diff options
| author | Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org> | 2025-10-15 05:29:31 -0700 |
|---|---|---|
| committer | Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org> | 2025-10-15 05:29:31 -0700 |
| commit | 33490817f103ce0a59e2581ed1f165b29295872d (patch) | |
| tree | 48be18b5a5b15bf57f52e90f8c625ad07b06e719 | |
| -rw-r--r-- | .gitattributes | 3 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | 7363-8.txt | 5941 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | 7363-8.zip | bin | 0 -> 88154 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 7363-h.zip | bin | 0 -> 93924 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 7363-h/7363-h.htm | 7770 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | 7363.txt | 5941 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | 7363.zip | bin | 0 -> 88103 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | LICENSE.txt | 11 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | README.md | 2 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/7olof10.txt | 6182 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/7olof10.zip | bin | 0 -> 89426 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/8olof10.txt | 6182 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/8olof10.zip | bin | 0 -> 89484 bytes |
13 files changed, 32032 insertions, 0 deletions
diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/7363-8.txt b/7363-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..28d3709 --- /dev/null +++ b/7363-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,5941 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Master Olof, by August Strindberg + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Master Olof + A Drama in Five Acts + +Author: August Strindberg + +Release Date: January, 2005 [EBook #7363] +Posting Date: August 7, 2009 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MASTER OLOF *** + + + + +Produced by Nicole Apostola + + + + + +MASTER OLOF + +A DRAMA IN FIVE ACTS + + +By August Strindberg + + + + +INTRODUCTION + +The original prose version of Master Olof, which is here presented for +the first time in English form, was written between June 8 and August +8, 1872, while Strindberg, then only twenty-three years old, was living +with two friends on one of the numerous little islands that lie between +Stockholm and the open sea. + +Up to that time he had produced half-a-dozen plays, one of which had +been performed at the Royal Theatre of Stockholm and had won him the +good-will and financial support of King Carl XV. Thus he had been able +to return to the University of Upsala, whence he had been driven a year +earlier by poverty as well as by spiritual revolt. During his second +term of study at the old university Strindberg wrote some plays that +he subsequently destroyed. In the same period he not only conceived the +idea later developed in Master Olof, but he also acquired the historical +data underlying the play and actually began to put it into dialogue. + +During that same winter of 1871-72 he read extensively, although his +reading probably had slight reference to the university curriculum. The +two works that seem to have taken the lion's share of his attention were +Goethe's youthful drama Goetz von Berlichingen and Buckle's History of +Civilization in England. Both impressed him deeply, and both became in +his mind logically connected with an external event which, perhaps, had +touched his supersensitive soul more keenly than anything else: an event +concerning which he says in the third volume of The Bondwoman's Son, +that "he had just discovered that the men of the Paris Commune merely +put into action what Buckle preached." + +Such were the main influences at work on his mind when, early in +1872, his royal protector died, and Strindberg found himself once more +dependent on his own resources. To continue at the university was out +of the question, and he seems to have taken his final departure from it +without the least feeling of regret. Unwise as he may have been in other +respects, he was wise enough to realize that, whatever his goal, the +road to it must be of his own making. Returning to Stockholm, he groped +around for a while as he had done a year earlier, what he even tried to +eke out a living as the editor of a trade journal. Yet the seeds sown +within him during the previous winter were sprouting. An irresistible +impulse urged him to continue the work of Buckle. History and philosophy +were the ultimate ends tempting his mind, but first of all he was +impelled to express himself in terms of concrete life, and the way had +been shown him by Goethe. Moved by Goethe's example, he felt himself +obliged to break through the stifling forms of classical drama. +"No verse, no eloquence, no unity of place," was the resolution he +formulated straightway. [Note: See again The Bondwoman's Son, vol. iii: +In the Red Room.] + +Having armed himself with a liberal supply of writing-paper, he joined +his two friends in the little island of Kymmendö. Of money he had so +little that, but for the generosity of one of his friends, he would have +had to leave the island in the autumn without settling the small debt +he owed for board and lodging. Yet those months were happy indeed--above +all because he felt himself moved by an inspiration more authentic than +he had ever before experienced. Thus page was added to page, and act to +act, until at last, in the surprisingly brief time of two months, the +whole play was ready--mighty in bulk and spirit, as became the true +firstling of a young Titan. + +Strindberg had first meant to name his play "What Is Truth?" For a while +he did call it "The Renegade," but in the end he thought both titles +smacked too much of tendency and decided instead, with reasoned +conventionalism, to use the title of Master Olof after its central +figure, the Luther of Sweden. + +From a dramatic point of view it would have been hard to pick a more +promising period than the one he had chosen as a setting for his play. +The early reign of Gustaf Vasa, the founder of modern Sweden, was marked +by three parallel conflicts of equal intensity and interest: between +Swedish and Danish nationalism; between Catholicism and Protestantism; +and, finally, between feudalism and a monarchism based more or less on +the consent of the governed. Its background was the long struggle for +independent national existence in which the country had become involved +by its voluntary federation with Denmark and Norway about the end of the +fourteenth century. That Struggle--made necessary by the insistence of +one sovereign after another on regarding Sweden as a Danish province +rather than as an autonomous part of a united Scandinavia--had reached a +sort of climax, a final moment of utter blackness just before the dawn, +when, at Stockholm in 1520, the Danish king, known ever afterward as +Christian the Tyrant, commanded the arbitrary execution of about eighty +of Sweden's most representative men. + +Until within a few months of that event, named by the horror-stricken +people "the blood-bath of Stockholm," the young Gustaf Eriksson Vasa had +been a prisoner in Denmark, sent there as a hostage of Swedish loyalty. +Having obtained his freedom by flight, he made his way to the inland +province of Dalecarlia, where most of the previous movements on behalf +of national liberty had originated, and having cleared the country of +foreign invaders, chiefly by the help of an aroused peasantry that had +never known the yoke of serfdom, he was elected king at a Riksdag held +in the little city of Strängnäs, not far from Stockholm, in 1523. + +Strängnäs was a cathedral city and had for several years previous been +notorious for the Lutheran leanings of its clergy. After the death of +its bishop as one of the victims of King; Christian, its temporary head +had been the archdeacon, the ambitious and learned Lars Andersson--or +Laurentius Andreae, as, in accordance with the Latinizing tendency +of the time, he was more frequently named. One of its canons was Olof +Pedersson--also known as Olaus Petri, and more commonly as Master Olof +(Master being the vernacular for Magister, which was the equivalent +of our modern Doctor)--who, during two years spent in studies at the +University of Wittenberg, had been in personal contact with Luther, and +who had become fired with an aspiration to carry the Reformation into +his native country. By recent historians Master Olof has been described +as of a "naively humble nature," rather melancholy in temperament, +but endowed with a gift for irony, and capable of fiery outbursts when +deeply stirred. At Strängnäs he had been preaching the new faith more +openly and more effectively than any one else, and he had found a pupil +as well as a protector in the temporary head of the diocese. + +Immediately after his election, the new King called Lars Andersson from +Strängnäs to become his first chancellor. Later on, he pressed Olof, +too, into his service, making him Secretary to the City Corporation +of Stockholm--which meant that Olof practically became the chief +civil administrator of the capital, having to act as both clerk and +magistrate, while at the same time he was continuing his reformatory +propaganda as one of the preachers in the city's principal edifice, +officially named after St. Nicolaus, but commonly spoken of as +Greatchurch. As if this were not sufficient for one man, he plunged also +into a feverish literary activity, doing most of the work on the Swedish +translations of the New and Old Testaments, and paving the way for the +new faith by a series of vigorous polemical writings, the style of which +proclaims him the founder of modern Swedish prose. Centuries passed +before the effective simplicity and homely picturesqueness of his style +were surpassed. He became, furthermore, Sweden's first dramatist. The +Comedy of Tobit, from which Strindberg uses a few passages in slightly +modernized form at the beginning of his play, is now generally +recognized as an authentic product of Olof's pen, although it was not +written until a much later period. + +Strindberg's drama starts at Strängnäs, at the very moment when Olof has +been goaded into open revolt against the abuses of the Church, and when +he is saved from the consequences of that revolt only by the unexpected +arrival of King Gustaf and his own appointment as City Secretary. From +the slightly strained, but not improbable, coincidence of that start +to the striking climax of the last act, the play follows, on the whole, +pretty closely the actual course of events recorded in history. To +understand this course, with its gradually intensified conflict between +the King and Olof, it is above all necessary to bear in mind that the +former regarded the Reformation principally as a means toward that +political reorganization and material upbuilding of the country which +formed his main task; while to Olof the religious reconstruction assumed +supreme importance. This fundamental divergence of purpose is clearly +indicated and effectively used by Strindberg, and we have reason to +believe that he has pictured not only Gustaf Vasa and Master Olof, but +also the other historical characters, in close accordance with what +history has to tell us about them. Among the chief figures there is only +one--Gert the Printer--who is not known to history, and one--the wife of +Olof--who is so little known that the playwright has been at liberty to +create it almost wholly out of his own imagination. + +At the juncture represented by the initial scenes of the play, Olof was +in reality thirty-one years old, but he is made to appear still younger. +The King should be, and is, about twenty-seven, while Lars Andersson is +about fifty-four, and Bishop Brask about seventy. Gert must be thought a +man of about sixty, while Christine must be about twenty. The action +of the play lasts from 1524 to 1540, but Strindberg has contracted the +general perspective, so to speak, giving us the impression that the +entire action takes place within a couple of years. I have tried to work +out a complete chronology, and think it fairly safe to date the several +parts of the play as follows: + +The first act takes place on Whitsun Eve, 1524, which means that the +exact date must fall between May 10 and June 13 of that year, and +probably about June 1. + +The first scene of the second act occurs in the early evening of a +Saturday in the summer--probably in June--of 1524. The second scene is +fixed at midnight of the same day, and the third scene on the following +morning, which, in view of the fact that Olof is to preach, we may +assume to be a Sunday. + +The first scene of the third act seems to take place four days later, +but Olof was not married until February, 1525,--to "Christine, a maiden +of good family,"--and it was only during the winter of 1526-27 that the +Church reformers were given free rein by the King, and Olof himself was +despatched to the University of Upsala for the purpose of challenging +Peder Galle, the noted Catholic theologian, to a joint discussion. This +was also the time when the first Swedish version of the New Testament +was completed by Olof and Lars Andersson--an event referred to in the +scene in question. + +The exact date of the second scene of the third act is St. John's +Eve, or June 24, 1527, at which time occurred the important Riksdag at +Vesterås, where the King broke the final resistance of the nobility and +the Catholic clergy by threatening to abdicate. The debate between Olof +and Peder Galle took place at the Riksdag, Galle having evaded it as +long as he could. + +The date of the fourth act is very uncertain, but it seems safe to place +it in the summer of 1539, when Stockholm was ravaged by an epidemic of a +virulent disease known as "the English sweat." + +The first scene of the fifth act is laid on New Year's Eve, 1539, when +Olof and Lars Andersson were arrested and charged with high treason for +not having informed the proper authorities of a plot against the King's +life. This plot was an old story, having been exposed and punished +in 1536. Their defence was that they had learned of it through secret +confession, which they as ministers had no right to reveal. The trial +took only two days, and on January 2, 1540, both were sentenced to +death. + +The second scene of the final act must be laid in the spring of 1540, as +the ceremony of confirmation has generally taken place about Easter ever +since the Swedish church became Lutheran. + +While, in the main, Strindberg made the events of his play accord +with what was accepted as historical fact when he wrote, there are +anachronisms and inaccuracies to be noted, although to none of them +can be attached much importance. When, in the first and second acts, he +represents the Anabaptist leaders, Rink and Knipperdollink, as then +in Stockholm and actually introduces one of them on the stage, he has +merely availed himself of a legend which had been accepted as truth +for centuries, and which has been exploded only by recent historical +research. We know now that Rink and Knipperdollink could never have been +in Sweden, but we know also that a German lay preacher named Melchior +Hofman appeared at Stockholm about the time indicated in the play, and +that, in 1529, another such preacher, named Tilemann, made Olof himself +the object of his fierce invectives. These instances serve, in fact, to +prove how skilfully Strindberg handled his historical material. He is +never rigid as to fact, but as a rule he is accurate in spirit. Another +instance of this kind is found in the references in the first act to the +use of Swedish for purposes of worship. It is recorded--and by himself, +I think--that Olof once asked his mother whether she really understood +the Latin prayers, since she was so very fond of them. She answered: +"No, I don't understand them, but when I hear them I pray devoutly to +God that they may please Him, which I don't doubt they do." + +On the other hand, what maybe regarded as rather an awkward slip is +found in the first scene of the fifth act, where Gert cries exultantly +to Olof: "You don't know that Thomas Münster has established a new +spiritual kingdom at Mühlhausen." The name of the great Anabaptist +"prophet" was Thomas Münzer, and the place where he established his +brief reign was Münster. Strindberg's habit was to fill his head with +the facts to be used, and then to rely on his memory. Marvellous as his +memory was, it sometimes deceived him, and checking off names or dates +seems to have been utterly beyond him. Thus it is quite probable that +the passage in question represents an unconscious error. At the same +time it is barely possible that the mistake may have been purposely laid +in the mouth of a fanatic, from whom exactness of statement could hardly +be expected. Thus, in the first act, Gert remarks that "Luther is +dead." We understand, of course, that this expression is metaphorical, +signifying that Luther has done all that can be expected of him, but it +is nevertheless characteristically ambiguous. + +The second scene of the third act is apparently laid in Olof's house +at Stockholm, although the location of the building is not definitely +indicated. We find him waiting for a messenger who is to announce the +results of the Riksdag then in session. But the Riksdag was held at +Vesterås, and we know that Olof was one of two delegates sent by the +burghers and the peasants to the King, whom they implored "on their +knees and with tears" to withdraw his abdication. The Courtier's +reference to Olof's debate with Galle renders it still more uncertain +whether we are in Stockholm or in Vesterås. The Courtier also informs +Olof of his appointment as pastor of Greatchurch, the facts being that +Olof was not ordained until 1539 and received his appointment a year +after the events described in the last act of the play. In the metrical +version, Strindberg makes his most radical departure from the historical +course of events by letting Luther's marriage precede and influence +that of Olof, although in reality Olof's anticipated that of Luther by +several months. + +The complaints of the Man from Småland in the first scene of the second +act could scarcely have been warranted in 1524, when that act takes +place. The hold of the young King was far too precarious at that +early date to permit any regulations of the kind referred to. The +establishment of a maximum price on oxen does not seem to have occurred +until 1532, and a prohibition against the shooting of deer by the +peasants was actually issued in 1538, both measures helping to provoke +the widespread uprising that broke out in Småland in 1541. It was named +the "Dacke feud" after its principal leader, the peasant-chieftain +Nils Dacke, to whom the Sexton refers in the second scene of the last +act--also a little prematurely. + +Whether these be conscious or unconscious anachronisms, they matter very +little when the general accuracy of the play is considered. From the +moment the Danes had been driven out of the country, one of the most +serious problems confronting the King was the financial chaos into which +the country had fallen, and his efforts, first of all to raise enough +means for ordinary administrative purposes, and secondly to reorganize +trade and agriculture, brought him almost immediately into conflict with +the peasants, who, during the long struggle for national independence, +had become accustomed to do pretty much as they pleased. The utterances +of the Man from Småland are typical of the sentiments that prevailed +among the peasants throughout the country, not least when he speaks of +the King's intention to "take away their priests and friars," for +the majority of the Swedish people were at that time still intensely +Catholic, and remained so to a large extent long after the Reformation +officially had placed Sweden among Protestant countries. + +Much more serious than any liberties taken with dates or facts, I deem +certain linguistic anachronisms, of which Strindberg not rarely becomes +guilty. Thus, for instance, he makes the King ask Bishop Brask: "What +kind of phenomenon is this?" The phrase is palpably out of place, and +yet it has been used so deliberately that nothing was left for me to +do but to translate it literally. The truth is that Strindberg was not +striving to reproduce the actual language of the Period--a language of +which we get a glimpse in the quotations from The Comedy of Tobit. Here +and there he used archaic expressions (which I have sometimes reproduced +and sometimes disregarded, as the exigencies of the new medium happened +to require). At other times he did not hesitate to employ modern +colloquialisms (most of which have been "toned down"). He did not regard +local color or historical atmosphere as a supreme desideratum. He wanted +to express certain ideas, and he wanted to bring home the essential +humanity of historical figures which, through the operations of +legendary history, had assumed a strange, unhuman aspect. The methods +he employed for these purposes have since been made familiar to the +English-speaking public by the historical plays of Bernard Shaw and the +short stories and novels of Anatole France. + +In his eagerness, however, to express what was burning for utterance in +his own breast, the second purpose was sometimes lost sight of; and at +such times Strindberg hesitated as little to pass the bounds imposed +by an historical period as to break through the much more important +limitations of class and personal antecedents. Thus, for example, +the remarks of Olof's mother are at one moment characterized by the +simplicity to be expected from the aged widow of a small city tradesman +in the early part of the sixteenth century, while in the next--under +the pressure of the author's passion for personal expression--they +grow improbably sophisticated. Yet each figure, when seen in proper +perspective, appears correctly drawn and strikingly consistent with +the part assigned to it in the play. In his very indifference to minor +accuracies, Strindberg sometimes approaches more closely to the larger +truth than men more scrupulous in regard to details. How true he can be +in his delineation of a given type is perhaps best shown by the figure +of Gert. The world's literature holds few portrayals of the anarchistic +temperament that can vie with it in psychological exactness, and it is +as true to-day as it was in 1524 or in 1872. + +This verisimilitude on a universal rather than a specific plane assumes +still greater significance if we consider it in the light of what +Strindberg has told us about his purpose with the main characters of his +first great play. As I have already said, those characters were meant +to be both mouthpieces of the author and revived historical figures, but +they were also meant--and primarily, I suspect--to be something else: +embodiments of the contradictory phases of a single individual, namely +the author himself. + +"The author meant to hide his own self behind the historical +characters," Strindberg tells us, apropos of this very play. [Note: In +one of his biographical novels, The Bondwoman's Son, vol. iii: In +the Red Room.] "As an idealist he was to be represented by Olof; as a +realist by Gustaf; and as a communist by Gert." Farther on in the same +work, he continues his revelation as follows: "The King and his shadow, +the shrewd Constable, represented himself [the author] as he wished to +be; Gert, as he was in moments of aroused passion; and Olof, as, after +years of self-scrutiny, he had come to know himself: ambitious and +weak-willed; unscrupulous when something was at stake, and yielding +at other times; possessed of great self-confidence, mixed with a deep +melancholy; balanced and irrational; hard and gentle." + +Finally, he gives us this illuminating exposition of his own views on +the moral validity of the main characters, thus disposing once for all +of the one-sided interpretations made by persons anxious to use this +or that aspect of the play in support of their own political or social +idiosyncrasies: "All the chief characters are, relatively speaking, in +the right. The Constable, from the standpoint of his own day, is right +in asking Olof to keep calm and go on preaching; Olof is right in +admitting that he had gone too far; the scholar, Vilhelm, is right when, +in the name of youth, he demands the evolution of a new truth; and Gert +is right in calling Olof a renegade. The individual must always become +a renegade--forced by the necessity of natural laws; by fatigue; by +inability to develop indefinitely, as the brain ceases to grow about the +age of forty-five; and by the claims of actual life, which demand that +even a reformer must live as man, mate, head of a family, and +citizen. But those who crave that the individual continue his progress +indefinitely are the shortsighted--particularly those who think that the +cause must perish because the individual deserts it.... It is an open +question, for that matter, whether Olof did not have a better chance to +advance his cause from the pulpit of the reformed Greatchurch than he +would have had in low-class taverns." + +These passages were written by Strindberg fourteen years after the +completion of the play to which they refer. We have other evidence, +however, that, while he might have seen things more clearly in +retrospect, he had not been lured by the lapse of time into placing his +characters in a light different from that in which they were conceived. +On the list of characters forming part of the original handwritten +manuscript of the first version of Master Olof, now preserved in the +Public Library of Gothenburg, Sweden, the author has jotted down certain +very significant notes opposite the more important names. Thus he has +written opposite the name of the King: "To accomplish something in this +world, one has to risk morality and conscience;" opposite the name +of Olof: "He who strives to realize an idea develops greatness of +personality--he accomplishes good by his personal example, but he is +doomed to perish;" opposite that of Bishop Brask: "There is movement in +whatever exists--whatever stands still must be crushed;" and opposite +that of Gert: "He who wills more than his reason can grasp must go mad." + +Such was the play with which the young Strindberg returned to the +Swedish capital in the fall of 1872; and let us remember in this +connection, that up to the time in question no dramatic work of similar +importance had ever been produced in Sweden. Its completion was more +epoch-making for Sweden than that of Brand was for Norway in 1865--since +the coming of Ibsen's first really great play was heralded by earlier +works leading up to it, while Master Olof appeared where nobody had any +reason to expect it. This very fact militated against its success, of +course; it was too unexpected, and also too startlingly original, both +in spirit and in form. + +At the time there was only one stage in Sweden where such a work could +be produced--the Royal Theatre at Stockholm. To the officials of this +state--supported institution Strindberg submitted his work--hopefully, +as we know from his own statement. It was scornfully and ignominiously +rejected, the main criticism being that a serious historical drama +in prose was unthinkable. I shall make no comment whatever on that +judgment, having in mind how several years later Edmund Gosse bewailed +the failure of Ibsen to give a metrical form to his Emperor and +Galilean. + +Strindberg's next effort concerned publication. In this respect he +was equally unsuccessful, although as a rule it has never been very +difficult in Sweden to find a publisher for any work of reasonable +merit. But the play was not only too original, it was too dangerously +radical for a country where a truly modern form of representative +government had not been achieved until seven years earlier. Strindberg +was at first stunned by this failure. He seriously contemplated +giving up writing altogether. When he had recovered somewhat, he seems +reluctantly to have faced the possibility that the fault might be found +in the play and not in the public. + +So he set about to re-write it--and he did so not only once but +repeatedly, producing in all six versions that differ more or less from +one another. At first he clung to the prose form. Gradually he began to +introduce verse, until finally, in 1877 or 1878, he completed an almost +new play, where the metrical form predominated without being used +exclusively. This version was actually published in 1878. Originally, an +epilogue was appended to it, but this was dropped from all but a small +part of the first edition. It is supposed to take place a number of +years later than the fifth act, and shows Olof with his two sons +outside the city walls of Stockholm, where they witness a miracle-play +introducing God as the principle of darkness and Lucifer as the +overthrown but never conquered principle of light. The bitter +generalizations of this afterthought explain Sufficiently why it +was excluded. To the later Strindberg--the man who wrote Advent, for +instance--it must have seemed one of his most unforgivable offences. + +Although Strindberg's main object in working over his play undoubtedly +was to obtain its production, the metrical version was not put on the +stage until 1890, when, however, it was performed at the Royal Theatre, +toward which its author had looked so longingly and so vainly eighteen +years earlier. The prose version, on the other hand, was produced as +early as 1881, at the New Theatre in Stockholm, but was not published +until the same year, when it appeared in book form grouped with a number +of other writings from Strindberg's earliest period. + +Of the five unprinted versions connecting the original prose drama +of 1872 with the final metrical form of 1878, more or less complete +manuscripts have been preserved, and these are now being examined in +detail by the Swedish literary historian, Professor Karl Warburg. A +summary analysis by Dr. John Landquist is appended to the second +volume of the definitive edition of Strindberg's complete works (Albert +Bonnier, Stockholm), where the epilogue to the metrical version is also +reprinted after so many years of oblivion. + +"Of all the manuscripts preceding the final metrical version," says Dr. +Landquist, "the original one, written when Strindberg was twenty-three, +is the masterpiece. There everything is consistent; there the dialogue +has a power and an incisiveness to which it does not attain in any of +the unprinted manuscripts. On the contrary, these seem more youthful +than the original, producing at times an impression of immaturity and +uncertainty on the part of the author. Even when some isolated phrase +strikes one as fortunate, it does not tend to strengthen the drama as +a whole. The later versions lack that sense of inner unity and that +audacious touch which lend fascination and power to the original +manuscript. + +"Not until we reach the first metrical version (of 1876) does the full +power of the playwright begin to reassert itself in such fashion that +out of his untiring labors at last springs a new work, the mood of which +differs essentially from that of the first prose version. These two +versions--the first and the final--are the results of diametrically +opposed methods of work. The first was written with a certainty and +swiftness of inspiration that raised the young poet far above the +productive powers generally characteristic of his years. The subsequent +modifications prove merely how futile are the efforts of reason to +improve what intuition has inspired. But gradually it seems to have +dawned on the poet that he was about to evolve a wholly new work--that +what he had come to aim at was quite distinct from what he had been +aiming at in the beginning, and from that moment his artistic reasoning +carried him onward until at last a new inspiration brought the work to +its completion." + +Concerning the final metrical version, I can give only a few outstanding +and rather superficial facts, hoping that I may some time have the +opportunity of presenting it entire to the American public. Like the +prose version, it has five acts, but these are not subdivided into +scenes. It is briefer, more concentrated both in spirit and in form, +and may be said to display a greater unity of purpose. It is more human, +too, and less titanic. The change shows itself strikingly in a figure +like that of Mårten, who in the metrical version has become softened +into an unconscionable but rather lovable rapscallion. The last remark +but one made by Mårten when driven from Dame Christine's deathbed by +Olof is: "Talk to your mother, son--the two of you have so much to +forgive each other." + +In strength and passion and daring, on the other hand, the final version +falls far short of the original one, and the very fact that it is more +logical, more carefully reasoned, tends at times to render it less +psychologically true. Each version has its own merits and its own +faults, and in their appeal they are so radically different that +a choice between them must always remain meaningless except on +temperamental grounds. At one point, however--and an important one at +that--the metrical version seems to me the happier by far. + +That cry of "renegade," which, echoing from the dim recesses of the +church, makes the prose version end on a note of perplexing irony, may +be theatrically effective, but it can hardly be called logical. Gert has +been disposed of. His sudden return out of the clutches of the soldiers +is inexplicable and unwarranted. Worse still, he has only a short +while previous been urging Olof to live on for his work. If Olof be +a renegade, he is so upon the advice of Gert himself, and to call the +concession made by Olof for the saving of his own life far-reaching +enough to explain Gert's sudden change of attitude approaches +dangerously near to quibbling. In the metrical version, on the other +hand, the same cry of "renegade" is quite logically and suitably +wrung from the lips of Vilhelm, the scholar who is still dreaming of +uncompromised ideals. But it is not the final word. This comes from +Olof, and takes the form of a brief apostrophe to the fleeing Vilhelm, +which I think ranks with the finest passages produced by Strindberg. +Apologetically, I offer this English version of it as a fitting close to +my Introduction: + + Olof. Oh, what a word! But though it shook the air, + These columns did not stir, nor fell the dome, + And I stand calm upon this lonely shore, + Where I was dropped by the receding waves-- + For, after all, I am ashore. And now + A last "good luck upon the road" I send + To speed the daring sailor who will give + No ear to one that just has come to grief. + With sails hauled close, steer for the open sea + And for the far-off goal your soul desires! + Ere long you must fall off like all the rest, + Although a star your guiding landmark be + For in due time the stars themselves must fall! + +EDWIN BJORKMAN MAY 15, 1915 + + + + +MASTER OLOF + + +DRAMATIS PERSONAE + + OLOF PEDERSSON (Olaus Petri), generally known as MASTER OLOF. + GERT THE PRINTER. + GUSTAF ERIKSSON VASA, King of Sweden. + HANS BRASK, Bishop of Linköping. + MÅNS SOMMAR, Bishop of Strängnäs. + LARS SIGGESON, Lord High Constable. + LARS ANDERSSON (Laurentius Andreae), Lord High Chancellor. + LARS PEDERSSON (Laurentius Petri), brother of Master Olof. + HANS WINDRANK, a Master Mariner. + A Man from Småland. + A German. + A Dane. + MÅRTEN and NILS, Black Friars. + A Tavern-keeper. + A Burier. + First Scholar. + Second Scholar. + The Sexton at St. Nicolaus (or Greatchurch). + A Servant of the Palace. + An Overseer. + A Townsman. + A Courtier. + DAME CHRISTINE, Olof's mother. + CHRISTINE, daughter of Gert the Printer. + A Harlot. + A Woman. + The Sexton's Wife. + The Abbess of St. Clara. + Headsman, Townsfolk, Laborers, etc. + +ACT I: At Strängnäs. + +ACTS II, III, IV, AND V: At Stockholm. + + + + +ACT I + +(A Cloister opening upon a Convent Close planted with groups of trees. +The convent church forms the right side of the quadrangle. A brick wall +runs along the rear. Fruit trees in blossom appear above the wall. +Olof is seated on a stone bench. Before him stand two scholars, who are +reading their respective parts out of "The Comedy of Tobit.") + +First Scholar. + + Now have our enemies trapped us full well. + Woe unto us, poor children of Israel! + +Second Scholar. + + Yea, brother, good cause you have to make such plaint! + Now certes we have come upon days of great lament-- + Our land is taken away, and so's our increase, + And ne'er we may look for any help or surcease. + It must be, as long I have both dreamt and said, + That the promise to Abram has been long mislaid. + +[Enter Lars Andersson.] + +Lars Andersson. What are you doing? + +Olof. I am playing. + +Lars. Playing--you? + +Olof. I am playing a little comedy about the children of Israel and the +Babylonian captivity. + +Lars. Have you nothing better to do? Bigger work is waiting for you. + +Olof. I am too young. + +Lars. Do not say you are too young. + +Olof. No, for there are plenty of others who say it. + +Lars (takes out a roll of paper, which he opens; for a while he stands +looking at Olof; then he begins to read) "Then the word of the Lord +came unto Jeremiah: 'Before I formed thee in the belly I knew thee; +and before thou camest forth out of the womb I sanctified thee, and I +ordained thee a prophet unto the nations.' + +"Then said Jeremiah: 'Ah, Lord God! behold, I cannot speak, for I am a +child.' + +"But the Lord said: 'Say not, I am a child; for thou shalt go to all +that I shall send thee, and whatsoever I command thee thou shalt speak. +For, behold, I have made thee this day a defenced city, and an iron +pillar, and brazen walls against the whole land, against the kings of +Judah, against the princes thereof, against the priests thereof, and +against the people of the land. And they shall fight against thee; but +they shall not prevail against thee; for I am with thee,' saith the +Lord, 'to deliver thee.'" + +Olof (leaping to his feet). Did the Lord say that? + +Lars. "Thou therefore gird up thy loins and arise, and speak unto them +all that I command thee." + +Olof. Why do not you go? + +Lars. I am too old. + +Olof. You are afraid! + +Lars. I am, for I have not the strength; but you have--and now may the +Lord give you the faith also. + +Olof. Oh, once I did have the flame of faith, and it burned wondrously, +but the monkish gang smothered it with their holy water when they were +trying to read the devil out of my body. + +Lars. That was a fire of straw which had to flicker out; but now +the Lord will light you a fire of logs by which the offspring of the +Philistines shall be consumed. Do you know your own will, Olof? + +Olof. No, but I feel myself choking when I think of these poor +people who yearn for salvation. They are crying for water--for living +water--but there is no one who can give it to them. + +Lars. Tear down the crumbling old house first, you can do that. Then the +Lord Himself will build them a new one. + +Olof. Then they will be without a roof over their heads for a time. + +Lars. They will at least get fresh air. + +Olof. But to rob a whole nation of its faith--they will despair. + +Lars. Yes, they will despair. + +Olof. But they will decry me, and revile me, and drag me before the +elders. + +Lars. Are you afraid? + +Olof. No--but the offence-- + +Lars. You were born to give offence, Olof; you were born to smite. The +Lord will heal. + +Olof. I can feel the pull of the current; I am still clinging to the +sluice-gate, but if I let go, I shall be swept away. + +Lars. Let go! There are more than enough who hold back. + +Olof. Reach out your hand to me, Lars, if I get too far into the +whirlpool. + +Lars. That is not in my power, and into the whirlpool you must go, even +if it be to perish. + +Olof. What storms you have raised in my soul! A moment ago I sat here +and played in the shadow of the trees, and it was Whitsun Eve, and it +was spring, and all was peace. And now--how can the trees be still, and +why is there no darkness in the sky? Put your hand on my forehead, +feel the blood surging! Do not abandon me, Lars! I see an angel coming +towards me with a cup--she is walking across the evening sky--her path +is blood-red, and in her hand she is carrying a cross--No, it is more +than I avail! I will return to my peaceful valley. Let others fight; I +will look on--No, I will follow in their wake and heal the wounded and +whisper words of peace into the ears of the dying--Peace!--No, I want to +fight with the rest, but in the last ranks--Why should I lead? + +Lars. Because you are the boldest. + +Olof. Not the strongest? + +Lars. The strong will come after you: and the strongest of all is by +your side; it is He who summons you to battle. + +Olof. Help me, O Lord! I go. + +Lars. Amen! + +Olof. And will you come with me? + +Lars. You must go alone--with God! + +Olof. Why do you turn back? + +Lars. I was not born to be a warrior: your armorer is all that I can +be. Your weapon is the pure Word of God, and with that you must arm +the people. For the doors to the popish armory have been broken open at +last, and hereafter every one calling himself a man must fight for the +freedom of his own spirit. + +Olof. But where is the enemy? I am burning for battle, yet see no one to +fight against. + +Lars. No need to summon them; they will come! Farewell! You may begin +whenever you are ready, and may God be with you! + +Olof. Don't go. I have much more to talk with you about. + +Lars. Here comes the vanguard now--to arms! + +[Exit Lars.] + +(A crowd of townsmen with their women and children pass across the stage +to the church door at the right. They stop in front of it, bare their +heads, and make the sign of the cross.) + +Gert the Printer (disguised as a townsman). It's Whitsun Eve, and nobody +has rung the vesper bell--that's very strange. + +A Townsman. The church door is closed. Maybe the priest is sick. + +Gert. Or not yet out of bed. + +Townsman. What do you mean? + +Gert. Only that he might be sick abed. + +Townsman. But there are a lot of acolytes, and one of them might be +saying a mass for us in his place. + +Gert. They are probably too busy. + +Townsman. With what? + +Gert. That's hard to tell. + +Townsman. Take care, my good man! You seem to have a leaning towards +Lutherism. Bishop Hans of Linköping is here, and so's the King. + +Gert. Is Brask in town? + +Townsman. Indeed he is. But I suppose we had better try the church door +to see if it be really closed. + +Gert (runs up the steps and beats the church door with his fist).The +house of God is closed this Whitsun Eve. The reverend clergy will grant +no audience with the Lord to-day, and so the worshipful commonalty will +have to go home and go to bed without any mass. Look here, good folk! +Here you have a door--mere wood, of course, but that matters little, as +it is lined with copper. Just take a look at this door! If I say that +the Lord is living within--this being His house; and if I say that the +bishop's diaconus, or secretarius, or canonicus, or some other fellow +ending in 'us'--for it's only these clerical gentlemen that end in 'us'; +and if I say that some fellow of that kind has the key hanging on a nail +in his bedroom: then I don't mean to say that he has locked up the Lord +and put the key on a nail in his bedroom: but all I mean to say is +that we can't get in, and that there will be no divine service for its +to-night--for us who have toiled six days making shoes and coats--who +have spent the whole week brewing and baking and butchering for the +reverend clergy in order that the said clergy might have strength enough +on the seventh day to celebrate divine service for its. Of course, I am +not at all saying this in reproach of the right reverend members of this +Chapter; for they, too, are nothing but human beings, you know, and it +was only the Lord who could stand working six days and be satisfied with +resting on the seventh. + +Townsman. You're blaspheming God, master townsman! + +Gert. Well, He can't hear it when the door is closed. + +A Woman. Jesu Maria! He's an Antichrist! + +Gert (beating at the door). Do you hear how hollow it sounds?