the ground)• I ' l l do i t (clenches her fist s and walks around furiously). I ' l l do i t (stops and c a l l s ) . Nikoline. THE MAID (opens window): Yes? TERESITA: Take a bowl of soup to Jens Spir; MAID: Yes (closes window). TERESITA (calls in through the window and makes signs): A big bowl (turns around; with assumed mildness); Is that you, Kareno? What do you want? KARENO: You have been out walking with the engineer again. TERESITA: We've been shooting with a p i s t o l . KARENO: You spend so much time with him. TERESITA: Yes. I'm beginning to love him. Is th/re anything else you want to know? 1 " B-54 KARENO: I cannot.•..I'm no good at quarrelling with you. And I don't want to remonstrate with you any more. Just t e l l me, are you serious, Teresita? TERESITA: God bless you, you touch me a l i t t l e with your sincere questions. KARENO (hurt): I don't want to touch you. I want to know the truth. TERESITA: You weren't the one I hoped you were, Kareno. I've told you before. You are a human being like a l l the others, f u l l of vulgar and ludicrous sin. I'm tired of you. KARENO: But once, once you did love me? TERESITA: Dear me, do you think I loved your Lapp face and your spindly legs? Alas, no, you are no beauty. But you were so quiet, I thought you were f u l l of something from another world; for your face moved me. And then you disappointed me. KARENO: In what way did I disappoint you? Didn't I speak of glass and light any longer? TERESITA: Every evening you came and looked at me. Like this (looks askance at him). And that meant something. And I got tired of i t . KARENO: Then I w i l l never look at you that way again. TERESITA (shakes her head): Now i t ' s too late. KARENO (vehemently): But woman, what did you want from me then? TERESITA: What did I want from you, Kareno? The rod bent in my hand when I stood before you. KARENO: As i t bends for the engineer now. TERESITA: Yes. KARENO: And what do you love in him? TERESITA: His hump, maybe. God knows what my heart w i l l love i n him. KARENO (catches her by the arm): Strike me in the face and c a l l me yours s t i l l , do you hear. TERESITA: How sad that you ask me to do that. KARENO: Give me time and don't leave me, Teresita. Don't make i t definite now. Wait t i l l we see each other again. TERESITA (with an expression of disgust): Is there anything else you want? (The sun goes down.) KARENO: No. Only that you should think i t over once more. TERESITA: Now the sun has gone down completely. MR. OTERMAN (from farthest corner of the building, mumbling to himself; catches sight of KARENO): A new vein, Kareno. Another new vein. I was just walking here saying to myself that I have to talk to you. (TERESITA up the steps and in. KARENO involuntarily stretches out a, hand after her.) MR. OTERMAN: The boys are growing up. They'll have to go their own ways hereafter. It's hard necessity that drives me, Kareno. KARENO: The boys are sitting inside reading. MR. OTERMAN: Are they? Well yes. You are their tutor. I am extremely satisfied with you. KARENO: I thank you. MR. OTERMAN: But I can't keep i t up any longer. It's beyond my means. KARENO: What are you trying to t e l l me, Mr. Oterman? MR. OTERMAN: It grieves me. The boys are fond of you; but they'll have to do without a tutor from now on. KARENO: Ah? You are giving me notice? MR. OTERMAN: I'm ruined. They've found a new vein today. KARENO (after a pause): A l l right, Mr. Oterman. I have been given notice (slowly out to right). MR. OTERMAN (mumbles, searching around on the ground): They are after me. They're whispering behind my back and pointing at me. They mean harm (stops). White mountains under the earth (measures out wide  with his arms). As big as this. ENGINEER BREDE (from l e f t , with pistol in his hand; greets OTERMAN without words). MR. OTERMAN: A new vein today again, I hear? ENGINEER BREDE: A side vein. A branch of the main vein. MR. OTERMAN: It's a l l the same. It's my vein. ENGINEER BREDE: You mean