Leseprobe_Holberg Plays Vol III

LUDVIG HOLBERG
PLAYS
Volume III
Epistle 347
Masquerade
The Invisibles
I

LUDVIG HOLBERG
PLAYS
VOLUME III

LUDVIG HOLBERG
PLAYS
VOLUME III
EPISTLE 347
MASQUERADE
THE INVISIBLES
Edited and translated from the Danish by
Bent Holm and Gaye Kynoch

The translation project is grateful for funding from:
Danish Arts Foundation
Frontcover image, details from:
Benoit Le Coffre, A Masquerade, Frederiksberg Palace, Denmark, 1704
Ludvig Holberg: Plays, Volume III
Epistle 347; Masquerade; The Invisibles
Edited and translated from the Danish by Bent Holm and Gaye Kynoch
Vienna: HOLLITZER VERLAG, 2023
Epistle 347 (Epistel 347), Masquerade (Maskerade), and The Invisibles (De Usynlige)
have been translated from the Danish versions published by Ludvig Holbergs Skrifter
(The Writings of Ludvig Holberg) at:
Ludvig Holbergs Skrifter http://holbergsskrifter.dk
Cover and Layout: Nikola Stevanović
Printed and bound in the EU
All rights reserved.
Except for the quotation of short passages for the purposes of criticism and review, no part of
this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form by
any means, digital, electronic or mechanical, or by photocopying, recording, or otherwise, or
conveyed via the Internet or a Web site without prior written permission of the publisher.
Responsibility for the content and for questions of copyright lies with the editors.
Performance rights: All rights whatsoever in this play are strictly reserved and application for
performance rights of any nature should be made before rehearsals to Hollitzer Verlag.
No performance may be given unless a licence has been obtained.
www.hollitzer.at
ISBN 978-3-99094-170-6

CONTENTS
7
PREFACE
15
INTRODUCTION
Epistle 347
(Epistel 347)
17
EPISTLE 347
1749
21
INTRODUCTION
Masquerade
(Maskerade)
23
MASQUERADE
1723/24
97
INTRODUCTION
The Invisibles
(De Usynlige)
99
THE INVISIBLES
1726
5

6

PREFACE
Holberg and masks
Holberg saw the world, human existence, as a stage upon which the actors, humankind,
appear clad in a character trope, a mask, a manifestation of the surrounding
cultural reality – but not necessarily a manifestation of any deeper truth about
humankind or about the world; each individual comprises numerous identities,
interpreted in a multitude of ways via the multitude of responding individuals in
any given situation. In this theatrum mundi – the theatre of life – it is important to
act professionally: not taking the rules of the ‘societal game’ at face value while
being able to fake it convincingly, as and when necessary. Ultimately, this view
of human existence implies striking a balance between substance and appearance.
What is what? When is the mask an augmentation and when is it an empty shell?
As Holberg wrote in one of his philosophical essays: “Most people are masked
and, like performers, clad themselves as different figures for as long as the performance
lasts. Only when the role has been played, and the mask removed, do we
know whether it has been feigned or genuine.” 1 The unmasking – be it the finale
of a play or the finale of a life – is therefore a philosophical and creative moment
of truth.
Given that illusion and roleplay are such stuffs as theatre is made on, the stage
is Holberg’s perfect instrument upon which to act out the existential themes.
When religious influences caused theatre to be, in practice, banned in Denmark
for two whole decades (see Ludvig Holberg: Plays, Volume I, pp. 11–15), opening
again in 1747, he turned particularly to the medium of philosophical essay, often
with stage performance or masquerade entertainment as metaphorical backdrop
to these philosophical thoughts. A dialogue thus emerges between his plays and
his moral reflections; they elaborate, clarify and modify one another.
The first two volumes in the present series of new English-language translations
highlight the roles of, respectively, theatre and women, in which Holberg
challenges and subverts fixed notions and patterns of response. It could be said
that he unmasks the sightlines and reveals how views of class and gender, for
example, are more a matter of conventions and social structures than of actual
matter.
For this volume, we have chosen to present Holberg’s constantly underlying
mask theme via three pieces written in various styles and forms, crisscrossing
one another while drawing the major points into the individual scenarios and the
1 Ludvig Holberg: Moralske Tanker (‘Moral Reflections’), Libr. I, Epigr. 117, Copenhagen 1744,
p. 184.
7

overall picture. In these three pieces, Holberg has pinpointed vital elements of
la comédie humaine, the human comedy, the complexity of human civilisation and
human endeavours.
To Holberg, the mask was both an instrument of performance and a metaphor.
It is no surprise that the first experience of theatre to make an impression on him,
according to his own words, was the Italian commedia dell’arte, which he encountered
during carnival in Rome, where he stayed 1715–1716. In 1722, a new theatre
opened in Copenhagen; for the first time, plays were performed professionally in
Danish, the main focus being on satirical depictions of contemporaneous realities.
An underlying inspiration, however, was generated by the ironic commedia dell’arte
gaze upon the world. Masks were indeed a central component in another activity
at the theatre, and a source of its income: the public masquerades. When these too
were subject to an official ban, Holberg saw his opportunity to present a whole
slew of arguments in defence of the masquerade; arguments that essentially address
the relationship between nature and culture.
When the new theatre had opened, disapproved of by theological and academic
authorities, Holberg had argued (under the guise of a man named Just Justesen,
in his Reflections on Theatre; see Ludvig Holberg: Plays, Volume I, pp. 11–21) that
it was not the thing-in-itself – in casu the theatre – but the thing-as-seen that
determined whether it was offensive or acceptable. If the clergy and the authorities
were cheerfully frequent attendees of the theatre – as was the case in other countries
– well then, theatre would magically cease to symbolise all things shady and
offensive. In the wider perspective, it could be said that theatre actually exposes
the theatricality of everyday and public life. Holberg’s argument suggested that
the masquerade served a higher purpose by unmasking the roleplay and playacting
in the private sphere and in the societal arena.
The twofold masquerade
In the play Masquerade (1723/24; Maskerade), moderately-minded Mr Leonard
speaks in defence of this vilified form of entertainment when he refers to the “natural
equality” between people that can be acted out in the forum of the masquerade.
Holberg here references nature as the ultimate yardstick – as is also the case with
equality between men and women (see Ludvig Holberg: Plays, Volume II, pp. 9–17).
In ‘Epistle 347’ (1749; ‘Epistel 347’), he reiterates that we are dealing with the
original “human state” of equality between people, but adds an extra layer by
qualifying this as: “to which humankind was assigned by God at first creation,
and from which through sin is fallen”. God and nature are the ultimate heavyweights
when ‘the natural state’ is being written into a biblical frame narrative –
perhaps in this instance with due consideration to the pietistic situation prevailing
8