--It is +writ in the Bible that once upon a time the veil before the Holiest of +Holies was rent in twain, and it must be true--but nothing is said in +the Bible about the clerical gentlemen having sewed the veil together +again, which, of course, is no reason why it shouldn't have been done. + +(The crowd makes a rush at Gert; the children begin to cry.) + +Townsman. Out on you, Luther! For that's what you are. We have sinned, +and for that reason the Lord has closed His house. Can't you hear that +the very children cry out at the sight of you, unclean spirit that you +are? + +Gert. Naturally, when you step on their toes, my dear friends-- + +Woman. Don't go near him! He has a devil! + +Townsman. Down with him! Down with him! + +Gert. Don't touch me, for here I am under the protection of the Lord. + +Townsman. The Lord will not protect the angel that was cast out. + +Gert. If the Lord won't, the Holy Church will, and I am now within her +consecrated walls. + +Townsman. Get him away from the church wall! + +Gert. If you don't fear God, you must at least fear the ban of the Holy +Father. + +Woman. Drag him away from that door! It is his unclean spirit that has +cast a spell on the church. + +Townsman. That's it! The Lord won't open His church to the Devil. + +(The crowd is rushing at Gert again, when the Bishop's Secretary enters, +preceded by a verger, who calls upon the people to attend.) + +Secretary (reading). "Whereas our cathedral city has failed in the +payment of its tithes to this See, and whereas it continues refractory +in regard to such payments, the Chapter has deemed it necessary, in +accordance with its vested rights and the sanction granted by the Holy +Curia, to close the doors of the church and to discontinue all masses +and sacrifices until the aforesaid dereliction shall have been +duly remedied; failure to observe which shall be at the risk of our +displeasure. Datum vigilia assumptionis Mariae. Chapter of Strängnäs." +[Exit.] + +Gert. What do you say to that, good folk? + +Townsman. No mass on Whitsun Eve? That's a shame! + +Gert. Take care! Say nothing evil of the priests; maybe they're not to +blame. + +Townsman. Who is to blame, then? + +Gert. The Church! That invisible and omnipotent something! It is the +Church, you see, that has closed the church. (The crowd gives evidence +of disapproval.) + +Olof (who in the meantime has come forward, seizes a rope hanging +from the bell tower, and begins to ring vespers). If your worship be +seriously meant, I'll say mass for you. + +Townsman. Many thanks, Master Olof, but are you aware of what that may +lead to? + +Olof. Let us fear the Lord more than men! (The crowd kneels.) Dear +friends! Brothers and sisters in Christ Jesus! As we are now come +together here-- + +Townsman. Master Olof-- + +Olof. What is it? + +Townsman. We want a real mass, and not any new inventions of men. + +Gert. It has to be in Latin, my dear Master Olof, or we can't understand +what you say. + +Townsman. It has to be in the sacred tongue--or anybody might say mass. + +Olof. And so you shall! Everyone for himself, with God! + +Crowd. A Luther! A Luther! Antichrist! + +Townsman. Well, well, Master Olof, have you, too, so young and zealous, +become tainted by the German devil? I am an old man, who has seen much +of the world, and I mean well by you--Turn back while you are still +young!--Do as we ask you and give us the old mass. + +Olof. No, there must be an end to that mummery. Ye shall pray in spirit +and in truth, and not in words ye do not understand. + +Townsman. Don't you think, my young friend, that the Lord understands +Latin? + +Gert. But Swedish He doesn't understand at all! + +Townsman. Master Olof, are you going to let the people depart from you +without a word to edify them? Can't you see how they are yearning for +their God? Make a sacrifice of your own sinful will, and don't let the +people go from you like sheep that have no shepherd. + +Olof. You call my will sinful? + +Townsman. You are a hard man! + +Olof. Say not so! Do you know what the ringing of this bell will cost +me? + +Townsman. Your vanity. + +Gert. And your peace! For it was the alarum bell that rang in the +battle. Hey-ho, this is the start! Soon the bells of Stockholm will +respond, and then the blood of Hus, and of Ziska, and of all the +thousands of peasants will be on the heads of the princes and the +papists. + +Woman. Woe unto us! What is he raving about? + +Townsman. Do you know this man, Master Olof? + +Olof. No. + +Gert. Yes, Olof, you know me. Deny me not! Are you afraid of these +miserable creatures who do not want their own welfare--and who have +never heard the word "freedom"? + +Olof. What is your name? + +Gert. If I told, you would all tremble. Yet you must tremble in order +that you may wake out of your sleep. I am named the angel that was +cast out and that is to come again ten thousand times; I am named the +liberator that came too early; I am named Satan because I love you more +than my own life; I have been named Luther; I have been named Hus. Now I +am named Anabaptist! + +Crowd (shrink back and begin to cross themselves). Anabaptist! + +Gert (removing his disguise and revealing himself as much older than he +had seemed). Do you know me now, Olof? + +Olof. Father Gert! + +Townsman. He calls him father! + +Crowd (drawing back from Olof and Gert). Anabaptist! Anabaptist! + +Woman. Don't you see, it's he who was put under the ban-- + +Townsman. Gert the Printer--the bishop's printer-- + +Another Townsman. The man who printed Luther! + +Woman. Woe unto us and to our city! Woe to our priests when they bear +company with Antichrist! + +Townsman. He denies the holy baptism! + +Woman. He denies God. (The crowd disperses.) + +Olof. That was dangerous talk, Father Gert. + +Gert. You really think it was dangerous, Olof? Bless you for those +words! + +Olof. Dangerous for you, I mean. + +Gert. Not for any one else? + +Olof. Let us hope not. + +Gert. You have known Luther? + +Olof. Indeed, I have! And now I want to carry out his work in my own +country. + +Gert. Is that all? + +Olof. What do you mean? + +Gert. It is not enough! Luther is dead. He made a beginning, we have to +go on. + +Olof. Whither do you want to lead me? + +Gert. Far, Olof, very far! + +Olof. I am afraid of you, Father Gert. + +Gert. Yes, and will be more so; for I shall take you up on a high +mountain, and from there you shall overlook the whole world. You see, +Olof, it is now Whitsuntide; it was at this time the Holy Ghost came +down and filled the Apostles--nay, all humanity. The spirit of the Lord +has descended upon me. I feel it, and for that reason they shut me up +like one demented. But now I am free again, and now I shall speak the +word; for now, Olof, we are standing on the mountain. Behold the people +crawling on their knees before those two men seated on their thrones. +The taller holds two keys in one hand and a thunderbolt in the other. +That is the Pope. Now he hurls his thunderbolt, and a thousand souls +pass into perdition, while the rest kiss his foot and sing Gloria +Deo--but he who is seated on the throne turns about and smiles. Now +behold his companion. He has a sword and at sceptre. Bow down before +the sceptre, lest the sword smite you. When he knits his brows all the +people tremble. (He turns toward the man on the other throne, and both +smile.) They are two pillars of Baal. Then is heard a sound out of +heaven as of a host muttering. "Who is grumbling?" exclaims the Pope, +shaking his thunderbolt. "Who is muttering?"--and the Emperor shakes +his sword. Nobody answers, but still there is grumbling in the air, and +roaring, and a cry of "Think!" The Pope cowers, and the Emperor, turning +pale, demands: "Who was it that cried 'Think'? Bring him here, and I +will take his life!" The Pope shouts: "Bring him here, and I will take +his soul!" The cry came out of heaven, and was uttered by no one. But +still the sound of it rises; a storm wind springs up; it sweeps over the +Alps and goes roaring across Fichtelgebirge; it stirs up the Baltic and +echoes from the shores, and the cry is repeated a thousand times all +over the world: "Freedom, freedom!" The Pope throws his keys into the +sea, and the Emperor sheathes his sword, for against that cry they +avail nothing.--Oh, Olof, you wish to smite the Pope, but you forget the +Emperor--the Emperor, who is killing his people without counting them +because they dare to sigh when he tramples on their chests. You want to +smite the Pope at Rome, but, like Luther, you want to give them a new +pope in Holy Writ. Listen! Listen! Bind not the spirits with any fetters +whatsoever! Forget not the great Whitsunday! Forget not your great goal: +spiritual life and spiritual freedom! Listen not to the cry of death: +"And behold, it is all good!" For then the millennium, the kingdom of +liberty, will never arrive--and it is that which is now beginning. (Olof +remains silent.) Does it make you dizzy? + +Olof. You go too far, Gert. + +Gert. The day shall come when they will call me papist. Aim at the sky, +and you will hit the forest line ahead of you. + +Olof. Turn back, Gert! You'll bring disaster on yourself and on the +realm. Can't you see how the country is still shivering with the +wound-fever caused by the last war? And you wish to sow the seeds of +civil war. It is a godless deed! + +Gert. No, the knife is in the flesh now. Cut away, and the body may be +saved. + +Olof. I'll denounce you as a traitor to your country. + +Gert. You had better not, seeing that to-day you have offended the +Church beyond repair. Besides-- + +Olof. Speak out, Gert. Just now you look like Satan himself! + +Gert. You shall have my secret: deal with it to suit yourself. The +King leaves for Malmö to-day, and the day after to-morrow, perchance, +Stockholm may be in open revolt. + +Olof. What are you talking about? + +Gert. Do you know Rink and Knipperdollink? + +Olof (alarmed). The Anabaptists! + +Gert. Yes. What's so startling in that? They are nothing but a couple +of lubberly tradesmen. A furrier and a grocer, who deny the use of +baptizing unconscious children, and who are simple-minded enough to +oppose the forcing of irrational creatures into deliberate perjury. + +Olof. That is not all. + +Gert. What is it, then? + +Olof. They are possessed. + +Gert. Of the spirit, yes. It is the storm wind that is crying through +them. Beware, if you get into its path! + +Olof. This must be stopped. I am going to the King. + +Gert. We should be friends, Olof. Your mother is living in Stockholm, +isn't she? + +Olof. You know it, then? + +Gert. Do you know that my daughter Christine is with your mother? + +Olof. Christine? + +Gert. Yes, for the present. If we win, your mother will be protected +for my daughter's sake; and if the Catholics win, my daughter will +be protected for your mother's sake. You are a little concerned about +Christine, are you not? + +Olof. Gert, Gert, what made you so wise? + +Gert. The madhouse. + +Olof. Go away from me! You'll lead me into disaster. + +Gert. Yes, if you call it a disaster to be robbed of all earthly +happiness, to be dragged into prison, to suffer poverty, to be scorned +and reviled fur the sake of truth. If so, you are not worthy of such a +splendid disaster. I thought you would understand me, I counted on your +help, for in you the fire is still burning, but I see that the world is +tempting you. Well, follow the stream and be happy! + +Olof. How could a man make over the age in which he is living? + +Gert. That's what Luther has done. + +Olof. How can one man check a stream? + +Gert. Guide it, you fool--for we are the stream. The old are stagnant +mudpools, you don't need to check them, but don't let them rot away or +dry up; give them an outlet, and they'll flow with the stream, too. + +Olof. Yes, I understand you! You have bred a thought in my soul, but +that thought must be strangled in its birth, or it will kill me. + +Gert. Believe me, you will be a Daniel, and you will speak the truth +unto princes, and they will conspire to take your life; but the Lord +will protect you.--Now I can safely leave, for I see lightnings flash +from your eyes and tongues of fire flickering over your head. (As he is +leaving.) There comes the Lord of Flies: don't let him defile your pure +soul also. + +Olof. Jesus help me! + +[Enter Bishop Brask and Bishop Sommar. Sommar approaches Olof, while +Brask remains behind, studying the surroundings.] + +Sommar. Who rang vespers, Canonicus? + +Olof (calmly but firmly). I did. + +Sommar. Didn't you know the order? + +Olof. I was aware of the prohibition. + +Sommar. And you dared to defy it? + +Olof. Yes, when the people were let go like sheep without a shepherd, I +wanted to keep them together. + +Sommar. You seem to be finding fault with our actions. That's impudence +indeed. + +Olof. Truth is always impudent. + +Sommar. I believe, young man, that you want to play the part of an +apostle of truth. It will bring you no thanks. + +Olof. All I ask is ingratitude. + +Sommar. Save your truths. They don't retain their value in the market +very long. + +Olof (impetuously). That's advice worthy of the Father of +Lies!--(Mildly.) I ask your pardon! + +Sommar. Do you know to whom you are talking? + +Olof (heatedly). To servus servi servorum Måns Sommar! + +Brask (stepping forward). Who is this man? + +Sommar. One of the attendants in the church. + +Brask. What's his name? + +Sommar. Olof Pedersson, alias Olaus Petri. + +Brask (staring hard at Olof). So you are Master Olof? (Olof bows +and looks fixedly at Brask.) I like you. Would you care to become my +secretary? + +Olof. Many thanks, Your Grace, but I have no recommendations. + +Brask. What have you to say, Bishop Måns? + +Sommar. He is said to have found much favor with Dr. Luther. + +Brask. So I've heard. Nothing but youthful spirits. We'll train him. + +Olof. I fear it is too late! + +Brask. A sapling can be bent. + +Sommar. It is not wise to raise vipers, Your Grace. Our canonicus here +has strong leanings toward heresy, and to-day he has dared to defy our +orders. + +Brask. Is that so? + +Sommar. On fully legal grounds we have proclaimed an interdict, and this +man has ventured to say mass--worse than that, he has said a Lutheran +mass, and thus stirred up the people. + +Brask. Take care, young man! Don't you know that the ban will fall on +anybody who proclaims Luther? + +Olof. I know it, but I fear no other god than God. + +Brask. Consider your words. I mean well by you, and you repel me. + +Olof. You want to purchase my ability for the doctoring of your sick +cause, and I am shameless enough not to sell myself. + +Brask. By Saint George, I think you are out of your senses! + +Olof. If so, don't give me the same treatment as Gert the Printer. You +put him in a madhouse, and it made him too wise, I fear. + +Brask (to Bishop Sommar). Do you know Gert? + +Sommar. No, Your Grace. + +Brask. He's a lunatic who used my press to print Lutheran writings in +place of the anti-Lutheran stuff I put into his hands. Moreover, he was +dreaming of the Apocalypse and the Millennium. (To Olof.) Have you seen +him? + +Olof. He was here awhile ago, and you can expect but little good of him. + +Brask. Is he at large? + +Olof. He'll be in Stockholm soon, and from there you'll hear of him, I +think. Take care, my Lord Bishop! + +Brask. Ho, there is nothing to fear yet. + +Olof. The Anabaptists are in Stockholm. + +Brask. What do you say? + +Olof. The Anabaptists are in Stockholm! + +Brask. The Anabaptists? + +[Enter Gustaf Vasa suddenly.] + +Gustaf. What's up? The city is in a tumult, the people are marching +through the streets crying for the mass. What's the meaning of all this? + +Brask. Mischief, Your Highness. + +Gustaf. Bishop Måns! + +Sommar. The city has failed to pay its tithes. + +Gustaf. And for that reason you refuse to hold divine service? 'Sdeath! + +Brask. Your Highness ought to remember-- + +Gustaf. Answer me, Bishop Malls! + +Sommar. Your Highness ought to remember that matters like these, which +fall within the jurisdiction of the Church-- + +Gustaf. I command you to attend to your duties! + +Brask. The Bishops of Sweden take no orders except from their superiors, +the Pope and the Canon Law. + +Gustaf (checked). I know, but if the Pope cannot always keep an eye on +them? + +Brask. That's our concern. + +Gustaf (flares up, but controls himself at once). Your Grace is right. +It will remain your concern. + +Brask. To change the subject--Stockholm is about to rise in rebellion. + +Gustaf. Who says so? + +Sommar. Our canonicus here. + +Gustaf. Your schoolmaster? Where is he? Oh, is it you? What's your name? + +Olof. Olof Pedersson. + +Gustaf. Master Olof! They tell the you are a heretic, and that you are +scheming against Holy Church! That's a perilous venture! + +Brask. This very day he has dropped his mask by daring to show open +defiance of the Chapter's prohibition against services, and for that +reason we demand that Your Highness consent to have him duly punished. + +Gustaf. That's a matter for the Chapter and does not concern me. (To +Olof.) But what was that you had to say about a rebellion at Stockholm? + +Olof. The Anabaptists! + +Gustaf. Is that all? + +Brask. Does not Your Highness know how those madmen have been carrying +on in Germany? We suggest that Your Highness return to the city in +person with your armed force. + +Gustaf. That's a matter in which I suit myself! + +Brask. But civil war-- + +Gustaf. That's _my_ concern! (To Olof.) Olof, I appoint you to the +clerkship of our court-house at Stockholm. Get over there at once. Speak +to the people. I put my trust in you! + +Brask. For the country's sake I ask Your Highness to consider the +futility of wasting speech on madmen. + +Gustaf. Souls are not controlled by swords. Bear that in mind, Your +Lordships. + +Brask. The Church has never-- + +Gustaf. Nor by keys! (To Olof.) Go to my chancellor, and he will give +you your appointment. + +Brask. You had better wait a moment, canonicus. + +Gustaf. Our secretary will not put your orders ahead of mine. + +Brask. The rights of the Church must be assured first of all. Olof +Pedersson-- + +Gustaf (correcting him). Secretary-- + +Brask. Secretary Olof Pedersson cannot leave this city until the Chapter +has pronounced its verdict. + +Gustaf. The Chapter must try the case before it can pronounce a verdict. + +Brask. That's our concern. + +Gustaf. It is not your concern, Bishop Brask. The Bishop of Linköping +cannot sit in judgment on a canonicus at Strängnäs. Speak for yourself, +Bishop Sommar. + +Sommar. After what has just occurred--h'm! + +Brask. All further arguments would seem superfluous. + +Gustaf. You had better be silent, Bishop Brask, or leave us, as I am +talking privately to Bishop Sommar--privately!--Well, speak up, Bishop +Måns! + +Sommar. I cannot see but--that--as His Grace, the Bishop of Linköping-- + +Gustaf. We are talking of Master Olof now. Your Lordships will have to +postpone the trial. Be kind enough to leave us. + +[Exeunt Bishops.] + +Gustaf (to Olof). Will you be my man? + +Olof. Your Highness' secretary? + +Gustaf. No, my right hand--on the condition that for the present the +left hand shall not know what the right is doing. Go to Stockholm. + +Olof. The Chapter will demand my surrender and ban me. + +Gustaf. Before they get to that point you may fall back on me, but until +then--stand on your own feet as far as you can. + +Olof. What is Your Highness' will? + +Gustaf. Talk to those fanatics in Stockholm. + +Olof. And then? + +Gustaf. Oh, that's a long way off. I don't dare to think so far +yet.--Let them preach. It can't hurt those sottish spirits to hear a +new word, even if it be not all true. But there must be no violence; for +then the sword will join in the game. Farewell, Olof! [Exit.] + +Olof (alone). So the Emperor won't be friends with the Pope! + +(The two scholars, who have been waiting among the trees in the +background, come forward.) + +First Scholar. Shall we go on with the play, Master Olof? + +Olof. No, children, there will be no more playing. + +First Scholar. Are you going to leave us, Master Olof? + +Olof. Yes, and probably forever. + +First Scholar. Can't you stay over Whitsuntide, so that we can perform +our comedy? + +Second Scholar. And so that I can play the Angel Gabriel? + +First Scholar. Please do as we ask you, Master Olof! You are the only +one who has been nice to us and spared us those terrible fasts. + +Second Scholar. Oh, don't go away from us, Master Olof! + +Olof. You don't know what you are asking, children. The day will come +when you shall thank the Lord that I did go away from you.--Oh, no, +I hope such a day will never come!--But let us make our leave-taking +brief. Good-bye, Nils! Good-bye, Vilhelm! + +(He embraces them, and they kiss his hand. In the meantime Lars +Andersson has entered and is watching the group closely.) + +First Scholar. Won't you ever come back, Master Olof? + +Lars (coming forward). Are you ready to start now? + +Olof (to the scholars). No, I shall never come back. + +Scholars (as they go out). Good-bye, Master Olof, and don't forget us! +(Olof stands looking after them.) + +Lars. I have seen the King. + +Olof (absent-mindedly). Have you? + +Lars. Do you know what he said? + +Olof. No. + +Lars. "I have got a harrier to raise the game; now it remains to be seen +whether he will come back when I whistle for him!" + +Olof. Look at them--playing there among the graves, and picking flowers, +and singing the songs of Whitsuntide. + +Lars (taking hold of Olof's arm). Child! + +Olof (with a start). What did you say? + +Lars. I thought you had laid your hand so firmly on the plough handle +to-day that there could be no question of looking back. (Olof waves his +hand to the scholars.) Are you still dreaming? + +Olof. It was the last bright morning dream that passed away from me. +Pardon me--I am awake now! + +[Exeunt toward the right. Then they are nearly out, Olof turns for a +last look at the scholars. These have disappeared in the meantime, and +in their place appear the two Black Friars, Mårten and Nils. On seeing +them, Olof utters a startled cry and puts one hand to his forehead. Lars +drags him out.] + + + + +ACT II + +SCENE 1 + +(A Room in the Foundation Wall of the Church of St. Nicolaus at +Stockholm (generally known as Greatchurch), used as a beer-shop. A bar +full of pots and mugs occupies the background. To the right of the bar +stands a table, back of which appears an iron door. Two disguised friars +(Mårten and Nils) are seated at this table drinking beer. The other +tables are surrounded by German mercenaries, peasants, and sailors. +The door to the street is at the right. A fiddler is seated on top of +a barrel. The soldiers are throwing dice. All are drunk and noisy. Hans +Windrank, a man from Småland, a German tradesman, and a Dane are seated +together at one of the tables.) + +German (to the Dane). So you defend a bloodthirsty brute like Christian? + +Dane. Oh, mercy, he's human, isn't he? + +German. Not, he's a monster! A bloodthirsty brute! A treacherous, +cowardly Dane! + +Dane. Zounds! But you'd better not talk of blood. Do you remember the +massacre on Käppling Island, when the Germans-- + +Windrank. Listen to me, good Sirs! Let's be friends now, and have some +fun, and I'll tell you about Americky. + +German. Are you going to blame us of Lübeck for what the Germans did? + +Dane. Oh, mercy, I was talking of the Germans only-- + +Windrank. Listen, good Sirs, what's the use of quarrelling? (To the +Tavern-keeper.) Four noggins of gin! Now let's be calm and agreeable, +and I'll tell you of Americky. (They are served.) + +German (sipping). A noble drink! Think of it, good Sirs, how everything +is advancing. To-day the grain is growing in the field-- + +Windrank. And to-morrow it's made into wine. I wonder who first found +out how it's done? + +German. Beg your pardon, but that's a German invention. I call it +invention, because you discover Americky. + +Windrank. And the Germans never make any discoveries? + +German. 'Sdeath! + +Windrank. Now, now! You're no German, you said. + +Dane (to the German). Can you tell the who invented the story that the +Swedes got their present king from the Germans? (General laughter.) + +German. It was we of Lübeck what gave Sweden a liberator when she was on +the verge of ruin. + +Windrank. Here's to the King! + +Dane. Here's to Lübeck! + +German (flattered). Really I don't know how to-- + +Windrank. Why, you aren't the King! + +German. Beg your pardon, but it was my Danish brother's-- + +Dane. How can you be of Lübeck when you are a citizen of Stockholm? + +Windrank (to the Man from Småland). Why won't our silent brother drink +at all? + +Man from Småland. I'll drink your corn-juice, but when it comes to the +King's health, I do like this! (He crushes the tin cup and throws it on +the floor.) + +Windrank (groping with one hand for his sheath knife.) You won't drink +the King's health? + +Man from Småland. I've been drinking the cup he offered me so long that +I don't care to drink his health any longer. + +Windrank. 'Sblood! + +German (eagerly). Hush, hush! Let's hear what he's got to say. + +Dane (in the same way). Mercy, yes! + +A Man from Småland. The Lord help me when I get home again! + +Windrank (sentimentally). What is it, my dear man? Why do you look so +sad? Do you need money? Look here, now! (He pulls out his purse.) I've +half my wages left. What's the matter with you? + +Man from Småland. Don't let us talk about it. More gin! Gin here! I've +money, too. Do you see? Gold! (The liquor is served). It isn't mine, but +I'll spend it on drink to the last farthing, and you'll please help me. + +Windrank. And yet it isn't your money--how can you do that? + +German. Who's wronged you, my dear fellow? I can see that you have fared +badly. + +A Man from Småland I am ruined! You see, I got two hundred oxen on +trust, and when I came to Stockholm the King's agent took charge of +the whole business, and he said I couldn't sell them for more than he +allowed. It's the King that fixes the price on oxen--it's the King that +has ruined me. + +German. You don't say! + +Man from Småland. Oh, I know a lot more. He means to take the +priests and the monks away from us in order to give everything to the +gentlefolk. + +Dane. To the gentlefolk? + +Man from Småland. Exactly! I wish King Christian--God bless him!--had +cut off a few more heads. + +Windrank. Well, is the King like that? I thought he had those noble +fellows by the ear. + +Man from Småland. He? No, he lets them be born with the right to cut +oak on my ground, if I had any. For I did have a patch of land once, you +see, but then came a lord who said that my great-grandmother had taken +it all in loan from his great-grandfather, and so there was an end to +that story. + +German. Why, is the King like that? I would never have believed it. + +Man from Småland. Indeed he is! Those high-born brats run around with +their guns in our woods and pick off the deer out of sheer mischief, but +if one of us peasants were dying from hunger and took a shot at one of +the beasts--well, then he wouldn't have to starve to death, for they'd +hang him--but not to an oak--Lord, no! That would be a shame for such +a royal tree. No, just to an ordinary pine. The pine, you see, has no +crown, and that's why it isn't royal--and that's why the old song says: + + The peasants we hanged in lines + From the tops of the tallest pities. + +It has nothing to say about crowns, mind you. + +German. But the pine carries its head high just the same, and its back +is straight. + +Man from Småland. Drink, good Sirs! You're right welcome to 't. It's a +blessed drink. If only I didn't have wife and children at home! Oh, my, +my, my! But that's all one! Oh, I know a lot more, but I know how to +keep it to myself, too. + +Windrank. What do you know? + +German. Maybe it's something diverting? + +Man from Småland. You see--if you counted all the pines of Småland, I +think you'd find a whole lot more of them than of oaks. + +German. You think so? + +Windrank. I don't like you to talk badly of the King. I don't know what +he is doing or saying, and it isn't my business either, but I know he +takes good care of the shipping trade. Yes, it's he who has put ships +on the Spanish trade, and who has made me a skipper, and so I've got no +fault to find with him. + +German. He has done it out of sheer deviltry, just to hurt the trade of +Lübeck--of Lübeck, to which he owes such a great debt! + +Man from Småland. Well, he'll get what he deserves! A steer doesn't lose +his horns when you make an ox of him. Many thanks for your company. Now +I've got to go. + +German. Oh, no! Just one more noggin--and then we can talk a little +more. + +Man from Småland. No, thanks, though I'm sure it's good of you, but +that's all I dare take, for otherwise I fear this will end badly. I've +wife and children at home, you see, and now I'm going home--to tell them +we're ruined--no--I don't dare to--I'm much obliged, Mr. German--let's +drink some more. + +German. That's right! (They drink.) + +Man from Småland (emptying his cup and jumping up). Oh, damn the bitter +stuff! [Exit, staggering.] + +German (to the Dane). O Lord--when that fellow wakes up! + +(The Dane nods assent. The noise has been steadily increasing. The +fiddler is playing. Then the organ begins to play in the church.) + +Windrank. It's strange, I think, that the King lets them have a +drinkshop in the church wall. + +German. Does it hurt your conscience, skipper? The King doesn't know it, +you see. + +Windrank. But they don't go together, the organ music and the singing in +here. I've always been a God-fearing man, ever since I was at home. + +German (ironically). Happy the man brought up in that way! You had a +mother-- + +Windrank (moved). Yes--yes! + +German. Who tucked you up nights and taught you to say: "Now I lay me +down to sleep." + +Windrank. That's it! + +German. And a fine woman she was! + +Windrank (on whom the drink is beginning to show its effect.) Oh, if you +only knew! + +German. The Lord has heard her prayers. You're weeping. So you must be a +good man. + +Dane. Dear me! + +German. If your mother could only see you now--with those tears in your +eyes! + +Windrank. Oh, I know I'm a poor miserable sinner--I know it! But I tell +you--I've got a heart, damn it! Just let a poor wretch come and tell me +he is hungry, and I'll take off my own shirt and give it to him. + +German. How about another drink? + +Windrank. No, I don't think so. + +(Several blows are struck on the iron door from the outside, causing +general excitement.) + +Windrank. God-a-mercy! + +German. Don't get scared. That's not the gate of heaven. + +Windrank. I'll never drink another drop--I vow and swear! + +German (to the Dane). What a blessed drink gin must be, seeing it can +move a rogue like that to sentimentality--nay, even to thoughts of +sobriety. + +Dane. You're right. There is nothing like it. + +German. It opens the heart wide and closes the head. Which means that it +makes good people of us, for those are called good, you know, who have +much heart and little head. + +Dane. I'd go still farther. Gin makes us religious. For it kills reason, +and reason is the rock that keeps religion from entering our hearts. + +German. Most holy is gin! Strange that-- + +Dane. You need say no more! + +(More blows are struck on the iron door.) + +Windrank (who has fallen asleep, is awakened by the blows). Help! I die! + +German. What a pity to lose such a sweet soul! + +(The door is pushed open so that the table at which Mårten and Nils are +seated is upset together with the mugs and cups on it. A woman wearing +a red and black skirt, with a nun's veil thrown over her head, comes +running into the room. For a moment Gert can be seen in the doorway +behind her, but the door is immediately closed again.) + +Harlot (with a startled glance at her surroundings). Save me! The people +want to kill me! + +A German Mercenary. A harlot under a nun's veil! Ha-ha-ha! (General +laughter.) + +Mårten (making the sign of the cross). A harlot! Who dares to bring her +into this respectable company? Master taverner, take her out of here, or +she'll hurt the good name of the place and the sanctity of the church. + +Harlot. Will nobody here save me? (In the meantime the tavern-keeper has +seized her by the arm to lead her into the street.) Don't give me into +the hands of that furious mob! I wanted to steal into the Lord's house +that I might share in His grace--I wanted to start a new life--but the +monks drove me out and set the people on me--until Father Gert came and +saved me. + +Mårten. You can hear for yourselves. She has polluted the Lord's temple. +She wants to hide the garment of shame beneath the veil of sanctity. + +German. And there isn't enough of the veil. + +Mårten (approaching the woman to tear the veil from her face). Off with +the mask, and let your abomination be seen by all! (He draws back when +he catches sight of her face.) + +Harlot. So it's you, Mårten--you murderer! + +German. Old chums! + +Mårten. That's a shameless lie! I never have seen her before. I am +Brother Mårten, of the Dominicans, and Brother Nils here can be my +witness. + +Nils (intoxicated). I can testify--that Brother Mårten has never seen +this woman. + +Harlot. And yet it was you, Nils, who showed me Mårten's letter of +absolution when I was driven out of the convent and he was permitted to +stay. + +Nils. Yes--come to think of it! + +Mårten (in a rage, pulling Nils by the sleeve). You're lying--you, too! +Can't you see he is drunk? + +German. My dear folks, I can testify that the reverend brother is drunk, +and that's why he is lying! + +Crowd (with signs of disgust). A drunken priest! + +German. Well, booze is absolution for lying. Isn't that so, Father +Mårten? + +Tavern-keeper. Really, I can't let my house be the meeting-place for +any kind of disturbance. If this goes on, I'll lose my customers and +get hauled before the Chapter. Won't you please take away that miserable +creature who's causing all this noise? + +Mårten. Take her out, or I'll have you all banned! Don't you know that +we are now within the consecrated walls of the church, although the +Chapter allows this outhouse to be used for the material refreshment of +travellers? + +German. Surely this room is holy, good folk, and surely the Lord doth +dwell here. + +(The crowd begins to drag the Harlot toward the street door.) + +Harlot. Jesus Christ, help me! + +[Enter Olof. He appears in the door, and pushes through the crowd until +he reaches the Harlot, whose hand he takes so that he can pull her away +from the drunken men about her.] + +Olof. Answer me--who is this woman? + +Mårten. She's no woman. + +Olof. What do you mean? + +Mårten. She is no man either, although she's disguised. + +Olof. "She," you say--and yet not a woman? + +Mårten. She's a harlot. + +Olof (shocked, drops the woman's hand). A harlot! + +German. Don't let go of her, Master Olof, or she'll run away. + +Olof. Why are you laying hands on her? What is her crime? + +German. Going to church. + +Olof. I see! (He looks around.) + +Mårten. What are you looking for? + +Olof (catching sight of Mårten). A priest! + +Mårten. I am a Black Friar. + +Olof. Yes, I guessed that much. So it's you who have incited the people +against her? + +Mårten. I am protecting the church from foulness and trying to keep it +free of vice. She is a banned woman, who has been trafficking with her +own body, which should be a temple of the Lord. (The woman kneels before +Olof.) + +Olof (taking her by the hand). But I, Dominican, dare to take her hand +and match her against you. She has sold her body, you say--how many +souls have you bought?--I am also a priest--Nay, I am a man, for I +am not presumptuous enough to put a lock on God's own house, and as +a sinful human creature I hold out my hand to my fellow-creature, who +cannot be pure either. Let him who is without sin step forward and cast +the first stone.--Step forward, Brother Mårten, you angel of light, who +have donned the black garments of innocence and shaved your hair so +that no one may see how you have grown gray in sin! Or have you no stone +ready, perhaps? Alas for you, then! What have you done with those +you were to hand the people when they were crying for bread? Have you +already given them all away?--Step forward, you highly respectable +citizen. (To Windrank, who is asleep on the floor.) You, who are +sleeping the sleep of a brute, why don't you wake up and fling your +knife at her?--Do you see how he is blushing? Can it be from shame at +the bad company you have brought him into, or from carnal desire? (The +crowd mutters disapprovingly.) You are muttering! Is that because you +are ashamed of my words or of yourselves? Why don't you cast the stones? +Oh, you haven't any. Well, open that door. Summon the people outside and +hand this woman over to them. If you don't think fifty men have power +enough to tear her to pieces, you maybe sure that five hundred women +will avail. Well? You are silent?--Rise up, woman! You have been +acquitted. Go and sin no more. But don't show yourself to the priests, +for they will deliver you up to the women! + +Mårten (who has tried to interrupt Olof several times, but has been held +back by the German, now displays a document). This man, to whom you have +been listening, is a heretic, as you may have heard from his talk, +and he has also been t excommunicated. Here you can see! Read for +yourselves! (He takes one of the candles from the nearest table and +throws it on the floor.) "As this candle, that we here cast out, is +extinguished, so shall be extinguished all his happiness and weal and +whatsoever good may come to him from God!" + +Crowd (draws back, making the sign of the cross, so that Olof is left +alone with the Harlot in the middle of the room). Anathema! + +Mårten (to the Harlot). There you can hear how much Master Olof's +absolution avails you. + +Olof (who has been taken aback for a moment). Do you still dare to +trust my word, woman? Are you not afraid of me? Can you not hear the +lightnings of the ban hissing around our heads? Why don't you join +these twenty righteous ones who still remain within the refuge of Holy +Church?--Answer me! Do you think the Lord has cast me out as these have +done? + +Harlot. No! + +Olof (seizing the letter of excommunication). Well, then! The great +bishop of the small city of Linköping has sold my soul to Satan for the +term of my life--for farther than that his power does not reach--and he +has done so because I bade the people seek their Lord when they had been +prohibited from doing so! Here is the contract! As the Church, by that +contract, has bound me to hell, so I set myself free from it (he tears +the letter to pieces)--and from the ban of the Church, too! So help me +God! Amen! + +Crowd (howling). Anathema! + +Mårten. Down with him! At him! He is banned! + +Olof (placing himself in front of the Harlot). Do you hear the devils +yelling for their victim?--Dare not to touch me! + +Mårten. At him! Down with him! + +[Just as one of the mercenaries raises his weapon to strike, the +iron door in the rear is flung open, and the Anabaptists, headed by +Knipperdollink, come rushing in, uttering wild cries. They carry broken +crucifixes and images of saints as well as torn vestments. All those in +the room before are forced toward the street door.] + +Knipperdollink (as he pushes back the iron door and enters ahead of +the rest). Come here, folk--here's another sanctum!--What's this? A +drinkshop in the temple!--Look ye! Look ye--the abomination has gone so +far that the tabernacle itself is being polluted. But I will cleanse it +with fire. Set fire to the church and prepare a stake for the saints! + +Olof (stepping forward). Consider what you propose to do! + +Knipperdollink. Are you afraid that the beer kegs will burst from the +heat, you Belial? Are you the popish tapster who thought it not robbery +to build vice a chapel in the very wall of the church? + +Olof. I am the Secretary of the Court-House, and I command you in the +name of the King to keep order! + +Knipperdollink. So you are the man whom the King has sent here to make +war on our sacred cause? Onward, onward, ye men of God, and seize him +first of all! Afterwards we'll cleanse the temple of the Lord from +idolatry. + +Mårten. Go at him, good folk, for he's a heretic and under the ban! + +Knipperdollink. A heretic? You are not one of the papists, then? + +Olof. Since they have banned me, I can no longer be of the Church. + +Knipperdollink. Then you are on our side? (Olof remains silent.) Answer: +are you with us or against us? + +Mårten. He's Olof Pedersson, the man that was sent here by the King. + +Knipperdollink. Are you Olof Pedersson? + +Olof. I am. + +Knipperdollink. But a heretic? + +Olof. I pride myself on being one. + +Knipperdollink. And yet take service with the King? + +Olof. Yes! + +(The Anabaptists raise an outcry and surround Olof.) + +[Enter Gert quickly through the door in the rear.] + +Gert. Hold! What are you doing? + +Knipperdollink. Gert!--Who is this man? + +Gert. One of our own. Let him go, friends! Over there you see the +emissaries of the Devil! + +(He points to Mårten and Nils, who flee through the street door, closely +pursued by the Anabaptists. At the door Gert stops and turns toward +Olof. The Harlot is crouching in a corner of the room. Windrank is still +sleeping under one of the tables. Olof is standing in the middle of the +floor, sunk in deep thought.) + +Gert (exhausted, throws himself on a bench). It's heavy work, Olof. + +Olof. What have you been doing? + +Gert. Oh, a little house-cleaning, to begin with. + +Olof. For which you will pay dearly. + +Gert. So far we have the upper hand. The whole city has been roused. +Rink is at work in St. George's Chapel. Tell me, has the King sent you +to oppose us? + +Olof. He has. + +Gert. That was a most sensible thing to do! + +Olof. To-morrow I am to preach from the new pulpit. + +Gert. Do you call this fulfilling your royal mission? Here you are, +still standing with your arms folded. + +Olof. Come to church to-morrow with your brethren. + +Gert. Is it going to be an archipapal sermon? + +Olof. I have been put under the ban to-day. + +Gert (jumps up and puts his arms around Olof). God bless you, Olof! That +is indeed the baptism of new birth! + +Olof. I don't understand you yet. Why do you carry on like wild beasts? +You seem to be outraging all that is held sacred. + +Gert (picking up the broken image of a saint). Do you call this fellow +holy? A St. Nicolaus, I think. Can it be possible, then, that Jesus +Christ has come down and lived among us to no purpose, as we are still +worshipping logs of wood? Can this be a god, which I can break to +pieces? See! + +Olof. But he is sacred to the people. + +Gert. So was the golden calf, and so was Zeus; so were Thor and Odin, +too. And yet they were struck down. (Catches sight of the Harlot.) Who's +that woman? Oh, the one I tried to save by sending her in here. Tell me +one thing, Olof. Have you been bought by the King? + +Olof. Leave me, Gert! I hate you! + +Gert. Who's that pig asleep over there? + +Olof. When I face you, I seem to shrink. Leave me! I want to do my own +work, and not yours. + +Gert. Listen! + +Olof. You are trying to confuse my fate with your own. + +Gert. Listen! + +Olof. You have surrounded me with an invisible net. You have proclaimed +me an Anabaptist. How am I going to face the King? + +Gert. Which king? + +Olof. King Gustaf! + +Gert. Oh, that one!--Well, good-bye, then, Olof.--So you're going to +preach to-morrow?--Why doesn't that woman go her way?