Hadda Pada | Page 2

the Royal Theatre, a fortress difficult of access to the newcomer. This theatre did not even fully recognise such masters as Ibsen and Bjornson until they stood on the heights of achievement. Our author was but twenty- four years old, unknown, and offering his first play.
From the outset "Hadda Padda" caused the directors unexpected trouble. It took them four times as long as usual to come to a decision. They finally accepted it "on account of its literary merit," but without any obligation on their part to produce it, as the scenery of the last act was of "such daring and dangerous character."
There was but one thing to do and Mr. Kamban did it. His play was published by Gyldendal, the most distinguished of the Scandinavian publishers. He sent a copy to Georg Brandes, as do thousands of authors from all parts of the world. Next evening he received a letter from the great critic, telling him that he had read the play, and asking Mr. Kamban to call on him at his home. A few days later, when he spent four hours with Brandes at and after table, the latter told him that he received on an average twelve volumes a day from different authors of every nationality, and were he to do nothing else, he could not read even one twelfth of them. "But I am going to write an article about your play," he concluded. Thus was Mr. Kamban's place as an artist assured.
In spite of the unanimous recognition the play received from the press, the theatre still refused to produce it, as nearly all the authorities agreed that it would be "hardly possible to stage." Finally, the new chief of the theatre, Count F. Brockenhuus- Schack, determined to carry the matter through. The author then undertook to stage the play, designed the scenes, and arranged the mise-en-scene to the minutest detail. On November 14, 1914, the first performance took place. He sat in the latticed author's box. The first three acts went smoothly, interrupted at times by applause. The fourth act, the one talked about and difficult, was still to come. The fate of the play depended on this act. The curtain rose, and with the slowness of life the act proceeded. The silence of the audience was uncanny. Toward the end, the foremost theatrical critic of the city rose to his feet and raised his hand as if in horror. The curtain fell. Not a hand stirred. A whole minute elapsed and Mr. Kamban left the box, refusing to himself to admit the failure. Then suddenly a wild enthusiasm broke loose and lasted several minutes. According to the regulations--unique in Europe--of the Royal Theatre, the curtain may not be raised for any author or actor except at a jubilee. The public, however, refused to leave the theatre till the manager had escorted Mr. Kamban to the dais in front of the curtain, and there he expressed his thanks to the audience.
After four months in Copenhagen, "Hadda Padda" toured the Scandinavian Countries, and preparations were being made for its production in Germany, when the war broke out, and the German theatres were indefinitely closed to foreign dramatists. That is why, two years ago, he came to America.
K.

CHARACTERS
SKULI, the town judge. LADY ANNA, his wife. HRAFNHILD, called HADDA PADDA; KRISTRUN; their daughters. LITTLE SKULI, their grandson. RANNVEIG, Hadda Padda's nurse. THE SHERIFF OF BREIDABOL. LADY MARGARET, his wife. INGOLF, law student; OLOF; their children. STEINDOR, Olof's husband, the sheriff's secretary. SIGGA; DODDI; MAGGA; Steindor's and Olof's children. AN HERBORIST. NATIVE AND FOREIGN SUMMER TOURISTS.
There is an interval of a year between Acts I and II; of a week between Acts II and III. One night elapses between Acts III and IV.
PLACE: Iceland. TIME: Present.

HADDA PADDA
ACT I
(A luxuriously furnished drawing-room in the house of the Town Judge. On the right, in front, a door. In the middle rear an open door draped with rich, heavy, deep-red curtains. On the left a large window. In the corner, between the window and the door, a grand piano, behind which stands a palm, the leaves spreading over the piano. In front, on the left, a divan. Alongside of it is a pedestal with a black terra cotta statue on it.)
(Hadda Padda and Kristrun are sitting toward the front, in large deep arm-chairs, throwing a crystal ball to each other. Near by is a small table, covered with a piece of velvet, on which the ball had lain. Hadda Padda is very sunburnt.)
RANNVEIG [enters from behind. She is knitting, keeping the ball of yarn under her arm. She is dressed in an Icelandic costume]. Take care! Don't drop the ball! [Drops a stitch, takes it up again-- smiles.] Who knows--maybe it is your life-egg, children!
KRISTRUN. Life-egg! ... Is that a fairy-tale?
RANNVEIG. Haven't