in Denmark at the time. But he goes even further by putting the issue of equality
into a history of civilisation context, turning the relationship between reality and
masquerade upside down. Because now, paradoxically, it turns out that what we
believe to be reality is in reality a masquerade, while the masquerade is more real
than reality since it unmasks the masquerade of reality! Civilisation is in effect
a Fall from the original, natural state, an arena in which a ‘philosophical game’
displays – or unmasks – the irrationality of the cultural playacting. The mask liberates
the individual from the process of masking imposed by the conventions of
everyday life. This unmasking via masking corresponds, as mentioned, to theatre
exposing the theatricality of its surrounding culture.
In ‘Epistle 347’, Holberg sums up this idea: “the conventional human state in
which we live is a constant masquerade, since social order, conventions and customs
impose masks upon us, which in this kind of amusement we lay aside, as it
were, and strictly speaking we are not truly masked except when bare faced.” The
situation that follows on from the natural state is defined on the basis of hierarchies
and conventions and is thus in some sense illusory – roleplay as applied to,
for example, gender and class – and our conventional life is therefore “a constant
masquerade”. A great many aspects of human civilisation that are viewed with
profound seriousness are accordingly, seen in this perspective, fundamentally
meaningless – form without substance, pure show: ‘theatre’.
The mask plays a twofold – or, rather, complementary – role: liberator of
pre-civilisational reality, which is an inner truth, and indicator of civilisational
pretence, which is an outer form.
The dialectical gaze
Holberg’s view of humankind and nature is not, however, romanticising. His assessment
of humankind is twofold: potentially socially-minded and potentially
selfish. And the natural state involves, as mentioned, a constructive chaos, an
original authenticity, which convention and culture distort by adding a layer of
stage managing and status ranking, which is then attributed a significance it does
not have – but where the mask provides an opening for insight into deeper truths.
The natural state can also, however, be read as a destructive chaos, a concoction
of instinctual urges that culture must bring under control and discipline in order
to avoid the ultimate massacre erupting and taking over. Holberg also inserts the
latter reading into a biblical frame narrative. Given that the pure natural state
is charged with “sin and wickedness”, human behaviour had to be speedily subject
to system and order as safeguard against violation. “We can also see that the
natural state did not last long; because we find kingdoms and societies established
soon after the Flood; so the oldness of governance shows the brevity of the natural
9

state.” 2 But when the civilising process degenerates into empty manifestations, artificial
inequalities and inflexible authorities, then the culture acts as anti-nature
and thus obstructs constructive dynamism in society.
Underlying the picture, however, madness features as a quite fundamental
aspect of the world and reality; due to its lack of usefulness, this madness has its
own stimulating, provocative utility value, which Holberg praises in one of his
philosophical essays: “For my part, I would not care to live in a country where
there were no fools. For a fool has the same effect in a civil society as gastric acid
has in a person’s stomach. It is like an efficacious sal volatile that agitates blood
and bodily fluids – indeed, it can be compared with a stormy wind, which, although
it sometimes demolishes houses and tears down trees, also purges the air,
impedes putrification and thwarts maladies generally arising from far too much
tranquillity.” 3
The madness involves an activating and cleansing power. Mask and stage alike
account for this form of metaphorical gastric acidity, pervading the role played by
the fool and the madness in society.
Masquerade is traditionally read as a totally unambiguous dispatch, a one-sided
defence of happy and upbeat youth in the face of grumpy and downbeat adulthood.
But the masquerade is in no way romanticised. The play can just as well be
read as a depiction of a young man who has become hooked on an entertainment
that prevents him from fulfilling his duties. When the necessity of madness and
the reality of the natural state come into play, with the masquerade as the heart
and Henrik as the pivotal point, then the dialectics and the complementarity come
into their own. Holberg wields a mischievous pen. A production that respects this
ambiguity will stimulate and involve the audience in the playacting on stage.
It all revolves around the ironically down-to-earth gaze upon the world.
Around distinguishing illusion from reality, the shell from the kernel, the shadow
from the object – as Holberg states time and again in plain reference to Plato and
his iconic allegory about mistaking fiction for substance: a group of people live in
a cave, they believe that the shadows projected onto the wall are reality. Henrik,
however, is somewhat more clear-sighted than the other characters in the play. It
is no accident that he is the one to conclude in the final scene: “Then a play has
been played out here.”
A mask betrayed
Henrik is Holberg’s abrasive version of the commedia dell’arte stock Harlequin figure;
he is unsentimental, his feet are firmly planted on matter-of-factly sensible
2 Ibid. Libr. III, Epigr. 41, p. 452.
3 Ibid. Libr. I, Epigr. 86, p. 128.
10