--Good-bye! [Exit.] + +Olof. Is that man running errands for God or for Satan? + +Harlot (approaches Olof and kneels before him). Let me thank you! + +Olof. Give thanks for God alone for having saved your soul, and don't +think that all your sins have been expiated to-day. Try to find strength +to live a life that will always be cursed. God has forgiven you--your +fellow-men will never do so! (He takes her by the hand and leads her to +the street door.) + +[Enter Mårten through the doorway in the rear, followed by Olof's Mother +and Christine, the daughter of Gert.] + +Mårten. We're in the wrong place, I fear. + +Mother (outraged at seeing Olof and the Harlot together). Olof, Olof! + +Christine. Who is that woman? She looks so unhappy. + +Mårten. Let us get away from this den of iniquity! + +Olof (turning and running toward the iron door, which is closed in his +face by Mårten). Mother! Mother! + + [He runs out through the other door.] + + (The stage is darkened.) + + +SCENE 2 + +(The Same Room. The door to the church is opened cautiously, and The +Sexton, who is also the organ-blower, enters warily. He carries a +lantern and is followed by his Wife.) + +Sexton. Catherine dear, will you hold the lantern a moment while I put +on the padlock? + +Wife. First we must have a look at all this wretchedness, Bengt dear. +Never could I have believed that the public-house was so near to us. +It's perfectly dreadful! Look--whole barrels full of beer! + +Sexton. And gin, too. Don't you smell it? It will give me a headache if +I stay much longer. + +Wife. Lord have mercy, what a sinful life they must have lived in here! + +Sexton. Catherine dear! + +Wife. Yes, dear. + +Sexton. Do you know I am not feeling quite well. This place is so damp +and cold. + +Wife. Perhaps we had better go home? + +Sexton. Oh, I think I must sit down and rest on the bench here. + +Wife. You shouldn't sit down in all this dampness and cold. Let us get +back into the church. + +Sexton. No, I think it was still colder out there. + +Wife. You haven't a fever, have you? + +Sexton. I almost think I have--I'm so hot. + +Wife. Maybe you want something to drink? + +Sexton. That wouldn't be a bad thing, perhaps. + +Wife. I'll see if there is any water around. + +Sexton. Don't think you'll find any in this kind of a hole. + +Wife. But you can't drink beer if you have a fever. + +Sexton. Do you know, I think the fever has passed away. Now I'm feeling +cold. + +Wife. I'll see if I can't find some small beer. + +Sexton. It has to be pretty strong, I think, if it's to do any good. +There's a keg of Rostock No. 4 over there--marked A. W., don't you see? + +Wife (searching). I can't find it. Here's an Amsterdam No. 3. + +Sexton. Can't you see--up there on the fourth shelf at the right? (His +wife continues to look.) The tap is lying to the left of it, right by +the funnel. + +Wife. I don't think it's there. + +Sexton. Just as if I didn't know! + +Wife. Yes, here it is. + +(The Sexton gets up to help his wile and accidentally steps on +Windrank.) + +Windrank (waking up). Mercy! Jesu Christ! St. Peter and St. Paul! +Ferdinand and Isabella, and St. George and the Dragon, and all the rest! +And ires dire glories in excellence, and deuces tecum vademecum Christ +Jesu, and birds of a feather, and now I lay me down to sleep, and +a child is born for you to keep--Amen! Amen!--Who's stepping on my +windbag? + +Sexton (frightened). Will you please tell me whether you are a man or a +ghost? + +Windrank. Man most of the time, but just now I'm a beast. + +Sexton. What kind of a man, if I may ask? + +Windrank. A shipman--which is nor reason why you should blow all the +wind out of me. + +Sexton. But that's my business, you know--I blow the bellows of the big +organ. + +Windrank. So it was the organ-blower who honored me-- + +Sexton. The sexton, to put it right; but I also keep an old-clothes shop +in the church wall. + +Windrank. So you're organ-blower, sexton, and shopkeeper-- + +Sexton. In one person--without confusion or transformation-- + +Windrank. That's a most respectable trinity. + +Sexton. Such things should not be made fun of! + +Windrank. Oh, my, my! I'm drowning! Help! + +Sexton. Lord, what is it? + +Windrank. There's a whole river coming--Ugh! + +Sexton. Catherine dear! Where are you, my angel? (He runs to look for +her.) Jesu, but you must have scared my wife out of her wits. She has +run away from the keg--and taken the tap along! Get up--up with you, and +let us leave this godless hole! + +Windrank. No, my dear fellow, I'm in my element now, so I think I'll +stay. + +Sexton. Goodness, the clock is striking twelve, and the ghosts will be +coming! + +Windrank (jumping to his feet). That's a different story! (The Sexton +guides Windrank toward the door.) Listen, sexton--I'm beginning to have +strong doubts about the trinity. + +Sexton. Well, I declare! + +Windrank. It's your trinity I'm thinking of. + +Sexton. What do you mean, master skipper? + +Windrank. I think there must be four of you, after all. + +Sexton. Four--of whom? + +Windrank. How about the tapster? Shouldn't he be counted, too? + +Sexton. Hush, man! That's only nights. + +(Both stumble over the broken image of St. Nicolaus and fall down.) + +Windrank. Mercy! Ghosts! Jesu Maria, help! + +Sexton (rising and picking up the image). Well, if that isn't enough to +make your hair stand on end! Here's St. Nicolaus broken all to pieces +and swimming in the beer. It has come to a fine pass when divine +things are defiled like that--I don't think the world will last much +longer--when such things can be done in the dry tree-- + +Windrank (having recovered). In the wet one, you mean. + +Sexton. Keep still, blasphemer! St. Nicolaus is my patron saint. I was +born on his day. + +Windrank. That's probably why both of you like beer. + +Sexton. Yes, it's in the fashion now to be heretical! + +Windrank. It's in the air, I think, for otherwise I'm a most God-fearing +man. But never mind, I'll have St. Nicolaus glued together for you. + +Sexton (calling into the church). Catherine! + +Windrank. Hush, hush, man! You'll make the ghosts appear! + +Sexton. A plague on your tongue! [Exeunt.] + + +SCENE 3 + +(The Sacristy of the Church of St. Nicolaus. There is a door leading to +the church, and another, smaller one, leading to the pulpit. The walls +are hung with chasubles and surplices. Priedieus and a few small chests +are standing about. The sunlight is pouring in through a window. The +church bells are heard ringing. Through the wall at the left can be +heard a constant murmuring. The Sexton and his Wife enter, stop near the +door, and pray silently.) + +Sexton. That's enough! Now, Catherine dear, you'd better hurry up and do +some dusting. + +Wife. Oh, there's no special occasion. It's nobody but that Master Olof +who's going to preach to-day. Really, I can't see why the Chapter allows +it. + +Sexton. Because he's got permission from the King, you see. + +Wife. Well, well! + +Sexton. And then he has had a sort of basket built out from the +wall--nothing but new-fangled tricks! It's all on account of that man +Luther. + +Wife. I suppose we'll have the same kind of trouble that we had +yesterday. I thought they were going to pull the whole church down. + +Sexton (carrying a glass of water up to the pulpit). I'm sure the poor +fellow will need something to wet his whistle to-day. + +Wife. Well, I shouldn't bother, if I were you. + +Sexton (speaking from the pulpit). Catherine--here he comes! + +Wife. Goodness gracious, and the sermon bell hasn't rung yet! Well, I +suppose they won't ring it for a fellow like him. + +[Enter Olof, looking serious and solemn. He crosses to one of the +prie-dieus and kneels on it. The Sexton comes down from the pulpit and +takes from the wall a surplice which he holds out to Olof.] + +Olof (rising). The peace of the Lord be with you! + +[The Wife curtseys and leaves the room. The Sexton holds out the +vestment again.] + +Olof. Leave it hanging! + +Sexton. Don't you want any robe? + +Olof. No. + +Sexton. But it's always used. And the handkerchief? + +Olof. Never mind. + +Sexton. Well, I declare! + +Olof. Will you please leave me alone, my friend? + +Sexton. You want me to get out? But as a rule, I-- + +Olof. Do me the favor, please! + +Sexton. Oh, well! Of course! But first I want to tell you that you'll +find the missal to the right of you as you get up, and I have put in +a stick so you'll know where to open it, and there is a glass of water +beside the book. And you mustn't forget to turn the hour-glass, or it +may chance you'll keep it up a little too long-- + +Olof. Don't worry! There will be plenty of people to tell me when to +quit. + +Sexton. Mercy, yes--beg your pardon! But you see, we've got our own +customs here. + +Olof. Tell me, what is that depressing murmur we hear? + +Sexton. It's some pious brother saying prayers for a poor soul. [Exit.] + +Olof. "Thou therefore gird up thy loins and arise, and speak unto them +all that I command thee."--God help me! (He drops on his knees at a +prie-dieu; there he finds a note, which he reads.) "Don't preach to-day; +your life is in danger."--The Tempter himself wrote that! (He tears the +note to pieces.) + +[Enter Olof's Mother.] + +Mother. You are straying from the right path, my son. + +Olof. Who knows? + +Mother. I know! But as your mother I reach out my hand to you. Turn +back! + +Olof. Where would you lead me? + +Mother. To godliness and virtue. + +Olof. If godliness and virtue are vested in papal decrees, then I fear +it is too late. + +Mother. It isn't only a question of what you teach, but of how you live. + +Olof. I know you are thinking of my company last night, but I am too +proud to answer you. Nor do I think it would do any good. + +Mother. Oh, that I should be thus rewarded for the sacrifice I made when +I let you go out into the world and study! + +Olof. By heaven, your sacrifice shall not be wasted! It is you, mother, +I have to thank for this day when at last I can stand forth with a free +countenance and speak the words of truth. + +Mother. How can _you_ talk of truth, you who have made yourself a +prophet of lies? + +Olof. Those are hard words, mother! + +Mother. Or perhaps I and my forbears have lived and worshipped and died +in a lie? + +Olof. It wasn't a lie, but it has become one. When you were young, +mother, you were right, and when I grow old--well, perhaps I may find +myself in the wrong. One cannot keep apace with the times. + +Mother. I don't understand! + +Olof. This is my one sorrow--the greatest one of my life: that all I +do and say with the purest purpose must appear to you a crime and +sacrilege. + +Mother. I know what you mean to do, Olof--I know what error you have +fallen into--and I cannot hope to persuade you out of it, for you know +so much more than I do, and I am sure that the Lord will put you on the +right path again--but I ask you to take care of your own life, so that +you won't plunge headlong into perdition! Don't risk your life! + +Olof. What do you mean? They won't kill me in the pulpit, will they? + +Mother. Haven't you heard that Bishop Brask wants the Pope to introduce +the law that sends all heretics to the stake? + +Olof. The inquisition? + +Mother. Yes, that's what they call it. + +Olof. Leave me, mother! To-day I must stand up and preach. + +Mother. You shall not do it. + +Olof. Nothing can prevent me. + +Mother. I have prayed to God that He would touch your heart--I'll tell +you, but you mustn't speak of it to anybody. I am weak with age, and I +couldn't trust my own knees, so I went to see a servant of the Lord and +asked him, who is nearer to God, to say some prayers for your soul. He +refused because you are under the ban. Oh, it's dreadful! May the +Lord forgive me my sin! I bribed the pure conscience of that man with +gold--with the Devil's own gold--just to save you! + +Olof. Mother, what do I hear? It can't be possible! + +Mother (takes Olof by the hand and leads him over to the left, close to +the wall). Listen! Do you hear? He is praying for you now in the chapel +next to this room. + +Olof. So that was the murmur I heard! Who is he? + +Mother. You know him--Brother Mårten, of the Dominicans-- + +Olof. You get Satan to say prayers for me!--Forgive me, mother--I thank +you for your good intention, but-- + +Mother (on her knees, weeping). Olof! Olof! + +Olof. Don't ask me! A mother's plea might tempt the angels of heaven to +recant!--Now the hymn is ended: I must go! The people are waiting. + +Mother. You'll send me into my grave, Olof! + +Olof (passionately). The Lord will resurrect you! (Kissing her hand.) +Don't talk to me any more--I don't know what I am saying! + +Mother. Listen! Listen! The people are muttering! + +Olof. I'm coming! I'm coming! He who protected Daniel in the lions' den +will also protect me! + +(Olof ascends the stairs leading to the pulpit. Throughout the ensuing +scenes a man's voice can be heard speaking with great power, but no +words can be distinguished. After a while mutterings are heard, which +change into loud cries.) + +[Enter Christine.] + +Christine. Mother, did you see him? + +Mother. Are you here, child? I asked you to stay at home! + +Christine. Why shouldn't I visit the house of the Lord? There is +something you hide from me! + +Mother. Go home, Christine! + +Christine. May I not hear Olof preach? It's the word of God, isn't it, +mother? (The Mother remains silent.) You don't answer? What does it +mean? Hasn't Olof permission to preach? Why do the people out there look +so mysterious? They were muttering when I came. + +Mother. Don't ask me! Go home and thank God for your ignorance! + +Christine. Am I a child, then, since nobody dares to tell me-- + +Mother. Your soul is still pure, and nobody must defile it. What place +is there for you in the battle? + +Christine. Battle? I thought so! + +Mother. Yes, here the battle rages, and so you must get out of the way. +You know our lot when the men go to war. + +Christine. But let me first know what it is all about. Not to know +anything at all makes me so unhappy. I see nothing but a dreadful +darkness, and shadows that are moving about--Give me light, so that I +may see clearly! Perhaps I know these ghostly shallows? + +Mother. You will shudder when you see who they are. + +Christine. It is better to shudder than to be tormented by this horrible +calm. + +Mother. Don't pray for the cloud to flash forth lightning: it may +destroy you! + +Christine. You frighten me! But tell me the truth--I must know--or I +shall ask some one else. + +Mother. Are you firm in your decision to withdraw within the sacred +walls of the convent? + +Christine. My father wishes it. + +Mother. You hesitate? (Christine does not answer.) There is some tie +that holds you back. + +Christine. You know? + +Mother. I know, and tell you to break it! + +Christine. It will soon be impossible. + +Mother. I will save you, child, for you can still be saved. I will offer +the Lord the greatest sacrifice of all if a single soul can be saved +from perdition--my son! + +Christine. Olof? + +Mother. He's lost, I tell you, and I, his mother, have to tell you so! + +Christine. Lost? + +Mother. He is a prophet of lies. The Devil has taken possession of his +soul. + +Christine (passionately). It isn't true! + +Mother. God grant that you are right! + +Christine. Why--why haven't you told me this before?--But, of course, +it's a lie! (She goes to the door leading into the church and pushes +it ajar.) Look at him, mother--there he is! Can that be an evil spirit +speaking out of his mouth? Can that be a hellish flame burning in +his eyes? Can lies be told with trembling lips? Does darkness shed +light--can't you see the halo about his head? You are wrong! I feel +it within me! I don't know what he preaches--I don't know what he +denies--but he is right! He is right, and the Lord is with him! + +Mother. You don't know the world, my child. You don't know the tricks of +the Devil. Beware! (She pulls Christine away from the door.) You mustn't +listen to him. There is no strength in your soul, and he's the apostle +of Antichrist! + +Christine. Who is Antichrist? + +Mother. He is a Luther! + +Christine. You have never told me who Luther is, but if Olof is his +apostle, then Luther must be a great man. + +Mother. Luther is possessed of the Devil! + +Christine. Why didn't you tell me before? Now I can't believe you! + +Mother. I am telling you now--Alas, I wanted to save you from the +world's wickedness, and so I kept you in ignorance-- + +Christine. I don't believe you! Let me go! I must see him--I must listen +to him--for he doesn't talk like the rest. + +Mother. Jesus, my Saviour! Are you, too, possessed by the unclean +spirit? + +Christine (at the door). "Bind not the souls," he said--did you hear? +"You are free, for the Lord has set you free." See how the people +shudder at his words--now they rise up--they mutter. "You want no +freedom--woe unto you! For that is the sin against the Holy Ghost!" + +[Enter Sexton.] + +Sexton. I don't think it's well for you to stay here any longer, my good +ladies. The people are getting restless. This will never end well for +Master Olof. + +Mother. Jesu Maria! What are you saying? + +Christine. Fear not! The spirit of the Lord is with him! + +Sexton. Well, I don't know about that, but he's a wonder at preaching. +Old sinner that I am, I couldn't keep from crying where I was sitting in +the organ-loft. I don't understand how it can be possible for a heretic +and an Antichrist to talk like that. That man Luther, I must say, +I--(Cries are heard from the church.) There, there! Now something +dreadful is going to happen again! And to think that the King should be +gone just now! + +Mother. Let us get away from here. If the Lord is with him, they can +do him no harm. If it be the Devil--then Thy will be done, O Lord--but +forgive him! + +(Cries are heard outside. Exeunt the Mother, Christine, and the Sexton. +For a few moments the stage stands empty and Olof's voice is heard more +clearly than before. It is interrupted by cries and the rattling of +stones thrown at the pulpit. Christine returns alone, locks the door on +the inside, and falls on her knees at a prie-dieu. A number of violent +blows are directed against the door from without, while the tumult in +the church continues to increase. Then silence is restored, as Olof +descends from the pulpit. His forehead is bleeding and he wears a +haggard look.) + +Olof (dropping into a chair without perceiving Christine). In vain! They +will not! I take the fetters from the prisoner, and he hits me. I tell +him he is free, and he doesn't believe me. Is that word "free" so big, +then, that it can't be contained in a human brain? Oh, that I had one at +least who believed--but to be alone--a fool whom no one understands-- + +Christine (coming forward). I believe in you, Olof! + +Olof. Christine! + +Christine. _You_ are right! + +Olof. How do you know? + +Christine. I can't tell, but I believe it. I have been listening to you. + +Olof. And you do not curse me? + +Christine. You are preaching the word of God, are you not? + +Olof. I am! + +Christine. Why have we not been told these things before? Or why have +they been told us in a language that we do not understand? + +Olof. Who has put those words into your mouth, girl? + +Christine. Who? I haven't thought of asking. + +Olof. Your father? + +Christine. He wants me to enter a convent. + +Olof. Has it come to that? And what is your own wish? + +Christine (catching sight of Olof's bleeding forehead). They have hurt +you, Olof! For heaven's sake, let me help you! + +Olof (sitting down again). Have I unsettled your faith, Christine? + +Christine (takes the handkerchief, tears it into strips, and begins +to dress Olof's wounds while speaking). My faith? I don't understand +you.--Tell me, who is Luther? + +Olof. I mustn't tell you. + +Christine. Always the same answer! From my father, from your mother, and +from yourself. Are you timid about telling me the truth, or is the truth +really dangerous? + +Olof. Truth is dangerous. Can't you see? (He points to his forehead.) + +Christine. So you want me to be shut up in a convent cell to live a +lifeless life in ignorance? (Olof does not reply.) You want me to weep +away my life and my youth, and to keep on saying those endlessly long +prayers until my soul is put to sleep? No--I won't do it, for now I am +awake. All around me they are fighting, and suffering, and despairing. +I have seen it, but I was to have no share in it. I was not even to look +on, or to know the purpose of the fighting. You wanted me to be sunk in +bestial slumber. But don't you believe me possessed of a soul, then--a +soul that cannot be satisfied by bread or by dry prayers put into my +mouth by others? "Bind not the spirits," you said. Oh, if you could only +know how that word pierced me! Daylight came, and those wild cries out +there sounded like the singing of birds in the morning-- + +Olof. You are a woman, Christine, and not born to fight! + +Christine. But in the name of God, let me suffer, then! Only not be +asleep! Don't you see that the Lord has awakened me in spite of all? You +have never dared to tell me who Antichrist was. You have never dared +to tell me who Luther was, and when your mother called you a Luther, I +blessed Luther. If he be a heretic or a believer, I don't know, and +I don't care; for no one--whether it be Luther, or the Pope, or +Antichrist-can satisfy my immortal soul when I have no faith in the +eternal God. + +Olof. Will you follow me into the battle, Christine? For you can sustain +me, and you only! + +Christine. Now I am able to answer you with a frank "yes," for I know +my own will--and I can do so without asking father first, for I am free. +Oh, I am free! + +Olof. And do you know what is in store for you? + +Christine. I know! You will not have to shatter my mocking dreams--they +are already gone. But you may be sure that I, too, have been dreaming of +a knight who was to lay a kingdom at my feet and talk to me of flowers +and love--Olof, I want to be your wife! Here is my hand! But this much +I must tell you: that you never have been the knight of my dreams, and +that I thank God he never came. For then he had also gone--as a dream. + +Olof. Christine, you want to be mine--and I will make you happy. For +when I suffered sorrow and temptation, you were always in my mind--and +now you shall be at my side! You were the maiden of my dreams, kept +captive in a tower by the stern castellan--and now you are mine! + +Christine. Beware of dreams, Olof! + +(Blows are heard on the door from outside.) + +Olof. Who is that? + +Voice (outside). Gert. + +Olof. What will he say? My promise-- + +Christine. Are you afraid? Shall I open? + +(Olof opens the door.) + +[Enter Gert.] + +Gert (starting at the sight of his daughter and Olof). Christine?--You +have broken your promise, Olof! + +Olof. I have not. + +Gert. You lie! You have stolen my child, my one solace. + +Christine. Olof is not lying. + +Gert. You have been to church, Christine? + +Christine. I have heard what you didn't want me to hear. + +Gert. O Lord, this only joy Thou hast begrudged me! + +Olof. The stream that you wanted to set free takes its victims where it +can. + +Gert. You have robbed me of her, of my child! + +Olof. Give her to me, Father Gert! + +Gert. Never! + +Olof. Is she not free? + +Gert. She is my child. + +Olof. Are you not preaching freedom? She is mine! The Lord has given her +to me, and you cannot take her away. + +Gert. You are--thank God--a priest. + +Olof and Christine. A priest! + +Gert. And as such you cannot marry. + +Olof. And if I do? + +Gert. You would dare? + +Olof. I would. + +Gert. Do you want a man who is under the ban, Christine? + +Christine. I don't know what that means. + +Olof. There you see, Gert, there you see! + +Gert. Thy punishment is harsh, O Lord! + +Olof. The truth is for all. + +Gert. Your love is greater than mine, which was nothing but selfishness. +God bless you! Now I stand alone! (He embraces them.) There, now! Go +home, Christine, and set their minds at rest. I want to speak to Olof. +(Exit Christine.) Now you belong to me. + +Olof. What do you mean? + +Gert. Kinsman!--You got my letter? + +Olof. It was you who advised me not to preach? + +Gert. Quite the contrary, although I expressed myself somewhat +strangely. + +Olof. I don't understand. + +Gert. No--no! You are still too young, and so you need a providence. To +a man like you one says "Let be" when one wants him to do something. + +Olof. Why were you and your followers not in church? + +Gert. None but the sick need doctors. We were busy elsewhere. You have +done a good piece of work to-day, and I see that you have got your +reward for it. I have set you free to-day, Olof. + +Olof. _You_ have? + +Gert. The King commanded you to quiet the rebellious, and what have you +been doing? + +Olof. Now I begin to understand you, Father Gert. + +Gert. I am delighted! Yes, you have aroused even the calmest. + +Olof. So I have. + +Gert. What do you think the King will say to that? + +Olof. I shall have to face it. + +Gert. Good! + +Olof. The King will approve my actions, for he wants a reformation, +although he does not yet dare to start one himself. + +Gert. You idiot! + +Olof. I see that you want to set me against my lawful sovereign. + +Gert. Tell me, how many masters do you think you can serve? (Olof makes +no reply.) The King is here. + +Olof. What do you say? + +Gert. The King has just returned. + +Olof. And the Anabaptists? + +Gert. Locked up, of course. + +Olof. And you stand here so calmly? + +Gert. I am old now. Once I used to rage like you, but it only tired me +out. Rink and Knipperdollink have served as my outposts. They had to +fall, that's plain; now my work begins. + +(Drum-beats are heard from the street.) + +Olof. What is that? + +Gert. The royal drums that keep the captives company to prison. Come +here and see! + +Olof (mounting one of the benches and looking out of the window). What +do I see? Women and children are dragged along by the soldiers! + +Gert. Well, they have been throwing stones at the King's guard. Do you +think such things can be allowed? + +Olof. But are madmen and sick people to be put into prison? + +Gert. There are two kinds of madmen. One kind is sent to the hospital +and treated with pills and cold baths. Those of the other kind have +their heads cut off. It is a radical treatment, but then, for a fact, +they are rather dangerous. + +Olof. I'll go to the King. He cannot wish such dreadful things to +happen. + +Gert. Take care of your head, Olof! + +Olof. Take care of your own, Father Gert! + +Gert. No danger in my case, for I have a warrant for the asylum. + +Olof. I cannot bear to see these things. I am going to the King, even if +it cost my life. (He goes toward the door.) + +Gert. This is a matter not to be settled by the King. You should appeal +to the law. + +Olof. The King is the law! + +Gert. Unfortunately!--If the horse knew his own strength, he would never +be mad enough, as he is now, to bear the yoke. But when once in a while +he gets his reason back and runs away from his oppressors, then they +call him mad--Let us pray the Lord to give these poor creatures their +reason back! + + + + +ACT III + +SCENE 1 + +(A Hall in the Royal Palace at Stockholm. In the background is a gallery +which can be partitioned off by curtains. In elderly servant of the +palace is pacing back and forth in the gallery.) + +Enter Olof. + +Olof. Is the King receiving to-day? + +Servant. Yes. + +Olof. Can you tell me why I have been kept waiting here in vain four +days at a stretch? + +Servant. No, heavens, I know nothing at all. + +Olof. It seems strange that I have not been admitted. + +Servant. What is it about? + +Olof. That's none of your concern! + +Servant. Of course not! I understand that, but I thought I might be able +to give some information, perhaps. + +Olof. Have you charge of the King's audiences? + +Servant. Oh, heavens, no! But you see, when a man hears as much as I do, +he knows a little of everything. (Pause.) + +Olof. Do you think I shall have to wait long? (The servant pretends not +to hear.) Do you know if the King is coming soon? + +Servant (with his back turned to Olof). What? + +Olof. Do you know to whom you are talking? + +Servant. No, I don't. + +Olof. I am the King's Secretary. + +Servant. Oh, mercy, are you Master Olof? I knew your father, Peter the +Smith, for I am also from Örebro. + +Olof. Well, can't you be civil in spite of that? + +Servant. Well, well! That's what happens when one gets on a little in +this world--then one's humble parents are forgotten. + +Olof. It is possible that my father actually honored you with his +acquaintance, but I doubt that he put you in a parent's place to me when +he died. + +Servant. Well, well! I declare! It must be hard on Dame Christine! [Exit +to the left.] + +[Olof is left alone for a while. Then Lars Siggesson, the Lord High +Constable, enters from the right.] + +Constable (throwing his cloak to Olof without looking at him). Will the +King be here soon? + +Olof (catching the cloak and throwing it on the floor). I do not know! + +Constable. Bring me a chair. + +Olof. That's not my office. + +Constable. I am not familiar with the instructions of the doorkeeper. + +Olof. I am no doorkeeper! + +Constable. I don't care what you are, and I don't carry with me a list +of the menials, but you will have to be civil! (Olof remains silent.) +Well, what about it? I think the Devil has got into you! + +Olof. Pardon me, but it is no part of my duty as secretary to wait on +anybody. + +Constable. What? Oh, Master Olof! Why, first you sit at the door playing +lackey, and then you drop the mask and step forth as the Lord Himself! +And I took you to be a proud man. (He picks up his cloak and places it +on a bench.) + +Olof. My Lord Constable! + +Constable. But, no, you are only a vain upstart! Please step forward and +be seated, Mr. Secretary. + +[He points Olof to a seat and goes out into one of the side-rooms.] + +[Olof sits down. A young Courtier enters through the gallery and salutes +Olof.] + +Courtier. Good morning, Secretary! Is nobody here yet? Well, how is +everything in Stockholm? I have just arrived from Malmö. + +Olof. Oh, everything is going wrong here. + +Courtier. So I have heard. The mob has been muttering as usual whenever +the King's back is turned. And then there are those fool priests!--I beg +your pardon, Secretary, but, of course, you are a freethinker? + +Olof. I don't quite understand. + +Courtier. Don't mind me, please. You see, I have been educated in Paris. +Francis the First--O Saint-Sauveur!--that's a man who has extreme views. +Do you know what he told me at a bal masqué during the last carnival? +(Olof remains silent.) "Monsieur," he said, "la religion est morte, est +morte," he said. Which didn't keep him from attending mass. + +Olof. Is that so? + +Courtier. Do you know what he replied when I asked him why he did +so?--"Poetry! Poetry!" he said. Oh, he is divine! + +Olof. What did you answer? + +Courtier. "Your Majesty," I said--in French, of course--"fortunate the +land that has a king who can look so far beyond the narrow horizon +of his own time that he perceives what the spirit of the age demands, +without trying to urge the masses to embrace that higher view of life +for which they will not be ready for many centuries to come!" Wasn't +that pretty clever? + +Olof. Oh, yes, but I think it must have lost a great deal in being +translated. Things of that kind should be spoken in French. + +Courtier (preoccupied). You are quite right.--Tell me--your _fortune_ +ought to be assured--you are so far in advance of your time? + +Olof. I fear I shall not get very far. My education was neglected, +unfortunately--I studied in Germany, as you may know--and the Germans +are not beyond religion yet. + +Courtier. Indeed, indeed! Can you tell me why they are making such a +hubbub about that Reformation down there in Germany? Luther is a man of +enlightenment--I know it--I believe it--but why shouldn't he keep it to +himself, or at least not waste any sparks of light on the brutish herd +to which they can be nothing but so many pearls thrown to the swine. +If you let your eye survey the time we are living in--if you make some +effort to follow the great currents of thought--then you will easily +perceive the cause of that disturbed equilibrium which is now making +itself felt in all the great civilized countries; I am not talking of +Sweden, of course, which is not a civilized country. Can you name +the centre of gravity--that centre which cannot be disturbed without +everything going to pieces--the instability of which tends to upset +everything? The name of it is--the nobility. The nobility is the +thinking principle. The feudal system is falling--and that means the +world. Erudition is in decay. Civilization is dying. Yes, indeed--You +don't believe that? But if you have any historical outlook at all, you +can see that it is so. The nobility started the Crusades. The nobility +has done this and that and everything. Why is Germany being torn to +pieces? Because the peasantry has risen against the nobility, thus +cutting off its own head. Why is France safe--la France? Because France +is one with the nobility, and the nobility is one with France--because +those two ideas are identical, inseparable. And why, I ask again, is +Sweden at present shaken to its nethermost foundations? Because the +nobility has been crushed. Christian the Second was a man of genius. He +knew how to conquer a country. He didn't cut off a leg or an arm--nay, +he cut off the head. Well, then! Sweden must be saved, and the King +knows how. The nobility is to be restored, and the Church is to be +crushed. What do you say to that? + +Olof (rising). Nothing! (Pause.) You are a freethinker? + +Courtier. Of course! + +Olof. You don't believe, then, that Balaam's ass could talk? + +Courtier. Gracious, no! + +Olof. But I do. + +Courtier. Really? + +[Enter Lars Andersson.] + +Lars Andersson. The peace of the Lord be with you, Olof. + +Olof (embracing him). Well met, Lars! + +Courtier. Populace! [Exit.] + +Lars. Well, how do you like living here? + +Olof. It's so close! + +Lars. Somewhat! + +Olof. And no room overhead. + +Lars. That's why they find it so hard to keep their backs straight. + +Olof. In ten minutes I have become so much of a courtier that I know how +to be silent when an ass is talking. + +Lars. There is no harm in that. + +Olof. What does the King think? + +Lars. He doesn't tell. + +(A number of people have begun to gather in the hall.) + +Olof. How does he look? + +Lars. Like an interrogation point followed by several exclamation marks. + +[Enter Bishop Brask. All give way before him. The Lord High Constable, +who has returned in the meantime, goes to meet him and exchanges +greetings with him. Olof salutes the Bishop, who looks surprised.] + +Brask (to the Constable). Is this a place for the clerks? + +Constable. It ought not to be, but our King is so very gracious. + +Brask. Condescending, you mean? + +Constable. Exactly. + +Brask. The audience is well attended to-day. + +Constable. Mostly formal calls occasioned by the happy return of His +Highness. + +Brask. It is a pleasure, my Lord Constable, to offer His Highness our +sincere felicitations on the happy solution of this question. + +Constable. It is indeed courteous in Your Grace to incur the trouble of +such a long journey--especially at Your Grace's advanced age. + +Brask. Unfortunately, my health is not always to be depended upon. + +Constable. Is Your Grace not enjoying good health? It is hard to feel +one's strength failing, particularly for one who occupies such an +exalted and responsible position. + +Brask. You look very well, my Lord Constable. + +Constable. Yes, thank God! (Pause.) + +Brask (seating himself). Don't you think there is a draught here, my +Lord? + +Constable. It seems so. Perhaps we might order the doors to be closed? + +Brask. No, thank you, that will not be necessary. (Pause.) + +Constable. The King is long in coming. + +Brask. Yes. + +Constable. Perhaps you won't find it worth your while to wait for him. + +Brask. Perhaps not! + +Constable. With your permission, I will send word to Your Grace's +servants. + +Brask. As I have waited so long, I think I shall wait a little longer. +(Pause.) + +Servant. His Highness! + +[Enter Gustaf.] + +Gustaf. I bid you welcome, gentlemen. (He takes a seat at a table.) If +you will please step out into the antechamber, I will receive you one at +a time. (All retire except Bishop Brask.) Our Lord Constable will stay. + +Brask. Your Highness! + +Gustaf (raising his voice). Sir Lars! (Brask goes out, the Constable +remaining; pause.) Speak! What am I to do? + +Constable. Your Highness, the State has lost its prop, and therefore it +is toppling over; the State has an enemy that has grown too strong for +it. Restore the prop, which is the nobility, and crush the enemy, which +is the Church! + +Gustaf. I dare not! + +Constable. You must, Your Highness! + +Gustaf. What's that? + +Constable. First of all: Brask is in correspondence with the Pope +to have the inquisition established here. Lübeck is insisting on her +shameless demands and threatens war. The treasury is empty. There is +rebellion in every nook and corner of the country-- + +Gustaf. That's enough! But I have the people with me. + +Constable. I beg your pardon--you have not. There are the Dalecarlians, +for instance--a spoiled lot, always disputing with those of Lübeck about +the honor of having bestowed a king on Sweden. They are ready to rebel +on the slightest occasion, and they are coming forward with demands like +these: "There shall be no outlandish customs used, with slittered and +motley colored clothes, such as have of late been brought into the +King's court." + +Gustaf. 'Sdeath! + +Constable. "Whosoever eats meat on Fridays or Saturdays shall be burned +at the stake or otherwise made away with." And furthermore, "There +shall be no new faith or Lutheran teachings foisted upon us." What a +treacherous, impudent people! + +Gustaf. And yet there was a time when they showed themselves to be men. + +Constable. Well, what wonder if they carried water when their house was +afire? How many times have they broken troth and faith? But they have +so often heard themselves lauded that they have come to give the name of +"old Swedish honesty" to their own brute arrogance. + +Gustaf. You belong to the nobility! + +Constable. Yes, and it is my conviction that the peasant has played out +his part--the part of a crude force needed to drive away the enemy +by sheer strength of arm. Crush the Church, Your Highness, for it is +keeping the people in fetters. Seize the gold of the Church and pay the +country's debt--and give back to the reduced nobility what the Church +has obtained from it by dupery. + +Gustaf. Call in Brask. + +Constable. Your Highness! + +Gustaf. Call Bishop Brask! [Exit the Constable.] + +[Enter Bishop Brask.] + +Gustaf. Speak, Your Grace! + +Brask. I wish to offer our congratulations on-- + +Gustaf. I thank Your Grace! And what more? + +Brask. There have been complaints from several districts, I am sorry +to say, about unpaid loans of silver exacted from the churches by Your +Highness. + +Gustaf. Which you now are trying to recover. Are all the chalices +actually needed for communion? + +Brask. They are. + +Gustaf Let them use pewter mugs, then. + +Brask. Your Highness! + +Gustaf. Anything more? + +Brask. What is worse than anything else--all this heresy! + +Gustaf. No concern of mine! I am not the Pope. + +Brask. I have to warn Your Highness that the Church must look out for +her own rights, even if doing so should bring her into conflict-- + +Gustaf. With whom? + +Brask. With the State. + +Gustaf. Your Church can go to the devil! There, I have said it! + +Brask. I knew it. + +Gustaf. And you were only waiting for me to say so? + +Brask. Exactly. + +Gustaf. Take care! You travel with a following of two hundred men, and +you eat from silver, when the people are living on bark. + +Brask. Your Highness takes too narrow a view of the matter. + +Gustaf. Have you heard of Luther? You are a well-informed man. What kind +of a phenomenon is he? What have you to say of the movements that are +now spreading throughout Europe? + +Brask. Progress backward! Luther is merely destined to serve as a +purging fire for what is ancient, descended from untold ages and well +tried, so that it may be cleansed and by the struggle urged on to +greater victories. + +Gustaf. I care nothing for your learned arguments. + +Brask. But Your Highness is extending protection to criminals and +interfering with the privileges of the Church; for the Church has been +grievously wronged by Master Olof. + +Gustaf. Well, put him under the ban. + +Brask. It has been done, and yet he remains in the service of Your +Highness. + +Gustaf. What more do you want done to him? Tell me? (Pause.) + +Brask. Furthermore, he has gone so far as to marry secretly in violation +of the Canon Law. + +Gustaf. Is that so? That's quick action. + +Brask. It doesn't concern Your Highness? Good and well! But if he stirs +up the people? + +Gustaf. Then I'll step in. Anything more? + +Brask (after a pause). I ask you for heaven's sake not to plunge the +country into disaster again. It is not yet ripe for a new faith. We are +but reeds in the wind and can be bent--but when it comes to the faith, +or the Church--never! + +Gustaf (holding out his hand to the Bishop). Maybe you are right! But +let us be enemies rather than false friends, Bishop Hans! + +Brask. Be it so! But do not do what you will regret. Every stone you +tear out of the Church will be thrown at you by the people. + +Gustaf. Don't force me to extremes, Your Grace, for then we shall have +the same horrible spectacle here as in Germany. For the last time: are +you willing to make concessions if the welfare of the country is at +stake? + +Brask. The Church-- + +Gustaf. The Church comes first--very well! Good-bye! + +[Exit Brask. Reënter the Constable.] + +Gustaf. The Bishop has confirmed your statement, and that was what I +wanted him to do. Now we shall need stone-masons who know how to tear +down. The walls will be left, the cross may stay on the roof and the +bell in the tower, but I will clear out the vaults. One must begin at +the bottom! + +Constable. The people will think you are taking away their faith. They +will have to be educated. + +Gustaf. We'll send Master Olof to preach to them. + +Constable. Master Olof is a dangerous man. + +Gustaf. But needed just now. + +Constable. He has carried on like the Anabaptists instead of opposing +them. + +Gustaf. I know. We'll get to that later on. Send him in. + +Constable. Lars the Chancellor would be a better man. + +Gustaf. Bring them both in. + +Constable. Or Olof's brother, Lars Pedersson. + +Gustaf. No good yet. He is too soft for fighting, but his time will +come, too. [Exit Constable.] + +The Constable returns with Master Olof and Lars Andersson. + +Gustaf (to the Chancellor). Do you want to help me, Lars? + +Lars. You are thinking of the Church? + +Gustaf. Yes, it will have to be torn down. + +Lars. I am not the man for that. Your Majesty had better ask Master +Olof. + +Gustaf. You won't, then? + +Lars. I can't! But I have a weapon for you. (He hands the new +translation of the Bible to the King.) + +Gustaf. Holy Writ! A good weapon, indeed! Will you wield it, Olof? + +Olof. With the help of God--yes! + +Gustaf (to Olof, after having signalled to Lars to leave). Have you +calmed down yet, Olof? (Olof does not answer). I gave you four days to +think it over. How have you been carrying out your task? + +Olof (impetuously). I have spoken to the people-- + +Gustaf. Still in a fever! And you mean to defend those madmen named +Anabaptists? + +Olof (bravely). I do! + +Gustaf. Steady!--You have married in a hurry? + +Olof. I have. + +Gustaf. You are under the ban? + +Olof. I am. + +Gustaf. And still as brave as ever! If you were sent to the gallows as a +rebel with the rest, what would you say then? + +Olof. I should regret not being permitted to finish my task, but I +should thank the Lord for having been allowed to do what I have done. + +Gustaf. That's good! Would you dare to go up to that old owl's-nest +Upsala and tell its learned men that the Pope is not God and that he has +nothing to do with Sweden? + +Olof. Only that? + +Gustaf. Will you tell them that the only word of God is the Bible? + +Olof. Must that be all? + +Gustaf. You are not to mention the name of Luther! + +Olof (after some hesitation). Then I will not go. + +Gustaf. Would you rather go to your death? + +Olof. No, but I know that my sovereign needs me. + +Gustaf. It isn't noble to take advantage of my misfortune, Olof. Well, +say anything; you please, but you will have to pardon me if I take back +a part of it afterwards. + +Olof. Truth isn't sold by the yard. + +Gustaf. 'Sdeath! (Changing tone.) Well, suit yourself! + +Olof (kneeling). Then I may say all that is in my mind? + +Gustaf. You may. + +Olof. Then, if I can only throw a single spark of doubt into the soul of +this sleeping people, my life will not have been wasted.