Swanwhite
(Svanehvit)
A Fairy Play
1902
CHARACTERS
THE DUKE
THE STEPMOTHER
SWANWHITE
THE PRINCE
SIGNE }
ELSA } Maids
TOVA }
THE KITCHEN GARDENER
THE FISHERMAN
THE MOTHER OF SWANWHITE
THE MOTHER OF THE PRINCE
THE GAOLER
THE EQUERRY
THE BUTLER
THE FLOWER GARDENER
TWO KNIGHTS
An apartment in a mediæval stone castle. The walls and the cross-vaulted ceiling are whitewashed. In the centre of the rear wall is a triple-arched doorway leading to a balcony with a stone balustrade. There are draperies of brocade over the doorway. Beyond the balcony appear the top branches of a rose-garden, laden with white and pink roses. In the background there can be seen a white, sandy beach and the blue sea.
To the right of the main doorway is a small door which, when left open, discloses a vista of three closets, one beyond the other. The first one is stored with vessels of pewter arranged on shelves. The walls of the second closet are hung with all sorts of costly and ornate garments. The third closet contains piles and rows of apples, pears, melons, pumpkins, and so forth.
The floors of all the rooms are inlaid with alternating squares of black and red. At the centre of the apartment stands a gilded dinner-table covered with a cloth; a twig of mistletoe is suspended above the table. A clock and a vase filled with roses stand on the table, near which are placed two gilded tabourets. Two swallows’ nests are visible on the rear wall above the doorway. A lion skin is spread on the floor near the foreground. At the left, well to the front, stands a white bed with a rose-coloured canopy supported by two columns at the head of the bed (and by none at the foot). The bed-clothing is pure white except for a coverlet of pale-blue silk. Across the bed is laid a night-dress of finest muslin trimmed with lace. Behind the bed stands a huge wardrobe containing linen, bathing utensils, and toilet things. A small gilded table in Roman style (with round top supported by a single column) is placed near the bed; also a lamp-stand containing a Roman lamp of gold. At the right is an ornamental chimney-piece. On the mantel stands a vase with a white lily in it.
In the left arch of the doorway, a peacock is asleep on a perch, with its back turned toward the audience.
In the right arch hangs a huge gilded cage with two white doves at rest.
As the curtain rises, the three maids are seen in the doorways of the three closets, each one half hidden by the door-post against which she leans. SIGNE, the false maid, is in the pewter-closet, ELSA in the clothes-closet, and ELSA in the fruit-closet.
The DUKE enters from the rear. After him comes the STEPMOTHER carrying in her hand a wire-lashed whip.
The stage is darkened when they enter.
STEPMOTHER. Swanwhite is not here?
DUKE. It seems so!
STEPMOTHER. So it seems, but—is it seemly? Maids!—Signe!—Signe, Elsa, Tova!
The maids enter, one after the other, and stand in front of the STEPMOTHER.
STEPMOTHER. Where is Lady Swanwhite?
Signe folds her arms across her breast and makes no reply.
STEPMOTHER. You do not know? What see you in my hand?—Answer, quick! [Pause] Quick! Do you hear the whistling of the falcon? It has claws of steel, as well as bill! What is it?
SIGNE. The wire-lashed whip!
STEPMOTHER. The wire-lashed whip, indeed! And now, where is Lady Swan white?
SIGNE. How can I tell what I don’t know?
STEPMOTHER. It is a failing to be ignorant, but carelessness is an offence. Were you not placed as guardian of your young mistress?—Take off your neckerchief!—Down on your knees!
The DUKE turns his back on her in disgust.
STEPMOTHER. Hold out your neck! And I’ll put such a necklace on it that no youth will ever kiss it after this!—Hold out your neck!—Still more!
SIGNE. For Christ’s sake, mercy!
STEPMOTHER. ’Tis mercy that you are alive!
DUKE. [Pulls out his sword and tries the edge of it, first on one of his finger-nails, and then on a hair out of his long beard] Her head should be cut off—put in a sack—hung on a tree——
STEPMOTHER. So it should!
DUKE. We are agreed! How strange!
STEPMOTHER. It did not happen yesterday.
DUKE. And may not happen once again.
STEPMOTHER. [To Signe, who, still on her knees, has been moving farther away] Stop! Whither? [She raises the whip and strikes; Signe turns aside so that the lash merely cuts the air.]
SWANWHITE. [Comes forward from behind the bed and falls on her knees] Stepmother—here I am—the guilty one! She’s not at fault.
STEPMOTHER. Say “mother”! You must call me “mother”!
SWANWHITE. I cannot! One mother is as much as any human being ever had.
STEPMOTHER. Your father’s wife must be your mother.
SWANWHITE. My father’s second wife can only be my stepmother.
STEPMOTHER. You are a stiffnecked daughter, but my whip is pliant and will make you pliant too.
[She raises the whip to strike SWANWHITE.
DUKE. [Raising his sword] Take heed of the head!
STEPMOTHER. Whose head?
DUKE. Your own!
The STEPMOTHER turns pale at first, and then angry; but she controls herself and remains silent; long pause.
STEPMOTHER. [Beaten for the moment, she changes her tone] Then will Your Grace inform your daughter what is now in store for her?
DUKE. [Sheathing his sword] Rise up, my darling child, and come into my arms to calm yourself.
SWANWHITE. [Throwing herself into the arms of the DUKE] Father!—You’re like a royal oak-tree which my arms cannot encircle. But beneath your leafage there is refuge from all threatening showers. [She hides her head beneath his immense beard, which reaches down to his waist] And like a bird, I will be swinging on your branches—lift me up, so I can reach the top.
The DUKE holds out his arm.
SWANWHITE. [Climbs up on his arm and perches herself on his shoulder] Now lies the earth beneath me and the air above—now I can overlook the rosery, the snowy beach, the deep-blue sea, and all the seven kingdoms stretched beyond.
DUKE. Then you can also see the youthful king to whom your troth is promised——
SWANWHITE. No—nor have I ever seen him. Is he handsome?
DUKE. Dear heart, it will depend on your own eyes how he appears to you.
SWANWHITE. [Rubbing her eyes] My eyes?—They cannot see what is not beautiful.
DUKE. [Kissing her foot] Poor little foot, that is so black! Poor little blackamoorish foot!
The STEPMOTHER gives a sign to the maids, who resume their previous positions in the closet doors; she herself steals with panther-like movements out through the middle arch of the doorway.
SWANWHITE. [Leaps to the floor; the DUKE places her on the table and sits down on a chair beside it; SWANWHITE looks meaningly after the STEPMOTHER] Was it the dawn? Or did the wind turn southerly? Or has the Spring arrived?
DUKE. [Puts his hand over her mouth] You little chatter-box! You joy of my old age—my evening star! Now open wide your rosy ear, and close your little mouth’s crimson shell. Give heed, obey, and all will then be well with you.
SWANWHITE. [Putting her fingers in her ears] With my eyes I hear, and with my ears I see—and now I cannot see at all, but only hear.
DUKE. My child, when still a cradled babe, your troth was plighted to the youthful King of Rigalid. You have not seen him yet, such being courtly usage. But the time to tie the sacred knot is drawing near. To teach you the deportment of a queen and courtly manners, the king has sent a prince with whom you are to study reading out of books, gaming at chess, treading the dance, and playing on the harp.
SWANWHITE. What is the prince’s name?
DUKE. That, child, is something you must never ask of him or anybody else. For it is prophesied that whosoever calls him by his name shall have to love him.
SWANWHITE. Is he handsome?
DUKE. He is, because your eye sees beauty everywhere.
SWANWHITE. But is he beautiful?
DUKE. Indeed he is. And now be careful of your little heart, and don’t forget that in the cradle you were made a queen.—With this, dear child, I leave you, for I have war to wage abroad.—Submit obediently to your stepmother. She’s hard, but once your father loved her—and a sweet temper will find a way to hearts of stone. If, despite of promises and oaths, her malice should exceed what is permissible, then you may blow this horn [he takes a horn of carved ivory from under his cloak], and help will come. But do not use it till you are in danger—not until the danger is extreme.—Have you understood?
SWANWHITE. How is it to be understood?
DUKE. This way: the prince is here, is in the court already. Is it your wish to see the prince?
SWANWHITE. Is it my wish?
DUKE. Or shall I first bid you farewell?
SWANWHITE. The prince is here already?
DUKE. Already here, and I—already there—far, far away where sleeps the heron of forgetfulness, with head beneath his wing.
SWANWHITE. [Leaping into the lap of the DUKE and burying her head in his beard] Mustn’t speak like that! Baby is ashamed!
DUKE. Baby should be spanked—who forgets her aged father for a little prince. Fie on her!
A trumpet is heard in the distance.
DUKE. [Rises quickly, takes SWANWHITE in his arms, throws her up into the air and catches her again] Fly, little bird, fly high above the dust, with lots of air beneath your wings!—And then, once more on solid ground!—I am called by war and glory—you, by love and youth! [Girding on his sword] And now hide your wonder-horn, that it may not be seen by evil eyes.