ground. Harlequin’s words and actions challenge the ‘serious’ surrounding environment,
its passions and emotions. He represents a ‘grotesque’ perception of the
world. Holberg was familiar with this character from the Italian-French theatre in
Paris, reading their scenarios from which he merrily ‘borrowed’ situations and
wordplay. The Kilian figure in Ulysses von Ithacia is shaped on this Harlequin (see
Ludvig Holberg: Plays, Volume I). The harlequinade represents a constructive chaos,
one which defies cast-iron values, categories and hierarchies. It is a form of madness,
which is essential if society is to be prevented from stagnating in self-affirmation,
a lack of respect that we see in Henrik when he sabotages inflexible Jeronimus’s
authority and tests Leander’s enamoured feelings. This is Harlequin’s function. It
is his character. And it is writ large in his mask.
When financial difficulties obliged the new Danish theatre to close temporarily
in 1725, Holberg took the opportunity to visit Paris. He went to the theatre
that had been a main inspiration, along with the works of Molière, for his playwriting
pen and its satirical take on his day and age. Holberg contacted the leader
of the Italian theatre, hoping to arouse interest in his Danish plays. His hopes
were not fulfilled. New winds were blowing, carrying a more moral-emotionalromantic
drift that was a world away from the robustly disrespectful comedy that
Holberg considered to be the raison d’être of the theatre stage. The sophisticated,
refined, emotional Harlequin he encountered in Paris filled him with frustrated
anger. To Holberg’s mind, this character was absolutely not Harlequin, quite the
opposite, he was an artless dope of the kind who could be easily hoodwinked. His
characteristic of the ‘new’ Harlequin quivers with indignant sarcasm. The devilmay-care
attitude manifested by the real harlequinade had been watered down
into sentimentality: “In our day, a substantial restriction has occurred in the liberty
of speech we so admired from the old Italian troupe, and which in Louis
XIV’s time was the soul of this theatre.” 4
Bitter over being rejected and angry that Harlequin was being betrayed, once
back home Holberg wrote The Invisibles (1726; De usynlige). In the first part of the play,
Harlequin is in harmony with his mask: witty, prosaic, robust. Thereafter, he abandons
his character and takes robust strides away from his role as ‘true’ Harlequin,
but with the paradoxical twist that no matter how infected he becomes by the
amorous-erotic sport, his mask stays firmly in place. A clear-cut split is visible on
stage: the mask is saying one thing, the character’s behaviour is saying something
else entirely. The two sides are mutually contradictory. That is not going to end
well. The person designated to bring him quite literally to his senses is Columbine,
representative of healthy sensuality, the woman he has abandoned. His offence is
devastating – as is his ‘cure’. Having been threatened with physical violence, he
4 Ludvig Holberg, Ad virum perillustrem *** epistola (Første levnedsbrev), Copenhagen 1728, p. 179
(various translations as versions of ‘Ludvig Holberg’s Memoirs’).
11

eventually submits utterly to female supremacy. Such are the extremes awaiting
anyone who releases their grip on reality and surrenders to affectations.
Through his betrayal, Harlequin has thrown in his lot with convention, the
staging of life, which in the perspective of the masquerade is the opposite of nature.
He has betrayed his role – i.e. his mask – and abandoned himself to a masquerade.
Henceforth, Columbine takes control.
The greater the difficulty, the greater the value
The Invisibles is not only about Harlequin. A love story between two young aristocrats
is also played out, and is done so in remarkably sensitive psychological tones
on their own thoroughly genuine terms (just like the besotted couple in Masquerade),
while enacting themes that go beyond the characters’ sensitive emotional shifts.
Holberg is here again (and as he would again twenty-five years later in the ‘Epistle’)
articulating radical reflections that give philosophical or existential perspective
to the issues presented in a play, while introducing light and shade into the picture
of romantic love.
Holberg is again turning hierarchies and conventions upside down. In one of
his philosophical essays, he refers with appreciation and respect to the peasantry,
“the lowest of all”. Unlike the sophisticated processes applied by the aristocracy
in order to enter couple relationships – which are: “a kind of play. Four Acts have
to be acted out before you reach the conclusion, which is the content of the fifth
Act” – Holberg writes that: “A young peasant’s courtship, however, is without
all these formalities: it all happens in an orderly and natural fashion. Each of the
lovers is without mask; they settle on the price themselves […] for which reason,
such marriages have better outcomes than those made with artfulness.” 5 The philosopher
is using the terminology of the dramatist when he depicts the ‘natural’
couple as being without mask – and thus without the civilisational artificiality.
Holberg makes it clear that the significance or value of a phenomenon is not
necessarily something it has but something it is ascribed – as we have also seen
with theatre and masquerade. And that is not all: the higher the price, the greater
the difficulty involved in acquisition, then the greater the value or significance
ascribed. In another essay, he discusses the psychological mechanism: the more
expensive and unattainable, the more attractive. If something is rare and costly,
however, then people disdain “the things that nature has characterised by goodness,
simply because they are available without effort and expense, and on the
other hand find delight in unnatural and ill-tasting things simply because they are
expensive and cannot be acquired without difficulty.” 6
5 Moralske Tanker, Libr. I, Epigr. 36, pp. 235–236.
6 Ibid., Libr. II, Epigr. 2, p. 283.
12

In The Invisibles, Harlequin chokes on the apple allegory: how attractive apples
hanging on a tree seem in contrast to the apples that can simply be picked up from
the ground. The Invisible uses this apple metaphor to make Leander understand
that it is only by controlling his desire that he will be able to demonstrate whether
his feelings are unshakable or unsound. This is the exact image that Holberg now
uses in the essay, in this case as an example that the ‘Romanesque’ manner of wooing
can also be a matter of strategy – a tactic Columbine adopts to great effect.
“An apple, lying on the ground,” he writes, “is bypassed, and you climb up to the
top of the tree to pick off another one, which often, although not as ripe, tastes
better, given that it has taken effort to pick it. A maiden, who willingly offers her
service or surrenders unconditionally at the first charge, cools the wooer’s love.
For this reason, a cunning woman gives the impression of cool-headedness, puts
up a resistance, and lets a suitor woo in the Romanesque way, thereby to increase
his ardour, and more surely to achieve her wish […] Difficulty increases desires,
and a hundred cunning measures are used to storm the fortresses that are most
fortified.” 7
Mid discussion, Holberg notes that: “The human being is herein, as in other
respects, curious and incomprehensible.” 8 This thought is a continuation of the
conclusion to a satirical poem he had written a good twenty years earlier: “For in
each individual there is a curious chaos” 9 for which reason we can neither define
nor comprehend humankind. Humankind is a concoction of incompatible components,
an unending gamut of potential identities.
The Invisibles puts these themes through a kaleidoscopic mill, without proclaiming
any clear-cut ‘solutions’ – with the one exception: Harlequin’s betrayal
of his mask’s mission is shown no mercy.
Identity and masks
The mask is a straightforward manifestation of the character and thereby the identity,
the self. But when Holberg suggests that we are only wearing masks when
we have bare faces, identity becomes a variable concept – and here the Italian
playwright Luigi Pirandello (1867–1936) inevitably enters the picture. Pirandello
revolutionised modern theatre through his questioning of identity. He even gave
his collection of plays the title Maschere nude (literally: ‘naked masks’), on exactly
the same wavelength as the Holbergian paradox. A play such as Pirandello’s Sei
personaggi in cerca d’autore (1921; Six Characters in Search of an Author) is structured
7 Ibid., pp. 286–287.
8 Ibid., p. 288.
9 Ludvig Holberg, Apologi for sangeren Tigellius (‘Apology for the Bard Tigellius’) in Fire skæmtedigte
(‘Four Jestful Poems’), Copenhagen 1722, p. c3r.
13