--It is to be a +reformation, then? + +Gustaf (after a pause). Yes. (Pause.) + +Olof (timidly). And what is to become of the Anabaptists? + +Gustaf. Need you ask? They must die. + +Olof. Will Your Highness permit me one more question? + +Gustaf. Tell me: what do those madmen want? + +Olof. The sad thing is that they do not know it themselves, and if I +were to tell you-- + +Gustaf. Speak out! + +[Gert enters quickly, pretending to be insane.] + +Gustaf. Who are you to dare intrude here? + +Gert. I want most humbly to beseech Your Highness to attest the +correctness of this document. + +Gustaf. Wait till you are called. + +Gert. Of course, I should like to, but the guards won't wait for me. I +escaped from prison, you see, because my place wasn't there. + +Gustaf. Are you one of those Anabaptists? + +Gert. Yes, I happened to get mixed up with them, but here I have a +certificate proving that I belong to the asylum, the third department +for incurables, cell number seven. + +Gustaf (to Olof). Send word to the guard. + +Gert. That isn't necessary, for I want nothing but justice, and it's +something the guard doesn't handle. + +Gustaf (looking hard at Gert). I suppose you have had a share in those +outrages in the city churches? + +Gert. Of course, I have! No sane person could behave so madly. We wanted +only to make a few minor alterations in the style. They seemed too low +in the ceiling. + +Gustaf. What do you really want? + +Gert. Oh, we want a great deal, although we haven't got through with +one-half of it yet. Yes, we want so many things and we want them so +quickly, that our reason cannot keep pace with them, and that's why it +has been lagging behind a little. Yes, we wish among other things to +change the furnishings a little in the churches, and to remove the +windows because the air seems so musty. Yes, and there is a lot more we +want, but that will have to wait for a while. + +Gustaf (to Olof). That's a perilous disease--for anything else it cannot +be. + +Olof. Who knows? + +Gustaf. Now I am tired. You'll have a fortnight in which to get ready. +Your hand that you will help me! + +Olof. I will do my part. + +Gustaf. Give orders to have Rink and Knipperdollink sent to Malmö. + +Olof. And then? + +Gustaf. They'll have a chance to escape. That fool over there you can +send back to the asylum. Farewell! [Exit.] + +Gert (shaking his clenched fist after Gustaf). Well, are we going? + +Olof. Where? + +Gert. Home. (Olof remains silent.) You don't wish to send your +father-in-law to the madhouse, do you, Olof? + +Olof. You ask me what I wish--How about my duty? + +Gert. Is there no duty above the royal command? + +Olof. Are you beginning again? + +Gert. What will Christine say if you put her father among madmen? + +Olof. Tempt me not! + +Gert. Do you see how difficult it is to serve the King? (Olof does not +answer.) I won't make you unhappy, my poor boy. Here's balm for your +conscience. (He takes out a document.) + +Olof. What is it? + +Gert. A certificate of health. You see, it is necessary to be a madman +among sane people, and sane among mad men. + +Olof. How did you get it? + +Gert. Don't you think I deserve it? + +Olof. I can't tell. + +Gert. True enough: you don't yet dare. + +[Enter Servant.] + +Servant. Will you please go your way. They 're about to sweep. + +Gert. Perhaps the place has to be aired, too? + +Servant. Yes, indeed! + +Gert. Don't forget to open the windows. + +Servant. No, you may be sure, and it's needed, too, for we are not +accustomed to this kind of company. + +Gert. Look here, old man--I carry a greeting from your father. + +Servant. Oh, you do? + +Gert. Perhaps you never knew him? + +Servant. Why, certainly! + +Gert. Do you know what he said? + +Servant. No. + +Gert. Wet the broom, he said, or you'll get the dust all over yourself. + +Servant. I don't understand. + +Gert. Well, that's your only excuse. + +[Exeunt Gert and Olof.] + +Servant. Rabble! + + +SCENE 2 + +(Olof's Study. There are windows in the background, through which the +sun is shining into the room. Trees are visible outside. Christine is +standing at one of the windows, watering her flowers. While doing so +she is prattling to some birds in a cage. Olof is seated at a table, +writing. With an impatient mien he looks up and across the room to +Christine as if he wished her to keep quiet. This happens several times, +until at last Christine knocks down one of the flower pots, when Olof +taps the floor lightly with his foot.) + +Christine. Oh, my poor little flower! Look, Olof, four buds were broken +off. + +Olof. Yes, I see. + +Christine. No, you don't. You must come over here. + +Olof. My dear, I haven't time. + +Christine. You haven't looked at the starlings which I bought for you +this morning. Don't you think they sing sweetly? + +Olof. Rather. + +Christine. Rather? + +Olof. It's hard for me to work when they are screaming like that. + +Christine. They are not screaming, Olof, but you seem to be more fond of +a night bird that does scream. Tell me, what is the meaning of the owl +that appears on your signet ring? + +Olof. The owl is an ancient symbol of wisdom. + +Christine. I think that's stupid! Wise people don't love the darkness. + +Olof. The wise man hates the darkness and the night, but his keen eye +turns night into day. + +Christine. Why are you always right, Olof? Can you tell me? + +Olof. Because I know it pleases you, my dear, to let me be in the right. + +Christine. Now, you are right again.--What is that you are writing? + +Olof. I am translating. + +Christine. Read a little of it to me. + +Olof. I don't think you could understand it. + +Christine. Why shouldn't I? Is it not in Swedish? + +Olof. Yes, but it is too abstract for you. + +Christine. Abstract? What does that mean? + +Olof. You wouldn't understand if I told you, but if you don't understand +what I read to you, then you understand what is meant by "abstract." + +Christine (picking up a piece of half-finished embroidery). Go on and +read while I work at this. + +Olof. Listen carefully, then, and forgive me if you find it tedious. + +Christine. I shall understand because I want to. + +Olof (reading). "Matter when considered separate from form is something +wholly without predictability, indeterminable and indistinguishable. +For nothing can originate out of pure non-being, but only out of the +non-being of reality, which is synonymous with being as a possibility. +Being in its possibility is no more non-being than is reality. For that +reason every existence is a realized possibility. Thus matter is to +Aristotle a much more positive substratum than to Plato, who declares it +to be pure non-being. And thereby it becomes plain how Aristotle could +conceive of matter in its opposition to form as a positive negativity." + +Christine (throwing aside her work). Stop! Why is it that I cannot +understand that? Have I not the same mental faculties as you? I am +ashamed, Olof, because you have such a poor creature of a wife that she +cannot understand what you say. No, I will stick to my embroidery, +I will clean and dust your study, I will at least learn to read your +wishes in your eyes. I may become your slave, but never, never shall I +be able to understand you. Oh, Olof, I am not worthy of you! Why did +you make me your wife? You must have over-valued me in a moment of +intoxication. Now you will regret it, and we shall both be unhappy. + +Olof. Christine! Don't take it like that, dear! Come and sit here by me. +(He picks up the embroidery.) Will you believe me if I tell you that I +couldn't possibly do a thing like this? Never in my life could I do it. +Are you not then cleverer than I, and am I not the lesser of us two? + +Christine. But why can't you do it? + +Olof. For the same reason that you couldn't understand me a moment ago: +I haven't learned how. And perhaps you will feel happy once more if I +tell you that you can learn to understand this book--which, by the by, +is not identical with me--while on the other hand, I could never learn +to do your work. + +Christine. Why couldn't you? + +Olof. Because I am not built that way and don't want to do it. + +Christine. But if you wanted to? + +Olof. Well, there, my dear, you have my weak point. I could never want +to do it. Believe me, you are stronger than I, for you have power over +your own will, but I have not. + +Christine. Do you think I could learn to understand that book of yours? + +Olof. I am convinced of it. But you must not. + +Christine. Am I still to be kept in ignorance? + +Olof. No, no--understand me right! The moment you understood what I +understand, you would cease to think of me as-- + +Christine. A god-- + +Olof. Let it go at that! But believe me, you would lose what now puts +you above me--the power to control your own will--and then you would be +less than I, and I could not respect you. Do you see? It stakes us happy +to overvalue each other; let us keep that illusion. + +Christine. Now I don't understand you at all, but I must trust you, +Olof. You are right! + +Olof. Please leave me alone, Christine--I beg you! + +Christine. Do I disturb you? + +Olof. There are some very serious thoughts that occupy me. You know, +I expect something decisive to happen today. The King has abdicated +because the people would not do what he desired. To-day I shall either +reach my goal or have to start the fight all over again. + +Christine. May I not be happy to-day, Olof--on Midsummer Eve? + +Olof. Why should you be so very happy to-day? + +Christine. Why should I not--since I have been set free from slavery and +have become your wife? + +Olof. Can you forgive me that my happiness is a little more sober +because it has cost me--a mother? + +Christine. I know, and I feel it very deeply. But when your mother +learns of our marriage, she will forgive you and put her curse on me. +Whose burden will then be the heavier? However, it doesn't matter, +because it's borne for your sake. And this much I know: that terrible +struggles are awaiting you; that daring thoughts are growing in your +mind; and that I can never share your struggle, never help you with +advice, never defend you against those that vilify you--but still I must +look on, and through it all I must go on living in my own little world, +employing myself with petty things which you do not appreciate, but +would miss if they were not attended to. Olof, I cannot weep with you, +so you must help me to make you smile with me. Come down from those +heights which I cannot attain. Leave your battles on the hilltops +and return some time to our home. As I cannot ascend to you, you must +descend to me for a moment. Forgive me, Olof, if I talk childishly! I +know that you are a man sent by the Lord, and I have felt the blessing +with which your words are fraught. But you are more than that--you are +a man, and you are my husband--or at least ought to be. You won't fall +from your exalted place if you put aside your solemn speech now and then +and let the clouds pass from your forehead. You are not too great, are +you, to look at a flower or listen to a bird? I put the flowers on your +table, Olof, in order that they might rest your eyes--and you ordered +the maid to take them out because they gave you a headache. I tried to +cheer the lonely silence of your work by bringing the birds--whose +song you call screaming. I asked you to come to dinner a while ago--you +hadn't time. I wanted to talk to you--you hadn't time. You despise this +little corner of reality--and yet that is what you have set aside for +me. You don't want to lift me up to you--but try at least not to push +me further down. I will take away everything that might disturb your +thoughts. You shall have peace from me--and from my rubbish! (She throws +the flowers out of the window, picks up the birdcage, and starts to +leave.) + +Olof. Christine, dear child, forgive me! You don't understand me! + +Christine. Always the same: "You don't understand me!" Oh, I know now +what it means. In that moment in the sacristy I matured so completely +that I reached my second childhood at once! + +Olof. I'll look at your birds and prattle with your flowers, dear heart. + +Christine (putting aside the bird-cage). No, the time for prattle +is gone by--from now on we shall be serious. You need not fear my +boisterous happiness. It was only put on for your sake, and as it +doesn't suit your sombre calling, I'll--(She bursts into tears.) + +Olof (putting his arms around her and kissing her.) Christine! +Christine! You are right! Please pardon me! + +Christine. You gave me an unlucky gift, Olof, when you gave me freedom, +for I don't know what to do with it. I must have some one to obey! + +Olof. And so you shall, but don't let us talk of it any more. Let us eat +now--in fact, I feel quite hungry. + +Christine (pleased). Do you really know how to be hungry? (At that +moment she looks out of the window and makes a gesture of dismay.) Go +on, Olof, and I'll be with you in a moment. I only want to get things in +a little better order in here. + +Olof (as he goes out). Don't let me wait so long for you as you have had +to wait for me. + +(Christine folds her hands as if praying and takes up a position +indicating that she is waiting far somebody about to enter from the +street. Pause.) + +[Enter Olof's Mother. She passes Christine without looking at her.] + +Mother. Is Master Olof at home? + +Christine (who has started to meet her in a friendly way, is taken aback +for a moment; then she answers in the same tone). No, but if you care to +be seated, he will be here soon. + +Mother. Thank you! (She seats herself. Pause.) Bring me a glass of +water. (Christine waits on her.) Now you can leave me. + +Christine. It is my housewifely duty to bear you company. + +Mother. I didn't know that the housekeeper of a priest could call +herself a housewife. + +Christine. I am the wife of Olof with the sanction of the Lord. Don't +you know that we are married? + +Mother. You are a harlot--that's what I know! + +Christine. That word I do not understand. + +Mother. You are the same kind of woman as she with whom Master Olof was +talking that evening in the beer-shop. + +Christine. The one that looked so unhappy? Yes, I don't feel very happy. + +Mother. Of course not! Take yourself out of my sight! Your presence +shames me! + +Christine (on her knees). For the sake of your son, don't heap abuse on +me! + +Mother. With a mother's authority I command you to leave my son's house, +the threshold of which you have defiled. + +Christine. As a housewife I open my door to whom I may choose to +receive. I should have closed it to you, had I been able to guess what +language you would use. + +Mother. Big words, indeed! I command you to leave! + +Christine. With what right do you force yourself into this house in +order to drive me out of my own home? You have borne a son, and raised +him--that was your duty, your mission, and you may thank your God for +being permitted to fill that mission so well, which is a good fortune +not granted to everybody. Now you have reached the edge of the grave. +Why not resign yourself before the end comes? Or have you raised your +son so poorly that he is still a child and needs your guidance? If you +want gratitude, come and look for it, but not in this way. Or do you +think it is the destiny of a child to sacrifice its own life merely to +show you gratitude? His mission is calling: "Go!" And you cry to him: +"Come to me, you ingrate!" Is he to go astray--is he to waste his +powers, that belong to his country, to mankind--merely for the +satisfaction of your private little selfishness? Or do you imagine +that the fact of having borne and raised him does even entitle you to +gratitude? Did not your life's mission and destiny lie in that? Should +you not thank the Lord for being given such a high mission? Or did you +do it only that you might spend the rest of your life clamoring for +gratitude? Don't you see that by using that word "gratitude" you tear +down all that you have built up before? And what makes you presume that +you have rights over me? Is marriage to mean a mortgaging of my +free will to anybody whom nature has made the mother or father of my +husband--who unfortunately could not exist without either? You are not +_my_ mother. My troth was not pledged to you when I took Olof as my +husband. And I have sufficient respect for my husband not to permit +anybody to insult him, even if it be his own mother. That's why I have +spoken as I have! + +Mother. Alas, such are the fruits borne by the teachings of my son! + +Christine. If you choose to revile your son, it had better be in his +presence. (She goes to the door and calls.) Olof! + +Mother. Such guile already! + +Christine. Already? It's nothing new, I think, although I didn't know I +had it until it was needed. + +[Enter Olof.] + +Olof. Mother! I am right glad to see you! + +Mother. Thanks, my son--and good-bye! + +Olof. Are you going? What does that mean? I wish to talk to you. + +Mother. No need! She has said all there is to say. You will not have to +show me the door. + +Olof. In God's name, mother, what are you saying? Christine, what does +this mean? + +Mother (about to leave). Good-bye, Olof! This is more than I can ever +forgive you! + +Olof (trying to hold her back). Stay and explain, at least! + +Mother. It was not worthy of you! To send her to tell me that you owe me +nothing and need me no more! Oh, that was cruel! [Exit.] + +Olof. What did you say, Christine? + +Christine. I don't remember, because there were so many things which I +had never dared to think, but which I must have dreamt while father kept +me still enslaved. + +Olof. I don't know you any more, Christine. + +Christine. No, I begin to feel a little lost myself. + +Olof. Were you unkind to mother? + +Christine. I suppose I was. Does it seem to you that I have grown hard, +Olof? + +Olof. Did you show her the door? + +Christine. Forgive me, Olof! I was not kind to her. + +Olof. For my sake you might have made your words a little milder. Why +didn't you call me at once? + +Christine. I wished to see if I had the strength to take care of myself. +Olof, would you sacrifice me to your mother, if she demanded it? + +Olof. I cannot answer such a question offhand. + +Christine. I'll do it in your place. It pleases you to submit willingly +to your mother's will and wish because you are strong--and I, on the +other hand, feel hurt by doing so, for I am weak. I will never do it! + +Olof. Not if I ask you? + +Christine. That's more than you can ask. Or would you have me hate +her?--Tell me, Olof, what is meant by a "harlot"? + +Olof. You ask such strange questions. + +Christine. Will you please answer me? + +Olof. Will you forgive me if I don't? + +Christine. Always this unending silence! Do you not yet dare to tell me +all? Am I to be a child forever? Then you had better put me in a nursery +and talk baby-talk to me. + +Olof. It means an unfortunate woman. + +Christine. No, it means something more than that. + +Olof. Has anybody dared to use that word to you? + +Christine (after a pause). No. + +Olof. Now you are not telling the truth, Christine. + +Christine. I know I lie! Oh, since yesterday I have grown very wicked! + +Olof. You are hiding something that happened yesterday! + +Christine. I am--I thought that I could keep it to myself, but it has +grown too much for me. + +Olof. Speak--I beg you! + +Christine. But you mustn't call me silly! A crowd of people pursued me +all the way to our door and called after me that horrible word which I +don't understand. People do not laugh at an unfortunate woman-- + +Olof. Yes, dear, that's just what they do. + +Christine. I didn't understand their words, but their actions were plain +enough to make me wicked! + +Olof. And yet you were so kind to me! Forgive me if I have been hard to +you!--It is a name given by brute force to its own victims. Sooner +or later, you'll learn more about it, but never dare to defend an +"unfortunate woman"--for then they will throw mud at you! (A messenger +enters and hands him a letter.) At last! (After a glance at the letter.) +You read it to me, Christine! It is from your lips I want to hear the +glad tidings. + +Christine (reading). "Young man, you have conquered! I, your enemy, +desire to be the first to tell you so, and I address myself to you +without any sense of humiliation because, in speaking for the new faith, +you have wielded no weapons but those of the spirit. Whether you be +right, I cannot tell, but I think you have deserved a piece of advice +from an older man: stop here, for your enemies are gone! Do not wage war +on creatures made of air, for that will lame your arm and you will die +of dry rot. Do not put your trust in princes--is another piece of advice +given you by a once powerful man who has now to step aside and leave to +the Lord to settle what is to become of his prostrated Church. Johannes +Brask." (Speaking.) You have conquered! + +Olof (joyfully). I thank Thee, Lord, for this hour. (Pause.) No, it +scares me, Christine! This fortune is too great. I am too young to have +reached the goal already. To have no more to do--oh, what a frightful +thought! No further fighting--that would be death! + +Christine. Oh, rest a moment, and be happy that it is over. + +Olof. Can there be an end to anything? An end to such a beginning? No, +no!--Oh, that I could begin it all anew! It wasn't the victory I wanted, +but the fight! + +Christine. Olof, do not tempt the Lord! I have a feeling that much +remains undone--very much, indeed! + +[Enter Courtier.] + +Courtier. Good-day to you, Secretary! And pleasant news! [Exit +Christine.] + +Olof. Be welcome! Some of it I have heard already. + +Courtier. Thanks for your splendid answering of that stupid Galle. You +went after him like a man. A little too fiercely, perhaps--not quite so +much fire, you know! And a little venom doesn't hurt. + +Olof. You have news from the King? + +Courtier. Yes, and you shall have a brief summary of the conditions +agreed on: First, mutual support for the resistance and punishment of +all rebellions. + +Olof. Go on, if you please. + +Courtier. Second, the King shall have the right to take possession of +the palaces and fortified places of the bishops, as well as to fix their +incomes-- + +Olof. Third-- + +Courtier. Now comes the best of all--the principal point of the whole +undertaking: Third, the nobility shall have the right to claim whatever +of its properties and inheritances have fallen to churches and cloisters +since the revision by King Carl Knutsson in 1454-- + +Olof. And fourth? + +Courtier. Provided the heir can get twelve men under oath to attest his +right of inheritance at the assizes. (He folds the document from which +he has been reading.) + +Olof. Have you finished? + +Courtier. Yes. Isn't that pretty good? + +Olof. Nothing more? + +Courtier. Oh, there are a few minor points of no special importance. + +Olof. Let me hear them. + +Courtier (reading again). There is a fifth point about the right of +preachers to preach the word of God, but, of course, they have had that +all the time. + +Olof. Nothing more? + +Courtier. Yes, then comes the ordinance: a register is to be established +showing the amount of tithes collected by all bishops, chapters, and +canons, and the King shall have the right to prescribe-- + +Olof. Oh, that's neither here nor there! + +Courtier.--how much of those may be retained, and how much shall +be surrendered to him for the use of the Crown; furthermore, all +Appointments to spiritual offices--and this ought to interest you--to +spiritual offices, minor as well as major, can hereafter be made only +with the sanction of the King, so that-- + +Olof. Will you please read me the point dealing with the faith-- + +Courtier. The faith--there is nothing about it. Oh, yes, let me +see--from this day the Gospel is to be read in all schoolhouses. + +Olof. Is that all? + +Courtier. All? Oh, no, I remember! I have a special order from the King +to you--and a most sensible one--that, as the people are stirred up over +all these innovations, you must by no means disturb the old forms; must +not abolish masses, holy water, nor any other usage, nor furthermore +indulge in any reckless acts, for hereafter the King will not close his +eyes to your escapades as he has had to do in the past, when he lacked +power to do otherwise. + +Olof. I see! And the new faith which he has permitted me to preach so +far? + +Courtier. It is to ripen slowly.--It will come! It will come! + +Olof. Is there anything more? + +Courtier (rising). No. If you will only keep calm now, you may go very +far. Oh, yes--I came near forgetting the best part of all. My dear +Pastor, permit me to congratulate you! Here is your appointment. +Pastor of the city church, with an income of three thousand, at your +age--indeed, you could now settle down in peace and enjoy life, even if +you were never to get any further. It is splendid to have reached one's +goal while still so young. I congratulate you! [Exit.] + +Olof (flinging the appointment on the floor). So this is all that I have +fought and suffered for! An appointment! A royal appointment! I have +been serving Belial instead of God! Woe be to you, false King, who have +sold your Lord and God! Alas for me, who have sold my life and my labors +to mammon! O God in Heaven, forgive me! (He throws himself, weeping, on +a bench.) + +[Enter Christine and Gert. Christine comes forward, while Gert remains +in the background.] + +Christine (picks up the appointment and reads it; then she runs to Olof, +her face beaming). Now, Olof, I can wish you joy with a happy heart! +(She starts to caress him, but he leaps to his feet and pushes her +away.) + +Olof. Leave me alone! You, too! + +Gert (coming forward). Well, Olof, the faith-- + +Olof. The lack of faith, you mean! + +Gert. The Pope is beaten, isn't he? Hadn't we better begin with the +Emperor soon? + +Olof. We began at the wrong end. + +Gert. At last! + +Olof. You were right, Gert! I am with you now! It's war, but it must be +open and honest. + +Gert. Until to-day you have been dreaming childish dreams. + +Olof. I know it. Now the flood is coming! Let it come! Alas for them and +for us! + +Christine. Olof, for Heaven's sake, stop! + +Olof. Leave me, child! Here you will be drowned, or you will drag me +down. + +Gert. What made you venture out in the storm, my child? + +[Exit Christine.] + +(The ringing of bells, the joyful shouting of crowds, and the sounding +of drums and trumpets become audible.) + +Olof (going to the window). What has set the people shouting? + +Gert. The King is providing them with a maypole and music outside North +Gate. + +Olof. And are they not aware that he will chasten them with swords +instead of rods? + +Gert. Aware? If they were! + +Olof. Poor children! They dance to his piping and follow his drums to +their death! Must all die, then, in order that one may live? + +Gert. No, one shall die that all may live! + +(Olof makes a gesture dismay and repugnance.) + + + + +ACT IV + +(A Room in the House of Olof's Mother. At the right stands a bedstead +with four posts, in which the Mother is lying sick. Christine is asleep +on a chair. Lars Pedersson is renewing the oil of the night-lamp and +turning the hour glass.) + +Lars (speaking to himself). Midnight--Now comes the critical time. +(He goes to the bed and listens. At that moment Christine moans in her +sleep. He crosses the room and wakens her.) Christine! (She wakes with a +start.) Go to bed, child; I will watch. + +Christine. No, I will wait. I must speak to her before she dies--I think +Olof should be here soon. + +Lars. It is for his sake you are watching! + +Christine. Yes, and you mustn't say that I have slept. Do you hear? + +Lars. Poor girl!--You're not happy! + +Christine. Who says one should be happy? + +Lars. Does Olof know that you are here? + +Christine. No, he would never permit it. He wants to keep me like the +carved image of some saint standing on a shelf. The smaller and weaker +he can make me, the greater is his pleasure in placing his strength at +my feet-- + +Mother (waking). Lars! (Christine holds back Lars and steps forward.) +Who is that? + +Christine. The nurse. + +Mother. Christine! + +Christine. Do you want anything? + +Mother. Nothing from you. + +Christine. Dame Christine! + +Mother. Don't make my last moments more bitter. Go away from here! + +Lars (coming forward). What do you want, mother? + +Mother. Take away that woman! And bring the father confessor--I shall +soon die. + +Lars. Is not your own son worthy of receiving your last confidences? + +Mother. No, he has done nothing to deserve them. Has Mårten come yet? + +Lars. Mårten is a bad man. + +Mother. O Lord, how terrible Thy punishment! My children standing +between myself and Thee! Am I then to be denied the consolations of +religion in my last moments? You have taken my life--do you want to +destroy my soul, too--the soul of your mother? (She falls into a faint.) + +Lars. Do you hear that, Christine! What are we to do? Shall we let +her die in the deception practised on her by a miserable wretch like +Mårten--and perhaps get her thanks for it--or shall we turn her final +prayer into a curse? No, let them come, rather! Or what do you think, +Christine? + +Christine. I dare not think at all. + +Lars (goes out for a moment, but returns quickly). Oh, it is horrible! +They have fallen asleep over their dice and their tumblers. And by such +as those my mother is to be prepared for her death! + +Christine. But why not tell her the truth? + +Lars. She won't believe it, and it is cast back on us as a lie. + +Mother. My son, won't you listen to your mother's last request? + +Lars (going out). May God forgive me! + +Christine. Olof would never have done that! + +(Lars returns with Mårten and Nils, whereupon he leads Christine out of +the room.) + +Mårten (going up to the bed). She's sleeping. + +Nils (places a box on the floor, opens it, and begins to take out +aspersorium, censer, chrismatory, palms, and candles). That means we +can't go to work yet. + +Mårten. If we have waited all this time, we can afford to wait a little +longer--provided that damned priest doesn't show up. + +Nils. Master Olof, you mean?--Do you think that fellow out there noticed +anything? + +Mårten. What do I care? As soon as the old woman gives up the coin, I am +free. + +Nils. You 're a pretty thorough-paced rascal, you are! + +Mårten. Yes, but I am getting tired of it. I am beginning to long for +peace. Do you know what life is? + +Nils. No. + +Mårten. Pleasure! "The flesh was God!" Isn't that the way it's written +somewhere? + +Nils. "The Word became flesh," you mean? + +Mårten. Oh, yes--of course! + +Nils. You might have been it pretty big man, with your head! + +Mårten. Yes, indeed! That's what they feared, and that's why they +whipped the soul out of my body in the convent--for after all I had a +soul once! But now there's nothing but body left, and now the body is +going to have its turn. + +Nils. And I suppose they whipped all conscience out of you at the same +time? + +Mårten. Well, practically.--But now I want that recipe for spiced +Rochelle which you were talking of when we fell asleep out there. + +Nils. Did I say Rochelle? I meant claret. That is, it can be either the +one or the other. Well, you take a gallon of wine and half a pound of +cardamom that has been well cleaned-- + +Mårten. Hush--damn you! She is moving. Out with the book! + +Nils (keeps on reading in an undertone during the following scene). + + Aufer immensam, Deus aufer iram; + Et cruentatum cohibe flagellum + Nec scelus nostrum proferes ad aequam + Pendere lancem. + +Mother. Is that you, Mårten? + +Mårten. It's Brother Nils praying to the Holy Virgin. (Nils lights the +censer without interrupting his reading.) + +Mother. What a precious boon to hear the word of the Lord in the sacred +tongue! + +Mårten. No sweeter sacrifice is known to God than the prayers of pious +souls. + +Mother. Like the incense, my heart is set on fire with holy devotion. + +Mårten (sprinkling her with holy water). The stains of sin are by your +God washed off! + +Mother. Amen!--Mårten, I am passing away--The godlessness of the King +makes it impossible for me by earthly gifts to strengthen the Holy +Church in her power of saving souls. You are a pious man--take my +property and pray for me and for my children. Pray that the Almighty +may turn their hearts away from all lies, so that some time we may meet +again in heaven. + +Mårten (taking the bag of money she hands him). Goodwife, your sacrifice +is acceptable to the Lord, and for your sake my prayers will be heard by +God. + +Mother. I want to sleep awhile in order to be strong enough to receive +the last sacrament. + +Mårten. No one shall disturb your final moments--not even those who were +your children once. + +Mother. It seems cruel, Father Mårten, but it's the will of God. (She +falls asleep; Mårten and Nils withdraw from the bed.) + +Mårten (opening the bag and kissing the gold coins). What stores of +pleasure lie hidden beneath the hardness of this gold--Ah! + +Nils. Are we going now? + +Mårten. Oh, we might, as our errand here is done, but I think it would +be a pity to let the old woman die unsaved. + +Nils. Unsaved? + +Mårten. Yes! + +Nils. Do you believe in that? + +Mårten. It's hard to know what one is to believe nowadays. One dies +happily in this faith, and another in that. All assert that they have +found the truth. + +Nils. And if you were to die now, Mårten? + +Mårten. That's out of the question! + +Nils. But if? + +Mårten. Then I suppose I should go to heaven like the rest. But I should +prefer to settle a small account with Master Olof first. You see, there +is one pleasure that surpasses all the rest, and that's the pleasure of +revenge. + +Nils. What has he done to you? + +Mårten. He has dared to see through me; he has exposed me; he can read +what I am thinking--Oh! + +Nils. And that's why you hate him? + +Mårten. Isn't that enough? (Somebody is heard knocking on the door +leading to the street.) Somebody is coming! Read, damn you! + +(Nils begins to drone out the same verse as before. The sound of a +key being inserted in the lock is heard. The door is opened from the +outside.) + +[Enter Olof, looking greatly agitated.] + +Mother (waking up). Father Mårten! + +Olof (goes to the bed). Here is your son, mother! Why didn't you let me +know that you were sick? + +Mother. Farewell, Olof! I forgive you all the evil you have done to me, +if you will not disturb the few moments I need to prepare myself for +heaven. Father Mårten! Bring here the sacred ointment, so that I may die +in peace. + +Olof. So that's why you didn't call me! (He catches sight of the money +bag which Mårten has forgotten to hide, and snatches it away from the +monk.) Oh, souls are being bartered here! And this was to be the price! +Leave this room and this death-bed! Here is my place, not yours! + +Mårten. You mean to prevent us from fulfilling our office? + +Olof. I am showing you the door! + +Mårten. As long as we are not suspended, we are doing our duty here by +the King's authority, and not by the Pope's. + +Olof. I shall cleanse the Church of the lord without regard to the will +of King or Pope. + +Mother. Will you plunge my soul into perdition, Olof? Will you let me +die with a curse? + +Olof. Calm yourself, mother! You are not going to die in a lie. Seek +your God in prayer, He is not so far away as you believe. + +Mårten. A man who won't save his own mother from the pangs of purgatory +must be the Devil's prophet indeed. + +Mother. Christ Jesu, help my soul! + +Olof. Will you leave this room, or must I use force? Take away that +rubbish! (He kicks the ritual accessories across the floor.) + +Mårten. I'll go if you'll let me have the money your mother has given to +the Church. + +Mother. So that's why you came, Olof? You wanted my gold! Let him have +it, Mårten. I'll let you have all of it, Olof, if you will only leave me +in peace! I'll give you more than that! I'll let you have everything! + +Olof (driven to despair). In God's name, take the money and go! I beg +you! + +Mårten (grabbing the bag and going out with Nils). Where the Devil is +abroad, there our power ends, Dame Christine! (To Olof.) As a heretic +you are lost for all eternity! As a law-breaker you will get your +punishment right here! Beware of the King! [Exeunt.] + +Olof (kneeling beside his mother's bed). Mother, listen to me before +you die! (The Mother has lost consciousness.) Mother, mother, if you are +alive, speak to your son! Forgive me, but I could not act except as I +have done. I know you have been suffering all your life for my sake. +You have been praying to God that I should keep His paths. The Lord has +heard your prayer. Do you want me now to render your whole life futile? +Do you want me now, by obeying you, to destroy that structure which has +cost you so much in toil and tears? Forgive me! + +Mother. Olof, my soul is no longer of this world--it's out of another +life I speak to you: turn back! Break that unclean bond which ties your +body only. Take back the faith you got from me, and I will forgive you! + +Olof (weeping bitterly). Mother! Mother! + +Mother. Swear that you will do it! + +Olof (after long silence). No! + +Mother. The curse of God is upon you--I see Him--I see His angry +look--Help me, Holy Virgin! + +Olof. That is not the God of love! + +Mother. It is the God of retribution!--It is you who have provoked His +ire--and it is you who now cast me into the flames of His wrath!--Cursed +be the hour when I bore you! (She dies.) + +Olof. Mother! Mother! (He takes her hand.) She's dead! And she has not +forgiven me!--Oh, if your soul be still within this room, behold your +son: I will do your will, and what was sacred to you shall be sacred to +me! (He lights the tall wax candles left behind by the friars and places +them around the bed.) You shall have the consecrated candles that are to +light your road. (He puts a palm leaf in her hand.) And with this palm +of peace shall come forgetfulness of that last struggle with what was +earthly. Oh, mother, if you see me now, then you must forgive me! (In +the meantime the sun has risen, and the red glow of its first rays +lights up the curtains; at the sight of it, Olof leaps to his feet.) You +make my candles fade, O morning sun! You have more love than I! (He goes +to the window and opens it.) + +Lars (entering softly and looking around surprised). Olof! + +Olof (putting his arms around him). Brother, all is over! Lars (goes to +the bed and kneels for a moment; then he rises again). She is dead! (He +prays silently.) You were here alone? + +Olof. It was you who let in the monks. + +Lars. And you who drove them out. + +Olof. That should have been your task. + +Lars. She forgave you? + +Olof. She died with a curse on her lips. (Pause.) + +Lars (pointing to the candles). Who arranged these ceremonies? (Pause.) + +Olof (irritated and humiliated). I weakened for a moment. + +Lars. So you are human, after all? I thank you for it! + +Olof. Are you mocking my weakness? + +Lars. I am praising it. + +Olof. And I am cursing it!--God in heaven, am I not right? + +Lars. No, you are wrong. + +[Enter Christine while Lars is still speaking.] + +Christine. You are too much in the right! + +Olof. Christine, what are you doing here? + +Christine. It was so silent and lonesome at home. + +Olof. I asked you not to come here. + +Christine. I thought I might be of some use, but I see now--Another time +I shall stay at home. + +Olof. You have been awake all night? + +Christine. That is nothing! I will go now if you tell me to! + +Olof. Go in there and rest a little while we talk. (Christine begins +absentmindedly to extinguish the candles.) + +Olof. What are you doing, dear? + +Christine. Why, it is full daylight. + +(Lars gives Olof a significant glance.) + +Olof. My mother is dead, Christine. + +Christine (as she goes to Olof to let him kiss her on the forehead, the +look on her face is compassionate but cold). I am sorry for your loss. +[Exit Christine.] + +(Pause. The brothers look for a moment in the direction where she +disappeared, then at each other.) + +Lars. I beg you, Olof, as your friend and brother, don't go on as you +have been doing. + +Olof. The old story! But he who has put his axe to the tree cannot draw +back until the tree is down. The King has betrayed our cause. Now I will +see what I can do for it. + +Lars. The King is wise. + +Olof. He is a miser, a traitor, and a protector of the nobility. First +he uses me to hunt his game, and then he wants to kick me out. + +Lars. He sees farther than you do. If you were to go to three +million people, telling them: "Your faith is false; believe my words +instead"--do you think it possible that they would at once cast aside +their most intimate and most keenly experienced conviction, which until +then had been a support to them in sorrow as well as in joy? No, the +life of the soul would be in a bad condition, indeed, if all the old +things could be disposed of so quickly. + +Olof. But it is not so. The whole people is full of doubt. Among the +priests there is hardly one who knows what to believe--if he cares to +believe anything at all. Everything is ready for the new, and it is only +you who are to blame--you weaklings whose consciences will not permit +you to sow doubt where nothing but a feeble faith remains. + +Lars. Look out, Olof! You wish to play the part of God. + +Olof. Well, that is what we must do, for I don't think that He Himself +intends to conic down to us any more. + +Lars. You are tearing down and tearing down, Olof, so that soon there +will be nothing left, and when people ask, "What do we get instead?" +you always answer, "Not this," "Not that," but never once do you answer, +"This." + +Olof. Presumptuous man! Do you think faith can be given by one to +another? Do you think that Luther has given us anything new? No! He has +merely torn away the screens that had been placed around the light. The +new that I want is doubt of the old, not because it is old, but because +it is decaying. (Lars points toward their mother's body.) I know what +you mean. She was too old, and I thank God that she is dead. Now I am +free--only now! God has willed it! + +Lars. Either you have lost your senses, or you are a wicked man! + +Olof. Don't reproach me! I have as much respect for our mother's memory +as you have, but if she had not died now, I don't know how far my +sacrifices might have gone. Have you noticed in the springtime, brother, +how the fallen leaves of yesteryear cover the ground as if to smother +all the young; things that are coming out? What do these do? They push +aside the withered leaves, or pass right through them, because they must +get up! + +Lars. You are right to a certain extent.--Olof, you broke the laws +of the Church during a time of lawlessness and unrest. What could be +forgiven then must be punished now. Don't force the King to appear worse +than he is. Don't let your scorn for the law and your wilfulness force +him to punish a man to whom he acknowledges himself indebted. + +Olof. Nothing is more wilful than his own rule, and he must learn to +tolerate the same thing in others. Tell me you have taken service with +the King--are you going to work against me? + +Lars. I am. + +Olof. Then we are enemies, and that is what I need, for the old ones +have disappeared. + +Lars. But the tie of blood, Olof-- + +Olof. I know it only in its source, which is the heart. + +Lars. Yet you wept for our mother. + +Olof. Weakness, or perhaps a touch of old devotion and gratitude, but +not because of the tie of blood. What is it, anyhow? + +Lars. You are tired out, Olof. + +Olof. Yes, I feel exhausted; I have been awake all night. + +Lars. You were so late in coming. + +Olof. I was out. + +Lars. Your doings seem to shun the daylight. + +Olof. The daylight shuns my doings. + +Lars. Beware of false apostles of freedom! + +Olof (struggling with sleepiness and fatigue). That's a +self-contradictory term. Oh, don't talk to me--I can't stand any more. +I spoke so much at our meeting--But you don't know about our +society--Concordia res parvae crescunt--We mean to continue the +Reformation--Gert is a farsighted man--I seem so small beside +him--Good-night, Lars! (He falls asleep on a chair.) + +Lars (stands looking at him with solicitude). Poor brother--may God +protect you! (Resounding blows on the street door are heard.) What's +that? (He goes to the window.) + +Gert (outside). For God's sake, open! + +Lars. Why, it isn't a matter of life and death, Father Gert. [Exit.] + +Gert (outside). In God's name, let me in! + +[Enter Christine with a blanket.] + +Christine. Olof, why are they knocking like that? He's asleep! (She +wraps him up in the blanket.) Oh, that I were Sleep, so that you might +flee to me when tired out by your struggles! + +(The rattle of a heavy cart is heard; then the cart comes to a stop +outside the house.). + +Olof (waking up with a start). Is it five already? + +Christine. No, it is only three. + +Olof. Wasn't that a baker's cart I heard? + +Christine. I don't know, but I don't think it would make such a noise. +(She goes to the window.) Look, Olof! What can this he? + +Olof (going to the window). The headsman's cart!