SWANWHITE. Where shall I hide it? Where?
DUKE. The bed!
SWANWHITE. [Hiding the horn in the bed-clothing] There! Sleep well, my little tooteroot! When it is time, I’ll wake you up. And don’t forget your prayers!
DUKE. And child! Do not forget what I said last: your stepmother must be obeyed.
SWANWHITE. In all?
DUKE. In all.
SWANWHITE. But not in what is contrary to cleanliness!—Two linen shifts my mother let me have each sennight; this woman gives but one! And mother gave me soap and water, which stepmother denies. Look at my little footies!
DUKE. Keep clean within, my daughter, and clean will be the outside. You know that holy men, who, for the sake of penance, deny themselves the purging waters, grow white as swans, while evil ones turn raven-black.
SWANWHITE. Then I will be as white——!
DUKE. Into my arms! And then, farewell!
SWANWHITE. [Throwing herself into his arms] Farewell, my great and valiant hero, my glorious father! May fortune follow you, and make you rich in years and friends and victories!
DUKE. Amen—and let your gentle prayers be my protection!
[He closes the visor of his golden helmet.
SWANWHITE. [Jumps up and plants a kiss on the visor] The golden gates are shut, but through the bars I still can see your kindly, watchful eyes. [Knocking at the visor] Let up, let up, for little Red Riding-hood. No one at home? “Well-away,” said the wolf that lay in the bed!
DUKE. [Putting her down on the floor] Sweet flower of mine, grow fair and fragrant! If I return—well—I return! If not, then from the starry arch above my eye shall follow you, and never to my sight will you be lost, for there above all-seeing we become, even as the all-creating Lord himself.
Goes out firmly, with a gesture that bids her not to follow. SWANWHITE falls on her knees in prayer for the DUKE; all the rose-trees sway before a wind that passes with the sound of a sigh; the peacock shakes its wings and tail.
SWANWHITE. [Rises, goes to the peacock and begins to stroke its back and tail] Pavo, dear Pavo, what do you see and what do you hear? Is any one coming? Who is it? A little prince? Is he pretty and nice? You, with your many blue eyes, should be able to tell. [She lifts up one of the bird’s tail feathers and gazes intently at its “eye”.] Are you to keep your eyes on us, you nasty Argus? Are you to see that the little hearts of two young people don’t beat too loudly?—You stupid thing—all I have to do is to close the curtain! [She closes the curtain, which hides the bird, but not the landscape outside; then she goes to the doves] My white doves—oh, so white, white, white—now you’ll see what is whitest of all—Be silent, wind, and roses, and doves—my prince is coming!
She looks out for a moment; then she withdraws to the pewter-closet, leaving the door slightly ajar so that through the opening she can watch the PRINCE; there she remains standing, visible to the spectators but not to the PRINCE.
PRINCE. [Enters through the middle arch of the doorway. He wears armour of steel; what shows of his clothing is black. Having carefully observed everything in the room, he sits down at the table, takes off his helmet and begins to study it. His back is turned toward the door behind which SWANWHITE is hiding] If anybody be here, let him answer! [Silence] There is somebody here, for I can feel the warmth of a young body come billowing toward me like a southern wind. I can hear a breath—it carries the fragrance of roses—and, gentle though it be, it makes the plume on my helmet move. [He puts the helmet to his ear] ’Tis murmuring as if it were a huge shell. It’s the thoughts within my own head that are crowding each other like a swarm of bees in a hive. “Zum, zum,” say the thoughts—just like bees that are buzzing around their queen—the little queen of my thoughts and of my dreams! [He places the helmet on the table and gazes at it] Dark and arched as the sky at night, but starless, for the black plume is spreading darkness everywhere since my mother’s death—[He turns the helmet around and gazes at it again] But there, in the midst of the darkness, deep down—there, on the other side, I see a rift of light!—Has the sky been split open?—And there, in the rift, I see—not a star, for it would look like a diamond—but a blue sapphire, queen of the precious stones—blue as the sky of summer—set in a cloud white as milk and curved as the dove’s egg. What is it? My ring? And now another feathery cloud, black as velvet, passes by—and the sapphire is smiling—as if sapphires could smile! And there, the lightning flashed, but blue—heat-lightning mild, that brings no thunder!—What are you? Who? And where? [He looks at the back of the helmet] Not here! Not there! And nowhere else! [He puts his face close to the helmet] As I come nearer, you withdraw.
SWANWHITE steals forward on tiptoe.
PRINCE. And now there are two—two eyes—two little human eyes—I kiss you! [He kisses the helmet.
SWANWHITE goes up to the table and seats herself slowly opposite the PRINCE.
The PRINCE rises, bows, with his hand to his heart, and gazes steadily at SWANWHITE.
SWANWHITE. Are you the little prince?
PRINCE. The faithful servant of the king, and yours!
SWANWHITE. What message does the young king send his bride?
PRINCE. This is his word to Lady Swanwhite—whom lovingly he greets—that by the thought of coming happiness the long torment of waiting will be shortened.
SWANWHITE. [Who has been looking at the PRINCE as if to study him] Why not be seated, Prince?
PRINCE. If seated when you sit, then I should have to kneel when you stand up.
SWANWHITE. Speak to me of the king! How does he look?
PRINCE. How does he look? [Putting one of his hands up to his eyes] I can no longer see him—how strange!
SWANWHITE. What is his name?
PRINCE. He’s gone—invisible——
SWANWHITE. And is he tall?
PRINCE. [Fixing his glance on SWANWHITE] Wait!—I see him now!—Taller than you!
SWANWHITE. And beautiful?
PRINCE. Not in comparison with you!
SWANWHITE. Speak of the king, and not of me!
PRINCE. I do speak of the king!
SWANWHITE. Is his complexion light or dark?
PRINCE. If he were dark, on seeing you he would turn light at once.
SWANWHITE. There’s more of flattery than wit in that! His eyes are blue?
PRINCE. [Glancing at his helmet] I think I have to look?
SWANWHITE. [Holding out her hand between them] Oh, you—you!
PRINCE. You with t h makes youth!
SWANWHITE. Are you to teach me how to spell?
PRINCE. The young king is tall and blond and blue-eyed, with broad shoulders and hair like a new-grown forest——
SWANWHITE. Why do you carry a black plume?
PRINCE. His lips are red as the ripe currant, his cheeks are white, and the lion’s cub needn’t be ashamed of his teeth.
SWANWHITE. Why is your hair wet?
PRINCE. His mind knows no fear, and no evil deed ever made his heart quake with remorse.
SWANWHITE. Why is your hand trembling?
PRINCE. We were to speak of the young king and not of me!
SWANWHITE. So, you, you are to teach me?
PRINCE. It is my task to teach you how to love the young king whose throne you are to share.
SWANWHITE. How did you cross the sea?
PRINCE. In my bark and with my sail.
SWANWHITE. And the wind so high?
PRINCE. Without wind there is no sailing.
SWANWHITE. Little boy—how wise you are!—Will you play with me?
PRINCE. What I must do, I will.
SWANWHITE. And now I’ll show you what I have in my chest. [She goes to the chest and kneels down beside it; then she takes out several dolls, a rattle, and a hobby-horse] Here’s the doll. It’s my child—the child of sorrow that can never keep its face clean. In my own arms I have carried her to the lavendrey, and there I have washed her with white sand—but it only made her worse. I have spanked her—but nothing helped. Now I have figured out what’s worst of all!
PRINCE. And what is that?
SWANWHITE. [After a glance around the room] I’ll give her a stepmother!
PRINCE. But how’s that to be? She should have a mother first.
SWANWHITE. I am her mother. And if I marry twice, I shall become a stepmother.
PRINCE. Oh, how you talk! That’s not the way!
SWANWHITE. And you shall be her stepfather.
PRINCE. Oh, no!
SWANWHITE. You must be very kind to her, although she cannot wash her face.—Here, take her—let me see if you have learned to carry children right.
The PRINCE receives the doll unwillingly.
SWANWHITE. You haven’t learned yet, but you will! Now take the rattle, too, and play with her.
The PRINCE receives the rattle.
SWANWHITE. That’s something you don’t understand, I see. [She takes the doll and the rattle away from him and throws them back into the chest; then she takes out the hobby-horse] Here is my steed.—It has saddle of gold and shoes of silver.—It can run forty miles in an hour, and on its back I have travelled through Sounding Forest, across Big Heath and King’s Bridge, along High Road and Fearful Alley, all the way to the Lake of Tears. And there it dropped a golden shoe that fell into the lake, and then came a fish, and after came a fisherman, and so I got the golden shoe back. That’s all there was to that! [She throws the hobby-horse into the chest; instead she takes out a chess-board with red and white squares, and chess-men made of silver and gold] If you will play with me, come here and sit upon the lion skin. [She seats herself on the skin and begins to put up the pieces] Sit down, won’t you—the maids can’t see us here!
The PRINCE sits down on the skin, looking very embarrassed.
SWANWHITE. It’s like sitting in the grass—not the green grass of the meadow, but the desert grass which has been burned by the sun.—Now you must say something about me! Do you like me a little?