around the interactions between the individual’s inner ‘curious’ chaos and the
interpretative gaze of the surrounding world; the fictitious ‘characters’ of the title
insist on being more real than the ‘real’ characters in the play.
In another essay, Holberg pens a portrait of himself, one that does not match
up – simply because it is seen from the vantage point of other people, and they
draw conclusions from isolated, momentary encounters. They see, so to speak,
just the one mask. Holberg is miserly. He is generous. He is lazy. He is hard-working.
He loves women. He is a misogynist. He is cheerful. He is gloomy, and so on and
so forth, so that: “when someone cannot conceive how the characteristics both
can be correct and incorrect, then you can ask them to turn the page.” Only when
seen from one selective vantage point does identity appear to have a core and the
world to add up. But this is not the case. In a nutshell: “there is nothing I study
more and yet comprehend less than my self.” 10
Masks too – also in a nutshell – can be supplied with multiple meanings in
the Holbergian universe. In this current selection of new translations, for example,
the mask is linked to the masquerade as image of an original state. It can
represent anarchy as corrective of obduracy in social matters. Or it can create a
fictitious identity. Masquerade, madness, theatre – all attack conventions as controlling
factors in the perception of identity, gender and class. The more complex
implications come to fruition when Holberg’s analytical essays are drawn into the
picture, and, ultimately: in production, the play performed on stage, trusting the
script, the wit and the reflections, and trusting the audience – Holberg’s plays are
not purely for comedic pleasure, they are magical studies of the ongoing human
condition.
Bent Holm & Gaye Kynoch
Copenhagen, Denmark 30.7.2023
10 Epistel 257 (‘Epistle 257’) in Epistler III (‘Epistles III’), Copenhagen 1750, pp. 339 and 333.
14

INTRODUCTION
EPISTLE 347
(EPISTEL 347)
Published 1749 in Epistler IV (‘Epistles, Volume 4’)
In addition to his work as historian, satirist and dramatist, Holberg was also
a prolific essayist. Between 1748 and 1754, he published five volumes of short
texts dealing with various, in the words of the title page, “historical, political,
metaphysical, moral, philosophical and indeed droll matters”. These short essays
are written in the form of ‘letters’ to a fictitious recipient: an ongoing, amicable
dialogue for solo voice, responding to the supposed sendee’s views, requests for
advice, enquiries, reflections on subjects they have been reading about, and so
forth, always concluding with a “I remain, &c”. These ‘letters’ cover all manner
of topics – from theodicy to English parliamentarism, from war to fashion, the art
of fencing, the art of catching flies, Chinese theatre, deism, tolerance in matters
of faith, coffee vs. tea, Islam vs. Christianity, dogs vs. cats, the potential threat
from Russia, religious open-mindedness, and so on and so forth – all in all, well
over 500 essays. From time to time, the ‘epistles’ also discuss quite controversial
subjects in an elegant and witty tone, embedding the strong points being made in an
entertaining and above all readily accessible form. Holberg the academic despised,
with all his heart, academic pomposity and pedantry. As a good Socratesian, he
deploys irony and paradox to lure his reader onto thin ice with seemingly extreme
claims – such as suggesting that the popular masked entertainments, the masquerades,
should be interpreted as a “philosophical amusement”. Epistle 347 relates closely
to its writer’s comedic play Maskerade (‘Masquerade’, 1724, this volume pp. 21–96),
written a quarter of a century earlier in defence of this masked “amusement”,
which was very much an ingredient in the workings of the theatre building in
which the play itself was to be performed; in 1724, however, the authorities banned
public masquerades. The epistle even calls the servant in the play Masquerade as a
witness for the defence of masquerades. The lengthy period of pietistic influence
over Danish affairs, which had led to the uncompromising disapproval of theatre
performances and masque players, had come to an end two years before the epistle
was written, but public masquerades continued to be banned until 1768. For
Holberg to rekindle the masquerade theme in one of his epistles, unambiguously
moving it into his philosophical-dialectic reasoning, tells us that the play was more
than simply a bold shot in the arm to help out the theatre now that one source of
15

evenue had dried up. In brief, the essay is about usage and significance; and, in a
slightly wider perspective, about nature and culture. Excessive usage of anything
– be it something as harmless as barley-flour porridge! – can cause harm. But
if intelligently managed and identified for what it is, then the masquerade is an
intelligent invention. On one side, Holberg operates with nature, i.e. primordial
conditions; on the other side, he operates with frameworks drawn up by convention
and culture, i.e. hierarchies, categories and ceremonies, which are at best hollow
enactments and at worst unquestionably inconsistent with nature. As an example
of the latter, Holberg addresses the relationship between the sexes: nature has
created men and women as equals; that men per definition take precedence over
women is contrary to nature and should be resolutely quashed.
Holberg associates the masquerade with a primordial condition – the natural
condition – that is in itself characterised by equality between human beings. He
practically formulates a mythology by relating the arbitrary and artificial breach
– also known as culture or civilisation – to a Fall from which the masquerade
momentarily grants immunity while reflecting a pre-Fall condition. Being the
good dialectician, Holberg also adopted the opposite view, in which the natural
condition involves the risk of a free-for-all, the ultimate prospect of which is a
scene of total carnage. Culture was thus a necessary regulating parameter, represented
by a power centre designed to curb the threat of chaos and install a functional
social structure. The point, however, is that this must operate on terms stipulated
by nature and reason, giving credit for ability and effort, not for gender and
class. The masquerade denies and dismantles the convention.
Further reading:
Holm, Bent, Ludvig Holberg, A Danish Playwright on the European Stage, Hollitzer Verlag,
Vienna 2018, pp. 37–46 (on the condemnation of theatre and masquerades during
the rule of pietism).
Holberg, Ludvig, Plays, Volume I, Hollitzer Verlag, Vienna 2020, pp. 11–21 (Holberg’s
defence of theatre, 1723).
16