the company's. MR. OTERMAN: 1 need everybody's pity. I no longer have food to put in my mouth ENGINEER BREDE: Then you are truly to be pitied. MR. OTERMAN: I thought I would turn to you. You can help me onto my feet again. ENGINEER BREDE: If I can do that, nothing would please me more. MR. OTERMAN (with joy): Yes, exactly, i t would please you, wouldn't it? You w i l l do i t ? You w i l l help me onto my feet again?....Is i t my daughter you are looking for? I'd like to see you going out with her a l o t . Great g i r l ; isn't she? (digs him i n the r i b s ) . What do you say, young man? Hee hee, you're quite a rogue, yes, you are (points  up to the house). There you can see her window. That's where she lives. Just get to meet her some time or other, do you hear. Oh, you're a merry fellow, I can see. ENGINEER BREDE (confused): Is Miss Teresita in? MR. OTERMAN: Now I ' l l go and get her....Mr. Engineer, then you could save the new vein for me. ENGINEER BREDE: How do you mean? MR. OTERMAN: I ' l l pay you for i t . We could share. Let the vein l i e where i t l i e s , shut away down i n the ground. ENGINEER BREDE: What you are suggesting i s nothing less than a crime, don't you realize that? MR. OTERMAN: I am a cheated man. ENGINEER BREDE (continuing): And at the same time i t ' s stupid. MR. OTERMAN: Do you know another way then? ENGINEER BREDE (coldly): No. I know no other way. TERESITA (comes down the steps; with radiant joy): The sun set. The sun rose. (ENGINEER BREDE bows deeply.) MR. OTERMAN: It is my marble (shuffles out again around farthest corner  of the building repeating: It is my marble). ENGINEER BREDE: Miss Oterman, I don't suppose you expected to see me again so soon. TERESITA: No. You are giving me a new joy. ENGINEER BREDE: Thank you for those words. TERESITA (looks at him): Are you thankful for so l i t t l e ? ENGINEER BREDE: It is a great deal for me. Don't you understand that? TERESITA (sniffs): Do you feel the vapors from the ground? ENGINEER BREDE (also sniffing): I can only smell stone from the quarry. TERESITA:. Are you already on your way home? ENGINEER BREDE: No. I just became restless and went for a walk. Miss Oterman, you have done something to me today. TERESITA: Miss Oterman always does something wrong. ENGINEER BREDE: After what you were kind enough to t e l l me during our walk, I may perhaps dare to presume that I'm not completely indifferent in your eyes. TERESITA (points towards the mountains): It's getting green out there. ENGINEER BREDE (puts on his pince-nez and looks around him, bows): I see only you. TERESITA: Do you want ,to come inside? ENGINEER BREDE: Wouldn't you rather shoot some more? Then I can talk to you better. TERESITA: What are you looking at? ENGINEER BREDE: I saw something beautiful. I saw your neck (bows). TERESITA: Come, let's shoot (goes with ENGINEER BREDE to the l e f t ) . KARENO (from right): One word! Have you thought i t over? I can find no peace. TERESITA: I have thought i t over, r Everything i s finished. (ENGINEER BREDE goes off to the left . ) KARENO: Finished, for ever? TERESITA: Yes (walks on).. KARENO (with both hands stretched out): teresita! TERESITA (turns around and stamps the ground): M i s s Teresita! (goes after ENGINEER BREDE). KARENO (stands for a moment looking after her; determined): Very well' then! M i s s Teresita! (repeatedly puts his hand to his forehead  and paces about; stops at the window and c a l l s ) : Boys! (GUSTAV and ELIAS down the steps.) , . KARENO: Dear boys, would you do me a favor? BOTH: Why yes. KARENO: Thank you so much. GUSTAV: What shall we do? KARENO: You're to go out to the tower and tidy up. Sweep the floors and dust around a b i t , BOTH: Yes. KARENO: Because I'm going to start working again. ELLAS: That's great. GUSTAV: Shall we go at once? KARENO: Yes, please. Go at once. Here i s the key (hands GUSTAV the key). But you must not touch any of the papers on the table. BOTH: Oh, no. KARENO: Thanks a lot, boys. (GUSTAV