--No, it isn't that. + +Christine. It is a hearse! + +[Enter Lars and Gert.] + +Lars. The plague! + +All. The plague! + +Gert. The plague is here! Christine, my child, leave this house! The +angel of death has put his mark upon the gate. + +Olof. Who sent the cart? + +Gert. The man who put the black cross on the door. No dead body must be +left a moment in the house. + +Olof. Then Mårten was the angel of death--and all is nothing but a lie. + +Gert. Look out of the window, and you'll see that the cart is loaded +full. (Blows are heard at the street door again.) You hear! They're +waiting! + +Olof. Without proper burial? That shall never be! + +Lars. Without ceremonies, Olof! + +Gert. Come away with me, Christine, from this dreadful place! I'll take +you out of the city to some healthier spot. + +Christine. I will stay with Olof after this. If you, father, had loved +me a little less, you would not have done so much harm. + +Gert. Olof, you who have the power, command her to follow me + +Olof. I set her free from your tyranny once, you selfish man, and she +shall never return to it again. + +Gert. Christine, get out of this house, at least! + +Christine. Not a step until Olof orders me. + +Olof. I will no longer order you at all, Christine--remember that! + +[Enter several Buriers.] + +Burier. I've come for a body. No time to spare! + +Olof. Begone from here! + +Burier. The King's order! + +Lars. Consider what you do, Olof! The law demands it! + +Gert. This is no time to hesitate! The crazy mob is aroused against you. +This house was the first one to be marked, and they are crying: "God's +punishment upon the heretic!" + +Olof (kneeling beside the bed). Mother, forgive! (Rising.) Do your duty! + +(The Buriers come forward and begin to get their ropes ready.) + +Gert (aside to Olof). "God's punishment upon the King" is our cry! + + + + +ACT V + +SCENE I + +(The Cemetery of the Convent of St. Clara. In the background appears +a partly demolished convent building, from which a gang of workmen are +carrying out timber and debris. At the left is a mortuary chapel. Its +windows are lighted from within, and whenever the door is opened, a +brilliantly illuminated crucifix on the chancel wall, with a sarcophagus +standing in front of it, becomes visible. A number of the graves have +been opened. The moon is just rising from behind the ruined convent. +Windrank is seated outside the chapel door. Singing is heard from within +the chapel.) + +[Enter Nils.] + +Nils (goes up to Windrank). Good evening, Windrank. + +Windrank. Please don't talk to me. + +Nils. What's the matter now? + +Windrank. Didn't you hear what I told you? + +Nils. Has your scurvy ending as a skipper affected you so badly that you +think of turning monk? + +Windrank. 52, 53, 54, 55, 56, 57. + +Nils. You haven't lost your reason, have you? + +Windrank. 58, 59, 60--In the name of Jesu, get away from here! + +Nils. You had better have a little nightcap with me. + +Windrank. 64, 65--That's what I expected! Get you gone, tempter! I'll +never take a drink again--until the day after to-morrow. + +Nils. But it's a fine remedy against the plague, and with all this +cadaverous stuff about, you had better be careful. + +Windrank. 70--So you really think it's good for the plague? + +Nils. Excellent! + +Windrank. Only a drop, then! (He drinks from the bottle offered him by +Nils.) + +Nils. Only a drop! But tell me, are you suffering from vertigo since you +are counting to a hundred? + +Windrank. Hush! Hush! There's an epoch coming. + +Nils. An epoch? + +Windrank. Yes, the day after to-morrow. + +Nils. And that's why you keep counting like that? + +Windrank. No, it's only because I find it so hard to hold my tongue. +Now, for heaven's sake, keep quiet! Please go away, or you'll get me +into trouble!--71, 72, 73. + +Nils. Who's inside? + +Windrank. 74, 75. + +Nils. Is it a funeral? + +Windrank. 76, 77.--Go to hell, won't you! + +Nils. Just another tiny drop, and the counting will be easier. + +Windrank. Just a little one--I will! (He drinks. Singing is heard +outside.) + +Nils. Here come the nuns of St. Clara to celebrate the memory of their +saint for the last time. + +Windrank. That's fine mummery in days like these when everybody is +getting educated. + +Nils. They have obtained the King's permission. You see, the plague +broke out in the parish of St. Clara, and some believe it was because of +the godless destruction of St. Clara's convent. + +Windrank. And now they mean to drive away the plague with singing--as +if that bugaboo were a hater of music. But, of course, it wouldn't be a +wonder if he did flee from their hoarse screeching. + +Nils. Will you please tell me who has dared to invade this last +sanctuary--for it's here the bones of the Saint are to be deposited +before the place is torn down entirely. + +Windrank. Then there'll be a fight, I fear. + +[The singing has drawn nearer. A procession enters, made up of Dominican +friars and Franciscan nuns, headed by Mårten. They come to a halt and +continue singing, while the workmen are making a great deal of noise in +the background.] + +Procession. Cur super vermes luteos furorem + Sunnis, O magni fabricator orbis! + Quid sumus quam fex, putris, umbra, pulvis + Glebaque terrae! + +Mårten (to the Abbess). You can see, my sister, how the abode of the +Lord has been despoiled. + +Abbess. The Lord who has delivered us into the hands of the Egyptians +will also set its free in due time. + +Mårten (to the workmen). Cease working, and do not disturb our pious +task! + +Overseer. Our orders are to work day and night until this den has been +torn down. + +Abbess. Alas, that unbelief has spread so far down among the people! + +Mårten. We are celebrating this feast with the permission of the King. + +Overseer. Well, I don't mind! + +Mårten. And therefore I command you to cease your noise. I'll appeal +directly to your workmen, whom you have forced into this shameless +undertaking.--I'll ask them if they have any respect whatever left for +holy-- + +Overseer. You had better not, for I am in command here. Furthermore, I +can tell you that they are glad enough to have a chance of tearing down +these hornets' nests for which they themselves have had to pay--and +then, too, they are pretty thankful to earn something during a time of +famine. (He goes toward the background.) + +Mårten. Let us forget the wickedness and tumult of this world. Let us +enter the sacred place and pray for them. + +Abbess. Lord, Lord, the cities of Thy sanctuary are laid waste! Zion is +laid waste, and Jerusalem is lying desolate! + +Windrank. 100.--Nobody can get in here! + +The Conspirators (within the chapel). We swear! + +Mårten. Who has dared to invade the chapel? + +Windrank. It's no more a chapel since it has become a royal storehouse. + +Abbess. That's why the godless one gave us his permission! + +[The door of the chapel is thrown open and the conspirators appear; +among them Olof, Lars Andersson, Gert, the German, the Dane, the Man +from Smaland, and others.] + +Olof (much excited). What kind of buffoonery is this? + +Mårten. Make way for the handmaidens of St. Clara! + +Olof. Do you think your idols can keep away the plague that God has sent +you as a punishment? Do you think the Lord will find those pieces of +bone you carry in the box there so pleasant that He forgives all your +dreadful sins? Take away that abomination! (He takes the reliquary from +the Abbess and throws it into one of the open graves.) From dust you +have come, and to dust you shall return, even if your name was Sancta +Clara da Spoleto and you ate only three ounces of bread a day and slept +among the swine at night! (The nuns scream.) + +Mårten. If you fear not what is holy, fear at least your temporal ruler. +Look here! He has still so much respect left for divine things that he +dreads the wrath of the saint. (He shows a document to Olof.) + +Olof. Do you know what the Lord did with the king of the Assyrians when +he permitted the worship of idols? He smote him and all his people. Thus +the righteous is made to suffer with the unrighteous. In the name of the +one omnipotent God, I declare this worship of Baal abolished, even if +all the kings of the earth give their permit. The Pope wanted to sell my +soul to Satan, but I tore the contract to pieces--you remember? Should +I then fear a King who wants to sell his people to the Baalim? (He tears +the document to pieces.) + +Mårten (to his followers). You are my witnesses that he has defamed the +King. + +Olof (to his followers). And you are my witnesses before God that I have +led the people of a godless King away from him! + +Mårten. Listen, ye faithful! It is because of this heretic that God has +smitten us with the plague--it is the punishment of God, and it fell +first of all on his mother. + +Olof. Listen, ye faithless papists! It was the punishment of the Lord on +me because I had served Sennacherib against Judah. I will atone my crime +by leading Judah against the kings of the Assyrians and the Egyptians. + +(The moon has risen in the meantime. It is very red, and a fiery glare +pervades the place. The crowd is frightened.) + +Olof (mounting one of the graves). Heaven is weeping blood over your +sins and your idolatry. Punishment shall be meted out, for those in +authority have fallen into wrongdoing. Can't you see that the very +graves are yawning for prey-- + +(Gert seizes Olof by the arm, whispers to him, and leads him down from +the mound. The crowd is panic-stricken.) + +Abbess. Give us back our reliquary, so that we may abandon this home of +desolation. + +Mårten. It is better to let the bones of the Saint remain in this +consecrated soil than to have them touched by the vile hands of +heretics! + +Olof. You are afraid of the plague, cowards that you are! Is your faith +in the sacred bones no stronger? + +(Gert whispers to Olof again. The procession has in the meantime +scattered, so that only a part of it remains on the stage.) + +Olof (to Mårten). Now you should be satisfied, you hypocrite! Go and +tell him whom you serve that a box of silver is about to be buried here, +and he'll dig it out of the earth with his own nails. Tell him that the +moon, which is usually made of silver, has turned into gold, merely to +make your master raise his eyes toward heaven for once. Tell him that +you, by your blasphemous buffooneries, have succeeded in provoking an +honest man's wrath-- + +[Exeunt Mårten and the members of the procession.] + +Gert. Enough, Olof! (To all the conspirators except Olof and Lars.) +Leave us, please! + +[Exeunt the conspirators, exchanging whispers.] + +Gert (to Olof and Lars). It's too late to back down now! + +Olof. What do you want, Gert--speak! + +Gert (showing them a bound volume). Before you two, servants of God, a +people steps forth to make its confession. Do you acknowledge your oath? + +Olof and Lars. We have sworn! + +Gert. This book is the result of my silent labors. On every page you +will find a cry of distress, a sigh from thousands who have been blind +enough to think it God's will that they should suffer the tyranny of +one man--who have thought it their duty not even to hope for liberation. +(Olof takes the volume and begins to read.) You shall hear complaints +all the way from the primeval forests of Norrland down to the Sound. Out +of the wreckage from the churches the King is building new castles for +the nobility and new prisons for the people. You shall read how the +King is bartering away law and justice by letting murderers escape their +punishment if they seek refuge at the salt-works. You shall read how +he is taxing vice by letting harlots pay for the right to ply their +traffic. Yea, the very fishes of the rivers, the water of the sea +itself, have been usurped by him. But the end is in sight. The eyes +of the people have been opened. There is seething and fermenting +everywhere. Soon the tyranny will be crushed, and the people shall be +free! + +Olof. Who wrote the songs in this book? + +Gert. The people! These are songs of the people--so they sing who feel +the yoke pressing. I have visited city and country, asking them: "Are +you happy?" These are the answers! I have held assizes. Here are the +verdicts entered. Do you believe that a million wills may conquer one? +Do you believe that God has bestowed this land with all its human souls +and all its property upon a single man, for him to deal with as it suits +his pleasure? Or do you not rather believe that he should do the will of +all?--You do not answer? You are awed, I see, by the thought that it may +come to an end! Listen to my confession! Tomorrow the oppressor dies, +and you shall all be free! + +Olof and Lars. What are you saying? + +Gert. You didn't understand what I was talking about at our meetings. + +Olof. You have deceived us! + +Gert. Not at all! You are perfectly free. Two voices less mean nothing. +Everything is prepared. + +Lars. Have you considered the consequences? + +Gert. Fool! Is it not for the sake of the consequences that I have done +all this? + +Olof. Supposing Gert be right--what do you say, Lars? + +Lars. I wasn't born to lead. + +Olof. All are born to lead, but all are not willing to sacrifice the +flesh. + +Gert. Only he who has the courage to face scorn and ridicule can lead. +For hatred is as nothing compared with the laughter that kills. + +Olof. And if it should miscarry? + +Gert. Dare to face that, too! You don't know that Thomas Münster has +established a new spiritual kingdom at Muhlhausen. You don't know +that all Europe is in revolt. Who was Dacke, if not a defender of the +oppressed? What have the Dalecarlians meant by all their rebellions, if +not to defend their freedom against him who broke his plighted faith? +He does such things and goes unpunished, but when they want to defend +themselves, then he raises the cry of revolt and treason. + +Olof. So this is the point to which you wanted to lead me, Gert? + +Gert. Have you not been led here by the current? You will, but do not +dare! To-morrow, in the church, the mine will go off, and that will be a +signal for the people to rise and choose a ruler after their own heart. + +Olof (turning over the leaves of the book). If it be the will of all, +then nobody can stop it. Gert, let me take this book to the King and +show him what is the will of his people, and he will grant them their +rights. + +Gert. Oh, you child! For a moment he may be scared, and perhaps restore +a silver pitcher to some church. Then he'll point toward heaven and say: +"It is not by my own will that I sit here and do you wrong, but by the +will of God!" + +Olof. Then the will of God be done! + +Gert. But how? + +Olof. He must die that all may live. Murderer, ingrate, traitor--those +will be my names, perchance. I am sacrificing everything, even my +honor, my conscience, and my faith--could I possibly give more for those +pitiable ones who are crying for salvation? Let us go ere I repent! + +Gert. Even if you did, it would already be too late. Don't you know +that Mårten is a spy, and perhaps sentence has already been pronounced +against the rebel! + +Olof. Well, I won't repent--and why should I repent of an act that +implies the carrying out of God's own judgment? Forward, then, in the +name of the Lord. [Exeunt.] + +[Enter Harlot, who kneels at a grave which she has strewn with flowers.] + +Harlot. Hast Thou punished me enough now, O Lord, to pardon me? + +[Enter Christine quickly.] + +Christine. Have you seen Master Olof, goodwife? + +Harlot. Are you his friend or his enemy? + +Christine. Do you mean to insult me? + +Harlot. Pardon me! I haven't seen him since the last time I prayed. + +Christine. You look so sorrowful! Oh, I know you now! It was you to whom +Olof was talking that night in Greatchurch. + +Harlot. You mustn't let it be seen that you are talking to me. You don't +know who I am, do you? + +Christine. Oh, yes, I know. + +Harlot. You know--so they have told you? + +Christine. Olof told me. + +Harlot. O my God! And don't you despise me? + +Christine. You are an unfortunate, down-trodden woman, Olof told me. Why +should I despise misfortune? + +Harlot. Then you cannot be happy yourself? + +Christine. No, we have shared the same fate. + +Harlot. I am not the only one, then! Tell me, who was the worthless man +to whom you gave your love? + +Christine. Worthless? + +Harlot. Oh, pardon--to one who loves, no one seems worthless! To whom +did you give your love? + +Christine. You know Master Olof, don't you? + +Harlot. Oh, tell me that it is not true! Don't rob me of my faith in +him, too! It is the only thing I have left since God took my child! + +Christine. You have had a child? Then you have been happy once. + +Harlot. I thank God, who did not permit my son to find out the +unworthiness of his mother. + +Christine. Have you been guilty of any crime, that you speak so? + +Harlot. I have just buried it. + +Christine. Your child? How can you! And I pray God every day to grant me +a little one--so that I may at least have one creature to love! + +Harlot. Oh, poor child, pray to God that He preserve you from it! + +Christine. I don't understand you, goodwife! + +Harlot. Don't call me that! You know who I am, don't you? + +Christine. Well, don't they offer prayers in the churches for those who +have hopes? + +Harlot. Not for such as we! + +Christine. Such as we? + +Harlot. They pray for the others and curse us. + +Christine. What do you mean by "the others"? I don't understand you at +all. + +Harlot. Do you know the wife of Master Olof? + +Christine. Why, that is I! + +Harlot. You? Oh, why didn't I guess at once? Can you forgive me a +moment's doubt? How could vice look like you and him? Alas! You must +leave me. You are a child, still ignorant of wickedness. You must not be +talking to me longer. God bless you! Good-bye! (She starts to leave.) + +Christine. Don't leave me! Whoever you be, for God's sake, stay! They +have broken into our house, and my husband is not to be found. Take +me away from here--home to yourself--anywhere. You must be a good +woman--you cannot be wicked-- + +Harlot (interrupting her). If I tell you that the brutality of the crowd +wouldn't hurt you half so much as my company, then perhaps you will +forgive me for leaving-- + +Christine. Who are you? + +Harlot. I am an outcast on whom has been fulfilled that curse which God +hurled at woman after the fall of our first parents. Ask me no more, for +if I told you more, your contempt would goad me to a self-defence that +would be still more contemptible.--Here comes somebody who perhaps will +be generous enough to escort you, if you promise to let him have your +honor and virtue and eternal peace for his trouble--for that is probably +the least he will accept for his protection at such a late hour as this! +Please forgive me--it is not at you that I am railing. + +[Enter Windrank, intoxicated.] + +Windrank. Why the devil can't a fellow be left alone, even here among +the corpses? See here, my good ladies, please don't ask me anything, for +now I can't guarantee that I won't answer. The day after to-morrow I'll +tell you all about it, for then it'll be too late. Perhaps you're some +of those nuns that have been made homeless? Well, although women are +nothing but women, I don't think I have any right to be impolite, for +all that the sun set long ago. Of course, there is an old law saying +that nobody can be arrested after sunset, but though the law is a +bugbear, I think it's too polite to insist on anything when it's a +question of ladies. Hush, hush, tongue! Why, the old thing is going like +a spinning-wheel, but that comes from that infernal gin! Why should I be +dragged into this kind of thing? Of course, I'll get well paid and be a +man of means, but don't believe that I am doing it for the sake of the +money! It's done now, but I don't want to--I don't want to! I want to +sleep in peace nights and have no ghosts to trouble me. Suppose I goo +and tell? No, then they'll arrest me. Suppose somebody else would go and +tell? Perhaps one of you nuns might be so kind as to do it? + +Christine (who has been conferring with the Harlot). If you have +anything on your conscience that troubles you, please tell us. + +Windrank. Am I to tell? That's just what I want to get out of, but this +is horrible, and I can't stand it any longer. I am forced to do it. Why +should I be the one? I don't want to. + +Christine. My dear man, you mean to commit-- + +Windrank. A murder. Who told you? Well, thank God that you know! By all +means, go ahead and tell about it--at once--or I'll have no peace--no +peace in all eternity! + +Christine (recovering from the first shock). Why should you murder him? + +Windrank. Oh, there are such a lot of reasons. Just look at the way he +is tearing down your nunneries. + +Christine. The King? + +Windrank. Yes, of course! The father and liberator of his country! +Of course, he's an oppressor, but that's no reason why he should be +murdered. + +Christine. When is it going to happen? + +Windrank. Why, to-morrow--in Greatchurch--right in church! [At a signal +from Christine, the Harlot leaves.] + +Christine. How could they pick you for such a deed? + +Windrank. Well, you see, I gave a connection or two among the church +attendants, and then I am poor, of course. What the devil does it matter +who puts the match to the powder, if only some shrewd fellow is pointing +the gun? And then we have several other little schemes in reserve, +although I'm to fire the first shot. But why don't you run off and tell +about it? + +Christine. It has already been done. + +Windrank. Well, God be thanked and praised! Goodbye, there goes all my +money! + +Christine. Tell me who you are, you conspirators. + +Windrank. No, that I won't tell! + +[Enter Nils. He crosses the stage followed by a troop of soldiers and a +crowd of people.] + +Christine. Do you see that they are already looking for you? + +Windrank. I wash my hands of it. + +Nils (goes up to Windrank without noticing Christine). Have you seen +Olof Pedersson? + +Windrank. Why? + +Nils. Because he is wanted. + +Windrank. No, I haven't seen him. Are there others wanted? + +Nils. Yes, many. + +Windrank. No, I haven't seen any of them. + +Nils. Well, it will soon be your turn. [Exit.] + +Christine. Are they looking for the conspirators? + +Windrank. What a question! Now I'm going to clear out. Good-bye! + +Christine. Tell me before you go-- + +Windrank. Haven't time! + +Christine. Is Master Olof one of them? + +Windrank. Of course! (Christine sinks down unconscious on one of the +graves. Windrank is suddenly sobered and genuinely moved.) Good Lord in +heaven, it must be his wife! (He goes to Christine.) I think I've killed +her! Oh, Hans, Hans, all you can do now is to get a rope for +yourself! What business did you have to get mixed up with the high and +mighty?--Come here, somebody, and help a poor woman! + +[Enter Olof, led by soldiers carrying torches as he catches sight of +Christine, he tears himself loose and throws himself on his knees beside +her.] + +Olof. Christine! + +Christine. Olof! You're alive! Come away from here and let us go home! + +Olof (overwhelmed). It's too late! + + +SCENE 2 + +(Within Greatchurch. Olof and Gert, dressed as penitents, stand in +the pillory near the entrance. The organ is playing and the bells are +ringing. The service is just ended, and the people are leaving the +church. The Sexton and his wife are standing by themselves in a corner +near the footlights.) + +Sexton. Lars the Chancellor, he was pardoned, but not Master Olof. + +Wife. The Chancellor has always been a man of peace and has never +stirred up any trouble, so I can't understand how he could want to have +anything to do with such dreadful things. + +Sexton. The Chancellor has always had a queer streak, although he has +never said much, and though he was pardoned, it cost him everything +he had. I can't help being sorry for Master Olof; I have always had a +liking for him, even though he has been a fire-brand. + +Wife. Well, what's the use of making a young fellow like that pastor? + +Sexton. Of course, he's rather young, and that has been his main fault, +but I'm sure time will cure it. + +Wife. What nonsense you are talking, seeing that he's going to die +to-day. + +Sexton. Well, Lord, Lord, if I hadn't clean forgotten about it! But then +it doesn't seem quite right to me, either. + +Wife. Do you know if he has repented? + +Sexton. I doubt very much, for I am sure his neck is just as stiff as +ever. + +Wife. But I suppose he'll thaw out a little now, when he sees his class +of children whom they wouldn't let him prepare for confirmation. + +Sexton. Well, I must say that the King can be pretty mean when he turns +that side to. Now he is making the pastor do church penance the very +same day his children are being confirmed. It's almost as bad as when +he made the dean drink with the headsman, or when he sent those two +prelates riding through the city with crowns of birch bark on their +heads. + +Wife. And his own brother Lars has been sent to shrive him. + +Sexton. See, here come the children! How sad they're looking--well, I +don't wonder. I think I'll have to go in and have a cry myself-- + +(Enter the children about to be confirmed, boys and girls. They begin to +march past Olof, carrying bunches of flowers in their hands. They +look sad and keep their eyes on the ground. A number of older people +accompany the children. A few curious persons point out Olof and are +rebuked by others. Last of all the children in the procession comes +Vilhelm, one of the scholars with whom Olof was seen playing in the +First Act. He stops timidly in front of him, kneels, and drops his bunch +of flowers at the feet of Olof, who does not notice it because he has +pulled down the hood of his penitential robe so that it hides his face. +Some of the people mutter disapprovingly, while others show signs of +pleasure. Mårten comes forward to take away the flowers, but is pushed +back by the crowd. Soldiers clear a path for Lars Pedersson, who appears +in canonicals. The crowd disappears gradually, leaving Lars, Olof, and +Gert alone on the stage. The playing of the organ ceases, but the bells +continue to toll.) + +Lars. Olof, the King has refused to listen to the petition for pardon +submitted by the City Corporation. Are you prepared to die? + +Olof. I am not able to think so far. + +Lars. I have been ordered to prepare you. + +Olof. That will have to be done in haste, for my blood is still running +quickly through my veins. + +Lars. Have you repented? + +Olof. No! + +Lars. Do you want to pass into eternity with an unforgiving mind? + +Olof. Oh, put aside the formulas, if you want me to listen to you. I +can't think that I am going to die now--there 's far too much of life +and strength left in me. + +Lars. I must tell you that I don't think so either, and that it is for a +new life in this world I am trying to prepare you. + +Olof. Then I may live? + +Lars. If you will admit that you were mistaken in the past, and if you +will take back what you have said about the King. + +Olof. How could I? That would be to die indeed! + +Lars. This was what I had to tell you. Now you must decide for yourself. + +Olof. One doesn't parley about one's convictions. + +Lars. Even a mistake may turn into conviction. I shall leave you to +think the matter over. [Exit.] + +Gert. Our harvest wasn't ready. It takes a lot of snow to make the fall +crops ripen--nay, centuries must pass before you will even see the first +shoots. All the conspirators are under arrest, they say, and te deums +are sung on that account. But they are mistaken; conspirators are +abroad everywhere--in the royal apartments, in the churches, and in the +market-places--but they dare not do what we have dared. And yet they'll +reach that point some time. Good-bye, Olof! You must live a little +longer, for you are young. I shall die with the utmost pleasure. The +name of every new martyr becomes the rallying-cry for a new host. Don't +believe that a human soul was ever set on fire by a lie. Don't ever +distrust those feelings that shake you to your inmost soul when you +have seen some one suffer spiritual or physical oppression. If the +whole world tell you that you are wrong, believe your own heart just +the same--if you are brave enough to do so. The day when you deny your +self--then you are dead, and eternal perdition will seem a mercy to one +who, has been guilty of the sin against the Holy Ghost. + +Olof. You speak of my release as though it were a certainty. + +Gert. The Corporation has offered 500 ducats for your ransom, and if it +cost only 2000 to get Birgitta declared a saint, then 500 should suffice +to get you declared guiltless. The King doesn't dare to take your life! + +[Enter the Lord High Constable, followed by the Headsman and soldiers.] + +Constable. Take away Gert the Printer. + +Gert (to Olof, as he is being led away). Good-bye, Olof! Take care of my +daughter, and don't ever forget the great Whitsunday! + +Constable. Master Olof, you are a young man who has been led astray. The +King will pardon you for the sake of your youth, but as a safeguard he +demands a retraction wherein you take back whatever you have ventured +beyond and against his orders. + +Olof. Then the King is still in need of me? + +Constable. There are many more who need you, but don't rely on his mercy +until you have fulfilled his condition. Here is the King's warrant. In a +moment your fetters may be shed, if so be your will, but it will be just +as easy to tear up this sheet of paper. + +Olof. One who contents himself with 500 ducats is not likely to care +very much for a retraction-- + +Constable. That is a lie! The headsman is waiting for you. But pray +listen to a few words from an old man. I, too, have been young, and +moved by strong passions. They belong to youth; but those passions are +meant to be killed. I did as you do. I went around telling the truth, +and all I got in return was ingratitude, or, at the best, a smile +of derision. I, too, wanted to build a little heaven here on +earth--(speaking with marked emphasis) of course, on other foundations +than yours--but soon I came to my senses, and the chimeras were +sent packing. I have no desire to make you out a man wishing to gain +notoriety by getting himself talked about--I don't believe anything of +the kind. You are moved by good intentions, but they are such as must +cause harm. Your blood is hot, and it blinds you because you exercise +no self-control. You preach freedom, and you are plunging thousands +into the slavery of license. Retrace your steps, young man, and make +atonement for your errors! Restore what you have torn down, and your +fellow-men will bless you! + +Olof (agitated to a point of desperation). It is the truth you speak; I +hear it, but who taught you to speak like that? + +Constable. Experience--that which you lack! + +Olof. Can I have lived and fought for a lie? Must I now declare my whole +youth and the best part of my manhood lost, useless, wasted? Oh, let me +rather die together with my mistake! + +Constable. You should have broken loose from your dreams earlier. But +calm yourself! Your life is still ahead of you. The past has been a +school--hard, to be sure, but all the more wholesome. Hitherto you have +given your life to whims and follies. Now you have some inkling of what +reality demands of you. Outside that door your creditors are waiting +with their claims. Here are their bills. The clergy of the young Church +demand that you live to finish what you have begun so splendidly. The +City Corporation demands its secretary for the Council. The congregation +demands its shepherd. The children of the confirmation class demand +their teacher. Those are your legal creditors. But there is one more +waiting outside, to whom perhaps you owe more than all the rest, and who +yet demands nothing at all--your young wife. You have torn her from her +father's side and set her adrift in the storm. You have broken down her +childhood faith and filled her mind with restlessness. Your reckless +deeds have goaded the brutal mob into driving her out of her own +home. Yet she does not even demand your love: all she asks of you is +permission to spend a life of suffering by your side.--Now you can see +that we, too, give a little consideration to other people, although you +call us selfish.--Let me open this door, which will lead you back into +the world. Discipline your heart before it hardens, and thank God for +granting you more time to work for mankind. + +Olof (breaking into tears). I am lost! + +(Constable gives a sign to the Headsman, who removes the fetters and the +garb of penitence from Olof; then the Constable opens the door to the +sacristy, and delegates from the lords, the clergy, and the city guilds +enter.) + +Constable. Olof Pedersson, formerly pastor of the city church at +Stockholm, do you hereby repent of your misdeeds and retract what you +have said beyond and against the King's order? Do you declare your +willingness to keep your oath to the sovereign of this realm, and to +serve him faithfully? + +(Olof remains silent. Lars Pedersson and Christine approach him, while +many of those present make pleading gestures.) + +Olof (in a cold and determined voice). Yes! + +Constable. In the name of the King, I set you free! + +(Olof and Christine embrace. A number of persons come forward to press +his hand and utter words of congratulation.) + +Olof (in the same cold voice). Before I leave this room, let me be alone +a moment with my God. I need it! Once upon a time I struck the first +blow right here, and here-- + +Lars. Right here you have won your greatest victory this very day! + +(All leave the room except Olof, who falls on his knees.) + +[Enter Vilhelm cautiously. He looks very much surprised at seeing Olof +alone and free.] + +Vilhelm. I come to bid you farewell, Master Olof, before you pass on to +another life. + +Olof (rising). You have not deserted me, Vilhelm! Help me, then, to +mourn those happy moments of my youth that are now nothing but a memory! + +Vilhelm. Before you die I want to thank you for all that you have +done for us. It was I who gave you those flowers, which you haven't +noticed.--They have been trampled on, I see. I wanted to bring you +a reminder of the days when we were playing under the lindens in the +convent close at Strängnäs. I thought it might do you good to hear that +we have never thanked God, as you said we would, because you didn't +return to us. We have never forgotten you, for it was you who relieved +us of those cruel penances, and it was you who flung open the heavy +convent doors and gave us back our freedom and the blue sky and the +happiness of living. Why you must die, we do not know, but _you_ could +never do anything wrong. And if you die because you have rendered help +to some of those that were oppressed, as they tell us, then you should +not be sorry, although it hurts very, very much. Once you told us how +Hus was burned because he had dared to tell the truth to those in power. +You told us how he went to the stake and joyfully commended himself into +the hands of God, and how he prophesied about the swan that should come +singing new songs in praise of awakened freedom. That's the way I have +thought that you would meet your death--with your head thrown back, and +your eyes toward the sky, and the people crying: "So dies a witness!" + +(Olof leans against the pillory, his face showing how the words of +Vilhelm strike home to him.) + +Gert (his voice heard from a distant part of the church.) Renegade! + +(Olof sinks down overwhelmed at the foot of the pillory.) + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Master Olof, by August Strindberg + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MASTER OLOF *** + +***** This file should be named 7363-8.txt or 7363-8.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/7/3/6/7363/ + +Produced by Nicole Apostola + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, +set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to +copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to +protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. Project +Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you +charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission. If you +do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the +rules is very easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose +such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and +research. They may be modified and printed and given away--you may do +practically ANYTHING with public domain eBooks. Redistribution is +subject to the trademark license, especially commercial +redistribution. + + + +*** START: FULL LICENSE *** + +THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE +PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK + +To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free +distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work +(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project +Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project +Gutenberg-tm License (available with this file or online at +http://gutenberg.org/license). + + +Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic works + +1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to +and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property +(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all +the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy +all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your possession. +If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the +terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or +entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8. + +1.B. "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark. It may only be +used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who +agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few +things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works +even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See +paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement +and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. See paragraph 1.E below. + +1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the Foundation" +or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works. Nearly all the individual works in the +collection are in the public domain in the United States. If an +individual work is in the public domain in the United States and you are +located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from +copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative +works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg +are removed. Of course, we hope that you will support the Project +Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting free access to electronic works by +freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm works in compliance with the terms of +this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with +the work. You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by +keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project +Gutenberg-tm License when you share it without charge with others. + +1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern +what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are in +a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, check +the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement +before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or +creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project +Gutenberg-tm work. The Foundation makes no representations concerning +the copyright status of any work in any country outside the United +States. + +1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg: + +1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate +access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear prominently +whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work on which the +phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the phrase "Project +Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed, +copied or distributed: + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + +1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is derived +from the public domain (does not contain a notice indicating that it is +posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied +and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees +or charges. If you are redistributing or providing access to a work +with the phrase "Project Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the +work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 +through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the +Project Gutenberg-tm trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or +1.E.9. + +1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted +with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution +must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional +terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms will be linked +to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works posted with the +permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work. + +1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this +work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm. + +1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this +electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without +prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with +active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project +Gutenberg-tm License. + +1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary, +compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any +word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access to or +distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format other than +"Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official version +posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site (www.gutenberg.org), +you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a +copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon +request, of the work in its original "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other +form. Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1. + +1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying, +performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works +unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. + +1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing +access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works provided +that + +- You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from + the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method + you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is + owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he + has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the + Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments + must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you + prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax + returns. Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and + sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the + address specified in Section 4, "Information about donations to + the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation." + +- You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies + you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he + does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm + License. You must require such a user to return or + destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium + and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of + Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +- You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any + money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the + electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days + of receipt of the work. + +- You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free + distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set +forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from +both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and Michael +Hart, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark. Contact the +Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below. + +1.F. + +1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable +effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread +public domain works in creating the Project Gutenberg-tm +collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain +"Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or +corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual +property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a +computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by +your equipment. + +1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right +of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project +Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all +liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal +fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT +LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE +PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH F3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE +TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE +LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR +INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH +DAMAGE. + +1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a +defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can +receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a +written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you +received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with +your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you with +the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a +refund. If you received the work electronically, the person or entity +providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to +receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If the second copy +is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further +opportunities to fix the problem. + +1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth +in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS' WITH NO OTHER +WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO +WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTIBILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE. + +1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied +warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages. +If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the +law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be +interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by +the applicable state law. The invalidity or unenforceability of any +provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions. + +1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the +trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone +providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in accordance +with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production, +promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works, +harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees, +that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do +or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg-tm +work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any +Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any Defect you cause. + + +Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm + +Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of +electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers +including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It exists +because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from +people in all walks of life. + +Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the +assistance they need, are critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's +goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will +remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure +and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future generations. +To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation +and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4 +and the Foundation web page at http://www.pglaf.org. + + +Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive +Foundation + +The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit +501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the +state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal +Revenue Service. The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification +number is 64-6221541. Its 501(c)(3) letter is posted at +http://pglaf.org/fundraising. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent +permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state's laws. + +The Foundation's principal office is located at 4557 Melan Dr. S. +Fairbanks, AK, 99712., but its volunteers and employees are scattered +throughout numerous locations. Its business office is located at +809 North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887, email +business@pglaf.org. Email contact links and up to date contact +information can be found at the Foundation's web site and official +page at http://pglaf.org + +For additional contact information: + Dr. Gregory B. Newby + Chief Executive and Director + gbnewby@pglaf.org + + +Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation + +Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide +spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of +increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be +freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest +array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations +($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt +status with the IRS. + +The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating +charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United +States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a +considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up +with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations +where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To +SEND DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any +particular state visit http://pglaf.org + +While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we +have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition +against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who +approach us with offers to donate. + +International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make +any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from +outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff. + +Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation +methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other +ways including checks, online payments and credit card donations. +To donate, please visit: http://pglaf.org/donate + + +Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. + +Professor Michael S. Hart is the originator of the Project Gutenberg-tm +concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared +with anyone. For thirty years, he produced and distributed Project +Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support. + + +Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed +editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the U.S. +unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not necessarily +keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition. + + +Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility: + + http://www.gutenberg.org + +This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, +including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary +Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to +subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. diff --git a/7363-8.zip b/7363-8.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..9fef7cc --- /dev/null +++ b/7363-8.zip diff --git a/7363-h.zip b/7363-h.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..39d0d97 --- /dev/null +++ b/7363-h.zip diff --git a/7363-h/7363-h.htm b/7363-h/7363-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..01f9a6b --- /dev/null +++ b/7363-h/7363-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,7770 @@ +<?xml version="1.0" encoding="iso-8859-1"?> + +<!DOCTYPE html + PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd" > + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" lang="en"> + <head> + <title> + Master Olof, by August Strindberg + </title> + <style type="text/css" xml:space="preserve"> + + body { margin:5%; background:#faebd0; text-align:justify} + P { text-indent: 1em; margin-top: .25em; margin-bottom: .25em; } + H1,H2,H3,H4,H5,H6 { text-align: center; margin-left: 15%; margin-right: 15%; } + hr { width: 50%; text-align: center;} + .foot { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; text-indent: -3em; font-size: 90%; } + blockquote {font-size: 97%; font-style: italic; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;} + .mynote {background-color: #DDE; color: #000; padding: .5em; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 95%;} + .toc { margin-left: 10%; margin-bottom: .75em;} + .toc2 { margin-left: 20%;} + div.fig { display:block; margin:0 auto; text-align:center; } + div.middle { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; } + .figleft {float: left; margin-left: 0%; margin-right: 1%;} + .figright {float: right; margin-right: 0%; margin-left: 1%;} + .pagenum {display:inline; font-size: 70%; font-style:normal; + margin: 0; padding: 0; position: absolute; right: 1%; + text-align: right;} + pre { font-style: italic; font-size: 90%; margin-left: 10%;} + +</style> + </head> + <body> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Master Olof, by August Strindberg + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Master Olof + A Drama in Five Acts + +Author: August Strindberg + +Release Date: August 7, 2009 [EBook #7363] +Last Updated: January 25, 2013 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MASTER OLOF *** + + + + +Produced by Nicole Apostola, and David Widger + + + + + + +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <h1> + MASTER OLOF + </h1> + <h2> + A DRAMA IN FIVE ACTS + </h2> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <h2> + By August Strindberg + </h2> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <h2> + Contents + </h2> + <p> + <a href="#link2H_INTR"> INTRODUCTION </a><br /><br /> <a + href="#link2H_4_0002"> <b>MASTER OLOF</b> </a> <br /> + </p> + <table summary="" style="margin-right: auto; margin-left: auto"> + <tr> + <td> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0003"> ACT I </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0004"> ACT II </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0005"> ACT III </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0006"> ACT IV </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0007"> ACT V </a> + </p> + </td> + </tr> + </table> + <p> + <a name="link2H_INTR" id="link2H_INTR"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <h2> + INTRODUCTION + </h2> + <p> + The original prose version of Master Olof, which is here presented for the + first time in English form, was written between June 8 and August 8, 1872, + while Strindberg, then only twenty-three years old, was living with two + friends on one of the numerous little islands that lie between Stockholm + and the open sea. + </p> + <p> + Up to that time he had produced half-a-dozen plays, one of which had been + performed at the Royal Theatre of Stockholm and had won him the good-will + and financial support of King Carl XV. Thus he had been able to return to + the University of Upsala, whence he had been driven a year earlier by + poverty as well as by spiritual revolt. During his second term of study at + the old university Strindberg wrote some plays that he subsequently + destroyed. In the same period he not only conceived the idea later + developed in Master Olof, but he also acquired the historical data + underlying the play and actually began to put it into dialogue. + </p> + <p> + During that same winter of 1871-72 he read extensively, although his + reading probably had slight reference to the university curriculum. The + two works that seem to have taken the lion's share of his attention were + Goethe's youthful drama Goetz von Berlichingen and Buckle's History of + Civilization in England. Both impressed him deeply, and both became in his + mind logically connected with an external event which, perhaps, had + touched his supersensitive soul more keenly than anything else: an event + concerning which he says in the third volume of The Bondwoman's Son, that + "he had just discovered that the men of the Paris Commune merely put into + action what Buckle preached." + </p> + <p> + Such were the main influences at work on his mind when, early in 1872, his + royal protector died, and Strindberg found himself once more dependent on + his own resources. To continue at the university was out of the question, + and he seems to have taken his final departure from it without the least + feeling of regret. Unwise as he may have been in other respects, he was + wise enough to realize that, whatever his goal, the road to it must be of + his own making. Returning to Stockholm, he groped around for a while as he + had done a year earlier, what he even tried to eke out a living as the + editor of a trade journal. Yet the seeds sown within him during the + previous winter were sprouting. An irresistible impulse urged him to + continue the work of Buckle. History and philosophy were the ultimate ends + tempting his mind, but first of all he was impelled to express himself in + terms of concrete life, and the way had been shown him by Goethe. Moved by + Goethe's example, he felt himself obliged to break through the stifling + forms of classical drama. "No verse, no eloquence, no unity of place," was + the resolution he formulated straightway. [Note: See again The Bondwoman's + Son, vol. iii: In the Red Room.] + </p> + <p> + Having armed himself with a liberal supply of writing-paper, he joined his + two friends in the little island of Kymmendö. Of money he had so little + that, but for the generosity of one of his friends, he would have had to + leave the island in the autumn without settling the small debt he owed for + board and lodging. Yet those months were happy indeed—above all + because he felt himself moved by an inspiration more authentic than he had + ever before experienced. Thus page was added to page, and act to act, + until at last, in the surprisingly brief time of two months, the whole + play was ready—mighty in bulk and spirit, as became the true + firstling of a young Titan. + </p> + <p> + Strindberg had first meant to name his play "What Is Truth?" For a while + he did call it "The Renegade," but in the end he thought both titles + smacked too much of tendency and decided instead, with reasoned + conventionalism, to use the title of Master Olof after its central figure, + the Luther of Sweden. + </p> + <p> + From a dramatic point of view it would have been hard to pick a more + promising period than the one he had chosen as a setting for his play. The + early reign of Gustaf Vasa, the founder of modern Sweden, was marked by + three parallel conflicts of equal intensity and interest: between Swedish + and Danish nationalism; between Catholicism and Protestantism; and, + finally, between feudalism and a monarchism based more or less on the + consent of the governed. Its background was the long struggle for + independent national existence in which the country had become involved by + its voluntary federation with Denmark and Norway about the end of the + fourteenth century. That Struggle—made necessary by the insistence + of one sovereign after another on regarding Sweden as a Danish province + rather than as an autonomous part of a united Scandinavia—had + reached a sort of climax, a final moment of utter blackness just before + the dawn, when, at Stockholm in 1520, the Danish king, known ever + afterward as Christian the Tyrant, commanded the arbitrary execution of + about eighty of Sweden's most representative men. + </p> + <p> + Until within a few months of that event, named by the horror-stricken + people "the blood-bath of Stockholm," the young Gustaf Eriksson Vasa had + been a prisoner in Denmark, sent there as a hostage of Swedish loyalty. + Having obtained his freedom by flight, he made his way to the inland + province of Dalecarlia, where most of the previous movements on behalf of + national liberty had originated, and having cleared the country of foreign + invaders, chiefly by the help of an aroused peasantry that had never known + the yoke of serfdom, he was elected king at a Riksdag held in the little + city of Strängnäs, not far from Stockholm, in 1523. + </p> + <p> + Strängnäs was a cathedral city and had for several years previous been + notorious for the Lutheran leanings of its clergy. After the death of its + bishop as one of the victims of King; Christian, its temporary head had + been the archdeacon, the ambitious and learned Lars Andersson—or + Laurentius Andreae, as, in accordance with the Latinizing tendency of the + time, he was more frequently named. One of its canons was Olof Pedersson—also + known as Olaus Petri, and more commonly as Master Olof (Master being the + vernacular for Magister, which was the equivalent of our modern Doctor)—who, + during two years spent in studies at the University of Wittenberg, had + been in personal contact with Luther, and who had become fired with an + aspiration to carry the Reformation into his native country. By recent + historians Master Olof has been described as of a "naively humble nature," + rather melancholy in temperament, but endowed with a gift for irony, and + capable of fiery outbursts when deeply stirred. At Strängnäs he had been + preaching the new faith more openly and more effectively than any one + else, and he had found a pupil as well as a protector in the temporary + head of the diocese. + </p> + <p> + Immediately after his election, the new King called Lars Andersson from + Strängnäs to become his first chancellor. Later on, he pressed Olof, too, + into his service, making him Secretary to the City Corporation of + Stockholm—which meant that Olof practically became the chief civil + administrator of the capital, having to act as both clerk and magistrate, + while at the same time he was continuing his reformatory propaganda as one + of the preachers in the city's principal edifice, officially named after + St. Nicolaus, but commonly spoken of as Greatchurch. As if this were not + sufficient for one man, he plunged also into a feverish literary activity, + doing most of the work on the Swedish translations of the New and Old + Testaments, and paving the way for the new faith by a series of vigorous + polemical writings, the style of which proclaims him the founder of modern + Swedish prose. Centuries passed before the effective simplicity and homely + picturesqueness of his style were surpassed. He became, furthermore, + Sweden's first dramatist. The Comedy of Tobit, from which Strindberg uses + a few passages in slightly modernized form at the beginning of his play, + is now generally recognized as an authentic product of Olof's pen, + although it was not written until a much later period. + </p> + <p> + Strindberg's drama starts at Strängnäs, at the very moment when Olof has + been goaded into open revolt against the abuses of the Church, and when he + is saved from the consequences of that revolt only by the unexpected + arrival of King Gustaf and his own appointment as City Secretary. From the + slightly strained, but not improbable, coincidence of that start to the + striking climax of the last act, the play follows, on the whole, pretty + closely the actual course of events recorded in history. To understand + this course, with its gradually intensified conflict between the King and + Olof, it is above all necessary to bear in mind that the former regarded + the Reformation principally as a means toward that political + reorganization and material upbuilding of the country which formed his + main task; while to Olof the religious reconstruction assumed supreme + importance. This fundamental divergence of purpose is clearly indicated + and effectively used by Strindberg, and we have reason to believe that he + has pictured not only Gustaf Vasa and Master Olof, but also the other + historical characters, in close accordance with what history has to tell + us about them. Among the chief figures there is only one—Gert the + Printer—who is not known to history, and one—the wife of Olof—who + is so little known that the playwright has been at liberty to create it + almost wholly out of his own imagination. + </p> + <p> + At the juncture represented by the initial scenes of the play, Olof was in + reality thirty-one years old, but he is made to appear still younger. The + King should be, and is, about twenty-seven, while Lars Andersson is about + fifty-four, and Bishop Brask about seventy. Gert must be thought a man of + about sixty, while Christine must be about twenty. The action of the play + lasts from 1524 to 1540, but Strindberg has contracted the general + perspective, so to speak, giving us the impression that the entire action + takes place within a couple of years. I have tried to work out a complete + chronology, and think it fairly safe to date the several parts of the play + as follows: + </p> + <p> + The first act takes place on Whitsun Eve, 1524, which means that the exact + date must fall between May 10 and June 13 of that year, and probably about + June 1. + </p> + <p> + The first scene of the second act occurs in the early evening of a + Saturday in the summer—probably in June—of 1524. The second + scene is fixed at midnight of the same day, and the third scene on the + following morning, which, in view of the fact that Olof is to preach, we + may assume to be a Sunday. + </p> + <p> + The first scene of the third act seems to take place four days later, but + Olof was not married until February, 1525,—to "Christine, a maiden + of good family,"—and it was only during the winter of 1526-27 that + the Church reformers were given free rein by the King, and Olof himself + was despatched to the University of Upsala for the purpose of challenging + Peder Galle, the noted Catholic theologian, to a joint discussion. This + was also the time when the first Swedish version of the New Testament was + completed by Olof and Lars Andersson—an event referred to in the + scene in question. + </p> + <p> + The exact date of the second scene of the third act is St. John's Eve, or + June 24, 1527, at which time occurred the important Riksdag at Vesterås, + where the King broke the final resistance of the nobility and the Catholic + clergy by threatening to abdicate. The debate between Olof and Peder Galle + took place at the Riksdag, Galle having evaded it as long as he could. + </p> + <p> + The date of the fourth act is very uncertain, but it seems safe to place + it in the summer of 1539, when Stockholm was ravaged by an epidemic of a + virulent disease known as "the English sweat." + </p> + <p> + The first scene of the fifth act is laid on New Year's Eve, 1539, when + Olof and Lars Andersson were arrested and charged with high treason for + not having informed the proper authorities of a plot against the King's + life. This plot was an old story, having been exposed and punished in + 1536. Their defence was that they had learned of it through secret + confession, which they as ministers had no right to reveal. The trial took + only two days, and on January 2, 1540, both were sentenced to death. + </p> + <p> + The second scene of the final act must be laid in the spring of 1540, as + the ceremony of confirmation has generally taken place about Easter ever + since the Swedish church became Lutheran. + </p> + <p> + While, in the main, Strindberg made the events of his play accord with + what was accepted as historical fact when he wrote, there are anachronisms + and inaccuracies to be noted, although to none of them can be attached + much importance. When, in the first and second acts, he represents the + Anabaptist leaders, Rink and Knipperdollink, as then in Stockholm and + actually introduces one of them on the stage, he has merely availed + himself of a legend which had been accepted as truth for centuries, and + which has been exploded only by recent historical research. We know now + that Rink and Knipperdollink could never have been in Sweden, but we know + also that a German lay preacher named Melchior Hofman appeared at + Stockholm about the time indicated in the play, and that, in 1529, another + such preacher, named Tilemann, made Olof himself the object of his fierce + invectives. These instances serve, in fact, to prove how skilfully + Strindberg handled his historical material. He is never rigid as to fact, + but as a rule he is accurate in spirit. Another instance of this kind is + found in the references in the first act to the use of Swedish for + purposes of worship. It is recorded—and by himself, I think—that + Olof once asked his mother whether she really understood the Latin + prayers, since she was so very fond of them. She answered: "No, I don't + understand them, but when I hear them I pray devoutly to God that they may + please Him, which I don't doubt they do." + </p> + <p> + On the other hand, what maybe regarded as rather an awkward slip is found + in the first scene of the fifth act, where Gert cries exultantly to Olof: + "You don't know that Thomas Münster has established a new spiritual + kingdom at Mühlhausen." The name of the great Anabaptist "prophet" was + Thomas Münzer, and the place where he established his brief reign was + Münster. Strindberg's habit was to fill his head with the facts to be + used, and then to rely on his memory. Marvellous as his memory was, it + sometimes deceived him, and checking off names or dates seems to have been + utterly beyond him. Thus it is quite probable that the passage in question + represents an unconscious error. At the same time it is barely possible + that the mistake may have been purposely laid in the mouth of a fanatic, + from whom exactness of statement could hardly be expected. Thus, in the + first act, Gert remarks that "Luther is dead." We understand, of course, + that this expression is metaphorical, signifying that Luther has done all + that can be expected of him, but it is nevertheless characteristically + ambiguous. + </p> + <p> + The second scene of the third act is apparently laid in Olof's house at + Stockholm, although the location of the building is not definitely + indicated. We find him waiting for a messenger who is to announce the + results of the Riksdag then in session. But the Riksdag was held at + Vesterås, and we know that Olof was one of two delegates sent by the + burghers and the peasants to the King, whom they implored "on their knees + and with tears" to withdraw his abdication. The Courtier's reference to + Olof's debate with Galle renders it still more uncertain whether we are in + Stockholm or in Vesterås. The Courtier also informs Olof of his + appointment as pastor of Greatchurch, the facts being that Olof was not + ordained until 1539 and received his appointment a year after the events + described in the last act of the play. In the metrical version, Strindberg + makes his most radical departure from the historical course of events by + letting Luther's marriage precede and influence that of Olof, although in + reality Olof's anticipated that of Luther by several months. + </p> + <p> + The complaints of the Man from Småland in the first scene of the second + act could scarcely have been warranted in 1524, when that act takes place. + The hold of the young King was far too precarious at that early date to + permit any regulations of the kind referred to. The establishment of a + maximum price on oxen does not seem to have occurred until 1532, and a + prohibition against the shooting of deer by the peasants was actually + issued in 1538, both measures helping to provoke the widespread uprising + that broke out in Småland in 1541. It was named the "Dacke feud" after its + principal leader, the peasant-chieftain Nils Dacke, to whom the Sexton + refers in the second scene of the last act—also a little + prematurely. + </p> + <p> + Whether these be conscious or unconscious anachronisms, they matter very + little when the general accuracy of the play is considered. From the + moment the Danes had been driven out of the country, one of the most + serious problems confronting the King was the financial chaos into which + the country had fallen, and his efforts, first of all to raise enough + means for ordinary administrative purposes, and secondly to reorganize + trade and agriculture, brought him almost immediately into conflict with + the peasants, who, during the long struggle for national independence, had + become accustomed to do pretty much as they pleased. The utterances of the + Man from Småland are typical of the sentiments that prevailed among the + peasants throughout the country, not least when he speaks of the King's + intention to "take away their priests and friars," for the majority of the + Swedish people were at that time still intensely Catholic, and remained so + to a large extent long after the Reformation officially had placed Sweden + among Protestant countries. + </p> + <p> + Much more serious than any liberties taken with dates or facts, I deem + certain linguistic anachronisms, of which Strindberg not rarely becomes + guilty. Thus, for instance, he makes the King ask Bishop Brask: "What kind + of phenomenon is this?" The phrase is palpably out of place, and yet it + has been used so deliberately that nothing was left for me to do but to + translate it literally. The truth is that Strindberg was not striving to + reproduce the actual language of the Period—a language of which we + get a glimpse in the quotations from The Comedy of Tobit. Here and there + he used archaic expressions (which I have sometimes reproduced and + sometimes disregarded, as the exigencies of the new medium happened to + require). At other times he did not hesitate to employ modern + colloquialisms (most of which have been "toned down"). He did not regard + local color or historical atmosphere as a supreme desideratum. He wanted + to express certain ideas, and he wanted to bring home the essential + humanity of historical figures which, through the operations of legendary + history, had assumed a strange, unhuman aspect. The methods he employed + for these purposes have since been made familiar to the English-speaking + public by the historical plays of Bernard Shaw and the short stories and + novels of Anatole France. + </p> + <p> + In his eagerness, however, to express what was burning for utterance in + his own breast, the second purpose was sometimes lost sight of; and at + such times Strindberg hesitated as little to pass the bounds imposed by an + historical period as to break through the much more important limitations + of class and personal antecedents. Thus, for example, the remarks of + Olof's mother are at one moment characterized by the simplicity to be + expected from the aged widow of a small city tradesman in the early part + of the sixteenth century, while in the next—under the pressure of + the author's passion for personal expression—they grow improbably + sophisticated. Yet each figure, when seen in proper perspective, appears + correctly drawn and strikingly consistent with the part assigned to it in + the play. In his very indifference to minor accuracies, Strindberg + sometimes approaches more closely to the larger truth than men more + scrupulous in regard to details. How true he can be in his delineation of + a given type is perhaps best shown by the figure of Gert. The world's + literature holds few portrayals of the anarchistic temperament that can + vie with it in psychological exactness, and it is as true to-day as it was + in 1524 or in 1872. + </p> + <p> + This verisimilitude on a universal rather than a specific plane assumes + still greater significance if we consider it in the light of what + Strindberg has told us about his purpose with the main characters of his + first great play. As I have already said, those characters were meant to + be both mouthpieces of the author and revived historical figures, but they + were also meant—and primarily, I suspect—to be something else: + embodiments of the contradictory phases of a single individual, namely the + author himself. + </p> + <p> + "The author meant to hide his own self behind the historical characters," + Strindberg tells us, apropos of this very play. [Note: In one of his + biographical novels, The Bondwoman's Son, vol. iii: In the Red Room.] "As + an idealist he was to be represented by Olof; as a realist by Gustaf; and + as a communist by Gert." Farther on in the same work, he continues his + revelation as follows: "The King and his shadow, the shrewd Constable, + represented himself [the author] as he wished to be; Gert, as he was in + moments of aroused passion; and Olof, as, after years of self-scrutiny, he + had come to know himself: ambitious and weak-willed; unscrupulous when + something was at stake, and yielding at other times; possessed of great + self-confidence, mixed with a deep melancholy; balanced and irrational; + hard and gentle." + </p> + <p> + Finally, he gives us this illuminating exposition of his own views on the + moral validity of the main characters, thus disposing once for all of the + one-sided interpretations made by persons anxious to use this or that + aspect of the play in support of their own political or social + idiosyncrasies: "All the chief characters are, relatively speaking, in the + right. The Constable, from the standpoint of his own day, is right in + asking Olof to keep calm and go on preaching; Olof is right in admitting + that he had gone too far; the scholar, Vilhelm, is right when, in the name + of youth, he demands the evolution of a new truth; and Gert is right in + calling Olof a renegade. The individual must always become a renegade—forced + by the necessity of natural laws; by fatigue; by inability to develop + indefinitely, as the brain ceases to grow about the age of forty-five; and + by the claims of actual life, which demand that even a reformer must live + as man, mate, head of a family, and citizen. But those who crave that the + individual continue his progress indefinitely are the shortsighted—particularly + those who think that the cause must perish because the individual deserts + it.... It is an open question, for that matter, whether Olof did not have + a better chance to advance his cause from the pulpit of the reformed + Greatchurch than he would have had in low-class taverns." + </p> + <p> + These passages were written by Strindberg fourteen years after the + completion of the play to which they refer. We have other evidence, + however, that, while he might have seen things more clearly in retrospect, + he had not been lured by the lapse of time into placing his characters in + a light different from that in which they were conceived. On the list of + characters forming part of the original handwritten manuscript of the + first version of Master Olof, now preserved in the Public Library of + Gothenburg, Sweden, the author has jotted down certain very significant + notes opposite the more important names. Thus he has written opposite the + name of the King: "To accomplish something in this world, one has to risk + morality and conscience;" opposite the name of Olof: "He who strives to + realize an idea develops greatness of personality—he accomplishes + good by his personal example, but he is doomed to perish;" opposite that + of Bishop Brask: "There is movement in whatever exists—whatever + stands still must be crushed;" and opposite that of Gert: "He who wills + more than his reason can grasp must go mad." + </p> + <p> + Such was the play with which the young Strindberg returned to the Swedish + capital in the fall of 1872; and let us remember in this connection, that + up to the time in question no dramatic work of similar importance had ever + been produced in Sweden. Its completion was more epoch-making for Sweden + than that of Brand was for Norway in 1865—since the coming of + Ibsen's first really great play was heralded by earlier works leading up + to it, while Master Olof appeared where nobody had any reason to expect + it. This very fact militated against its success, of course; it was too + unexpected, and also too startlingly original, both in spirit and in form. + </p> + <p> + At the time there was only one stage in Sweden where such a work could be + produced—the Royal Theatre at Stockholm. To the officials of this + state—supported institution Strindberg submitted his work—hopefully, + as we know from his own statement. It was scornfully and ignominiously + rejected, the main criticism being that a serious historical drama in + prose was unthinkable. I shall make no comment whatever on that judgment, + having in mind how several years later Edmund Gosse bewailed the failure + of Ibsen to give a metrical form to his Emperor and Galilean. + </p> + <p> + Strindberg's next effort concerned publication. In this respect he was + equally unsuccessful, although as a rule it has never been very difficult + in Sweden to find a publisher for any work of reasonable merit. But the + play was not only too original, it was too dangerously radical for a + country where a truly modern form of representative government had not + been achieved until seven years earlier. Strindberg was at first stunned + by this failure. He seriously contemplated giving up writing altogether. + When he had recovered somewhat, he seems reluctantly to have faced the + possibility that the fault might be found in the play and not in the + public. + </p> + <p> + So he set about to re-write it—and he did so not only once but + repeatedly, producing in all six versions that differ more or less from + one another. At first he clung to the prose form. Gradually he began to + introduce verse, until finally, in 1877 or 1878, he completed an almost + new play, where the metrical form predominated without being used + exclusively. This version was actually published in 1878. Originally, an + epilogue was appended to it, but this was dropped from all but a small + part of the first edition. It is supposed to take place a number of years + later than the fifth act, and shows Olof with his two sons outside the + city walls of Stockholm, where they witness a miracle-play introducing God + as the principle of darkness and Lucifer as the overthrown but never + conquered principle of light. The bitter generalizations of this + afterthought explain Sufficiently why it was excluded. To the later + Strindberg—the man who wrote Advent, for instance—it must have + seemed one of his most unforgivable offences. + </p> + <p> + Although Strindberg's main object in working over his play undoubtedly was + to obtain its production, the metrical version was not put on the stage + until 1890, when, however, it was performed at the Royal Theatre, toward + which its author had looked so longingly and so vainly eighteen years + earlier. The prose version, on the other hand, was produced as early as + 1881, at the New Theatre in Stockholm, but was not published until the + same year, when it appeared in book form grouped with a number of other + writings from Strindberg's earliest period. + </p> + <p> + Of the five unprinted versions connecting the original prose drama of 1872 + with the final metrical form of 1878, more or less complete manuscripts + have been preserved, and these are now being examined in detail by the + Swedish literary historian, Professor Karl Warburg. A summary analysis by + Dr. John Landquist is appended to the second volume of the definitive + edition of Strindberg's complete works (Albert Bonnier, Stockholm), where + the epilogue to the metrical version is also reprinted after so many years + of oblivion. + </p> + <p> + "Of all the manuscripts preceding the final metrical version," says Dr. + Landquist, "the original one, written when Strindberg was twenty-three, is + the masterpiece. There everything is consistent; there the dialogue has a + power and an incisiveness to which it does not attain in any of the + unprinted manuscripts. On the contrary, these seem more youthful than the + original, producing at times an impression of immaturity and uncertainty + on the part of the author. Even when some isolated phrase strikes one as + fortunate, it does not tend to strengthen the drama as a whole. The later + versions lack that sense of inner unity and that audacious touch which + lend fascination and power to the original manuscript. + </p> + <p> + "Not until we reach the first metrical version (of 1876) does the full + power of the playwright begin to reassert itself in such fashion that out + of his untiring labors at last springs a new work, the mood of which + differs essentially from that of the first prose version. These two + versions—the first and the final—are the results of + diametrically opposed methods of work. The first was written with a + certainty and swiftness of inspiration that raised the young poet far + above the productive powers generally characteristic of his years. The + subsequent modifications prove merely how futile are the efforts of reason + to improve what intuition has inspired. But gradually it seems to have + dawned on the poet that he was about to evolve a wholly new work—that + what he had come to aim at was quite distinct from what he had been aiming + at in the beginning, and from that moment his artistic reasoning carried + him onward until at last a new inspiration brought the work to its + completion." + </p> + <p> + Concerning the final metrical version, I can give only a few outstanding + and rather superficial facts, hoping that I may some time have the + opportunity of presenting it entire to the American public. Like the prose + version, it has five acts, but these are not subdivided into scenes. It is + briefer, more concentrated both in spirit and in form, and may be said to + display a greater unity of purpose. It is more human, too, and less + titanic. The change shows itself strikingly in a figure like that of + Mårten, who in the metrical version has become softened into an + unconscionable but rather lovable rapscallion. The last remark but one + made by Mårten when driven from Dame Christine's deathbed by Olof is: + "Talk to your mother, son—the two of you have so much to forgive + each other." + </p> + <p> + In strength and passion and daring, on the other hand, the final version + falls far short of the original one, and the very fact that it is more + logical, more carefully reasoned, tends at times to render it less + psychologically true. Each version has its own merits and its own faults, + and in their appeal they are so radically different that a choice between + them must always remain meaningless except on temperamental grounds. At + one point, however—and an important one at that—the metrical + version seems to me the happier by far. + </p> + <p> + That cry of "renegade," which, echoing from the dim recesses of the + church, makes the prose version end on a note of perplexing irony, may be + theatrically effective, but it can hardly be called logical. Gert has been + disposed of. His sudden return out of the clutches of the soldiers is + inexplicable and unwarranted. Worse still, he has only a short while + previous been urging Olof to live on for his work. If Olof be a renegade, + he is so upon the advice of Gert himself, and to call the concession made + by Olof for the saving of his own life far-reaching enough to explain + Gert's sudden change of attitude approaches dangerously near to quibbling. + In the metrical version, on the other hand, the same cry of "renegade" is + quite logically and suitably wrung from the lips of Vilhelm, the scholar + who is still dreaming of uncompromised ideals. But it is not the final + word. This comes from Olof, and takes the form of a brief apostrophe to + the fleeing Vilhelm, which I think ranks with the finest passages produced + by Strindberg. Apologetically, I offer this English version of it as a + fitting close to my Introduction: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Olof. Oh, what a word! But though it shook the air, + These columns did not stir, nor fell the dome, + And I stand calm upon this lonely shore, + Where I was dropped by the receding waves— + For, after all, I am ashore. And now + A last "good luck upon the road" I send + To speed the daring sailor who will give + No ear to one that just has come to grief. + With sails hauled close, steer for the open sea + And for the far-off goal your soul desires! + Ere long you must fall off like all the rest, + Although a star your guiding landmark be + For in due time the stars themselves must fall! +</pre> + <p> + EDWIN BJORKMAN MAY 15, 1915 <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> <a name="link2H_4_0002" id="link2H_4_0002"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div class="play"> + <h2> + MASTER OLOF + </h2> + DRAMATIS PERSONAE +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + OLOF PEDERSSON (Olaus Petri), generally known as MASTER OLOF. + GERT THE PRINTER. + GUSTAF ERIKSSON VASA, King of Sweden. + HANS BRASK, Bishop of Linköping. + MÅNS SOMMAR, Bishop of Strängnäs. + LARS SIGGESON, Lord High Constable. + LARS ANDERSSON (Laurentius Andreae), Lord High Chancellor. + LARS PEDERSSON (Laurentius Petri), brother of Master Olof. + HANS WINDRANK, a Master Mariner. + A Man from Småland. + A German. + A Dane. + MÅRTEN and NILS, Black Friars. + A Tavern-keeper. + A Burier. + First Scholar. + Second Scholar. + The Sexton at St. Nicolaus (or Greatchurch). + A Servant of the Palace. + An Overseer. + A Townsman. + A Courtier. + DAME CHRISTINE, Olof's mother. + CHRISTINE, daughter of Gert the Printer. + A Harlot. + A Woman. + The Sexton's Wife. + The Abbess of St. Clara. + Headsman, Townsfolk, Laborers, etc. +</pre> + <p> + ACT I: At Strängnäs. + </p> + <p> + ACTS II, III, IV, AND V: At Stockholm. + </p> + <a name="link2H_4_0003" id="link2H_4_0003"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + ACT I + </h2> + <p> + (A Cloister opening upon a Convent Close planted with groups of trees. + The convent church forms the right side of the quadrangle. A brick wall + runs along the rear. Fruit trees in blossom appear above the wall. Olof + is seated on a stone bench. Before him stand two scholars, who are + reading their respective parts out of "The Comedy of Tobit.") + </p> + <p> + First Scholar. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Now have our enemies trapped us full well. + Woe unto us, poor children of Israel! +</pre> + <p> + Second Scholar. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Yea, brother, good cause you have to make such plaint! + Now certes we have come upon days of great lament— + Our land is taken away, and so's our increase, + And ne'er we may look for any help or surcease. + It must be, as long I have both dreamt and said, + That the promise to Abram has been long mislaid. +</pre> + <p> + [Enter Lars Andersson.] + </p> + <p> + Lars Andersson. What are you doing? + </p> + <p> + Olof. I am playing. + </p> + <p> + Lars. Playing—you? + </p> + <p> + Olof. I am playing a little comedy about the children of Israel and the + Babylonian captivity. + </p> + <p> + Lars. Have you nothing better to do? Bigger work is waiting for you. + </p> + <p> + Olof. I am too young. + </p> + <p> + Lars. Do not say you are too young. + </p> + <p> + Olof. No, for there are plenty of others who say it. + </p> + <p> + Lars (takes out a roll of paper, which he opens; for a while he stands + looking at Olof; then he begins to read) "Then the word of the Lord came + unto Jeremiah: 'Before I formed thee in the belly I knew thee; and + before thou camest forth out of the womb I sanctified thee, and I + ordained thee a prophet unto the nations.' + </p> + <p> + "Then said Jeremiah: 'Ah, Lord God! behold, I cannot speak, for I am a + child.' + </p> + <p> + "But the Lord said: 'Say not, I am a child; for thou shalt go to all + that I shall send thee, and whatsoever I command thee thou shalt speak. + For, behold, I have made thee this day a defenced city, and an iron + pillar, and brazen walls against the whole land, against the kings of + Judah, against the princes thereof, against the priests thereof, and + against the people of the land. And they shall fight against thee; but + they shall not prevail against thee; for I am with thee,' saith the + Lord, 'to deliver thee.'" + </p> + <p> + Olof (leaping to his feet). Did the Lord say that? + </p> + <p> + Lars. "Thou therefore gird up thy loins and arise, and speak unto them + all that I command thee." + </p> + <p> + Olof. Why do not you go? + </p> + <p> + Lars. I am too old. + </p> + <p> + Olof. You are afraid! + </p> + <p> + Lars. I am, for I have not the strength; but you have—and now may + the Lord give you the faith also. + </p> + <p> + Olof. Oh, once I did have the flame of faith, and it burned wondrously, + but the monkish gang smothered it with their holy water when they were + trying to read the devil out of my body. + </p> + <p> + Lars. That was a fire of straw which had to flicker out; but now the + Lord will light you a fire of logs by which the offspring of the + Philistines shall be consumed. Do you know your own will, Olof? + </p> + <p> + Olof. No, but I feel myself choking when I think of these poor people + who yearn for salvation. They are crying for water—for living + water—but there is no one who can give it to them. + </p> + <p> + Lars. Tear down the crumbling old house first, you can do that. Then the + Lord Himself will build them a new one. + </p> + <p> + Olof. Then they will be without a roof over their heads for a time. + </p> + <p> + Lars. They will at least get fresh air. + </p> + <p> + Olof. But to rob a whole nation of its faith—they will despair. + </p> + <p> + Lars. Yes, they will despair. + </p> + <p> + Olof. But they will decry me, and revile me, and drag me before the + elders. + </p> + <p> + Lars. Are you afraid? + </p> + <p> + Olof. No—but the offence— + </p> + <p> + Lars. You were born to give offence, Olof; you were born to smite. The + Lord will heal. + </p> + <p> + Olof. I can feel the pull of the current; I am still clinging to the + sluice-gate, but if I let go, I shall be swept away. + </p> + <p> + Lars. Let go! There are more than enough who hold back. + </p> + <p> + Olof. Reach out your hand to me, Lars, if I get too far into the + whirlpool. + </p> + <p> + Lars. That is not in my power, and into the whirlpool you must go, even + if it be to perish. + </p> + <p> + Olof. What storms you have raised in my soul! A moment ago I sat here + and played in the shadow of the trees, and it was Whitsun Eve, and it + was spring, and all was peace. And now—how can the trees be still, + and why is there no darkness in the sky? Put your hand on my forehead, + feel the blood surging! Do not abandon me, Lars! I see an angel coming + towards me with a cup—she is walking across the evening sky—her + path is blood-red, and in her hand she is carrying a cross—No, it + is more than I avail! I will return to my peaceful valley. Let others + fight; I will look on—No, I will follow in their wake and heal the + wounded and whisper words of peace into the ears of the dying—Peace!—No, + I want to fight with the rest, but in the last ranks—Why should I + lead? + </p> + <p> + Lars. Because you are the boldest. + </p> + <p> + Olof. Not the strongest? + </p> + <p> + Lars. The strong will come after you: and the strongest of all is by + your side; it is He who summons you to battle. + </p> + <p> + Olof. Help me, O Lord! I go. + </p> + <p> + Lars. Amen! + </p> + <p> + Olof. And will you come with me? + </p> + <p> + Lars. You must go alone—with God! + </p> + <p> + Olof. Why do you turn back? + </p> + <p> + Lars. I was not born to be a warrior: your armorer is all that I can be. + Your weapon is the pure Word of God, and with that you must arm the + people. For the doors to the popish armory have been broken open at + last, and hereafter every one calling himself a man must fight for the + freedom of his own spirit. + </p> + <p> + Olof. But where is the enemy? I am burning for battle, yet see no one to + fight against. + </p> + <p> + Lars. No need to summon them; they will come! Farewell! You may begin + whenever you are ready, and may God be with you! + </p> + <p> + Olof. Don't go. I have much more to talk with you about. + </p> + <p> + Lars. Here comes the vanguard now—to arms! + </p> + <p> + [Exit Lars.] + </p> + <p> + (A crowd of townsmen with their women and children pass across the stage + to the church door at the right. They stop in front of it, bare their + heads, and make the sign of the cross.) + </p> + <p> + Gert the Printer (disguised as a townsman). It's Whitsun Eve, and nobody + has rung the vesper bell—that's very strange. + </p> + <p> + A Townsman. The church door is closed. Maybe the priest is sick. + </p> + <p> + Gert. Or not yet out of bed. + </p> + <p> + Townsman. What do you mean? + </p> + <p> + Gert. Only that he might be sick abed. + </p> + <p> + Townsman. But there are a lot of acolytes, and one of them might be + saying a mass for us in his place. + </p> + <p> + Gert. They are probably too busy. + </p> + <p> + Townsman. With what? + </p> + <p> + Gert. That's hard to tell. + </p> + <p> + Townsman. Take care, my good man! You seem to have a leaning towards + Lutherism. Bishop Hans of Linköping is here, and so's the King. + </p> + <p> + Gert. Is Brask in town? + </p> + <p> + Townsman. Indeed he is. But I suppose we had better try the church door + to see if it be really closed. + </p> + <p> + Gert (runs up the steps and beats the church door with his fist).The + house of God is closed this Whitsun Eve. The reverend clergy will grant + no audience with the Lord to-day, and so the worshipful commonalty will + have to go home and go to bed without any mass. Look here, good folk! + Here you have a door—mere wood, of course, but that matters + little, as it is lined with copper. Just take a look at this door! If I + say that the Lord is living within—this being His house; and if I + say that the bishop's diaconus, or secretarius, or canonicus, or some + other fellow ending in 'us'—for it's only these clerical gentlemen + that end in 'us'; and if I say that some fellow of that kind has the key + hanging on a nail in his bedroom: then I don't mean to say that he has + locked up the Lord and put the key on a nail in his bedroom: but all I + mean to say is that we can't get in, and that there will be no divine + service for its to-night—for us who have toiled six days making + shoes and coats—who have spent the whole week brewing and baking + and butchering for the reverend clergy in order that the said clergy + might have strength enough on the seventh day to celebrate divine + service for its. Of course, I am not at all saying this in reproach of + the right reverend members of this Chapter; for they, too, are nothing + but human beings, you know, and it was only the Lord who could stand + working six days and be satisfied with resting on the seventh. + </p> + <p> + Townsman. You're blaspheming God, master townsman! + </p> + <p> + Gert. Well, He can't hear it when the door is closed. + </p> + <p> + A Woman. Jesu Maria! He's an Antichrist! + </p> + <p> + Gert (beating at the door). Do you hear how hollow it sounds?—It + is writ in the Bible that once upon a time the veil before the Holiest + of Holies was rent in twain, and it must be true—but nothing is + said in the Bible about the clerical gentlemen having sewed the veil + together again, which, of course, is no reason why it shouldn't have + been done. + </p> + <p> + (The crowd makes a rush at Gert; the children begin to cry.) + </p> + <p> + Townsman. Out on you, Luther! For that's what you are. We have sinned, + and for that reason the Lord has closed His house. Can't you hear that + the very children cry out at the sight of you, unclean spirit that you + are? + </p> + <p> + Gert. Naturally, when you step on their toes, my dear friends— + </p> + <p> + Woman. Don't go near him! He has a devil! + </p> + <p> + Townsman. Down with him! Down with him! + </p> + <p> + Gert. Don't touch me, for here I am under the protection of the Lord. + </p> + <p> + Townsman. The Lord will not protect the angel that was cast out. + </p> + <p> + Gert. If the Lord won't, the Holy Church will, and I am now within her + consecrated walls. + </p> + <p> + Townsman. Get him away from the church wall! + </p> + <p> + Gert. If you don't fear God, you must at least fear the ban of the Holy + Father. + </p> + <p> + Woman. Drag him away from that door! It is his unclean spirit that has + cast a spell on the church. + </p> + <p> + Townsman. That's it! The Lord won't open His church to the Devil. + </p> + <p> + (The crowd is rushing at Gert again, when the Bishop's Secretary enters, + preceded by a verger, who calls upon the people to attend.) + </p> + <p> + Secretary (reading). "Whereas our cathedral city has failed in the + payment of its tithes to this See, and whereas it continues refractory + in regard to such payments, the Chapter has deemed it necessary, in + accordance with its vested rights and the sanction granted by the Holy + Curia, to close the doors of the church and to discontinue all masses + and sacrifices until the aforesaid dereliction shall have been duly + remedied; failure to observe which shall be at the risk of our + displeasure. Datum vigilia assumptionis Mariae. Chapter of Strängnäs." + [Exit.] + </p> + <p> + Gert. What do you say to that, good folk? + </p> + <p> + Townsman. No mass on Whitsun Eve? That's a shame! + </p> + <p> + Gert. Take care! Say nothing evil of the priests; maybe they're not to + blame. + </p> + <p> + Townsman. Who is to blame, then? + </p> + <p> + Gert. The Church! That invisible and omnipotent something! It is the Church, + you see, that has closed the church. (The crowd gives evidence of + disapproval.) + </p> + <p> + Olof (who in the meantime has come forward, seizes a rope hanging from + the bell tower, and begins to ring vespers). If your worship be + seriously meant, I'll say mass for you. + </p> + <p> + Townsman. Many thanks, Master Olof, but are you aware of what that may + lead to? + </p> + <p> + Olof. Let us fear the Lord more than men! (The crowd kneels.) Dear + friends! Brothers and sisters in Christ Jesus! As we are now come + together here— + </p> + <p> + Townsman. Master Olof— + </p> + <p> + Olof. What is it? + </p> + <p> + Townsman. We want a real mass, and not any new inventions of men. + </p> + <p> + Gert. It has to be in Latin, my dear Master Olof, or we can't understand + what you say. + </p> + <p> + Townsman. It has to be in the sacred tongue—or anybody might say + mass. + </p> + <p> + Olof. And so you shall! Everyone for himself, with God! + </p> + <p> + Crowd. A Luther! A Luther! Antichrist! + </p> + <p> + Townsman. Well, well, Master Olof, have you, too, so young and zealous, + become tainted by the German devil? I am an old man, who has seen much + of the world, and I mean well by you—Turn back while you are still + young!—Do as we ask you and give us the old mass. + </p> + <p> + Olof. No, there must be an end to that mummery. Ye shall pray in spirit + and in truth, and not in words ye do not understand. + </p> + <p> + Townsman. Don't you think, my young friend, that the Lord understands + Latin? + </p> + <p> + Gert. But Swedish He doesn't understand at all! + </p> + <p> + Townsman. Master Olof, are you going to let the people depart from you + without a word to edify them? Can't you see how they are yearning for + their God? Make a sacrifice of your own sinful will, and don't let the + people go from you like sheep that have no shepherd. + </p> + <p> + Olof. You call my will sinful? + </p> + <p> + Townsman. You are a hard man! + </p> + <p> + Olof. Say not so! Do you know what the ringing of this bell will cost + me? + </p> + <p> + Townsman. Your vanity. + </p> + <p> + Gert. And your peace! For it was the alarum bell that rang in the + battle. Hey-ho, this is the start! Soon the bells of Stockholm will + respond, and then the blood of Hus, and of Ziska, and of all the + thousands of peasants will be on the heads of the princes and the + papists. + </p> + <p> + Woman. Woe unto us! What is he raving about? + </p> + <p> + Townsman. Do you know this man, Master Olof? + </p> + <p> + Olof. No. + </p> + <p> + Gert. Yes, Olof, you know me. Deny me not! Are you afraid of these + miserable creatures who do not want their own welfare—and who have + never heard the word "freedom"? + </p> + <p> + Olof. What is your name? + </p> + <p> + Gert. If I told, you would all tremble. Yet you must tremble in order + that you may wake out of your sleep. I am named the angel that was cast + out and that is to come again ten thousand times; I am named the + liberator that came too early; I am named Satan because I love you more + than my own life; I have been named Luther; I have been named Hus. Now I + am named Anabaptist! + </p> + <p> + Crowd (shrink back and begin to cross themselves). Anabaptist! + </p> + <p> + Gert (removing his disguise and revealing himself as much older than he + had seemed). Do you know me now, Olof? + </p> + <p> + Olof. Father Gert! + </p> + <p> + Townsman. He calls him father! + </p> + <p> + Crowd (drawing back from Olof and Gert). Anabaptist! Anabaptist! + </p> + <p> + Woman. Don't you see, it's he who was put under the ban— + </p> + <p> + Townsman. Gert the Printer—the bishop's printer— + </p> + <p> + Another Townsman. The man who printed Luther! + </p> + <p> + Woman. Woe unto us and to our city! Woe to our priests when they bear + company with Antichrist! + </p> + <p> + Townsman. He denies the holy baptism! + </p> + <p> + Woman. He denies God. (The crowd disperses.) + </p> + <p> + Olof. That was dangerous talk, Father Gert. + </p> + <p> + Gert. You really think it was dangerous, Olof? Bless you for those + words! + </p> + <p> + Olof. Dangerous for you, I mean. + </p> + <p> + Gert. Not for any one else? + </p> + <p> + Olof. Let us hope not. + </p> + <p> + Gert. You have known Luther? + </p> + <p> + Olof. Indeed, I have! And now I want to carry out his work in my own + country. + </p> + <p> + Gert. Is that all? + </p> + <p> + Olof. What do you mean? + </p> + <p> + Gert. It is not enough! Luther is dead. He made a beginning, we have to + go on. + </p> + <p> + Olof. Whither do you want to lead me? + </p> + <p> + Gert. Far, Olof, very far! + </p> + <p> + Olof. I am afraid of you, Father Gert. + </p> + <p> + Gert. Yes, and will be more so; for I shall take you up on a high + mountain, and from there you shall overlook the whole world. You see, + Olof, it is now Whitsuntide; it was at this time the Holy Ghost came + down and filled the Apostles—nay, all humanity. The spirit of the + Lord has descended upon me. I feel it, and for that reason they shut me + up like one demented. But now I am free again, and now I shall speak the + word; for now, Olof, we are standing on the mountain. Behold the people + crawling on their knees before those two men seated on their thrones. + The taller holds two keys in one hand and a thunderbolt in the other. + That is the Pope. Now he hurls his thunderbolt, and a thousand souls + pass into perdition, while the rest kiss his foot and sing Gloria Deo—but + he who is seated on the throne turns about and smiles. Now behold his + companion. He has a sword and at sceptre. Bow down before the sceptre, + lest the sword smite you. When he knits his brows all the people + tremble. (He turns toward the man on the other throne, and both smile.) + They are two pillars of Baal. Then is heard a sound out of heaven as of + a host muttering. "Who is grumbling?" exclaims the Pope, shaking his + thunderbolt. "Who is muttering?"—and the Emperor shakes his sword. + Nobody answers, but still there is grumbling in the air, and roaring, + and a cry of "Think!" The Pope cowers, and the Emperor, turning pale, + demands: "Who was it that cried 'Think'? Bring him here, and I will take + his life!" The Pope shouts: "Bring him here, and I will take his soul!" + The cry came out of heaven, and was uttered by no one. But still the + sound of it rises; a storm wind springs up; it sweeps over the Alps and + goes roaring across Fichtelgebirge; it stirs up the Baltic and echoes + from the shores, and the cry is repeated a thousand times all over the + world: "Freedom, freedom!" The Pope throws his keys into the sea, and + the Emperor sheathes his sword, for against that cry they avail nothing.—Oh, + Olof, you wish to smite the Pope, but you forget the Emperor—the + Emperor, who is killing his people without counting them because they + dare to sigh when he tramples on their chests. You want to smite the + Pope at Rome, but, like Luther, you want to give them a new pope in Holy + Writ. Listen! Listen! Bind not the spirits with any fetters whatsoever! + Forget not the great Whitsunday! Forget not your great goal: spiritual + life and spiritual freedom! Listen not to the cry of death: "And behold, + it is all good!" For then the millennium, the kingdom of liberty, will + never arrive—and it is that which is now beginning. (Olof remains + silent.) Does it make you dizzy? + </p> + <p> + Olof. You go too far, Gert. + </p> + <p> + Gert. The day shall come when they will call me papist. Aim at the sky, + and you will hit the forest line ahead of you. + </p> + <p> + Olof. Turn back, Gert! You'll bring disaster on yourself and on the + realm. Can't you see how the country is still shivering with the + wound-fever caused by the last war? And you wish to sow the seeds of + civil war. It is a godless deed! + </p> + <p> + Gert. No, the knife is in the flesh now. Cut away, and the body may be + saved. + </p> + <p> + Olof. I'll denounce you as a traitor to your country. + </p> + <p> + Gert. You had better not, seeing that to-day you have offended the + Church beyond repair. Besides— + </p> + <p> + Olof. Speak out, Gert. Just now you look like Satan himself! + </p> + <p> + Gert. You shall have my secret: deal with it to suit yourself. The King + leaves for Malmö to-day, and the day after to-morrow, perchance, + Stockholm may be in open revolt. + </p> + <p> + Olof. What are you talking about? + </p> + <p> + Gert. Do you know Rink and Knipperdollink? + </p> + <p> + Olof (alarmed). The Anabaptists! + </p> + <p> + Gert. Yes. What's so startling in that? They are nothing but a couple of + lubberly tradesmen. A furrier and a grocer, who deny the use of + baptizing unconscious children, and who are simple-minded enough to + oppose the forcing of irrational creatures into deliberate perjury. + </p> + <p> + Olof. That is not all. + </p> + <p> + Gert. What is it, then? + </p> + <p> + Olof. They are possessed. + </p> + <p> + Gert. Of the spirit, yes. It is the storm wind that is crying through + them. Beware, if you get into its path! + </p> + <p> + Olof. This must be stopped. I am going to the King. + </p> + <p> + Gert. We should be friends, Olof. Your mother is living in Stockholm, + isn't she? + </p> + <p> + Olof. You know it, then? + </p> + <p> + Gert. Do you know that my daughter Christine is with your mother? + </p> + <p> + Olof. Christine? + </p> + <p> + Gert. Yes, for the present. If we win, your mother will be protected for + my daughter's sake; and if the Catholics win, my daughter will be + protected for your mother's sake. You are a little concerned about + Christine, are you not? + </p> + <p> + Olof. Gert, Gert, what made you so wise? + </p> + <p> + Gert. The madhouse. + </p> + <p> + Olof. Go away from me! You'll lead me into disaster. + </p> + <p> + Gert. Yes, if you call it a disaster to be robbed of all earthly + happiness, to be dragged into prison, to suffer poverty, to be scorned + and reviled fur the sake of truth. If so, you are not worthy of such a + splendid disaster. I thought you would understand me, I counted on your + help, for in you the fire is still burning, but I see that the world is + tempting you. Well, follow the stream and be happy! + </p> + <p> + Olof. How could a man make over the age in which he is living? + </p> + <p> + Gert. That's what Luther has done. + </p> + <p> + Olof. How can one man check a stream? + </p> + <p> + Gert. Guide it, you fool—for we are the stream. The old are + stagnant mudpools, you don't need to check them, but don't let them rot + away or dry up; give them an outlet, and they'll flow with the stream, + too. + </p> + <p> + Olof. Yes, I understand you! You have bred a thought in my soul, but + that thought must be strangled in its birth, or it will kill me. + </p> + <p> + Gert. Believe me, you will be a Daniel, and you will speak the truth + unto princes, and they will conspire to take your life; but the Lord + will protect you.—Now I can safely leave, for I see lightnings + flash from your eyes and tongues of fire flickering over your head. (As + he is leaving.) There comes the Lord of Flies: don't let him defile your + pure soul also. + </p> + <p> + Olof. Jesus help me! + </p> + <p> + [Enter Bishop Brask and Bishop Sommar. Sommar approaches Olof, while + Brask remains behind, studying the surroundings.] + </p> + <p> + Sommar. Who rang vespers, Canonicus? + </p> + <p> + Olof (calmly but firmly). I did. + </p> + <p> + Sommar. Didn't you know the order? + </p> + <p> + Olof. I was aware of the prohibition. + </p> + <p> + Sommar. And you dared to defy it? + </p> + <p> + Olof. Yes, when the people were let go like sheep without a shepherd, I + wanted to keep them together. + </p> + <p> + Sommar. You seem to be finding fault with our actions. That's impudence + indeed. + </p> + <p> + Olof. Truth is always impudent. + </p> + <p> + Sommar. I believe, young man, that you want to play the part of an + apostle of truth. It will bring you no thanks. + </p> + <p> + Olof. All I ask is ingratitude. + </p> + <p> + Sommar. Save your truths. They don't retain their value in the market + very long. + </p> + <p> + Olof (impetuously). That's advice worthy of the Father of Lies!—(Mildly.) + I ask your pardon! + </p> + <p> + Sommar. Do you know to whom you are talking? + </p> + <p> + Olof (heatedly). To servus servi servorum Måns Sommar! + </p> + <p> + Brask (stepping forward). Who is this man? + </p> + <p> + Sommar. One of the attendants in the church. + </p> + <p> + Brask. What's his name? + </p> + <p> + Sommar. Olof Pedersson, alias Olaus Petri. + </p> + <p> + Brask (staring hard at Olof). So you are Master Olof? (Olof bows and + looks fixedly at Brask.) I like you. Would you care to become my + secretary? + </p> + <p> + Olof. Many thanks, Your Grace, but I have no recommendations. + </p> + <p> + Brask. What have you to say, Bishop Måns? + </p> + <p> + Sommar. He is said to have found much favor with Dr. Luther. + </p> + <p> + Brask. So I've heard. Nothing but youthful spirits. We'll train him. + </p> + <p> + Olof. I fear it is too late! + </p> + <p> + Brask. A sapling can be bent. + </p> + <p> + Sommar. It is not wise to raise vipers, Your Grace. Our canonicus here + has strong leanings toward heresy, and to-day he has dared to defy our + orders. + </p> + <p> + Brask. Is that so? + </p> + <p> + Sommar. On fully legal grounds we have proclaimed an interdict, and this + man has ventured to say mass—worse than that, he has said a + Lutheran mass, and thus stirred up the people. + </p> + <p> + Brask. Take care, young man! Don't you know that the ban will fall on + anybody who proclaims Luther? + </p> + <p> + Olof. I know it, but I fear no other god than God. + </p> + <p> + Brask. Consider your words. I mean well by you, and you repel me. + </p> + <p> + Olof. You want to purchase my ability for the doctoring of your sick + cause, and I am shameless enough not to sell myself. + </p> + <p> + Brask. By Saint George, I think you are out of your senses! + </p> + <p> + Olof. If so, don't give me the same treatment as Gert the Printer. You + put him in a madhouse, and it made him too wise, I fear. + </p> + <p> + Brask (to Bishop Sommar). Do you know Gert? + </p> + <p> + Sommar. No, Your Grace. + </p> + <p> + Brask. He's a lunatic who used my press to print Lutheran writings in + place of the anti-Lutheran stuff I put into his hands. Moreover, he was + dreaming of the Apocalypse and the Millennium. (To Olof.) Have you seen + him? + </p> + <p> + Olof. He was here awhile ago, and you can expect but little good of him. + </p> + <p> + Brask. Is he at large? + </p> + <p> + Olof. He'll be in Stockholm soon, and from there you'll hear of him, I + think. Take care, my Lord Bishop! + </p> + <p> + Brask. Ho, there is nothing to fear yet. + </p> + <p> + Olof. The Anabaptists are in Stockholm. + </p> + <p> + Brask. What do you say? + </p> + <p> + Olof. The Anabaptists are in Stockholm! + </p> + <p> + Brask. The Anabaptists? + </p> + <p> + [Enter Gustaf Vasa suddenly.] + </p> + <p> + Gustaf. What's up? The city is in a tumult, the people are marching + through the streets crying for the mass. What's the meaning of all this? + </p> + <p> + Brask. Mischief, Your Highness. + </p> + <p> + Gustaf. Bishop Måns! + </p> + <p> + Sommar. The city has failed to pay its tithes. + </p> + <p> + Gustaf. And for that reason you refuse to hold divine service? 'Sdeath! + </p> + <p> + Brask. Your Highness ought to remember— + </p> + <p> + Gustaf. Answer me, Bishop Malls! + </p> + <p> + Sommar. Your Highness ought to remember that matters like these, which + fall within the jurisdiction of the Church— + </p> + <p> + Gustaf. I command you to attend to your duties! + </p> + <p> + Brask. The Bishops of Sweden take no orders except from their superiors, + the Pope and the Canon Law. + </p> + <p> + Gustaf (checked). I know, but if the Pope cannot always keep an eye on + them? + </p> + <p> + Brask. That's our concern. + </p> + <p> + Gustaf (flares up, but controls himself at once). Your Grace is right. + It will remain your concern. + </p> + <p> + Brask. To change the subject—Stockholm is about to rise in + rebellion. + </p> + <p> + Gustaf. Who says so? + </p> + <p> + Sommar. Our canonicus here. + </p> + <p> + Gustaf. Your schoolmaster? Where is he? Oh, is it you? What's your name? + </p> + <p> + Olof. Olof Pedersson. + </p> + <p> + Gustaf. Master Olof! They tell the you are a heretic, and that you are + scheming against Holy Church! That's a perilous venture! + </p> + <p> + Brask. This very day he has dropped his mask by daring to show open + defiance of the Chapter's prohibition against services, and for that + reason we demand that Your Highness consent to have him duly punished. + </p> + <p> + Gustaf. That's a matter for the Chapter and does not concern me. (To + Olof.) But what was that you had to say about a rebellion at Stockholm? + </p> + <p> + Olof. The Anabaptists! + </p> + <p> + Gustaf. Is that all? + </p> + <p> + Brask. Does not Your Highness know how those madmen have been carrying + on in Germany? We suggest that Your Highness return to the city in + person with your armed force. + </p> + <p> + Gustaf. That's a matter in which I suit myself! + </p> + <p> + Brask. But civil war— + </p> + <p> + Gustaf. That's <i>my</i> concern! (To Olof.) Olof, I appoint you to the + clerkship of our court-house at Stockholm. Get over there at once. Speak + to the people. I put my trust in you! + </p> + <p> + Brask. For the country's sake I ask Your Highness to consider the + futility of wasting speech on madmen. + </p> + <p> + Gustaf. Souls are not controlled by swords. Bear that in mind, Your + Lordships. + </p> + <p> + Brask. The Church has never— + </p> + <p> + Gustaf. Nor by keys! (To Olof.) Go to my chancellor, and he will give + you your appointment. + </p> + <p> + Brask. You had better wait a moment, canonicus. + </p> + <p> + Gustaf. Our secretary will not put your orders ahead of mine. + </p> + <p> + Brask. The rights of the Church must be assured first of all. Olof + Pedersson— + </p> + <p> + Gustaf (correcting him). Secretary— + </p> + <p> + Brask. Secretary Olof Pedersson cannot leave this city until the Chapter + has pronounced its verdict. + </p> + <p> + Gustaf. The Chapter must try the case before it can pronounce a verdict. + </p> + <p> + Brask. That's our concern. + </p> + <p> + Gustaf. It is not your concern, Bishop Brask. The Bishop of Linköping + cannot sit in judgment on a canonicus at Strängnäs. Speak for yourself, + Bishop Sommar. + </p> + <p> + Sommar. After what has just occurred—h'm! + </p> + <p> + Brask. All further arguments would seem superfluous. + </p> + <p> + Gustaf. You had better be silent, Bishop Brask, or leave us, as I am + talking privately to Bishop Sommar—privately!—Well, speak + up, Bishop Måns! + </p> + <p> + Sommar. I cannot see but—that—as His Grace, the Bishop of + Linköping— + </p> + <p> + Gustaf. We are talking of Master Olof now. Your Lordships will have to + postpone the trial. Be kind enough to leave us. + </p> + <p> + [Exeunt Bishops.] + </p> + <p> + Gustaf (to Olof). Will you be my man? + </p> + <p> + Olof. Your Highness' secretary? + </p> + <p> + Gustaf. No, my right hand—on the condition that for the present + the left hand shall not know what the right is doing. Go to Stockholm. + </p> + <p> + Olof. The Chapter will demand my surrender and ban me. + </p> + <p> + Gustaf. Before they get to that point you may fall back on me, but until + then—stand on your own feet as far as you can. + </p> + <p> + Olof. What is Your Highness' will? + </p> + <p> + Gustaf. Talk to those fanatics in Stockholm. + </p> + <p> + Olof. And then? + </p> + <p> + Gustaf. Oh, that's a long way off. I don't dare to think so far yet.—Let + them preach. It can't hurt those sottish spirits to hear a new word, + even if it be not all true. But there must be no violence; for then the + sword will join in the game. Farewell, Olof! [Exit.] + </p> + <p> + Olof (alone). So the Emperor won't be friends with the Pope! + </p> + <p> + (The two scholars, who have been waiting among the trees in the + background, come forward.) + </p> + <p> + First Scholar. Shall we go on with the play, Master Olof? + </p> + <p> + Olof. No, children, there will be no more playing. + </p> + <p> + First Scholar. Are you going to leave us, Master Olof? + </p> + <p> + Olof. Yes, and probably forever. + </p> + <p> + First Scholar. Can't you stay over Whitsuntide, so that we can perform + our comedy? + </p> + <p> + Second Scholar. And so that I can play the Angel Gabriel? + </p> + <p> + First Scholar. Please do as we ask you, Master Olof! You are the only + one who has been nice to us and spared us those terrible fasts. + </p> + <p> + Second Scholar. Oh, don't go away from us, Master Olof! + </p> + <p> + Olof. You don't know what you are asking, children. The day will come + when you shall thank the Lord that I did go away from you.—Oh, no, + I hope such a day will never come!—But let us make our + leave-taking brief. Good-bye, Nils! Good-bye, Vilhelm! + </p> + <p> + (He embraces them, and they kiss his hand. In the meantime Lars + Andersson has entered and is watching the group closely.) + </p> + <p> + First Scholar. Won't you ever come back, Master Olof? + </p> + <p> + Lars (coming forward). Are you ready to start now? + </p> + <p> + Olof (to the scholars). No, I shall never come back. + </p> + <p> + Scholars (as they go out). Good-bye, Master Olof, and don't forget us! + (Olof stands looking after them.) + </p> + <p> + Lars. I have seen the King. + </p> + <p> + Olof (absent-mindedly). Have you? + </p> + <p> + Lars. Do you know what he said? + </p> + <p> + Olof. No. + </p> + <p> + Lars. "I have got a harrier to raise the game; now it remains to be seen + whether he will come back when I whistle for him!" + </p> + <p> + Olof. Look at them—playing there among the graves, and picking + flowers, and singing the songs of Whitsuntide. + </p> + <p> + Lars (taking hold of Olof's arm). Child! + </p> + <p> + Olof (with a start). What did you say? + </p> + <p> + Lars. I thought you had laid your hand so firmly on the plough handle + to-day that there could be no question of looking back. (Olof waves his + hand to the scholars.) Are you still dreaming? + </p> + <p> + Olof. It was the last bright morning dream that passed away from me. + Pardon me—I am awake now! + </p> + <p> + [Exeunt toward the right. Then they are nearly out, Olof turns for a + last look at the scholars. These have disappeared in the meantime, and + in their place appear the two Black Friars, Mårten and Nils. On seeing + them, Olof utters a startled cry and puts one hand to his forehead. Lars + drags him out.] + </p> + <a name="link2H_4_0004" id="link2H_4_0004"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + ACT II + </h2> + <h3> + SCENE 1 + </h3> + <p> + (A Room in the Foundation Wall of the Church of St. Nicolaus at + Stockholm (generally known as Greatchurch), used as a beer-shop. A bar + full of pots and mugs occupies the background. To the right of the bar + stands a table, back of which appears an iron door. Two disguised friars + (Mårten and Nils) are seated at this table drinking beer. The other + tables are surrounded by German mercenaries, peasants, and sailors. The + door to the street is at the right. A fiddler is seated on top of a + barrel. The soldiers are throwing dice. All are drunk and noisy. Hans + Windrank, a man from Småland, a German tradesman, and a Dane are seated + together at one of the tables.) + </p> + <p> + German (to the Dane). So you defend a bloodthirsty brute like Christian? + </p> + <p> + Dane. Oh, mercy, he's human, isn't he? + </p> + <p> + German. Not, he's a monster! A bloodthirsty brute! A treacherous, + cowardly Dane! + </p> + <p> + Dane. Zounds! But you'd better not talk of blood. Do you remember the + massacre on Käppling Island, when the Germans— + </p> + <p> + Windrank. Listen to me, good Sirs! Let's be friends now, and have some + fun, and I'll tell you about Americky. + </p> + <p> + German. Are you going to blame us of Lübeck for what the Germans did? + </p> + <p> + Dane. Oh, mercy, I was talking of the Germans only— + </p> + <p> + Windrank. Listen, good Sirs, what's the use of quarrelling? (To the + Tavern-keeper.) Four noggins of gin! Now let's be calm and agreeable, + and I'll tell you of Americky. (They are served.) + </p> + <p> + German (sipping). A noble drink! Think of it, good Sirs, how everything + is advancing. To-day the grain is growing in the field— + </p> + <p> + Windrank. And to-morrow it's made into wine. I wonder who first found + out how it's done? + </p> + <p> + German. Beg your pardon, but that's a German invention. I call it + invention, because you discover Americky. + </p> + <p> + Windrank. And the Germans never make any discoveries? + </p> + <p> + German. 'Sdeath! + </p> + <p> + Windrank. Now, now! You're no German, you said. + </p> + <p> + Dane (to the German). Can you tell the who invented the story that the + Swedes got their present king from the Germans? (General laughter.) + </p> + <p> + German. It was we of Lübeck what gave Sweden a liberator when she was on + the verge of ruin. + </p> + <p> + Windrank. Here's to the King! + </p> + <p> + Dane. Here's to Lübeck! + </p> + <p> + German (flattered). Really I don't know how to— + </p> + <p> + Windrank. Why, you aren't the King! + </p> + <p> + German. Beg your pardon, but it was my Danish brother's— + </p> + <p> + Dane. How can you be of Lübeck when you are a citizen of Stockholm? + </p> + <p> + Windrank (to the Man from Småland). Why won't our silent brother drink + at all? + </p> + <p> + Man from Småland. I'll drink your corn-juice, but when it comes to the + King's health, I do like this! (He crushes the tin cup and throws it on + the floor.) + </p> + <p> + Windrank (groping with one hand for his sheath knife.) You won't drink + the King's health? + </p> + <p> + Man from Småland. I've been drinking the cup he offered me so long that + I don't care to drink his health any longer. + </p> + <p> + Windrank. 'Sblood! + </p> + <p> + German (eagerly). Hush, hush! Let's hear what he's got to say. + </p> + <p> + Dane (in the same way). Mercy, yes! + </p> + <p> + A Man from Småland. The Lord help me when I get home again! + </p> + <p> + Windrank (sentimentally). What is it, my dear man? Why do you look so + sad? Do you need money? Look here, now! (He pulls out his purse.) I've + half my wages left. What's the matter with you? + </p> + <p> + Man from Småland. Don't let us talk about it. More gin! Gin here! I've + money, too. Do you see? Gold! (The liquor is served). It isn't mine, but + I'll spend it on drink to the last farthing, and you'll please help me. + </p> + <p> + Windrank. And yet it isn't your money—how can you do that? + </p> + <p> + German. Who's wronged you, my dear fellow? I can see that you have fared + badly. + </p> + <p> + A Man from Småland I am ruined! You see, I got two hundred oxen on + trust, and when I came to Stockholm the King's agent took charge of the + whole business, and he said I couldn't sell them for more than he + allowed. It's the King that fixes the price on oxen—it's the King + that has ruined me. + </p> + <p> + German. You don't say! + </p> + <p> + Man from Småland. Oh, I know a lot more. He means to take the priests + and the monks away from us in order to give everything to the + gentlefolk. + </p> + <p> + Dane. To the gentlefolk? + </p> + <p> + Man from Småland. Exactly! I wish King Christian—God bless him!