PRINCE. Are we to play?
SWANWHITE. To play? What care I for that?—Oh—you were to teach me something!
PRINCE. Poor me, what can I do but saddle a horse and carry arms—with which you are but poorly served.
SWANWHITE. You are so sad!
PRINCE. My mother died quite recently.
SWANWHITE. Poor little prince!—My mother, too, has gone to God in heaven, and she’s an angel now. Sometimes in the nights I see her—do you also see yours?
PRINCE. No-o.
SWANWHITE. And have you got a stepmother?
PRINCE. Not yet. So little time has passed since she was laid to rest.
SWANWHITE. Don’t be so sad! There’s nothing but will wear away in time, you see. Now I’ll give you a flag to gladden you again—Oh, no, that’s right—this one I sewed for the young king. But now I’ll sew another one for you!—This is the king’s, with seven flaming fires—you shall have one with seven red roses on it—but first of all you have to hold this skein of yarn for me. [She takes from the chest a skein of rose-coloured yarn and hands it to the PRINCE] One, two, three, and now you’ll see!—Your hands are trembling—that won’t do!—Perhaps you want a hair of mine among the yarn?—Pull one yourself!
PRINCE. Oh, no, I couldn’t——
SWANWHITE. I’ll do it, then, myself. [She pulls a hair from her head and winds it into the ball of yarn] What is your name?
PRINCE. You shouldn’t ask.
SWANWHITE. Why not?
PRINCE. The duke has told you—hasn’t he?
SWANWHITE. No, he hasn’t! What could happen if you told your name? Might something dreadful happen?
PRINCE. The duke has told you, I am sure.
SWANWHITE. I never heard of such a thing before—of one who couldn’t tell his name!
The curtain behind which the peacock is hidden moves; a faint sound as of castanets is heard.
PRINCE. What was that?
SWANWHITE. That’s Pavo—do you think he knows what we are saying?
PRINCE. It’s hard to tell.
SWANWHITE. Well, what’s your name?
Again the peacock makes the same kind of sound with his bill.
PRINCE. I am afraid—don’t ask again!
SWANWHITE. He snaps his bill, that’s all—Keep your hands still!—Did you ever hear the tale of the little princess that mustn’t mention the name of the prince, lest something happen? And do you know——?
The curtain hiding the peacock is pulled aside, and the bird is seen spreading out his tail so that it looks as if all the “eyes” were staring at SWANWHITE and the PRINCE.
PRINCE. Who pulled away the curtain? Who made the bird behold us with its hundred eyes?—You mustn’t ask again!
SWANWHITE. Perhaps I mustn’t—Down, Pavo—there!
The curtain resumes its previous position.
PRINCE. Is this place haunted?
SWANWHITE. You mean that things will happen—just like that? Oh, well, so much is happening here—but I have grown accustomed to it. And then, besides—they call my stepmother a witch—There, now, I have pricked my finger!
PRINCE. What did you prick it with?
SWANWHITE. There was a splinter in the yarn. The sheep have been locked up all winter—and then such things will happen. Please see if you can get it out.
PRINCE. We must sit at the table then, so I can see.
[They rise and take seats at the table.
SWANWHITE. [Holding out one of her little fingers] Can you see anything?
PRINCE. What do I see? Your hand is red within, and through it all the world and life itself appear in rosy colouring——
SWANWHITE. Now pull the splinter out—ooh, it hurts!
PRINCE. But I shall have to hurt you, too—and ask your pardon in advance!
SWANWHITE. Oh, help me, please!
PRINCE. [Squeezing her little finger and pulling out the splinter with his nails] There is the cruel little thing that dared to do you harm.
SWANWHITE. Now you must suck the blood to keep the wound from festering.
PRINCE. [Sucking the blood from her finger] I’ve drunk your blood—and so I am your foster-brother now.
SWANWHITE. My foster-brother—so you were at once—or how do you think I could have talked to you as I have done?
PRINCE. If you have talked to me like that, how did I talk to you?
SWANWHITE. Just think, he didn’t notice it!—And now I have got a brother of my own, and that is you!—My little brother—take my hand!
PRINCE. [Taking her hand] My little sister! [Feels her pulse beating under his thumb] What have you there, that’s ticking—one, and two, and three, and four——? Continues to count silently after having looked at his watch.
SWANWHITE. Yes, tell me what it is that ticks—so steady, steady, steady? It cannot be my heart, for that is here, beneath my breast—Put your hand here, and you can feel it too. [The doves begin to stir and coo] What is it, little white ones?
PRINCE. And sixty! Now I know what makes that ticking—it is the time! Your little finger is the second-hand that’s ticking sixty times for every minute that goes by. And don’t you think there is a heart within the watch?
SWANWHITE. [Handling the watch] We cannot reach the inside of the watch—no more than of the heart—Just feel my heart!
SIGNE. [Enters from the pewter-closet carrying a whip, which she puts down on the table] Her Grace commands that the children be seated at opposite sides of the table.
The PRINCE sits down at the opposite end of the table. He and SWANWHITE look at each other in silence for a while.
SWANWHITE. Now we are far apart, and yet a little nearer than before.
PRINCE. It’s when we part that we come nearest to each other.
SWANWHITE. And you know that?
PRINCE. I have just learned it!
SWANWHITE. Now my instruction has begun.
PRINCE. You’re teaching me!
SWANWHITE. [Pointing to a dish of fruit] Would you like some fruit?
PRINCE. No, eating is so ugly.
SWANWHITE. Yes, so it is.
PRINCE. Three maids are standing there—one in the pewter-closet, one among the clothes, and one among the fruits. Why are they standing there?
SWANWHITE. To watch us two—lest we do anything that is forbidden.
PRINCE. May we not go into the rosery?
SWANWHITE. The morning is the only time when I can go into the rosery, for there the bloodhounds of my stepmother are kept. They never let me reach the shore—and so I get no chance to bathe.
PRINCE. Have you then never seen the shore? And never heard the ocean wash the sand along the beach?
SWANWHITE. No—never! Here I can only hear the roaring waves in time of storm.
PRINCE. Then you have never heard the murmur made by winds that sweep across the waters?
SWANWHITE. It cannot reach me here.
PRINCE. [Pushing his helmet across the table to SWANWHITE] Put it to your ear and listen.
SWANWHITE. [With the helmet at her ear] What is that I hear?
PRINCE. The song of waves, the whispering winds
SWANWHITE. No, I hear human voices—hush! My stepmother is speaking—speaking to the steward—and mentioning my name—and that of the young king, too! She’s speaking evil words. She’s swearing that I never shall be queen—and vowing that—you—shall take that daughter of her own—that loathsome Lena——
PRINCE. Indeed!—And you can hear it in the helmet?
SWANWHITE. I can.
PRINCE. I didn’t know of that. But my godmother gave me the helmet as a christening present.
SWANWHITE. Give me a feather, will you?
PRINCE. It is a pleasure—great as life itself.
SWANWHITE. But you must cut it so that it will write.
PRINCE. You know a thing or two!
SWANWHITE. My father taught me——
The PRINCE pulls a black feather out of the plume on his helmet; then he takes a silver-handled knife from his belt and cuts the quill.
SWANWHITE takes out an ink-well and parchment from a drawer in the table.
PRINCE. Who is Lady Lena?
SWANWHITE. You mean, what kind of person? You want her, do you?
PRINCE. Some evil things are brewing in this house——
SWANWHITE. Fear not! My father has bestowed a gift on me that will bring help in hours of need.
PRINCE. What is it called?
SWANWHITE. It is the horn Stand-By.
PRINCE. Where is it hid?
SWANWHITE. Read in my eye. I dare not let the maids discover it.
PRINCE. [Gazing at her eyes] I see!
SWANWHITE. [Pushing pen, ink and parchment across the table to the PRINCE] Write it.
The PRINCE writes.
SWANWHITE. Yes, that’s the place. [She writes again.
PRINCE. What do you write?
SWANWHITE. Names—all pretty names that may be worn by princes!
PRINCE. Except my own!
SWANWHITE. Yours, too!
PRINCE. Leave that alone!
SWANWHITE. Here I have written twenty names—all that I know—and so your name must be there, too. [Pushing the parchment across the table] Read!
The PRINCE reads.
SWANWHITE. Oh, I have read it in your eye!
PRINCE. Don’t utter it! I beg you in the name of God the merciful, don’t utter it!
SWANWHITE. I read it in his eye!
PRINCE. But do not utter it, I beg of you!
SWANWHITE. And if I do? What then?—Can Lena tell, you think? Your bride! Your love!
PRINCE. Oh, hush, hush, hush!
SWANWHITE. [Jumps up and begins to dance] I know his name—the prettiest name in all the land!
The PRINCE runs up to her, catches hold of her and covers her mouth with his hand.
SWANWHITE. I’ll bite your hand; I’ll suck your blood; and so I’ll be your sister twice—do you know what that can mean?
PRINCE. I’ll have two sisters then.