EPISTLE 347
from
Epistles Volume 4
1749
Comprising a number of historical, political, metaphysical, moral,
philosophical and indeed droll matters
17

To * *
In my critical reflections on oaths, 1 it has been shown that a good many oaths
of the greatest implication are attributed the least significance, whereas the most
insignificant are ascribed the greatest weight, so that it is not the oaths in themselves
but the epithets used and the ways in which they are expressed that strike
the various degrees of alarm. The same observations can be made of games and
amusements, given that some of the least morally reprehensible and least improper
are considered most offensive and foolish, in such a manner that outrage seems
greater about the name than about the activity.
No amusement, no pastime is considered more foolish and indecent than that
which carries the name of masquerade, notwithstanding that none of all is more
appropriate and better substantiated; for its very invention is clever, and the
offence consists in its misuse. I say that the invention is clever because it allows
enactment of the original human state, rendering all human beings equal, and it
brings all constraint and onerous rituals to a halt for a while. It is an imitation of
the old Saturnalia, 2 which were held at certain times of year in order to re-evoke
the original human state, when there was no difference between high and low,
between masters and servants, between persons and persons of title and rank. It
is for this reason that folk wear masks during the period of carnival, such that
mixing can be free, without constraint, without fear and deference, such that a
subject might be on terms of familiarity with their King, and a servant with their
master, which cannot be anything other than favourable for high and low alike;
for high, since they can temporarily assume the façon for which many of them
wish but which conventions do not allow them to fulfil, likening them to armed
folk, who feel soothed and able to draw breath once the heavy armour is laid aside,
or to those who walk on stilts so as to seem taller than they are, who feel relieved
at being equal in height to others; it must likewise be favourable for lowly folk
and servants, given that they can accordingly be compared to imprisoned and
confined people for whom the doors to the prison are opened and they are given
freedom to go where they will; because the conventional human state, in which
we live in communities and other social orders, is such that some say with a sigh:
“If only we dared,” others: “If only circumstances would allow us.”
Inasmuch as this was the aim of the masquerades, then it must be admitted
that the invention of such is clever, indeed that it is a philosophical amusement,
or that it at least gives occasion to philosophical reflections, since all thereby are
1 This is a reference to Epistle 267, in which Holberg reflects on uses of oaths and the varying effectiveness
of cursing dependent on to whom or to what the oath refers – e.g. God, ill fortune, a dog,
a bitch, a goose.
2 The ancient Roman pagan festival in celebration of the deity Saturn; associated with unrestrained
indulgence, orgiastic revelry.
18

eminded of the condition to which humankind was assigned by God at first creation,
and from which through sin is fallen: it is accordingly possible to say that
the conventional human state in which we live is a constant masquerade, since
social order, conventions and customs impose masks upon us, which in this kind
of amusement we lay aside, as it were, and that strictly speaking we are not truly
masked except when bare faced.
Since this is the origin of the masquerade, it has to be wondered why no other
amusement or pastime is so berated. It is accordingly necessary to look at the other
side of this amusement, and examine the consequences that critics claim arise
therefrom and upon what they base their harsh criticism. They claim that night is
thereby turned into day, and day into night. Such objection has been addressed by
Henrik in the play; 3 and to this I would add that card playing and large evening
meals also turn night into day, and yet these evening and night-time gatherings
are not so besmirched as masquerades, although harsher judgements ought to befall
these given that ailments incurred from the former can be expelled by the latter,
and that folk leave a dance hall more satisfied than they leave a gaming room,
where many lose their wherewithal.
They claim, secondly, that masquerades give occasion for improper love
intrigues. This objection would seem to be of significance in Spain and Italy, where
the lady is locked away and is invisible, but absolutely not here in Scandinavia,
where society between the sexes is open and unconstrained all year round, facilitating,
without the agency of masquerades, declarations of love.
They base, thirdly, their judgement upon the indecency in disguising oneself,
and on men donning women’s costume and women donning men’s costume, taking
corroboration from sermons and writings by the old Church Fathers against this
practice. But a good many reasonable writers, such as M. Barbeyrac, 4 have shown
that the moral philosophy of the old Fathers is often poorly thought through, and
others are of the opinion that many a harsh judgement passed by preachers on
matters of indifference could be scratched from our books of sermons.
My lord must not believe that I am seeking in my letter to recommend
masquerades; for what should compel me to advocate something of which I have
never been a devotee. My intention is purely to show the same error is made here
as is made in the case of oaths; for a blind eye is turned to certain pastimes that
are most misguided and reprehensible. The night-time gatherings held in gaming
houses and wine cellars, where folk sit speaking ill of their neighbour and berating
the authorities until being guided home drunk, are the least vilified, albeit
they give most substance thereto. I will however admit that many have had good
3 A reference to Henrik in Masquerade, Act 2, scene 3, see pp. 50–56.
4 Jean Barbeyrac (1674–1744), a Huguenot refugee from religious persecution in France; a leading
theorist and translator of works on Protestant natural law theory.
19

eason to sermonise against masquerades, since at certain places they have been
the subject of misuse. But the same can be said against all kinds of pastimes when
they are undertaken too often and are hence misused. Everything that occurs of
excess and without moderation becomes reprehensible and damaging; for one can
even eat one’s way to a feverish ailment by means of barley-flour porridge, albeit
this is not only a harmless but also a healthy dish when consumed in an appropriate
quantity.
Otherwise, I can see no good reason for such vehement declamation against
masquerades or denunciation of such amusements; all I can say about the matter
is this: that greater cautiousness must be applied when permitting masquerades
than in the case of other diversions, on account of the great pleasure people derive
herein, and which means that therein no moderation will be kept unless restrictions
are attached. In conclusion, I will say this: that it is hard to understand why
masquerades are considered an innocent amusement and are allowed throughout
Italy and other countries where one might fear ill consequences thereof, whereas
they are denounced in Scandinavia where they can have no ill effects.
I remain, &c.
20