and ELIAS run out past farthest corner of the building.) MR. OTERMAN (in from right, mumbling; discovers KARENO): And then there was another thing, Kareno. In case you want to leave right away.... KARENO: I am not leaving right away. MR. OTERMAN: The sooner the better. I beg you. KARENO: From tomorrow I shall resume work on my book! MR. OTERMAN: You will? KARENO: And finish my chapter on Justice. It's going to be a chapter with teeth and nails. MR. OTERMAN: But you have been given notice. KARENO: Mr. Oterman, spare me from replying more clearly: I am completing my work. (THY has come in . He i s barefoot and stands with his cap in his hand.) MR. OTERMAN: But that may take a long time? KARENO: No, have no fear about that. Now i t ' s going to be fast work, I'm going to put force into i t . It's no use walking ahead, coaxing i t along; the only thing to do is to walk behind using the long whip. Roll, r o l l , ball of yarn. I ' l l run the haft right into you. MR. OTERMAN (to THY): Are you here again? I have nothing for you any more. Go away. KARENO: I have a crown (hands a crown to THY). MR. OTERMAN: But afterwards, Kareno? I'm thinking of that. KARENO: Afterwards I ' l l be quiet. I ' l l s i t at the end of the world and be silent while everybody else talks. I w i l l l i s t e n to what they say and think about i t and smile. For nothing w i l l surprise me any more. MR. OTERMAN: I meant, when you have written the tower f u l l of paper..., KARENO: Then you are going to print i t . MR. OTERMAN: You never t i r e of repeating that joke. KARENO (curtly): I do not wish to quarrel further with you. I have three adult witnesses against you (with erect figure walks out to right). MR. OTERMAN: He has witnesses against me. Three adult witnesses (jto THY) Did you hear that? THY: Yes. MR. OTERMAN: No mercy from anyone (approaches him). You got a crown, Thy THY: Yes. MR. OTERMAN: I have given you many a crown in the olddays. Now you give me one. THY: Do you want a crown from me? MR. OTERMAN: You stand before a ruined man. THY (hands him the crown). MR. OTERMAN: Thank you, Thy! You have done a good deed (pockets coin; talks to himself).. He i s going to start writing more tomorrow. He has three adult witnesses (out past farthest corner of the building, mumbling). THY (scowls humbly after him). (TERESITA and ENGINEER BREDE from l e f t . TERESITA in front, fleeing.) TERESITA (vehemently): No, I say. Don't speak to me any more. What in the world are you thinking of? Do you think you can be a lover? (looks him up and down). ENGINEER BREDE: I think I can have a sincere love for you. TERESITA (uneasy): But that wasn't what I sought; no, i t wasn't (hard). How do you dare to kiss me on my neck, l i t t l e runt! JENS SPIR (with pale face from farthest corner of the building, makes straight for TERESITA, catches her by the wrist, stares at her and  holds out a coin. With same hand points repeatedly up at TERESITA's window. Finally presses the coin into her hand, releases her and  goes out the same way he came). TERESITA (groaning): What?....What did he do? ENGINEER BREDE: What did he do? TERESITA: Two crowns? Wasn't i t Jens Spir (suddenly runs up towards  farthest corner of building and c a l l s ) . Ah, i t was for the soup? You don't have to pay so dearly for i t . It was l e f t over from yes-terday; our dog didn't want i t (back to ENGINEER BREDE, takes hold of his arm) . He just wanted to pay for some soup I sent him. ENGINEER BREDE: And I just want to ask you to forgive me because down there on the road I.... TERESITA: Do you think he heard what I called after him? ENGINEER BREDE: It was my innermost f i r e that flared up. I couldn't resist you. . TERESITA: Didn't I c a l l him a dog? ENGINEER BREDE: You stand here and talk about Mr. Spir and his two crowns a l l the time. TERESITA: Do I? (collects herself). Excuse me, did you want to t e l l me something? ENGINEER BREDE: Yes. I love you, Teresita. TERESITA: Good day, Thy. THY: Good day. TERESITA: He was just paying me for some soup. ENGINEER BREDE: I was just thinking how your father wanted me to conceal the discovery of the new vein. But i t ' s not feasible. TERESITA (abstractedly): Isn't i t ? ENGINEER BREDE: Another thing i s that your father could open negotiations for the re-purchase of the quarry. TERESITA: Yes, I suppose that's another thing. ENGINEER BREDE: And then I as supervisor would have i t in my power to describe the quarry as depleted, the marble as entirely exhausted. TERESITA: What are you talking about? ENGINEER BREDE: I'm te l l i n g you your father can get the quarry back for a nominal sum. TERESITA: Can he? That would make him happy, I am sure. ENGINEER BREDE: But i t doesn't make you happy? TERESITA (looks at him): Oh, my dear man, go away! ENGINEER BREDE: Teresita, you can't mean that. Do with cie whatever you want. Tell me what you demand of me. TERESITA (takes the p i s t o l ) : May I borrow this? ENGINEER BREDE: Borrow it ? I give it., to you. B-61 : TERESITA: Is i t loaded? ENGINEER BREDE (pulls off a glove and examines p i s t o l ) : There are two bullets l e f t in i t . TERESITA: Thy! Take this.pistol and go to Jens Spir with i t . If he asks who sent i t say i t was I. Then h e ' l l understand. THY: Yes (takes p i s t o l ) . TERESITA: Wait a moment, Thy. Here is Jens Spir's money. He'll pay you himself (hands coin to THY). (At the same moment the pistol goes off, a shot and a loud shriek are heard. TERESITA tumbles back towards steps. THY drops the pistol.) ENGINEER BREDE: Did you f i r e , you crazy man? (runs around bewildered). THY: It went off. ENGINEER BREDE (calls out): Help! JENS SPIR (runs quickly from farthest corner of the building): I thought I heard a shot? ENGINEER BREDE: Yes, Miss Oterman.... It hit her. JENS SPIR: Did you shoot her? ENGINEER BREDE: No, i t was him (points to THY): The pistol went off. JENS SPIR: Him? (quickly examines.TERESITA, takes her in his arms and  carries her up the steps and inside). ENGINEER BREDE: I ' l l send someone for the doctor (out to l e f t ) . (Suddenly flames shoot up from the tower out on the headland.) MAID (from farthest corner of the building; disturbed); The tower's on f i r e . I saw him do i t . It was Mr. Oterman. He locked the door real fast and set fi r e to i t . I saw i t . God have mercy, on us. THY: Teresita i s dead. MAID (looks blankly at him): No, I'm t e l l i n g you I was out there. He asked us himself to look after him. Then he closed the door real fast and set the tower on f i r e . God help me, I dare not go inside. THY: Teresita is dead. MAID: What did you say? Is Teresita dead? THY: The pistol went off. MAID (screams): Is i t true? (up the steps and into the house). MR. OTERMAN (from farthest corner of the building as i f fleeing from somebody, out of breath, talking loudly to himself): They were after me again. They were talking in loud voices in there. There were a lot of them, they were lying in wait for me (wipes off sweat). Who spoke? Nobody. Nobody, I say. I only thought so (looks towards tower where f i r e i s growing). Now the opus is burning. Three witnesses, you say. Ho-ho, the papers are burning (wipes off sweat and again looks out towards tower). A l l that woodwork going to waste. I could have used i t for something (catching sight of THY). Why are you standing here, Thy? Have you been listening? JENS SPIR (down the steps): Mr. Oterman, your daughter i s dead. MR. OTERMAN: What are you saying? JENS SPIR (leads him towards steps): Go inside and see. MR. OTERMAN: Teresita, you say? JENS SPIR: Go inside and see (leads him a l l the way up the steps and opens  the door for him; back to THY again). So, i t was you who fired the shot, Thy? Why did you fiddle with the gun? THY: She gave i t to me. JENS SPIR: What were you supposed to do with it? THY: I was to bring i t . JENS SPIR (looks at him): To me? THY: Yes. JENS SPIR (after a pause): So now you have delivered your message? You