SWANWHITE. [Throwing back her head] O-ho! O-ho! Behold, the ceiling has a hole, and I can see the sky—a tiny piece of sky, a window-pane—and there’s a face behind it. Is it an angel’s?—See—but see, I tell you!—It’s your face!
PRINCE. The angels are not boys, but girls.
SWANWHITE. But it is you.
PRINCE. [Looking up] ’Tis a mirror.
SWANWHITE. Woe to us then! It is the witching mirror of my stepmother, and she has seen it all.
PRINCE. And in the mirror I can see the fireplace—there’s a pumpkin hanging in it!
SWANWHITE. [Takes from the fireplace a mottled, strangely shaped pumpkin] What can it be? It has the look of an ear. The witch has heard us, too!—Alas, alas! [She throws the pumpkin into the fireplace and runs across the floor toward the bed; suddenly she stops on one foot, holding up the other]
Oh, she has strewn the floor with needles——
[She sits down and begins to rub her foot.
The PRINCE kneels in front of SWANWHITE in order to help her.
SWANWHITE. No, you mustn’t touch my foot—you mustn’t!
PRINCE. Dear heart, you must take off your stocking if I am to help.
SWANWHITE. [Sobbing] You mustn’t—mustn’t see my foot!
PRINCE. But why? Why shouldn’t I?
SWANWHITE. I cannot tell; I cannot tell. Go—go away from me! To-morrow I shall tell you, but I can’t to-day.
PRINCE. But then your little foot will suffer—let me pull the needle out!
SWANWHITE. Go, go, go!—No, no, you mustn’t try!—Oh, had my mother lived, a thing like this could not have happened!—Mother, mother, mother!
PRINCE. I cannot understand—are you afraid of me——?
SWANWHITE. Don’t ask me, please—just leave me—oh!
PRINCE. What have I done?
SWANWHITE. Don’t leave me, please—I didn’t mean to hurt you—but I cannot tell—If I could only reach the shore—the white sand of the beach——
PRINCE. What then?
SWANWHITE. I cannot tell! I cannot tell!
[She hides her face in her hands. Once more the peacock makes a rattling sound with his bill; the doves begin to stir; the three maids enter, one after the other; a gust of wind is heard, and the tops of the rose-trees outside swing back and forth; the golden clouds that have been hanging over the sea disappear, and the blue sea itself turns dark.
SWANWHITE. Does Heaven itself intend to judge us?—Is ill-luck in the house?—Oh, that my sorrow had the power to raise my mother from her grave!
PRINCE. [.Putting his hand on his sword] My life for yours!
SWANWHITE. No, don’t—she puts the very swords to sleep!—Oh, that my sorrow could bring back my mother! [The swallows chirp in their nest] What was that?
PRINCE. [Catching sight of the nest] A swallow’s nest! I didn’t notice it before.
SWANWHITE. Nor I! How did it get there? When?—But all the same it augurs good—And yet the cold sweat of fear is on my brow—and I choke—Look, how the rose itself is withering because that evil woman comes this way—for it is she who comes——
The rose on the table is closing its blossom and drooping its leaves.
PRINCE. But whence came the swallows?
SWANWHITE. They were not sent by her, I’m sure, for they are kindly birds—Now she is here!
STEPMOTHER. [Enters from the rear with the walk of a panther; the rose on the table is completely withered] Signe—take the horn out of the bed!
SIGNE goes up to the bed and takes the horn.
STEPMOTHER. Where are you going, Prince?
PRINCE. The day is almost done, Your Grace; the sun is setting, and my bark is longing to get home.
STEPMOTHER. The day is too far gone—the gates are shut, the dogs let loose—You know my dogs?
PRINCE. Indeed! You know my sword?
STEPMOTHER. What is the matter with your sword?
PRINCE. It bleeds at times.
STEPMOTHER. Well, well! But not with women’s blood, I trust?—But listen, Prince: how would like to sleep in our Blue Room?
PRINCE. By God, it is my will to sleep at home, in my own bed——
STEPMOTHER. Is that the will of anybody else?
PRINCE. Of many more.
STEPMOTHER. How many?—More than these!—One, two, three——
As she counts, the members of the household begin to pass by in single file across the balcony; all of them look serious; some are armed; no one turns his head to look into the room; among those that pass are the BUTLER, the STEWARD, the KITCHENER, the GAOLER, the CONSTABLE, the EQUERRY.
PRINCE. I’ll sleep in your Blue Room.
STEPMOTHER. That’s what I thought.—So you will bid ten thousand good-nights unto your love—and so will Swanwhite, too, I think!
A swan comes flying by above the rosery; from the ceiling a poppy flower drops down on the STEPMOTHER, who falls asleep at once, as do the maids.
SWANWHITE. [Going up to the PRINCE] Good-night, my Prince!
PRINCE. [Takes her hand and says in a low voice] Good-night!—Oh, that it’s granted me to sleep beneath one roof with you, my Princess—your dreams by mine shall be enfolded—and then to-morrow we shall wake for other games and other——
SWANWHITE. [In the same tone] You are my all on earth, you are my parent now—since she has robbed me of my puissant father’s help.—Look, how she sleeps!
PRINCE. You saw the swan?
SWANWHITE. No, but I heard—it was my mother.
PRINCE. Come, fly with me!
SWANWHITE. No, that we mustn’t!—Patience! We’ll meet in our dreams!—But this will not be possible unless—you love me more than anybody else on earth! Oh, love me—you, you, you!
PRINCE. My king, my loyalty——
SWANWHITE. Your queen, your heart—or what am I?
PRINCE. I am a knight!
SWANWHITE. But I am not. And therefore—therefore do I take you—my Prince——
She puts her hands up to her mouth with a gesture as if she were throwing a whispered name to him.
PRINCE. Oh, woe! What have you done?
SWANWHITE. I gave myself to you through your own name—and with me, carried on your wings, yourself came back to you! Oh—— [Again she whispers the name.
PRINCE. [With a movement of his hand as if he were catching the name in the air] Was that a rose you threw me?
[He throws a kiss to her.
SWANWHITE. A violet you gave me—that was you—your soul! And now I drink you in—you’re in my bosom, in my heart—you’re mine!
PRINCE. And you are mine! Who is the rightful owner, then?
SWANWHITE. Both!
PRINCE. Both! You and I!—My rose!
SWANWHITE. My violet!
PRINCE. My rose!
SWANWHITE. My violet!
PRINCE. I love you!
SWANWHITE. You love me!
PRINCE. You love me!
SWANWHITE. I love you!
The stage grows light again. The rose on the table recovers and opens. The faces of the STEPMOTHER and the three maids are lighted up and appear beautiful, kind, and happy. The STEPMOTHER lifts up her drowsy head and, while her eyes remain closed, she seems to be watching the joy of the two young people with a sunny smile.
SWANWHITE. Look, look! The cruel one is smiling as at some memory from childhood days. See how Signe the False seems faith and hope embodied, how the ugly Tova has grown beautiful, the little Elsa tall.
PRINCE. Our love has done it.
SWANWHITE. So that is love? Blessed be it by the Lord! The Lord Omnipotent who made the world!
[She falls on her knees, weeping.
PRINCE. You weep?
SWANWHITE. Because I am so full of joy.
PRINCE. Come to my arms and you will smile.
SWANWHITE. There I should die, I think.
PRINCE. Well, smile and die!
SWANWHITE. [Rising] So be it then!
[The PRINCE takes her in his arms.
STEPMOTHER. [Wakes up; on seeing the PRINCE and SWANWHITE together, she strikes the table with the whip] I must have slept!—Oho! So we have got that far!—The Blue Room did I say?—I meant the Blue Tower!—There the prince is to sleep with the Duke of Exeter’s daughter!—Maids!
The maids wake up.
STEPMOTHER. Show the prince the shortest way to the Blue Tower. And should he nevertheless lose his way, you may summon the Castellan and the Gaoler, the Equerry and the Constable.
PRINCE. No need of that! Wherever leads my course—through fire or water, up above the clouds or down in the solid earth—there shall I meet my Swanwhite, for she is with me where I go. So now I go to meet her—in the tower! Can you beat that for witchcraft, witch?—Too hard, I think, for one who knows not love!
[He goes out followed by the maids.
STEPMOTHER. [To SWANWHITE] Not many words are needed—tell your wishes—but be brief!
SWANWHITE. My foremost, highest wish is for some water with which to lave my feet.
STEPMOTHER. Cold or warm?
SWANWHITE. Warm—if I may.
STEPMOTHER. What more?
SWANWHITE. A comb to ravel out my hair.
STEPMOTHER. Silver or gold?
SWANWHITE. Are you—are you kind?
STEPMOTHER. Silver or gold?
SWANWHITE. Wood or horn will do me well enough.
STEPMOTHER. What more?
SWANWHITE. A shift that’s clean.
STEPMOTHER. Linen or silk?
SWANWHITE. Just linen.