INTRODUCTION
MASQUERADE
(MASKERADE)
Written 1723/24. First performance 1724. Published 1724.
Masquerade presents a patriarchal hierarchical structure in conflict with the masquerade’s
non-hierarchical non-structure. The play delves into the discussion about
the usefulness of the useless, the haven of imagination from the masquerade of convention.
The backdrop to the play – the family – also presents a picture of the (class)
society in which a master of the house sits at the almighty centre while the other
characters, from spouse to servant, (circum)navigate a hierarchical-planetary orbit.
In September 1722, a new playhouse opened in Copenhagen; in addition to
a stage repertoire with plays now for the first time performed in Danish, the
theatre also hosted masquerades. At these masked entertainments, citizens could
leave their ‘normal’ identities at the door and indulge in other varieties of reality
– all the while adding to the theatre’s coffers. This playing with illusion, an
unregulated non-reality with potential for frivolity, caused alarm in the legislative
chambers and after a little over a year the authorities banned masquerades.
Holberg wrote his play in defence of the beleaguered theatre, but his efforts were
in vain. The ban was imposed as the play reached the stage – and remained in force
for more than four decades, even after pietism had lost its sway over governance
of the Danish realm. So Holberg was defying the formal executive mindset: he
was insisting that the genre was not outrageous, immoral and a waste of time, but
was both useful and necessary; he saw the masquerade as a vitalising recreation
and a thought-provoking corrective to rigid role patterns.
The two fathers in Masquerade – Jeronimus and Leonard – are, respectively,
severely overbearing and moderately tolerant. As men of authority, however, they
have feet of clay. When Jeronimus is challenged by his own wife (Magdelone), and
when Leonard is challenged by his own daughter (Leonora) and her maidservant
(Pernille), cracks appear in the façade and the two men overplay the essence of
their roles: Jeronimus becomes an outright despot, tyrannising his household;
Leonard’s moderation implodes under pressure, and out pops his structural smallmindedness.
Jeronimus has particular difficulty in controlling his son and Henrik
the servant, both of whom have a stronger urge to party than to respect the paternal
rulebook. When matters of the heart disrupt the chain of command, the fathers
find themselves negotiating uncharted terrain.
21

Henrik champions the masquerade with (on the face of it) social arguments.
Leonard stands up for the masquerade on philosophical and moral grounds. Nevertheless,
none of the characters in the play are serving as a spokesperson advocating
the playwright’s opinions. Or rather: in one way or another, they are all doing
just that. Jeronimus sometimes expresses critical opinions with which Holberg
would agree. Even the servant Arv, albeit something of a killjoy, occasionally
approximates a view shared by his playwright. Holberg does not work in any
banal sense with ‘good’ and ‘evil’, ‘wise’ and ‘stupid’ characters; as a bona fide
dramatist, he engages his audience in a dialectic-dialogic arc.
The very concept of the masquerade undermines the patriarchal ideology
imbued with fixed social roles defined on the basis of, for example, gender and class.
Anyone ascribing absolute authority to that roleplay lives in an illusion. Henrik is
a knowing roleplayer; he has no illusions; with his contempt for a stagnated ideology,
he dances along to the anarchic tune of the masquerade.
For a detailed analysis of Masquerade, see:
Holm, Bent, Ludvig Holberg, A Danish Playwright on the European Stage, Hollitzer
Verlag, Vienna 2018, pp. 90–109.
22

MASQUERADE
by
Ludvig Holberg
1723/24
23

Masquerade
Play in 3 Acts
24

Characters:
Jeronimus
Magdelone
Leander
Henrik
Arv
Leonard
Leonora
Pernille
Woman
Man
Two soldiers
Boy
Town watchmen
a townsman
his wife
their son
Leander’s servant
an outdoor servant
a townsman
his daughter
Leonora’s maidservant
delivering masquerade costumes
delivering masquerade masks
25

ACT 1
Scene 1
LEANDER, HENRIK
LEANDER
HENRIK
LEANDER
HENRIK
LEANDER
HENRIK
LEANDER
HENRIK
LEANDER
HENRIK
LEANDER
HENRIK
(in his morning robe, rubbing his eyes) Henrik, what’s the time?
(yawning) Time must be on the way to breakfast, sir, but I
don’t know why we have to get up so early. Just look at the
clock, sir.
Good heavens! Is this possible? Can we really have slept so
long, four hours past dinner? My timepiece says four o’clock.
Ay, that is not possible, sir, it must be four o’clock in the
morning.
You think it’s as light as this at four o’clock in January!
Then the sun can’t be going right. It can’t possibly be
afternoon; we’ve only just got up.
Even if the sun’s not going right, I know my pocket watch
isn’t going wrong; it’s an English watch. 1
Ehh sir, the workings of pocket watches and sundials are
guided by the sun. If you now try to put the sun back to
ten or nine, sir, just you see how the watch will straightway
advance back. No doubt in my mind.
What hogwash. You’re obviously still drunk from the
masquerade.
(yawning) In a word, sir, if it’s only four o’clock, then it’s four
o’clock in the morning.
But we didn’t get home from the masquerade until four
o’clock.
I do actually feel rather hungry. But there’s Arv. I’ll ask him
what time it is.
1 A guarantee of its quality and accuracy. On misleading descriptions in the book trade, Holberg
later commented (Epistle 126, 1748) that “[…] no shopkeeper hesitates to pass off homemade as
English clothing, and no clockmaker has any scruples about putting London on a pocket watch
made in Copenhagen.”
26