who always wanted to say something, did you get your opportunity today? THY: The pistol went off. JENS SPIR: Yes, of course....Are you the one they c a l l Justice? THY: Yes. JENS SPIR: Yes, Justice i s a blind animal, I know. It takes i t s revenge at random. Its pistol goes off (picks up pistol and examines i t ; to himself): There i s s t i l l one bullet l e f t (notices the f i r e i n  the tower). What's that? THY: The tower i s on f i r e , JENS SPIR: Are you standing here watching the tower burn and not saying a word? (shrugs). Well, not that i t makes any difference (suddenly). Do you know what justice is? It's something away there in the clouds. It watches patiently while people do wrong, and then i t strikes them down and punishes them with death (again examines the pi s t o l ; to himself). There i s s t i l l one b u l l e t l e f t . . . . I n short, then, Thy, w i l l you come and fetch t h i s p i s t o l from me tomorrow? THY: Yes. JENS SPIR: Did a smile cross your face? Did something give you joy?.... Well, w i l l you fetch the p i s t o l ? THY: Yes. JENS SPIR: You w i l l f i n d i t i n my room. You knock on the door; nobody answers; but you walk r i g h t i n . The door i s open. THY: Yes. JENS SPIR: And the p i s t o l i s l y i n g i n my hand (puts p i s t o l i n his pocket  and walks o f f around the farthest corner of the b u i l d i n g ) . KARENO (from r i g h t ) : How fortunate that I should meet you, old man. . I want to t a l k to you before I go on w r i t i n g . THY: T e r e s i t a i s dead. KARENO: Teresita? We won't mention her. THY: She i s dead. KARENO: Dead? THY: The shot h i t her. KARENO: I heard a shot. Did i t h i t her? THY: Yes. KARENO: Her of a l l people! MR. OTERMAN (down the steps, disturbed): My daughter has been shot, Kareno. KARENO: I've heard that. Man i s at the mercy of higher laws. MR. OTERMAN: She i s dead. . KARENO (Notices flames from tower where f i r e i s beginning to die down): Holy Heaven! Isn't there a f i r e out there? THY: The tower i s on f i r e . KARENO (clasps h i s hands over h i s head): The tower i s on f i r e ! My papers! (stumbles bewildered up towards steps): My l i f e ' s work . i s burning to ashes. MR. OTERMAN (looks that way): A l l that g l a s s . And a l l that wood. KARENO: Is that heaven's punishment f o r my sin? Won't I get o f f cheaper? MR. OTERMAN: My daughter has been shot. KARENO (jumps up): Yes, and your sons burnt to death. MR. OTERMAN: My sons? Where are Gustav and Elias? KARENO: They were in the tower. MR. OTERMAN (stares at him for a moment): Was i t they who were speaking in the tower? (Gives a piercing shriek as he runs out toward farthest ,'• corner of the building) . Elias! KARENO: Wise Nemesis! (with folded hands and head bowed low walks out  to the right). THY (is l e f t standing alone in the middle of the yard, t a l l , erect, and with his cap in his hand). 

Cite

Citation Scheme:

        

Citations by CSL (citeproc-js)

Usage Statistics

Share

Embed

Customize your widget with the following options, then copy and paste the code below into the HTML of your page to embed this item in your website.
                        
                            <div id="ubcOpenCollectionsWidgetDisplay">
                            <script id="ubcOpenCollectionsWidget"
                            src="{[{embed.src}]}"
                            data-item="{[{embed.item}]}"
                            data-collection="{[{embed.collection}]}"
                            data-metadata="{[{embed.showMetadata}]}"
                            data-width="{[{embed.width}]}"
                            async >
                            </script>
                            </div>
                        
                    
IIIF logo Our image viewer uses the IIIF 2.0 standard. To load this item in other compatible viewers, use this url:
http://iiif.library.ubc.ca/presentation/dsp.831.1-0102147/manifest

Comment

Related Items