STEPMOTHER. Good! So I have heard your wishes. Now listen to mine! I wish that you may have no water, be it warm or cold! I wish that you may have no comb, of any kind, not even of wood or horn—much less of gold or silver. That’s how kind I am! I wish that you may wear no linen —but get you at once into the closet there to cover up your body with that dingy sark of homespun! Such is my word!—And if you try to leave these rooms—which you had better not, as there are traps and snares around—then you are doomed—or with my whip I’ll mark your pretty face so that no prince or king will ever look at you again!—Then get yourself to bed!
She strikes the table with her whip again, rises and goes out through the middle arch of the doorway; the gates, which have gilded bars, squeak and rattle as she closes and locks them.
Curtain.
The same scene as before, but the golden gates at the rear are shut. The peacock and the doves are sleeping. The golden clouds in the sky are as dull in colour as the sea itself and the land that appears in the far distance.
Swanwhite is lying on the bed; she has on a garment of black homespun.
The doors to the three closets are open. In each doorway stands one of the maids, her eyes closed and in one of her hands a small lighted lamp of Roman pattern.
A swan is seen flying above the rosery, and trumpet-calls are heard, like those made by flocks of migrating wild swans.
The MOTHER OF SWANWHITE, all in white, appears outside the gates. Over one arm she carries the plumage of a swan and on the other one a small harp of gold. She hangs the plumage on one of the gates, which opens of its own accord and then closes in the same way behind her.
She enters the room and places the harp on the table. Then she looks around and becomes aware of SWANWHITE. At once the harp begins to play. The lamps carried by the maids go out one by one, beginning with that farthest away. Then the three doors close one by one, beginning with the innermost.
The golden clouds resume their former radiance.
The MOTHER lights one of the lamps on the stand and goes up to the bed, beside which she kneels.
The harp continues to play during the ensuing episode.
The MOTHER rises, takes SWANWHITE in her arms, and places her, still sleeping, in a huge arm-chair. Then she kneels down and pulls off SWANWHITE’S stockings. Having thrown these under the bed, she bends over her daughter’s feet as if to moisten them with her tears. After a while she wipes them with a white linen cloth and covers them with kisses. Finally she puts a sandal on each foot which then appears shining white.
Then the MOTHER rises to her feet again, takes out a comb of gold, and begins to comb SWANWHITE’S hair. This finished, she carries SWANWHITE back to the bed. Beside her she places a garment of white linen which she takes out of a bag.
Having kissed SWANWHITE on the forehead, she prepares to leave. At that moment a white swan is seen to pass by outside, and one hears a trumpet-call like the one heard before. Shortly afterward the MOTHER OF THE PRINCE, also in white, enters through the gate, having first hung her swan plumage on it.
SWANWHITE’S MOTHER. Well met, my sister! How long before the cock will crow?
PRINCE’S MOTHER. Not very long. The dew is rising from the roses, the corn-crake’s call is heard among the grass, the morning breeze is coming from the sea.
SWANWHITE’S MOTHER. Let us make haste with what we have on hand, my sister.
PRINCE’S MOTHER. You called me so that we might talk of our children.
SWANWHITE’S MOTHER. Once I was walking in a green field in the land that knows no sorrow. There I met you, whom I had always known, yet had not seen before. You were lamenting your poor boy’s fate, left to himself here in the vale of sorrow. You opened up your heart to me, and my own thoughts, that dwell unwillingly below, were sent in search of my deserted daughter—destined to marry the young king, who is a cruel man, and evil.
PRINCE’S MOTHER. Then I spoke, while you listened: “May worth belong to worth; may love, the powerful, prevail; and let us join these lonely hearts, in order that they may console each other!”
SWANWHITE’S MOTHER. Since then heart has kissed heart and soul enfolded soul. May sorrow turn to joy, and may their youthful happiness bring cheer to all the earth!
PRINCE’S MOTHER. If it be granted by the powers on high!
SWANWHITE’S MOTHER. That must be tested by the fire of suffering.
PRINCE’S MOTHER. [Taking in her hand the helmet left behind by the PRINCE] May sorrow turn to joy—this very day, when he has mourned his mother one whole year!
She exchanges the black feathers on the helmet for white and red ones.
SWANWHITE’S MOTHER. Your hand, my sister—let the test begin!
PRINCE’S MOTHER. Here is my hand, and with it goes my son’s! Now we have pledged them——
SWANWHITE’S MOTHER. In decency and honour!
PRINCE’S MOTHER. I go to open up the tower. And let the young ones fold each other heart to heart.
SWANWHITE’S MOTHER. In decency and honour!
PRINCE’S MOTHER. And we shall meet again in those green fields where sorrow is not known.
SWANWHITE’S MOTHER. [Pointing to SWANWHITE] Listen! She dreams of him!—Oh foolish, cruel woman who thinks that lovers can be parted!—Now they are walking hand in hand within the land of dreams, ’neath whispering firs and singing lindens—They sport and laugh——
PRINCE’S MOTHER. Hush! Day is dawning—I can hear the robins calling, and see the stars withdrawing from the sky—Farewell, my sister!
[She goes out, taking her swan plumage with her.
SWANWHITE’S MOTHER. Farewell!
She passes her hand over SWANWHITE as if blessing her, then she takes her plumage and leaves, closing the gate after her.
The clock on the table strikes three. The harp is silent for a moment; then it begins to play a new melody of even greater sweetness than before. SWANWHITE wakes up and looks around; listens to the harp; gets up from the bed; draws her hands through her hair; looks with pleasure at her own little feet, now spotlessly clean, and notices finally the while linen garment on the bed. She sits down at the table in the place she occupied during the evening. She acts as if she were looking at somebody sitting opposite her at the table, where the PRINCE was seated the night before. She looks straight into his eyes, smiles a smile of recognition, and holds out one of her hands. Her lips move at times as if she were speaking, and then again she seems to be listening to an answer.
She points meaningly to the white and red feathers on the helmet, and leans forward as if whispering. Then she puts her head back and breathes deeply as if to fill her nostrils with some fragrance. Having caught something in the air with one of her hands, she kisses the hand and then pretends to throw something back across the table. She picks up the quill and caresses it as if it were a bird; then she writes and pushes the parchment across the table. Her glances seem to follow “his” pen while the reply is being written, and at last she takes back the parchment, reads it, and hides it in her bosom.
She strokes her black dress as if commenting on the sad change in her appearance. Whereupon she smiles at an inaudible answer, and finally bursts into hearty laughter.
By gestures she indicates that her hair has been combed. Then she rises, goes a little distance away from the table, and turns around with a bashful expression to hold out one of her feet. In that attitude she stays for a moment while waiting for an answer. On hearing it she becomes embarrassed and hides her foot quickly under her dress.
She goes to the chest and takes out the chess-board and the chess-men, which she places on the lions skin with a gesture of invitation. Then she lies down beside the board, arranges the men, and begins to play with an invisible partner.
The harp is silent for a moment before it starts a new melody.
The game of chess ends and SWANWHITE seems to be talking with her invisible partner. Suddenly she moves away as if he were coming too close to her. With a deprecating gesture she leaps lightly to her feet. Then she gazes long and reproachfully at him. At last she snatches up the white garment and hides herself behind the bed.
At that moment the PRINCE appears outside the gates, which he vainly tries to open. Then he raises his eyes toward the sky with an expression of sorrow and despair.
SWANWHITE. [Coming forward] Who comes with the morning wind?
PRINCE. Your heart’s beloved, your prince, your all!
SWANWHITE. Whence do you come, my heart’s beloved?
PRINCE. From dreamland; from the rosy hills that hide the dawn; from whispering firs and singing lindens.
SWANWHITE. What did you do in dreamland, beyond the hills of dawn, my heart’s beloved?
PRINCE. I sported and laughed; I wrote her name; I sat upon the lion’s skin and played at chess.
SWANWHITE. You sported and you played—with whom?
PRINCE. With Swanwhite.
SWANWHITE. It is he!—Be welcome to my castle, my table, and my arms!
PRINCE. Who opens up the golden gates?
SWANWHITE. Give me your hand!—It is as chilly as your heart is warm.
PRINCE. My body has been sleeping in the tower, while my soul was wandering in dreamland—In the tower it was cold and dark.
SWANWHITE. In my bosom will I warm your hand—I’ll warm it by my glances, by my kisses!
PRINCE. Oh, let the brightness of your eyes be shed upon my darkness!
SWANWHITE. Are you in darkness?
PRINCE. Within the tower there was no light of sun or moon.
SWANWHITE. Rise up, O sun! Blow, southern wind! And let thy bosom gently heave, O sea!—Ye golden gates, do you believe that you can part two hearts, two hands, two lips—that can by nothing be divided?
PRINCE. Indeed, by nothing!
Two solid doors glide together in front of the gates so that SWANWHITE and the PRINCE can no longer see each other.
SWANWHITE. Alas! What was the word we spoke, who heard it, and who punished us?
PRINCE. I am not parted from you, my beloved, for still the sound of my voice can reach you. It goes through copper, steel, and stone to touch your ear in sweet caress. When in my thoughts you’re in my arms. I kiss you in my dreams. For on this earth there is not anything that can part us. Swanwhite. Not anything!