Scene 2
HENRIK, ARV, LEANDER
HENRIK
ARV
HENRIK
ARV
LEANDER
Good morning, Arv. What’s the time?
Had you had as many calamities as there are hours since this
morning, you could be a moneyed man.
So what’s the time now?
The clock is hanging on the steeple, and you ought to be
hanging on the gallows.
Oh hark that ill-bred pillock. Tell me the time, will you?
ARV It’s four o’clock, monsir. 2
LEANDER
ARV
LEANDER
HENRIK
ARV
HENRIK
ARV
LEANDER
ARV
LEANDER
ARV
So is it after dinner then?
According to time-honoured reckoning, then it’s past dinner
when it’s four o’clock in the afternoon.
There you have it, Henrik, my pocket watch is working.
The devil take these conventions. Now I’ve slept through my
nice dinner. What did we have for dinner, Arv?
Sweet sago soup, and dried cod.
And you’ve of course left some for me?
No. We gave your share to Sultan the guard dog; because the
master says that anyone who doesn’t come to the table at the
right time may not have any food. You could try getting it
back from Sultan.
Did Papa dine at home?
Yes, he ate in his cage, as he usually does.
Fool! I’m not asking about the parrot, I’m asking about my
father.
No, the master ate with the stranger, Monsieur Leonard,
today.
2 Holberg’s characters use several pronunciation versions of ‘monsieur’, a common form of address
for men at the time. They also use ‘Seigneur’ and ‘Mamselle’ as forms of address.
27

LEANDER
(ARV leaves)
HENRIK
LEANDER
HENRIK
LEANDER
HENRIK
LEANDER
HENRIK
LEANDER
HENRIK
LEANDER
HENRIK
LEANDER
HENRIK
It’s fortunate, Henrik, that my father didn’t dine at
home, otherwise he would have found out we were at the
masquerade.
Will you not go in and dress, sir; because your father might
arrive at any moment, and it looks a little suspicious to be
wearing a morning robe so late in the day.
If he is with my future father-in-law, then he won’t be
coming so soon.
If I may, sir. Your future sweetheart, is she attractive?
I really have no idea.
It’s odd to marry someone you’ve never seen.
I saw her when she was six years old, at which point she
looked like she would turn out very pretty.
So how old is she now?
Eighteen.
Good heavens, the lustre could have worn off in all that time.
But people say she’s still pretty. I’m going over there
tomorrow, so I’ll see if it’s true. If she is not as she has been
described to me, then the visit will end at the civilities. But
let’s go in and see if we can get some food; time is flying
by. We’ll be off to the masquerade again at eight.
Ay, excellent. I expect lots of fillies there this evening.
It is to be regretted, Henrik, that so many common girls show up.
Eh, sir, that’s the blessing of the masquerade, everyone’s
treated alike as peas in a pod. Besides, all the mamselles I’ll
be seeing are quality folk, I can assure you. There’s one of
the mayor’s housemaids, Per the saddler’s daughter, Else the
schoolmaster’s daughter, Lisbed the bitter-orange-seller’s
youngest daughter (because her eldest has the toothache),
along with three other lovely unattached girls who live off
their assets. 3
3 The ‘toothache’ is most likely a euphemism for pregnancy; ‘live off their assets’ is most likely a
euphemism for prostitution.
28

LEANDER
HENRIK
LEANDER
HENRIK
LEANDER
HENRIK
No truer word, Henrik, all quality folk, particularly the
three who live off their assets.
But here comes the lady of the house.
My mother is welcome. Perhaps I can persuade her to come
along to the masquerade this evening.
Well that would be fun. I shall, upon my word, dance with
her.
If she doesn’t recognise you, then that might very well be the
case.
Consider it done. I’ll make sure I’m masked in such a way
that she won’t recognise me.
29

MAGDELONE
LEANDER
MAGDELONE
LEANDER
MAGDELONE
LEANDER
MAGDELONE
LEANDER
MAGDELONE
LEANDER
MAGDELONE
LEANDER
MAGDELONE
(She sings and dances)
HENRIK
MAGDELONE
HENRIK
MAGDELONE
Scene 3
MAGDELONE, LEANDER, HENRIK
My dear son, how was the masquerade last night?
How does Mama know that I was there?
I heard it from Arv.
That lad can never keep his mouth shut. But it doesn’t matter,
so long as my father doesn’t get to hear about it.
Do old ladies attend the masquerade, too?
We don’t refuse anyone entry, young and old alike attend.
If an old lady is not refused entry, then I know someone who
would like to attend this evening.
Which lady would that be?
That would be me myself.
Why, faith, not a bad idea, on condition that it is done in so
artful a fashion that my father doesn’t get to hear of it.
Ay, how would he get to hear of it? He is early to bed and late
to rise. I shall say that I am unwell this evening, then he’ll
sleep on his own.
That could work, but can Mama dance?
Dance? Yes, upon my word I can, look at this.
Good heavens! My lady’s feet are going like drumsticks.
In my youth, I could dance every dance in the book up to and
including the Folie d’Espagne. See, it goes like this. (dances
and sings a Folie d’Espagne) 4
That went admirably, I must say. Ah, give us another
folie, good lady.
No, I shall save my legs for this evening. But there is my husband.
I hope he didn’t see me dancing.
4 French version of the originally Iberian La Folia, an old European musical theme – here accompanying
a dance.
30

Scene 4
JERONIMUS, MAGDELONE, HENRIK, LEANDER
JERONIMUS
MAGDELONE
JERONIMUS
MAGDELONE
JERONIMUS
MAGDELONE
JERONIMUS
MAGDELONE
JERONIMUS
HENRIK
MAGDELONE
JERONIMUS
(has a little beard) 5 Are you all just standing here, my dears,
so idle? Is there nothing to occupy you in the house?
I am incapable of doing anything today, dear heart. For, faith,
I have as if a fever in my body, so I fear I shall have a restless
night tonight.
That pains me to hear. Is it in your head?
Ah yes. It feels as if my head were cloven.
Are you also thirsty?
Intolerably. And I have such restlessness in my body, too, that
I must sleep alone this night.
Indeed, you are more than welcome. But since you have a
bout of fever, you must act before it is too late. You must be
bled.
Ah no, dear heart, to be sure, I am not so very ill that I must
resort to bleeding.
What nonsense. Do you really want to be bedridden with a
fever tomorrow? Henrik, run and fetch Master Herman, 6 and
request him to come hither and bleed my wife.
(aside) Good heavens! How is this going to turn out?
Ah no, my dear husband!
Hush, dear heart, I shall be the judge of that. Let me feel
your pulse. Good heavens, it is high time you were bled. I
detect an imbalance in your veins. 7 Off you go immediately,
5 Beards had fallen out of fashion at the time the play was written, so Jeronimus is being characterised
as an old-fashioned gent, and in Act 3, scene 7 it is this beard that leads to him being thought
Jewish.
6 Master Herman, the barber, appears in several of Holberg’s plays; at the time, barbers also undertook
procedures that were later the domain of medical doctors (bleeding, treating sores and
fractures, for example).
7 Reference to the Ancient Greek theory of the ‘humours’, still current in the early 18th century,
whereby the body was a system of four fluid ‘humours’ or ‘temperaments’: blood, phlegm, black
bile and yellow bile. Any imbalance of these vital fluids could cause physical illnesses or personality
disturbances.
31

