Here we have the reason why Mr. Hansson could find so little of his story in the play.  And here we have the origin of a theme which, while not quite new to him, was ever afterward to remain a favourite one with Strindberg:  that of a duel between intellect and cunning.  It forms the basis of such novels as “Chandalah” and “At the Edge of the Sea,” but it recurs in subtler form in works of much later date.  To readers of the present day, Mr. X.—­that striking antithesis of everything a scientist used to stand for in poetry—­is much less interesting as a superman in spe than as an illustration of what a morally and mentally normal man can do with the tools furnished him by our new understanding of human ways and human motives.  And in giving us a play that holds our interest as firmly as the best “love plot” ever devised, although the stage shows us only two men engaged in an intellectual wrestling match, Strindberg took another great step toward ridding the drama of its old, shackling conventions.

The name of this play has sometimes been translated as “The Outcast,” whereby it becomes confused with “The Outlaw,” a much earlier play on a theme from the old Sagas.  I think it better, too, that the Hindu allusion in the Swedish title be not lost, for the best of men may become an outcast, but the baseness of the Pariah is not supposed to spring only from lack of social position.

PARIAH

AN ACT

1889

PERSONS

Mr. X., an archaeologist, Middle-aged man.

Mr. Y., an American traveller, Middle-aged man.

SCENE

(A simply furnished room in a farmhouse.  The door and the windows in the background open on a landscape.  In the middle of the room stands a big dining-table, covered at one end by books, writing materials, and antiquities; at the other end, by a microscope, insect cases, and specimen jars full of alchohol.)

(On the left side hangs a bookshelf.  Otherwise the furniture is that of a well-to-do farmer.)

(Mr. Y. enters in his shirt-sleeves, carrying a butterfly-net and a botany-can.  He goes straight up to the bookshelf and takes down a book, which he begins to read on the spot.)

(The landscape outside and the room itself are steeped in sunlight.  The ringing of church bells indicates that the morning services are just over.  Now and then the cackling of hens is heard from the outside.)

(Mr. X. enters, also in his shirt-sleeves.)

(Mr. Y. starts violently, puts the book back on the shelf upside-down, and pretends to be looking for another volume.)

Mr. X. This heat is horrible.  I guess we are going to have a thunderstorm.

Mr. Y. What makes you think so?

Mr. X. The bells have a kind of dry ring to them, the flies are sticky, and the hens cackle.  I meant to go fishing, but I couldn’t find any worms.  Don’t you feel nervous?