PRINCE. I see you, though my eyes cannot behold you. I taste you, too, because with roses you are filling up my mouth——
SWANWHITE. But in my arms I want you!
PRINCE. I am there.
SWANWHITE. No! Against my heart I want to feel the beat of yours—Upon your arm I want to sleep—Oh, let us, let us, dearest God—oh, let us have each other!
The swallows chirp. A small white feather falls to the ground. SWANWHITE picks it up and discovers it to be a key. With this she opens gates and doors. The PRINCE comes in. SWANWHITE leaps into his arms. He kisses her on the mouth.
SWANWHITE. You do not kiss me!
PRINCE. Yes, I do!
SWANWHITE. I do not feel your kisses!
PRINCE. Then you love me not!
SWANWHITE. Hold me fast!
PRINCE. So fast that life may part!
SWANWHITE. Oh, no, I breathe!
PRINCE. Give me your soul!
SWANWHITE. Here!—Give me yours!
PRINCE. It’s here!—So I have yours, and you have mine!
SWANWHITE. I want mine back!
PRINCE. Mine, too, I want!
SWANWHITE. Then you must seek it!
PRINCE. Lost, both of us! For I am you, and you are me!
SWANWHITE. We two are one!
PRINCE. God, who is good, has heard your prayer! We have each other!
SWANWHITE. We have each other, yet I have you not. I cannot feel the pressure of your hand, your lip’s caress—I cannot see your eyes, nor hear your voice—You are not here!
PRINCE. Yes, I am here!
SWANWHITE. Yes, here below. But up above, in dreamland, I would meet you.
PRINCE. Then let us fly upon the wings of sleep——
SWANWHITE. Close to your heart!
PRINCE. In my embrace!
SWANWHITE. Within your arms!
PRINCE. This is the promised bliss!
SWANWHITE. Eternal bliss, that has no flaw and knows no end!
PRINCE. No one can part us.
SWANWHITE. No one!
PRINCE. Are you my bride?
SWANWHITE. My bridegroom, you?
PRINCE. In dreamland—but not here!
SWANWHITE. Where are we?
PRINCE. Here below!
SWANWHITE. Here, where the sky is clouded, where the ocean roars, and where each night the earth sheds tears upon the grass while waiting for the dawn; where flies are killed by swallows, doves by hawks; where leaves must fall and turn to dust; where eyes must lose their light and hands their strength! Yes, here below!
PRINCE. Then let us fly!
SWANWHITE. Yes, let us fly!
The GREEN GARDENER appears suddenly behind the table. All his clothes are green. He wears a peaked cap, a big apron, and knee-breeches. At his belt hang shears and a knife. He carries a small watering-can in one hand and is scattering seeds everywhere.
PRINCE. Who are you?
GARDENER. I sow, I sow!
PRINCE. What do you sow?
GARDENER. Seeds, seeds, seeds.
PRINCE. What kind of seeds?
GARDENER. Annuals and biennials. One pulls this way, two pull that. When the bridal suit is on, the harmony is gone. One and one make one, but one and one make also three. One and one make two, but two make three. Then do you understand?
PRINCE. You mole, you earthworm, you who turn your forehead toward the ground and show the sky your back—what is there you can teach me?
GARDENER. That you are a mole and earthworm, too. And that because you turn your back on the earth, the earth will turn its back on you. [He disappears behind the table.
SWANWHITE. What was it? Who was he?
PRINCE. That was the green gardener.
SWANWHITE. Green, you say? Was he not blue?
PRINCE. No, he was green, my love.
SWANWHITE. How can you say what is not so?
PRINCE. My heart’s beloved, I have not said a thing that was not so.
SWANWHITE. Alas, he does not speak the truth!
PRINCE. Whose voice is this? Not that of Swanwhite!
SWANWHITE. Who is this my eyes behold? Not my Prince, whose very name attracted me like music of the Neck, or song of mermaids heard among green waves—Who are you? You stranger with the evil eyes—and with grey hair!
PRINCE. You did not see it until now—my hair, that turned to grey within the tower, in a single night, when I was mourning for my Swanwhite, who is no longer here.
SWANWHITE. Yes, here is Swanwhite.
PRINCE. No, I see a black-clad maid, whose face is black——
SWANWHITE. Have you not seen before that I was clad in black? You do not love me, then!
PRINCE. You who are standing there, so grim and ugly—no!
SWANWHITE. Then you have spoken falsely.
PRINCE. No—for then another one was here! Now—you are filling up my mouth with noisome nettles.
SWANWHITE. Your violets smell of henbane now—faugh!
PRINCE. Thus I am punished for my treason to the king!
SWANWHITE. I wish that I had waited for your king!
PRINCE. Just wait, and he will come.
SWANWHITE. I will not wait, but go to meet him.
PRINCE. Then I will stay.
SWANWHITE. [Going toward the background] And this is love!
PRINCE. [Beside himself] Where is my Swanwhite? Where, where, where? The kindest, loveliest, most beautiful?
SWANWHITE. Seek her!
PRINCE. ’Twould not avail me here below.
SWANWHITE. Elsewhere then! [She goes out.
The PRINCE is alone. He sits down at the table, covers his face with his hands, and weeps. A gust of wind passes through the room and sets draperies and curtains fluttering. A sound as of a sigh is heard from the strings of the harp. The PRINCE rises, goes to the bed, and stands there lost in contemplation of its pillow in which is a depression showing SWANWHITE’S head in profile. He picks up the pillow and kisses it. A noise is heard outside. He seats himself at the table again.
The doors of the closets fly open. The three MAIDS become visible, all with darkened faces. The STEPMOTHER enters from the rear. Her face is also dark.
STEPMOTHER. [In dulcet tones] Good morning, my dear Prince! How have you slept?
PRINCE. Where is Swanwhite?
STEPMOTHER. She has gone to marry her young king. Is there no thought of things like that in your own mind, my Prince?
PRINCE. I harbour but a single thought——
STEPMOTHER. Of little Swanwhite?
PRINCE. She is too young for me, you mean?
STEPMOTHER. Grey hairs and common sense belong together as a rule—I have a girl with common sense——
PRINCE. And I grey hairs?
STEPMOTHER. He knows it not, believes it not! Come, maids! Come, Signe, Elsa, Tova! Let’s have a good laugh at the young suitor and his grey hairs!
The MAIDS begin to laugh. The STEPMOTHER joins in.
PRINCE. Where is Swanwhite?
STEPMOTHER. Follow in her traces—here is one!
[She hands him a parchment covered with writing.
PRINCE. [Reading] And she wrote this?
STEPMOTHER. You know her hand—what has it written?
PRINCE. That she hates me, and loves another—that she has played with me; that she will throw my kisses to the wind, and to the swine my heart—To die is now my will! Now I am dead!
STEPMOTHER. A knight dies not because a wench has played with him. He shows himself a man and takes another.
PRINCE. Another? When there is only one?
STEPMOTHER. No, two, at least! My Magdalene possesses seven barrels full of gold.
PRINCE. Seven?
STEPMOTHER. And more. [Pause.
PRINCE. Where is Swanwhite?
STEPMOTHER. My Magdalene is skilled in many crafts——
PRINCE. Including witchcraft?
STEPMOTHER. She knows how to bewitch a princeling.
PRINCE. [Gazing at the parchment] And this was written by my Swanwhite?
STEPMOTHER. My Magdalene would never write like that.
PRINCE. And she is kind?
STEPMOTHER. Kindness itself! She does not play with sacred feelings, nor seek revenge for little wrongs, and she is faithful to the one she likes.
PRINCE. Then she must be beautiful.
STEPMOTHER. Not beautiful!
PRINCE. She is not kind then.—Tell me more of her!
STEPMOTHER. See for yourself.
PRINCE. Where?
STEPMOTHER. Here.
PRINCE. And this has Swanwhite written——?
STEPMOTHER. My Magdalene had written with more feeling
PRINCE. What would she have written?
STEPMOTHER. That——
PRINCE. Speak the word! Say “love,” if you are able!
STEPMOTHER. Lub!
PRINCE. You cannot speak the word!
STEPMOTHER. Lud!
PRINCE. Oh, no!
STEPMOTHER. My Magdalene can speak it. May she come?
PRINCE. Yes, let her come.
STEPMOTHER. [Rising and speaking to the MAIDS] Blindfold the prince. Then in his arms we’ll place a princess that is without a paragon in seven kingdoms.
SIGNE steps forward and covers the eyes of the Prince with a bandage.
STEPMOTHER. [Clapping her hands] Well—is she not coming?
The peacock makes a rattling noise with his bill; the doves begin to coo.
STEPMOTHER. What is the matter? Does my art desert me? Where is the bride?
Four MAIDS enter from the rear, carrying baskets of white and pink roses. Music is heard from above. The MAIDS go up to the bed and scatter roses over it.
Then come TWO KNIGHTS with closed visors. They take the PRINCE between them toward the rear, where they meet the FALSE MAGDALENE, escorted by two ladies. The bride is deeply veiled.
With a gesture of her hand the STEPMOTHER bids all depart except the bridal couple. She herself leaves last of all, after she has closed the curtains and locked the gates.