MAGDELONE
JERONIMUS
LEANDER
JERONIMUS
LEANDER
JERONIMUS
LEANDER
JERONIMUS
HENRIK
Henrik, and request him to attend personally; for I do not
trust any of his assistants in this matter.
Ah, my very dearest husband, just allow me to wait and see
for an hour or so first.
An hour or so will make no difference. But you will, upon
my word, be bled before you go to bed. And you, young
buck, why are you still in your morning robe at this advanced
hour. You were perhaps, as usual, out late last night?
No, in faith, I was not. I have been busy writing all day long.
I would wish that were the case, and that the time will come
when you might adopt a sober-minded life style. You are
already of an age when you ought to start thinking more
sensibly and abandon the coxcombry for which you have a
penchant.
But I have never committed any excesses other than those
committed by most young people in this town.
Meaning: you have sometimes partaken of lavish banquets,
gambled away your money, chased women and lived like a
veritable Jean de France. 8 There is nothing odious in this; for
most young people live in a similar fashion.
So did you, Papa, live a restrained life in your youth?
In my youth, people lived in an entirely different fashion,
albeit we had twice as much money. There were only four
closed carriages in the whole town. Distinguished persons
were seen being guided home by their maidservants carrying
lanterns. Were the weather bad, you wore boots. In my
youth, I had no idea what it was like to ride in a carriage.
Now, however, you cannot walk three paces without having a
servant idling at your heels, or pass along a street without the
services of a conveyance.
Then the streets can’t have been so mucky as they are now.
8 Title character from Holberg’s play Jean de France, first performance 1722, in which ‘Jean’ (real
name: Hans Frandsen) is ridiculed for his fixation with all things French. He also features in
Witchcraft, or False Alarm (see Ludvig Holberg: Plays, Volume II).
32

JERONIMUS
MAGDELONE
HENRIK
MAGDELONE
That is true, the streets were clean. But what causes their
uncleanness other than all those coaches? In the old days,
fine folk walked to Gyldenlund, 9 but it is now considered
ignominious to walk beyond the town gates. Is what I say not
true, my dear wife?
Certainly. I lived in my parents’ house as if living in a
convent.
You poor lady.
Thus, I now have no desire for worldly foolishness; for I
acquired no taste for it in my youth.
9 Gyldenlund: now Charlottenlund Forest and Castle, just north of Copenhagen. The area had been
taken over by King Christian IV in 1622 and laid out as a deer park. In 1663, King Frederik III had
given permission for the area to include an inn and entertainment (and a brothel). Around 1672,
one of the king’s illegitimate children, Ulrik Frederik Gyldenløve, took over the area, which then
became known as Gyldenlund (‘golden grove’). In 1682, the area returned to the Crown and in
1690 Christian V built a small castle, rebuilt in 1733 and renamed Charlottenlund Slot (Castle).
33

Scene 5
A WOMAN (carrying masquerade costumes), JERONIMUS, MAGDELONE, HENRIK
WOMAN
JERONIMUS
MAGDELONE
JERONIMUS
WOMAN
JERONIMUS
WOMAN
MAGDELONE
HENRIK
JERONIMUS
MAGDELONE
WOMAN
HENRIK
WOMAN
MAGDELONE
JERONIMUS
My dear lady, here is the masquerade costume you ordered.
I’m quite sure it will fit you.
What the devil is this? Are you going to the masquerade?
She must have come to the wrong place, my dear husband.
To whom shall the masquerade costume be delivered,
clothier?
To the lady who has ordered it for this evening.
You have been hoodwinked, my child. It is not for my wife.
That’s strange, she sent for me half an hour ago.
Shame on you, lying about me like that.
She’s drunk, sir, plumes of snaps 10 are rising from her throat
like smoke from a chimney.
Go home and sleep it off, goodwife.
How hideous a spectacle is a drunken woman.
(weeping) No one is telling the truth when accusing me of
drinking. I might be poor, but I am nonetheless honest.
(aside) If she wasn’t bled before, then she surely will be now.
She stood there just half an hour ago and spoke with me and
said she was going to the masquerade and asked me to provide
her with a lovely costume. Yes, really, that she did. I am
neither drunk nor crazy.
Get away from me, woman, I can’t stand that stench of snaps.
If you do not leave, I shall have you marched off to spin yarn
in the house of correction.
10 A Danish form of aquavit with a high alcohol content.
34

A MAN
WOMAN
JERONIMUS
Scene 6
A MAN, WOMAN, JERONIMUS, MAGDELONE
(enters carrying a selection of masks) Here are some masks, my
lady, now you can choose the one that fits best, but they cost
two rix-dollars 11 apiece.
Can you see now, sir, that I’m neither drunk nor crazy?
Aaah! This is disgraceful. Now I understand where that fever
comes from, that restlessness in your body, why you want to
sleep on your own.
MAGDELONE But my dear husband ...
JERONIMUS
MAGDELONE
JERONIMUS
(They leave)
Hush, you cannot dress this up to look any better than it is.
A woman of your age going to a masquerade! What a fine
example to set young people, particularly your child and the
servants.
I just the once wanted to see what goes on there, so I would
then be better equipped to reprimand others.
A splendid excuse! Just you stay indoors with no further ado,
madam, and keep out of everyone’s sight for a few days until
you have done penance. And you others, with your masks and
masquerade costumes, if you ever come to my house again
with such fripperies, I shall see to it that you have your arms
and legs broken.
11 Former northern European silver coin and money of account used for domestic and trading purposes.
One Danish rigsdaler was of not inconsiderable value.
35