PRINCE. Is this my bride?
FALSE MAGDALENE. Who is your bride?
PRINCE. I have forgot her name. Who is your bridegroom?
FALSE MAGDALENE. He whose name may not be mentioned.
PRINCE. Tell, if you can.
FALSE MAGDALENE. I can, but will not.
PRINCE. Tell, if you can!
FALSE MAGDALENE. Tell my name first!
PRINCE. It’s seven barrels full of gold, and crooked back, and grim, and hare-lipped! What’s my name? Tell, if you can!
FALSE MAGDALENE. Prince Greyhead!
PRINCE. You’re right!
The FALSE MAGDALENE throws, off her veil, and Swanwhite stands revealed.
SWANWHITE. [Dressed in a white garment, with a wreath of roses on her hair] Who am I now?
PRINCE. You are a rose!
SWANWHITE. And you a violet!
PRINCE. [Taking off the bandage] You are Swanwhite!
SWANWHITE. And you—are——
PRINCE. Hush!
SWANWHITE. You’re mine!
PRINCE. But you—you left me—left my kisses——
SWANWHITE. I have returned—because I love you!
PRINCE. And you wrote cruel words——
SWANWHITE. But cancelled them—because I love you.!
PRINCE. You told me I was false.
SWANWHITE. What matters it, when you are true—and when I love you?
PRINCE. You wished that you were going to the king.
SWANWHITE. But went to you instead, because I love you!
PRINCE. Now let me hear what you reproach me with.
SWANWHITE. I have forgotten it—because I love you!
PRINCE. But if you love me, then you are my bride.
SWANWHITE. I am!
PRINCE. Then may the heavens bestow their blessing on our union!
SWANWHITE. In dreamland!
PRINCE. With your head upon my arm!
The PRINCE leads SWANWHITE to the bed, in which he places his sword. Then she lies down on one side of the sword, and he on the other. The colour of the clouds changes to a rosy red. The rose-trees murmur. The harp plays softly and sweetly.
PRINCE. Good night, my queen!
SWANWHITE. Good morning, O my soul’s beloved!—I hear the beating of your heart—I hear it sigh like billowing waters, like swift-flying steeds, like wings of eagles—Give me your hand!
PRINCE. And yours!—Now we take wing——
STEPMOTHER. [Enters with the MAIDS, who carry torches; all four have become grey-haired] I have to see that my task is finished ere the duke returns. My daughter. Magdalene, is plighted to the prince—while Swanwhite lingers in the tower—[Goes to the bed] They sleep already in each other’s arms—you bear me witness, maids!
The MAIDS approach the bed.
STEPMOTHER. What do I see? Each one of you is grey-haired!
SIGNE. And so are you, Your Grace!
STEPMOTHER. Am I? Let me see!
ELSA holds a mirror in front of her.
STEPMOTHER. This is the work of evil powers!—And then, perhaps, the prince’s hair is dark again?—Bring light this way!
The MAIDS hold their torches so that the light from them falls on the sleeping couple.
STEPMOTHER. Such is the truth, indeed!—How beautiful they look!—But—the sword! Who placed it there—the sword that puts at naught their plighted troth?
She tries to take away the sword, but the PRINCE clings to it without being wakened.
SIGNE. Your Grace—here’s deviltry abroad!
STEPMOTHER. What is it?
SIGNE. This is not Lady Magdalene.
STEPMOTHER. Who is it, then? My eyes need help.
SIGNE. ’Tis Lady Swanwhite.
STEPMOTHER. Swanwhite?—Can this be some delusion of the devil’s making, or have I done what I least wished?
The PRINCE turns his head in his sleep so that his lips meet those of SWANWHITE.
STEPMOTHER. [Touched by the beautiful sight] No sight more beautiful have I beheld!—Two roses brought together by the wind; two falling stars that join in downward flight—it is too beautiful!—Youth, beauty, innocence, and love! What memories, sweet memories—when I was living in my father’s home—when I was loved by him, the youth whom never I called mine—What did I say I was?
SIGNE. That you were loved by him, Your Grace.
STEPMOTHER. Then I did speak the mighty word. Be-loved—so he named me once—“beloved”—ere he started for the war—[Lost in thoughts] It was the last of him.—And so I had to take the one I couldn’t bear.—My life is drawing to its close, and I must find my joy in happiness denied myself! I should rejoice—at others’ happiness—Some kind of joy, at least—at other people’s love—Some kind of love, at least—But there’s my Magdalene? What joy for her? O, love omnipotent—eternally creative Lord—how you have rendered soft this lion heart! Where is my strength? Where is my hatred—my revenge? [She seats herself and looks long at the sleeping couple] A song runs through my mind, a song of love that he was singing long ago, that final night— [She rises as if waking out of a dream and flies into a rage; her words come with a roar] Come hither, men! Here, Steward, Castellan, and Gaoler—all of you! [She snatches the sword out of the bed and throws it along the floor toward the rear] Come hither, men!
Noise is heard outside; the men enter as before.
STEPMOTHER. Behold! The prince, the young king’s vassal, has defiled his master’s bride! You bear me witness to the shameful deed! Put chains and fetters on the traitor and send him to his rightful lord! But in the spiked cask put the hussy. [The PRINCE and SWANWHITE wake up] Equerry! Gaoler! Seize the prince!
The EQUERRY and the GAOLER lay hands on the PRINCE.
PRINCE. Where is my sword? I fight not against evil, but for innocence!
STEPMOTHER. Whose innocence?
PRINCE. My bride’s.
STEPMOTHER. The hussy’s innocence! Then prove it!
SWANWHITE. Oh, mother, mother!
The white swan flies by outside.
STEPMOTHER. Maids, bring shears! I’ll cut the harlot’s hair!
SIGNE hands her a pair of shears.
STEPMOTHER. [Takes hold of SWANWHITE by the hair and starts to cut it, but she cannot bring the blades of the shears together] Now I’ll cut off your beauty and your love! [Suddenly she is seized with panic, which quickly spreads to the men and the three MAIDS] Is the enemy upon us? Why are you trembling?
SIGNE. Your Grace, the dogs are barking, horses neighing—it means that visitors are near.
STEPMOTHER. Quick, to the bridges, all of you! Man the ramparts! Fall to with flame and water, sword and axe!
The PRINCE and SWANWHITE are left alone.
GARDENER. [Appears from behind the table; in one hand he carries a rope, the DUKE’S horn in the other] Forgiveness for those who sin; for those who sorrow, consolation; and hope for those who are distressed!
SWANWHITE. My father’s horn! Then help is near! But—the prince?
GARDENER. The prince will follow me. A secret passage, underground, leads to the shore. There lies his bark. The wind is favourable! Come!
[The GARDENER and the PRINCE go out. SWANWHITE alone, blows the horn. An answering signal is heard in the distance. The GAOLER enters with the spiked cask. SWANWHITE blows the horn again. The answer is heard much nearer.
The DUKE enters. He and SWANWHITE are alone on the stage.
DUKE. My own beloved heart, what is at stake?
SWANWHITE. Your own child, father!—Look—the spiked cask over there!
DUKE. How has my child transgressed?
SWANWHITE. The prince’s name I learned, by love instructed—spoke it—came to hold him very dear.
DUKE. That was no capital offence. What more?
SWANWHITE. At his side I slept, the sword between us——
DUKE. And still there was no capital offence, though I should hardly call it wise—And more?
SWANWHITE. No more!
DUKE. [To the GAOLER, pointing to the spiked cask] Away with it! [To SWANWHITE] Well, child, where is the prince?
SWANWHITE. He’s sailing homeward in his bark.
DUKE. Now, when the tide is battering the shore?—Alone? Swanwhite. Alone! What is to happen?
DUKE. The Lord alone can tell!
SWANWHITE. He’s in danger?
DUKE. Who greatly dares has sometimes luck.
SWANWHITE. He ought to have!
DUKE. He will, if free from guilt!
SWANWHITE. He is! More than I am!
STEPMOTHER. [Entering] How came you here!
DUKE. A shortcut brought me—I could wish it had been shorter still.
STEPMOTHER. Had it been short enough, your child had never come to harm.
DUKE. What kind of harm?
STEPMOTHER. The one for which there is no cure.
DUKE. And you have proofs?
STEPMOTHER. I’ve valid witnesses.
DUKE. Then call my butler.
STEPMOTHER. He does not know.
DUKE. [Shaking his sword at her] Call my butler!
The STEPMOTHER trembles. Then she claps her hands four times together.
The BUTLER enters.
DUKE. Have made a pie of venison, richly stuffed with onions, parsley, fennel, cabbage—and at once!
The BUTLER steals a sidelong glance at the STEPMOTHER.
DUKE. What are you squinting at? Be quick!
The BUTLER goes out.
DUKE. [To the STEPMOTHER] Now call the master of my pleasure-garden.
STEPMOTHER. He does not know!
DUKE. And never will! But he must come! Call, quick!
The STEPMOTHER claps her hands six times.
The FLOWER GARDENER enters.
DUKE. Three lilies bring: one white, one red, one blue.
The GARDENER looks sideways at the STEPMOTHER.
DUKE. Your head’s at stake!
The GARDENER goes out.
DUKE. Summon your witnesses!
The STEPMOTHER claps her hands once.
SIGNE enters.
DUKE. Tell what you know—but choose your words! What have you seen?
SIGNE. I have seen Lady Swanwhite and the prince together in one bed.
DUKE. With sword between?
SIGNE. Without.
DUKE. I can’t believe it!—Other witnesses?
The TWO KNIGHTS enter.
DUKE. Were these the groomsmen?—Tell your tale.
FIRST KNIGHT. The Lady Magdalene I have escorted to her bridal couch.
SECOND KNIGHT. The Lady Magdalene I have escorted to her bridal couch.
DUKE. What’s that? A trick, I trow—that caught the trickster!—Other witnesses?
ELSA enters.
DUKE. Tell what you know.
ELSA. I swear by God, our righteous judge, that I have seen the prince and Lady Swanwhite fully dressed and with a sword between them.
DUKE. One for, and one against—two not germane.—I leave it to the judgment of the Lord!—The flowers will speak for him.
ELSA. [Enters] My gracious master—noble lord!
DUKE. What do you know?
ELSA. I know my gracious mistress innocent.
DUKE. O, child—so you know that! Then teach us how to know it too.
ELSA. When I am saying only what is true——
DUKE. No one believes it! But when Signe tells untruth, we must believe!—And what does Swanwhite say herself? Her forehead’s purity, her steady glance, her lips’ sweet innocence—do they not speak aloud of slander? And “slander” is the verdict of a father’s eye.—Well then—Almighty God on high shall give his judgment, so that human beings may believe!
The FLOWER GARDENER enters carrying three lilies placed in three tall and narrow vases of glass. The DUKE places the flowers in a semicircle on the table. The BUTLER enters with a huge dish containing a steaming pie.
DUKE. [Placing the dish within the semicircle formed by the three flowers] The white one stands for whom?
ALL. [Except SWANWHITE. and the STEPMOTHER] For Swanwhite.
DUKE. The red one stands for whom?
ALL. [As before] The prince.
DUKE. For whom the blue one?
ALL. [As before] The youthful king.
DUKE. Well, Tova—child who still has faith in innocence because you too are innocent—interpret now for us the judgment of the Lord—tell us the gentle secrets of these flowers.
ELSA. The evil part I cannot utter.
DUKE. I will. What’s good I’ll leave for you.—As the steam from the blood of the prurient beast rises upward—as upward the smell of the passionate spices is mounting—what see you?
ELSA. [Gazing at the three lilies] The white one folds its blossom to protect itself against defilement. That is Swanwhite’s flower.
ALL. Swanwhite is innocent.
ELSA. The red one, too—the prince’s lily—closes its head—but the blue one, which stands for the king, flings wide its gorge to drink the lust-filled air.
DUKE. You’ve told it right! What more is there to see?
ELSA. I see the red flower bend its head in reverent love before the white one, while the blue one writhes with envious rage.
DUKE. You’ve spoken true!—For whom is Swanwhite then?
ELSA. For the prince, because more pure is his desire, and therefore stronger, too.
ALL. [Except SWANWHITE and the STEPMOTHER] Swanwhite for the prince!
SWANWHITE. [Throwing herself into her father’s arms] O, father!
DUKE. Call back the prince! Let every trump and bugle summon him. Hoist sail on every bark! But first of all—the spiked cask is for whom?
All remain silent.
DUKE. Then I will say it: for the duchess; for the arch-liar and bawd!—Know, evil woman, that though nothing else be safe against your tricks, they cannot conquer love!—Go—quick—begone!
The STEPMOTHER makes a gesture which for a moment seems to stun the DUKE.
DUKE. [Draws his sword and turns the point of it toward the STEPMOTHER, having first seated SWANWHITE on his left shoulder] A-yi, you evil one! My pointed steel will outpoint all your tricks!
The STEPMOTHER withdraws backward, dragging her legs behind her like a panther.
DUKE. Now for the prince!
The STEPMOTHER stops on the balcony, rigid as a statue. She opens her mouth as if she were pouring out venom.
The peacock and the doves fall down dead. Then the STEPMOTHER begins to swell. Her clothes become inflated to such an extent that they hide her head and bust entirely. They seem to be flaming with a pattern of interwoven snakes and branches. The sun is beginning to rise outside. The ceiling sinks slowly into the room, while smoke and fire burst from the fireplace.
DUKE. [Raising the cross-shaped handle of his sword toward the STEPMOTHER] Pray, people, pray to Christ, our Saviour!
ALL. Christ have mercy!
The ceiling resumes its ordinary place. The smoke and fire cease. A noise is heard outside, followed by the hum of many voices.
DUKE. What new event is this?
SWANWHITE. I know! I see!—I hear the water dripping from his hair; I hear the silence of his heart, the breath that comes no more—I see that he is dead!
DUKE. Where do you see—and whom?
SWANWHITE. Where?—But I see it!
DUKE. I see nothing.
SWANWHITE. As they must come, let them come quick!
Four little girls enter with baskets out of which they scatter white lilies and hemlock twigs over the floor. After them come four pages ringing silver bells of different pitch. Then comes a priest carrying a large crucifix. Then, the golden bier, with the body of the PRINCE, covered by a white sheet, on which rest white and pink roses. His hair is dark again. His face is youthful, rosy, and radiantly beautiful. There is a smile on his lips.
The harp begins to play. The sun rises completely. The magic bubble around the STEPMOTHER bursts, and she appears once more in her customary shape.
The bier is placed in the middle of the floor, so that the rays of the rising sun fall on it.
SWANWHITE throws herself on her knees beside the bier and covers the Prince’s face with kisses.
All present put their hands to their faces and weep.
The FISHERMAN has entered behind the bier.
DUKE. The brief tale tell us, fisherman——
FISHERMAN. Does it not tell itself, my noble lord?—The young prince had already crossed the strait, when, seized by violent longing for his love, he started to swim back, in face of tide and wave and wind—because his bark seemed rudder-less.—I saw his young head breast the billows, I heard him cry her name—and then his corpse was gently dropped upon the white sand at my feet. His hair had turned to grey that night when he slept in the tower; sorrow and wrath had blanched his cheeks; his lips had lost their power of smiling.—Now, when death o’ertook him, beauty and youth came with it. Like wreaths his darkening locks fell round his rosy cheeks; he smiled—and see!—is smiling still. The people gathered on the shore, awed by the gentle spectacle—and man said unto man: lo, this is love!
SWANWHITE. [Lying down beside the body of the PRINCE] He’s dead; his heart will sing no more; his eyes no longer will light up my life; his breath will shed its dew on me no more. He smiles, but not toward me—toward heaven he smiles. And on his journey I shall bear him company.
DUKE. Kiss not a dead man’s lips—there’s poison in them!
SWANWHITE. Sweet poison if it bring me death—that death in which I seek my life!
DUKE. They say, my child, the dead cannot gain union by willing it; and what was loved in life has little worth beyond.
SWANWHITE. And love? Should then its power not extend to the other side of death?
DUKE. Our wise men have denied it.
SWANWHITE. Then he must come to me—back to this earth. O gracious Lord, please let him out of heaven again!
DUKE. A foolish prayer!
SWANWHITE. I cannot pray—woe’s me! The evil eye still rules this place.
DUKE. You’re thinking of the monster which the sunbeams pricked. The stake for her—let her without delay be burned alive!
SWANWHITE. Burn her?—Alive?—Oh, no! Let her depart in peace!
DUKE. She must be burned alive! You, men, see that the pyre is raised close to the shore, and let the winds play with her ashes!
SWANWHITE. [On her knees before the DUKE] No, no—I pray you, though she was my executioner: have mercy on her!
STEPMOTHER. [Enters, changed, freed from the evil powers that have held her in their spell] Mercy! Who spoke the sacred word? Who poured her heart in prayer for me?
SWANWHITE. I did—your daughter—mother!
STEPMOTHER. O, God in heaven, she called me mother!—Who taught you that?
SWANWHITE. Love did!
STEPMOTHER. Then blessed be love which can work miracles like that!—But, child, then it must also have the power to make the dead return out of the darkling realms of death!—I cannot do it, having not received the grace of love. But you!
SWANWHITE. Poor me—what can I do?
STEPMOTHER. You can forgive, and you can love—Well, then, my little Lady Almighty, you can do anything!—Be taught by me who have no power at all. Go, cry the name of your beloved, and put your hand above his heart! Then, with the help of the Supreme One—calling none but Him for helper—your beloved will hear your voice—if you believe!
SWANWHITE. I do believe—I will it—and—I pray for it!
She goes up to the PRINCE, places one of her hands over his heart, and raises the other toward the sky. Then she bends down over him and whispers something into his ear. This she repeats three times in succession. At the third whisper the PRINCE wakes up. SWANWHITE throws herself at his breast. All kneel in praise and thanksgiving. Music.
Curtain.