—had + cut off a few more heads. + </p> + <p> + Windrank. Well, is the King like that? I thought he had those noble + fellows by the ear. + </p> + <p> + Man from Småland. He? No, he lets them be born with the right to cut oak + on my ground, if I had any. For I did have a patch of land once, you + see, but then came a lord who said that my great-grandmother had taken + it all in loan from his great-grandfather, and so there was an end to + that story. + </p> + <p> + German. Why, is the King like that? I would never have believed it. + </p> + <p> + Man from Småland. Indeed he is! Those high-born brats run around with + their guns in our woods and pick off the deer out of sheer mischief, but + if one of us peasants were dying from hunger and took a shot at one of + the beasts—well, then he wouldn't have to starve to death, for + they'd hang him—but not to an oak—Lord, no! That would be a + shame for such a royal tree. No, just to an ordinary pine. The pine, you + see, has no crown, and that's why it isn't royal—and that's why + the old song says: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + The peasants we hanged in lines + From the tops of the tallest pities. +</pre> + <p> + It has nothing to say about crowns, mind you. + </p> + <p> + German. But the pine carries its head high just the same, and its back + is straight. + </p> + <p> + Man from Småland. Drink, good Sirs! You're right welcome to 't. It's a + blessed drink. If only I didn't have wife and children at home! Oh, my, + my, my! But that's all one! Oh, I know a lot more, but I know how to + keep it to myself, too. + </p> + <p> + Windrank. What do you know? + </p> + <p> + German. Maybe it's something diverting? + </p> + <p> + Man from Småland. You see—if you counted all the pines of Småland, + I think you'd find a whole lot more of them than of oaks. + </p> + <p> + German. You think so? + </p> + <p> + Windrank. I don't like you to talk badly of the King. I don't know what + he is doing or saying, and it isn't my business either, but I know he + takes good care of the shipping trade. Yes, it's he who has put ships on + the Spanish trade, and who has made me a skipper, and so I've got no + fault to find with him. + </p> + <p> + German. He has done it out of sheer deviltry, just to hurt the trade of + Lübeck—of Lübeck, to which he owes such a great debt! + </p> + <p> + Man from Småland. Well, he'll get what he deserves! A steer doesn't lose + his horns when you make an ox of him. Many thanks for your company. Now + I've got to go. + </p> + <p> + German. Oh, no! Just one more noggin—and then we can talk a little + more. + </p> + <p> + Man from Småland. No, thanks, though I'm sure it's good of you, but + that's all I dare take, for otherwise I fear this will end badly. I've + wife and children at home, you see, and now I'm going home—to tell + them we're ruined—no—I don't dare to—I'm much obliged, + Mr. German—let's drink some more. + </p> + <p> + German. That's right! (They drink.) + </p> + <p> + Man from Småland (emptying his cup and jumping up). Oh, damn the bitter + stuff! [Exit, staggering.] + </p> + <p> + German (to the Dane). O Lord—when that fellow wakes up! + </p> + <p> + (The Dane nods assent. The noise has been steadily increasing. The + fiddler is playing. Then the organ begins to play in the church.) + </p> + <p> + Windrank. It's strange, I think, that the King lets them have a + drinkshop in the church wall. + </p> + <p> + German. Does it hurt your conscience, skipper? The King doesn't know it, + you see. + </p> + <p> + Windrank. But they don't go together, the organ music and the singing in + here. I've always been a God-fearing man, ever since I was at home. + </p> + <p> + German (ironically). Happy the man brought up in that way! You had a + mother— + </p> + <p> + Windrank (moved). Yes—yes! + </p> + <p> + German. Who tucked you up nights and taught you to say: "Now I lay me + down to sleep." + </p> + <p> + Windrank. That's it! + </p> + <p> + German. And a fine woman she was! + </p> + <p> + Windrank (on whom the drink is beginning to show its effect.) Oh, if you + only knew! + </p> + <p> + German. The Lord has heard her prayers. You're weeping. So you must be a + good man. + </p> + <p> + Dane. Dear me! + </p> + <p> + German. If your mother could only see you now—with those tears in + your eyes! + </p> + <p> + Windrank. Oh, I know I'm a poor miserable sinner—I know it! But I + tell you—I've got a heart, damn it! Just let a poor wretch come + and tell me he is hungry, and I'll take off my own shirt and give it to + him. + </p> + <p> + German. How about another drink? + </p> + <p> + Windrank. No, I don't think so. + </p> + <p> + (Several blows are struck on the iron door from the outside, causing + general excitement.) + </p> + <p> + Windrank. God-a-mercy! + </p> + <p> + German. Don't get scared. That's not the gate of heaven. + </p> + <p> + Windrank. I'll never drink another drop—I vow and swear! + </p> + <p> + German (to the Dane). What a blessed drink gin must be, seeing it can + move a rogue like that to sentimentality—nay, even to thoughts of + sobriety. + </p> + <p> + Dane. You're right. There is nothing like it. + </p> + <p> + German. It opens the heart wide and closes the head. Which means that it + makes good people of us, for those are called good, you know, who have + much heart and little head. + </p> + <p> + Dane. I'd go still farther. Gin makes us religious. For it kills reason, + and reason is the rock that keeps religion from entering our hearts. + </p> + <p> + German. Most holy is gin! Strange that— + </p> + <p> + Dane. You need say no more! + </p> + <p> + (More blows are struck on the iron door.) + </p> + <p> + Windrank (who has fallen asleep, is awakened by the blows). Help! I die! + </p> + <p> + German. What a pity to lose such a sweet soul! + </p> + <p> + (The door is pushed open so that the table at which Mårten and Nils are + seated is upset together with the mugs and cups on it. A woman wearing a + red and black skirt, with a nun's veil thrown over her head, comes + running into the room. For a moment Gert can be seen in the doorway + behind her, but the door is immediately closed again.) + </p> + <p> + Harlot (with a startled glance at her surroundings). Save me! The people + want to kill me! + </p> + <p> + A German Mercenary. A harlot under a nun's veil! Ha-ha-ha! (General + laughter.) + </p> + <p> + Mårten (making the sign of the cross). A harlot! Who dares to bring her + into this respectable company? Master taverner, take her out of here, or + she'll hurt the good name of the place and the sanctity of the church. + </p> + <p> + Harlot. Will nobody here save me? (In the meantime the tavern-keeper has + seized her by the arm to lead her into the street.) Don't give me into + the hands of that furious mob! I wanted to steal into the Lord's house + that I might share in His grace—I wanted to start a new life—but + the monks drove me out and set the people on me—until Father Gert + came and saved me. + </p> + <p> + Mårten. You can hear for yourselves. She has polluted the Lord's temple. + She wants to hide the garment of shame beneath the veil of sanctity. + </p> + <p> + German. And there isn't enough of the veil. + </p> + <p> + Mårten (approaching the woman to tear the veil from her face). Off with + the mask, and let your abomination be seen by all! (He draws back when + he catches sight of her face.) + </p> + <p> + Harlot. So it's you, Mårten—you murderer! + </p> + <p> + German. Old chums! + </p> + <p> + Mårten. That's a shameless lie! I never have seen her before. I am + Brother Mårten, of the Dominicans, and Brother Nils here can be my + witness. + </p> + <p> + Nils (intoxicated). I can testify—that Brother Mårten has never + seen this woman. + </p> + <p> + Harlot. And yet it was you, Nils, who showed me Mårten's letter of + absolution when I was driven out of the convent and he was permitted to + stay. + </p> + <p> + Nils. Yes—come to think of it! + </p> + <p> + Mårten (in a rage, pulling Nils by the sleeve). You're lying—you, + too! Can't you see he is drunk? + </p> + <p> + German. My dear folks, I can testify that the reverend brother is drunk, + and that's why he is lying! + </p> + <p> + Crowd (with signs of disgust). A drunken priest! + </p> + <p> + German. Well, booze is absolution for lying. Isn't that so, Father + Mårten? + </p> + <p> + Tavern-keeper. Really, I can't let my house be the meeting-place for any + kind of disturbance. If this goes on, I'll lose my customers and get + hauled before the Chapter. Won't you please take away that miserable + creature who's causing all this noise? + </p> + <p> + Mårten. Take her out, or I'll have you all banned! Don't you know that + we are now within the consecrated walls of the church, although the + Chapter allows this outhouse to be used for the material refreshment of + travellers? + </p> + <p> + German. Surely this room is holy, good folk, and surely the Lord doth + dwell here. + </p> + <p> + (The crowd begins to drag the Harlot toward the street door.) + </p> + <p> + Harlot. Jesus Christ, help me! + </p> + <p> + [Enter Olof. He appears in the door, and pushes through the crowd until + he reaches the Harlot, whose hand he takes so that he can pull her away + from the drunken men about her.] + </p> + <p> + Olof. Answer me—who is this woman? + </p> + <p> + Mårten. She's no woman. + </p> + <p> + Olof. What do you mean? + </p> + <p> + Mårten. She is no man either, although she's disguised. + </p> + <p> + Olof. "She," you say—and yet not a woman? + </p> + <p> + Mårten. She's a harlot. + </p> + <p> + Olof (shocked, drops the woman's hand). A harlot! + </p> + <p> + German. Don't let go of her, Master Olof, or she'll run away. + </p> + <p> + Olof. Why are you laying hands on her? What is her crime? + </p> + <p> + German. Going to church. + </p> + <p> + Olof. I see! (He looks around.) + </p> + <p> + Mårten. What are you looking for? + </p> + <p> + Olof (catching sight of Mårten). A priest! + </p> + <p> + Mårten. I am a Black Friar. + </p> + <p> + Olof. Yes, I guessed that much. So it's you who have incited the people + against her? + </p> + <p> + Mårten. I am protecting the church from foulness and trying to keep it + free of vice. She is a banned woman, who has been trafficking with her + own body, which should be a temple of the Lord. (The woman kneels before + Olof.) + </p> + <p> + Olof (taking her by the hand). But I, Dominican, dare to take her hand + and match her against you. She has sold her body, you say—how many + souls have you bought?—I am also a priest—Nay, I am a man, + for I am not presumptuous enough to put a lock on God's own house, and + as a sinful human creature I hold out my hand to my fellow-creature, who + cannot be pure either. Let him who is without sin step forward and cast + the first stone.—Step forward, Brother Mårten, you angel of light, + who have donned the black garments of innocence and shaved your hair so + that no one may see how you have grown gray in sin! Or have you no stone + ready, perhaps? Alas for you, then! What have you done with those you + were to hand the people when they were crying for bread? Have you + already given them all away?—Step forward, you highly respectable + citizen. (To Windrank, who is asleep on the floor.) You, who are + sleeping the sleep of a brute, why don't you wake up and fling your + knife at her?—Do you see how he is blushing? Can it be from shame + at the bad company you have brought him into, or from carnal desire? + (The crowd mutters disapprovingly.) You are muttering! Is that because + you are ashamed of my words or of yourselves? Why don't you cast the + stones? Oh, you haven't any. Well, open that door. Summon the people + outside and hand this woman over to them. If you don't think fifty men + have power enough to tear her to pieces, you maybe sure that five + hundred women will avail. Well? You are silent?—Rise up, woman! + You have been acquitted. Go and sin no more. But don't show yourself to + the priests, for they will deliver you up to the women! + </p> + <p> + Mårten (who has tried to interrupt Olof several times, but has been held + back by the German, now displays a document). This man, to whom you have + been listening, is a heretic, as you may have heard from his talk, and + he has also been t excommunicated. Here you can see! Read for + yourselves! (He takes one of the candles from the nearest table and + throws it on the floor.) "As this candle, that we here cast out, is + extinguished, so shall be extinguished all his happiness and weal and + whatsoever good may come to him from God!" + </p> + <p> + Crowd (draws back, making the sign of the cross, so that Olof is left + alone with the Harlot in the middle of the room). Anathema! + </p> + <p> + Mårten (to the Harlot). There you can hear how much Master Olof's + absolution avails you. + </p> + <p> + Olof (who has been taken aback for a moment). Do you still dare to trust + my word, woman? Are you not afraid of me? Can you not hear the + lightnings of the ban hissing around our heads? Why don't you join these + twenty righteous ones who still remain within the refuge of Holy Church?—Answer + me! Do you think the Lord has cast me out as these have done? + </p> + <p> + Harlot. No! + </p> + <p> + Olof (seizing the letter of excommunication). Well, then! The great + bishop of the small city of Linköping has sold my soul to Satan for the + term of my life—for farther than that his power does not reach—and + he has done so because I bade the people seek their Lord when they had + been prohibited from doing so! Here is the contract! As the Church, by + that contract, has bound me to hell, so I set myself free from it (he + tears the letter to pieces)—and from the ban of the Church, too! + So help me God! Amen! + </p> + <p> + Crowd (howling). Anathema! + </p> + <p> + Mårten. Down with him! At him! He is banned! + </p> + <p> + Olof (placing himself in front of the Harlot). Do you hear the devils + yelling for their victim?—Dare not to touch me! + </p> + <p> + Mårten. At him! Down with him! + </p> + <p> + [Just as one of the mercenaries raises his weapon to strike, the iron + door in the rear is flung open, and the Anabaptists, headed by + Knipperdollink, come rushing in, uttering wild cries. They carry broken + crucifixes and images of saints as well as torn vestments. All those in + the room before are forced toward the street door.] + </p> + <p> + Knipperdollink (as he pushes back the iron door and enters ahead of the + rest). Come here, folk—here's another sanctum!—What's this? + A drinkshop in the temple!—Look ye! Look ye—the abomination + has gone so far that the tabernacle itself is being polluted. But I will + cleanse it with fire. Set fire to the church and prepare a stake for the + saints! + </p> + <p> + Olof (stepping forward). Consider what you propose to do! + </p> + <p> + Knipperdollink. Are you afraid that the beer kegs will burst from the + heat, you Belial? Are you the popish tapster who thought it not robbery + to build vice a chapel in the very wall of the church? + </p> + <p> + Olof. I am the Secretary of the Court-House, and I command you in the + name of the King to keep order! + </p> + <p> + Knipperdollink. So you are the man whom the King has sent here to make + war on our sacred cause? Onward, onward, ye men of God, and seize him + first of all! Afterwards we'll cleanse the temple of the Lord from + idolatry. + </p> + <p> + Mårten. Go at him, good folk, for he's a heretic and under the ban! + </p> + <p> + Knipperdollink. A heretic? You are not one of the papists, then? + </p> + <p> + Olof. Since they have banned me, I can no longer be of the Church. + </p> + <p> + Knipperdollink. Then you are on our side? (Olof remains silent.) Answer: + are you with us or against us? + </p> + <p> + Mårten. He's Olof Pedersson, the man that was sent here by the King. + </p> + <p> + Knipperdollink. Are you Olof Pedersson? + </p> + <p> + Olof. I am. + </p> + <p> + Knipperdollink. But a heretic? + </p> + <p> + Olof. I pride myself on being one. + </p> + <p> + Knipperdollink. And yet take service with the King? + </p> + <p> + Olof. Yes! + </p> + <p> + (The Anabaptists raise an outcry and surround Olof.) + </p> + <p> + [Enter Gert quickly through the door in the rear.] + </p> + <p> + Gert. Hold! What are you doing? + </p> + <p> + Knipperdollink. Gert!—Who is this man? + </p> + <p> + Gert. One of our own. Let him go, friends! Over there you see the + emissaries of the Devil! + </p> + <p> + (He points to Mårten and Nils, who flee through the street door, closely + pursued by the Anabaptists. At the door Gert stops and turns toward + Olof. The Harlot is crouching in a corner of the room. Windrank is still + sleeping under one of the tables. Olof is standing in the middle of the + floor, sunk in deep thought.) + </p> + <p> + Gert (exhausted, throws himself on a bench). It's heavy work, Olof. + </p> + <p> + Olof. What have you been doing? + </p> + <p> + Gert. Oh, a little house-cleaning, to begin with. + </p> + <p> + Olof. For which you will pay dearly. + </p> + <p> + Gert. So far we have the upper hand. The whole city has been roused. + Rink is at work in St. George's Chapel. Tell me, has the King sent you + to oppose us? + </p> + <p> + Olof. He has. + </p> + <p> + Gert. That was a most sensible thing to do! + </p> + <p> + Olof. To-morrow I am to preach from the new pulpit. + </p> + <p> + Gert. Do you call this fulfilling your royal mission? Here you are, + still standing with your arms folded. + </p> + <p> + Olof. Come to church to-morrow with your brethren. + </p> + <p> + Gert. Is it going to be an archipapal sermon? + </p> + <p> + Olof. I have been put under the ban to-day. + </p> + <p> + Gert (jumps up and puts his arms around Olof). God bless you, Olof! That + is indeed the baptism of new birth! + </p> + <p> + Olof. I don't understand you yet. Why do you carry on like wild beasts? + You seem to be outraging all that is held sacred. + </p> + <p> + Gert (picking up the broken image of a saint). Do you call this fellow + holy? A St. Nicolaus, I think. Can it be possible, then, that Jesus + Christ has come down and lived among us to no purpose, as we are still + worshipping logs of wood? Can this be a god, which I can break to + pieces? See! + </p> + <p> + Olof. But he is sacred to the people. + </p> + <p> + Gert. So was the golden calf, and so was Zeus; so were Thor and Odin, + too. And yet they were struck down. (Catches sight of the Harlot.) Who's + that woman? Oh, the one I tried to save by sending her in here. Tell me + one thing, Olof. Have you been bought by the King? + </p> + <p> + Olof. Leave me, Gert! I hate you! + </p> + <p> + Gert. Who's that pig asleep over there? + </p> + <p> + Olof. When I face you, I seem to shrink. Leave me! I want to do my own + work, and not yours. + </p> + <p> + Gert. Listen! + </p> + <p> + Olof. You are trying to confuse my fate with your own. + </p> + <p> + Gert. Listen! + </p> + <p> + Olof. You have surrounded me with an invisible net. You have proclaimed + me an Anabaptist. How am I going to face the King? + </p> + <p> + Gert. Which king? + </p> + <p> + Olof. King Gustaf! + </p> + <p> + Gert. Oh, that one!—Well, good-bye, then, Olof.—So you're + going to preach to-morrow?—Why doesn't that woman go her way?—Good-bye! + [Exit.] + </p> + <p> + Olof. Is that man running errands for God or for Satan? + </p> + <p> + Harlot (approaches Olof and kneels before him). Let me thank you! + </p> + <p> + Olof. Give thanks for God alone for having saved your soul, and don't + think that all your sins have been expiated to-day. Try to find strength + to live a life that will always be cursed. God has forgiven you—your + fellow-men will never do so! (He takes her by the hand and leads her to + the street door.) + </p> + <p> + [Enter Mårten through the doorway in the rear, followed by Olof's Mother + and Christine, the daughter of Gert.] + </p> + <p> + Mårten. We're in the wrong place, I fear. + </p> + <p> + Mother (outraged at seeing Olof and the Harlot together). Olof, Olof! + </p> + <p> + Christine. Who is that woman? She looks so unhappy. + </p> + <p> + Mårten. Let us get away from this den of iniquity! + </p> + <p> + Olof (turning and running toward the iron door, which is closed in his + face by Mårten). Mother! Mother! + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + [He runs out through the other door.] + + (The stage is darkened.) +</pre> + SCENE 2 + <p> + (The Same Room. The door to the church is opened cautiously, and The + Sexton, who is also the organ-blower, enters warily. He carries a + lantern and is followed by his Wife.) + </p> + <p> + Sexton. Catherine dear, will you hold the lantern a moment while I put + on the padlock? + </p> + <p> + Wife. First we must have a look at all this wretchedness, Bengt dear. + Never could I have believed that the public-house was so near to us. + It's perfectly dreadful! Look—whole barrels full of beer! + </p> + <p> + Sexton. And gin, too. Don't you smell it? It will give me a headache if + I stay much longer. + </p> + <p> + Wife. Lord have mercy, what a sinful life they must have lived in here! + </p> + <p> + Sexton. Catherine dear! + </p> + <p> + Wife. Yes, dear. + </p> + <p> + Sexton. Do you know I am not feeling quite well. This place is so damp + and cold. + </p> + <p> + Wife. Perhaps we had better go home? + </p> + <p> + Sexton. Oh, I think I must sit down and rest on the bench here. + </p> + <p> + Wife. You shouldn't sit down in all this dampness and cold. Let us get + back into the church. + </p> + <p> + Sexton. No, I think it was still colder out there. + </p> + <p> + Wife. You haven't a fever, have you? + </p> + <p> + Sexton. I almost think I have—I'm so hot. + </p> + <p> + Wife. Maybe you want something to drink? + </p> + <p> + Sexton. That wouldn't be a bad thing, perhaps. + </p> + <p> + Wife. I'll see if there is any water around. + </p> + <p> + Sexton. Don't think you'll find any in this kind of a hole. + </p> + <p> + Wife. But you can't drink beer if you have a fever. + </p> + <p> + Sexton. Do you know, I think the fever has passed away. Now I'm feeling + cold. + </p> + <p> + Wife. I'll see if I can't find some small beer. + </p> + <p> + Sexton. It has to be pretty strong, I think, if it's to do any good. + There's a keg of Rostock No. 4 over there—marked A. W., don't you + see? + </p> + <p> + Wife (searching). I can't find it. Here's an Amsterdam No. 3. + </p> + <p> + Sexton. Can't you see—up there on the fourth shelf at the right? + (His wife continues to look.) The tap is lying to the left of it, right + by the funnel. + </p> + <p> + Wife. I don't think it's there. + </p> + <p> + Sexton. Just as if I didn't know! + </p> + <p> + Wife. Yes, here it is. + </p> + <p> + (The Sexton gets up to help his wile and accidentally steps on + Windrank.) + </p> + <p> + Windrank (waking up). Mercy! Jesu Christ! St. Peter and St. Paul! + Ferdinand and Isabella, and St. George and the Dragon, and all the rest! + And ires dire glories in excellence, and deuces tecum vademecum Christ + Jesu, and birds of a feather, and now I lay me down to sleep, and a + child is born for you to keep—Amen! Amen!—Who's stepping on + my windbag? + </p> + <p> + Sexton (frightened). Will you please tell me whether you are a man or a + ghost? + </p> + <p> + Windrank. Man most of the time, but just now I'm a beast. + </p> + <p> + Sexton. What kind of a man, if I may ask? + </p> + <p> + Windrank. A shipman—which is nor reason why you should blow all + the wind out of me. + </p> + <p> + Sexton. But that's my business, you know—I blow the bellows of the + big organ. + </p> + <p> + Windrank. So it was the organ-blower who honored me— + </p> + <p> + Sexton. The sexton, to put it right; but I also keep an old-clothes shop + in the church wall. + </p> + <p> + Windrank. So you're organ-blower, sexton, and shopkeeper— + </p> + <p> + Sexton. In one person—without confusion or transformation— + </p> + <p> + Windrank. That's a most respectable trinity. + </p> + <p> + Sexton. Such things should not be made fun of! + </p> + <p> + Windrank. Oh, my, my! I'm drowning! Help! + </p> + <p> + Sexton. Lord, what is it? + </p> + <p> + Windrank. There's a whole river coming—Ugh! + </p> + <p> + Sexton. Catherine dear! Where are you, my angel? (He runs to look for + her.) Jesu, but you must have scared my wife out of her wits. She has + run away from the keg—and taken the tap along! Get up—up + with you, and let us leave this godless hole! + </p> + <p> + Windrank. No, my dear fellow, I'm in my element now, so I think I'll + stay. + </p> + <p> + Sexton. Goodness, the clock is striking twelve, and the ghosts will be + coming! + </p> + <p> + Windrank (jumping to his feet). That's a different story! (The Sexton + guides Windrank toward the door.) Listen, sexton—I'm beginning to + have strong doubts about the trinity. + </p> + <p> + Sexton. Well, I declare! + </p> + <p> + Windrank. It's your trinity I'm thinking of. + </p> + <p> + Sexton. What do you mean, master skipper? + </p> + <p> + Windrank. I think there must be four of you, after all. + </p> + <p> + Sexton. Four—of whom? + </p> + <p> + Windrank. How about the tapster? Shouldn't he be counted, too? + </p> + <p> + Sexton. Hush, man! That's only nights. + </p> + <p> + (Both stumble over the broken image of St. Nicolaus and fall down.) + </p> + <p> + Windrank. Mercy! Ghosts! Jesu Maria, help! + </p> + <p> + Sexton (rising and picking up the image). Well, if that isn't enough to + make your hair stand on end! Here's St. Nicolaus broken all to pieces + and swimming in the beer. It has come to a fine pass when divine things + are defiled like that—I don't think the world will last much + longer—when such things can be done in the dry tree— + </p> + <p> + Windrank (having recovered). In the wet one, you mean. + </p> + <p> + Sexton. Keep still, blasphemer! St. Nicolaus is my patron saint. I was + born on his day. + </p> + <p> + Windrank. That's probably why both of you like beer. + </p> + <p> + Sexton. Yes, it's in the fashion now to be heretical! + </p> + <p> + Windrank. It's in the air, I think, for otherwise I'm a most God-fearing + man. But never mind, I'll have St. Nicolaus glued together for you. + </p> + <p> + Sexton (calling into the church). Catherine! + </p> + <p> + Windrank. Hush, hush, man! You'll make the ghosts appear! + </p> + <p> + Sexton. A plague on your tongue! [Exeunt.] + </p> + SCENE 3 + <p> + (The Sacristy of the Church of St. Nicolaus. There is a door leading to + the church, and another, smaller one, leading to the pulpit. The walls + are hung with chasubles and surplices. Priedieus and a few small chests + are standing about. The sunlight is pouring in through a window. The + church bells are heard ringing. Through the wall at the left can be + heard a constant murmuring. The Sexton and his Wife enter, stop near the + door, and pray silently.) + </p> + <p> + Sexton. That's enough! Now, Catherine dear, you'd better hurry up and do + some dusting. + </p> + <p> + Wife. Oh, there's no special occasion. It's nobody but that Master Olof + who's going to preach to-day. Really, I can't see why the Chapter allows + it. + </p> + <p> + Sexton. Because he's got permission from the King, you see. + </p> + <p> + Wife. Well, well! + </p> + <p> + Sexton. And then he has had a sort of basket built out from the wall—nothing + but new-fangled tricks! It's all on account of that man Luther. + </p> + <p> + Wife. I suppose we'll have the same kind of trouble that we had + yesterday. I thought they were going to pull the whole church down. + </p> + <p> + Sexton (carrying a glass of water up to the pulpit). I'm sure the poor + fellow will need something to wet his whistle to-day. + </p> + <p> + Wife. Well, I shouldn't bother, if I were you. + </p> + <p> + Sexton (speaking from the pulpit). Catherine—here he comes! + </p> + <p> + Wife. Goodness gracious, and the sermon bell hasn't rung yet! Well, I + suppose they won't ring it for a fellow like him. + </p> + <p> + [Enter Olof, looking serious and solemn. He crosses to one of the + prie-dieus and kneels on it. The Sexton comes down from the pulpit and + takes from the wall a surplice which he holds out to Olof.] + </p> + <p> + Olof (rising). The peace of the Lord be with you! + </p> + <p> + [The Wife curtseys and leaves the room. The Sexton holds out the + vestment again.] + </p> + <p> + Olof. Leave it hanging! + </p> + <p> + Sexton. Don't you want any robe? + </p> + <p> + Olof. No. + </p> + <p> + Sexton. But it's always used. And the handkerchief? + </p> + <p> + Olof. Never mind. + </p> + <p> + Sexton. Well, I declare! + </p> + <p> + Olof. Will you please leave me alone, my friend? + </p> + <p> + Sexton. You want me to get out? But as a rule, I— + </p> + <p> + Olof. Do me the favor, please! + </p> + <p> + Sexton. Oh, well! Of course! But first I want to tell you that you'll + find the missal to the right of you as you get up, and I have put in a + stick so you'll know where to open it, and there is a glass of water + beside the book. And you mustn't forget to turn the hour-glass, or it + may chance you'll keep it up a little too long— + </p> + <p> + Olof. Don't worry! There will be plenty of people to tell me when to + quit. + </p> + <p> + Sexton. Mercy, yes—beg your pardon! But you see, we've got our own + customs here. + </p> + <p> + Olof. Tell me, what is that depressing murmur we hear? + </p> + <p> + Sexton. It's some pious brother saying prayers for a poor soul. [Exit.] + </p> + <p> + Olof. "Thou therefore gird up thy loins and arise, and speak unto them + all that I command thee."—God help me! (He drops on his knees at a + prie-dieu; there he finds a note, which he reads.) "Don't preach to-day; + your life is in danger."—The Tempter himself wrote that! (He tears + the note to pieces.) + </p> + <p> + [Enter Olof's Mother.] + </p> + <p> + Mother. You are straying from the right path, my son. + </p> + <p> + Olof. Who knows? + </p> + <p> + Mother. I know! But as your mother I reach out my hand to you. Turn + back! + </p> + <p> + Olof. Where would you lead me? + </p> + <p> + Mother. To godliness and virtue. + </p> + <p> + Olof. If godliness and virtue are vested in papal decrees, then I fear + it is too late. + </p> + <p> + Mother. It isn't only a question of what you teach, but of how you live. + </p> + <p> + Olof. I know you are thinking of my company last night, but I am too + proud to answer you. Nor do I think it would do any good. + </p> + <p> + Mother. Oh, that I should be thus rewarded for the sacrifice I made when + I let you go out into the world and study! + </p> + <p> + Olof. By heaven, your sacrifice shall not be wasted! It is you, mother, + I have to thank for this day when at last I can stand forth with a free + countenance and speak the words of truth. + </p> + <p> + Mother. How can <i>you</i> talk of truth, you who have made yourself a + prophet of lies? + </p> + <p> + Olof. Those are hard words, mother! + </p> + <p> + Mother. Or perhaps I and my forbears have lived and worshipped and died + in a lie? + </p> + <p> + Olof. It wasn't a lie, but it has become one. When you were young, + mother, you were right, and when I grow old—well, perhaps I may + find myself in the wrong. One cannot keep apace with the times. + </p> + <p> + Mother. I don't understand! + </p> + <p> + Olof. This is my one sorrow—the greatest one of my life: that all + I do and say with the purest purpose must appear to you a crime and + sacrilege. + </p> + <p> + Mother. I know what you mean to do, Olof—I know what error you + have fallen into—and I cannot hope to persuade you out of it, for + you know so much more than I do, and I am sure that the Lord will put + you on the right path again—but I ask you to take care of your own + life, so that you won't plunge headlong into perdition! Don't risk your + life! + </p> + <p> + Olof. What do you mean? They won't kill me in the pulpit, will they? + </p> + <p> + Mother. Haven't you heard that Bishop Brask wants the Pope to introduce + the law that sends all heretics to the stake? + </p> + <p> + Olof. The inquisition? + </p> + <p> + Mother. Yes, that's what they call it. + </p> + <p> + Olof. Leave me, mother! To-day I must stand up and preach. + </p> + <p> + Mother. You shall not do it. + </p> + <p> + Olof. Nothing can prevent me. + </p> + <p> + Mother. I have prayed to God that He would touch your heart—I'll + tell you, but you mustn't speak of it to anybody. I am weak with age, + and I couldn't trust my own knees, so I went to see a servant of the + Lord and asked him, who is nearer to God, to say some prayers for your + soul. He refused because you are under the ban. Oh, it's dreadful! May + the Lord forgive me my sin! I bribed the pure conscience of that man + with gold—with the Devil's own gold—just to save you! + </p> + <p> + Olof. Mother, what do I hear? It can't be possible! + </p> + <p> + Mother (takes Olof by the hand and leads him over to the left, close to + the wall). Listen! Do you hear? He is praying for you now in the chapel + next to this room. + </p> + <p> + Olof. So that was the murmur I heard! Who is he? + </p> + <p> + Mother. You know him—Brother Mårten, of the Dominicans— + </p> + <p> + Olof. You get Satan to say prayers for me!—Forgive me, mother—I + thank you for your good intention, but— + </p> + <p> + Mother (on her knees, weeping). Olof! Olof! + </p> + <p> + Olof. Don't ask me! A mother's plea might tempt the angels of heaven to + recant!—Now the hymn is ended: I must go! The people are waiting. + </p> + <p> + Mother. You'll send me into my grave, Olof! + </p> + <p> + Olof (passionately). The Lord will resurrect you! (Kissing her hand.) + Don't talk to me any more—I don't know what I am saying! + </p> + <p> + Mother. Listen! Listen! The people are muttering! + </p> + <p> + Olof. I'm coming! I'm coming! He who protected Daniel in the lions' den + will also protect me! + </p> + <p> + (Olof ascends the stairs leading to the pulpit. Throughout the ensuing + scenes a man's voice can be heard speaking with great power, but no + words can be distinguished. After a while mutterings are heard, which + change into loud cries.) + </p> + <p> + [Enter Christine.] + </p> + <p> + Christine. Mother, did you see him? + </p> + <p> + Mother. Are you here, child? I asked you to stay at home! + </p> + <p> + Christine. Why shouldn't I visit the house of the Lord? There is + something you hide from me! + </p> + <p> + Mother. Go home, Christine! + </p> + <p> + Christine. May I not hear Olof preach? It's the word of God, isn't it, + mother? (The Mother remains silent.) You don't answer? What does it + mean? Hasn't Olof permission to preach? Why do the people out there look + so mysterious? They were muttering when I came. + </p> + <p> + Mother. Don't ask me! Go home and thank God for your ignorance! + </p> + <p> + Christine. Am I a child, then, since nobody dares to tell me— + </p> + <p> + Mother. Your soul is still pure, and nobody must defile it. What place + is there for you in the battle? + </p> + <p> + Christine. Battle? I thought so! + </p> + <p> + Mother. Yes, here the battle rages, and so you must get out of the way. + You know our lot when the men go to war. + </p> + <p> + Christine. But let me first know what it is all about. Not to know + anything at all makes me so unhappy. I see nothing but a dreadful + darkness, and shadows that are moving about—Give me light, so that + I may see clearly! Perhaps I know these ghostly shallows? + </p> + <p> + Mother. You will shudder when you see who they are. + </p> + <p> + Christine. It is better to shudder than to be tormented by this horrible + calm. + </p> + <p> + Mother. Don't pray for the cloud to flash forth lightning: it may + destroy you! + </p> + <p> + Christine. You frighten me! But tell me the truth—I must know—or + I shall ask some one else. + </p> + <p> + Mother. Are you firm in your decision to withdraw within the sacred + walls of the convent? + </p> + <p> + Christine. My father wishes it. + </p> + <p> + Mother. You hesitate? (Christine does not answer.) There is some tie + that holds you back. + </p> + <p> + Christine. You know? + </p> + <p> + Mother. I know, and tell you to break it! + </p> + <p> + Christine. It will soon be impossible. + </p> + <p> + Mother. I will save you, child, for you can still be saved. I will offer + the Lord the greatest sacrifice of all if a single soul can be saved + from perdition—my son! + </p> + <p> + Christine. Olof? + </p> + <p> + Mother. He's lost, I tell you, and I, his mother, have to tell you so! + </p> + <p> + Christine. Lost? + </p> + <p> + Mother. He is a prophet of lies. The Devil has taken possession of his + soul. + </p> + <p> + Christine (passionately). It isn't true! + </p> + <p> + Mother. God grant that you are right! + </p> + <p> + Christine. Why—why haven't you told me this before?—But, of + course, it's a lie! (She goes to the door leading into the church and + pushes it ajar.) Look at him, mother—there he is! Can that be an + evil spirit speaking out of his mouth? Can that be a hellish flame + burning in his eyes? Can lies be told with trembling lips? Does darkness + shed light—can't you see the halo about his head? You are wrong! I + feel it within me! I don't know what he preaches—I don't know what + he denies—but he is right! He is right, and the Lord is with him! + </p> + <p> + Mother. You don't know the world, my child. You don't know the tricks of + the Devil. Beware! (She pulls Christine away from the door.) You mustn't + listen to him. There is no strength in your soul, and he's the apostle + of Antichrist! + </p> + <p> + Christine. Who is Antichrist? + </p> + <p> + Mother. He is a Luther! + </p> + <p> + Christine. You have never told me who Luther is, but if Olof is his + apostle, then Luther must be a great man. + </p> + <p> + Mother. Luther is possessed of the Devil! + </p> + <p> + Christine. Why didn't you tell me before? Now I can't believe you! + </p> + <p> + Mother. I am telling you now—Alas, I wanted to save you from the + world's wickedness, and so I kept you in ignorance— + </p> + <p> + Christine. I don't believe you! Let me go! I must see him—I must + listen to him—for he doesn't talk like the rest. + </p> + <p> + Mother. Jesus, my Saviour! Are you, too, possessed by the unclean + spirit? + </p> + <p> + Christine (at the door). "Bind not the souls," he said—did you + hear? "You are free, for the Lord has set you free." See how the people + shudder at his words—now they rise up—they mutter. "You want + no freedom—woe unto you! For that is the sin against the Holy + Ghost!" + </p> + <p> + [Enter Sexton.] + </p> + <p> + Sexton. I don't think it's well for you to stay here any longer, my good + ladies. The people are getting restless. This will never end well for + Master Olof. + </p> + <p> + Mother. Jesu Maria! What are you saying? + </p> + <p> + Christine. Fear not! The spirit of the Lord is with him! + </p> + <p> + Sexton. Well, I don't know about that, but he's a wonder at preaching. + Old sinner that I am, I couldn't keep from crying where I was sitting in + the organ-loft. I don't understand how it can be possible for a heretic + and an Antichrist to talk like that. That man Luther, I must say, I—(Cries + are heard from the church.) There, there! Now something dreadful is + going to happen again! And to think that the King should be gone just + now! + </p> + <p> + Mother. Let us get away from here. If the Lord is with him, they can do + him no harm. If it be the Devil—then Thy will be done, O Lord—but + forgive him! + </p> + <p> + (Cries are heard outside. Exeunt the Mother, Christine, and the Sexton. + For a few moments the stage stands empty and Olof's voice is heard more + clearly than before. It is interrupted by cries and the rattling of + stones thrown at the pulpit. Christine returns alone, locks the door on + the inside, and falls on her knees at a prie-dieu. A number of violent + blows are directed against the door from without, while the tumult in + the church continues to increase. Then silence is restored, as Olof + descends from the pulpit. His forehead is bleeding and he wears a + haggard look.) + </p> + <p> + Olof (dropping into a chair without perceiving Christine). In vain! They + will not! I take the fetters from the prisoner, and he hits me. I tell + him he is free, and he doesn't believe me. Is that word "free" so big, + then, that it can't be contained in a human brain? Oh, that I had one at + least who believed—but to be alone—a fool whom no one + understands— + </p> + <p> + Christine (coming forward). I believe in you, Olof! + </p> + <p> + Olof. Christine! + </p> + <p> + Christine. <i>You</i> are right! + </p> + <p> + Olof. How do you know? + </p> + <p> + Christine. I can't tell, but I believe it. I have been listening to you. + </p> + <p> + Olof. And you do not curse me? + </p> + <p> + Christine. You are preaching the word of God, are you not? + </p> + <p> + Olof. I am! + </p> + <p> + Christine. Why have we not been told these things before? Or why have + they been told us in a language that we do not understand? + </p> + <p> + Olof. Who has put those words into your mouth, girl? + </p> + <p> + Christine. Who? I haven't thought of asking. + </p> + <p> + Olof. Your father? + </p> + <p> + Christine. He wants me to enter a convent. + </p> + <p> + Olof. Has it come to that? And what is your own wish? + </p> + <p> + Christine (catching sight of Olof's bleeding forehead). They have hurt + you, Olof! For heaven's sake, let me help you! + </p> + <p> + Olof (sitting down again). Have I unsettled your faith, Christine? + </p> + <p> + Christine (takes the handkerchief, tears it into strips, and begins to + dress Olof's wounds while speaking). My faith? I don't understand you.—Tell + me, who is Luther? + </p> + <p> + Olof. I mustn't tell you. + </p> + <p> + Christine. Always the same answer! From my father, from your mother, and + from yourself. Are you timid about telling me the truth, or is the truth + really dangerous? + </p> + <p> + Olof. Truth is dangerous. Can't you see? (He points to his forehead.) + </p> + <p> + Christine. So you want me to be shut up in a convent cell to live a + lifeless life in ignorance? (Olof does not reply.) You want me to weep + away my life and my youth, and to keep on saying those endlessly long + prayers until my soul is put to sleep? No—I won't do it, for now I + am awake. All around me they are fighting, and suffering, and + despairing. I have seen it, but I was to have no share in it. I was not + even to look on, or to know the purpose of the fighting. You wanted me + to be sunk in bestial slumber. But don't you believe me possessed of a + soul, then—a soul that cannot be satisfied by bread or by dry + prayers put into my mouth by others? "Bind not the spirits," you said. + Oh, if you could only know how that word pierced me! Daylight came, and + those wild cries out there sounded like the singing of birds in the + morning— + </p> + <p> + Olof. You are a woman, Christine, and not born to fight! + </p> + <p> + Christine. But in the name of God, let me suffer, then! Only not be + asleep! Don't you see that the Lord has awakened me in spite of all? You + have never dared to tell me who Antichrist was. You have never dared to + tell me who Luther was, and when your mother called you a Luther, I + blessed Luther. If he be a heretic or a believer, I don't know, and I + don't care; for no one—whether it be Luther, or the Pope, or + Antichrist-can satisfy my immortal soul when I have no faith in the + eternal God. + </p> + <p> + Olof. Will you follow me into the battle, Christine? For you can sustain + me, and you only! + </p> + <p> + Christine. Now I am able to answer you with a frank "yes," for I know my + own will—and I can do so without asking father first, for I am + free. Oh, I am free! + </p> + <p> + Olof. And do you know what is in store for you? + </p> + <p> + Christine. I know! You will not have to shatter my mocking dreams—they + are already gone. But you may be sure that I, too, have been dreaming of + a knight who was to lay a kingdom at my feet and talk to me of flowers + and love—Olof, I want to be your wife! Here is my hand! But this + much I must tell you: that you never have been the knight of my dreams, + and that I thank God he never came. For then he had also gone—as a + dream. + </p> + <p> + Olof. Christine, you want to be mine—and I will make you happy. + For when I suffered sorrow and temptation, you were always in my mind—and + now you shall be at my side! You were the maiden of my dreams, kept + captive in a tower by the stern castellan—and now you are mine! + </p> + <p> + Christine. Beware of dreams, Olof! + </p> + <p> + (Blows are heard on the door from outside.) + </p> + <p> + Olof. Who is that? + </p> + <p> + Voice (outside). Gert. + </p> + <p> + Olof. What will he say? My promise— + </p> + <p> + Christine. Are you afraid? Shall I open? + </p> + <p> + (Olof opens the door.) + </p> + <p> + [Enter Gert.] + </p> + <p> + Gert (starting at the sight of his daughter and Olof). Christine?—You + have broken your promise, Olof! + </p> + <p> + Olof. I have not. + </p> + <p> + Gert. You lie! You have stolen my child, my one solace. + </p> + <p> + Christine. Olof is not lying. + </p> + <p> + Gert. You have been to church, Christine? + </p> + <p> + Christine. I have heard what you didn't want me to hear. + </p> + <p> + Gert. O Lord, this only joy Thou hast begrudged me! + </p> + <p> + Olof. The stream that you wanted to set free takes its victims where it + can. + </p> + <p> + Gert. You have robbed me of her, of my child! + </p> + <p> + Olof. Give her to me, Father Gert! + </p> + <p> + Gert. Never! + </p> + <p> + Olof. Is she not free? + </p> + <p> + Gert. She is my child. + </p> + <p> + Olof. Are you not preaching freedom? She is mine! The Lord has given her + to me, and you cannot take her away. + </p> + <p> + Gert. You are—thank God—a priest. + </p> + <p> + Olof and Christine. A priest! + </p> + <p> + Gert. And as such you cannot marry. + </p> + <p> + Olof. And if I do? + </p> + <p> + Gert. You would dare? + </p> + <p> + Olof. I would. + </p> + <p> + Gert. Do you want a man who is under the ban, Christine? + </p> + <p> + Christine. I don't know what that means. + </p> + <p> + Olof. There you see, Gert, there you see! + </p> + <p> + Gert. Thy punishment is harsh, O Lord! + </p> + <p> + Olof. The truth is for all. + </p> + <p> + Gert. Your love is greater than mine, which was nothing but selfishness. + God bless you! Now I stand alone! (He embraces them.) There, now! Go + home, Christine, and set their minds at rest. I want to speak to Olof. + (Exit Christine.) Now you belong to me. + </p> + <p> + Olof. What do you mean? + </p> + <p> + Gert. Kinsman!—You got my letter? + </p> + <p> + Olof. It was you who advised me not to preach? + </p> + <p> + Gert. Quite the contrary, although I expressed myself somewhat + strangely. + </p> + <p> + Olof. I don't understand. + </p> + <p> + Gert. No—no! You are still too young, and so you need a + providence. To a man like you one says "Let be" when one wants him to do + something. + </p> + <p> + Olof. Why were you and your followers not in church? + </p> + <p> + Gert. None but the sick need doctors. We were busy elsewhere. You have + done a good piece of work to-day, and I see that you have got your + reward for it. I have set you free to-day, Olof. + </p> + <p> + Olof. <i>You</i> have? + </p> + <p> + Gert. The King commanded you to quiet the rebellious, and what have you + been doing? + </p> + <p> + Olof. Now I begin to understand you, Father Gert. + </p> + <p> + Gert. I am delighted! Yes, you have aroused even the calmest. + </p> + <p> + Olof. So I have. + </p> + <p> + Gert. What do you think the King will say to that? + </p> + <p> + Olof. I shall have to face it. + </p> + <p> + Gert. Good! + </p> + <p> + Olof. The King will approve my actions, for he wants a reformation, + although he does not yet dare to start one himself. + </p> + <p> + Gert. You idiot! + </p> + <p> + Olof. I see that you want to set me against my lawful sovereign. + </p> + <p> + Gert. Tell me, how many masters do you think you can serve? (Olof makes + no reply.) The King is here. + </p> + <p> + Olof. What do you say? + </p> + <p> + Gert. The King has just returned. + </p> + <p> + Olof. And the Anabaptists? + </p> + <p> + Gert. Locked up, of course. + </p> + <p> + Olof. And you stand here so calmly? + </p> + <p> + Gert. I am old now. Once I used to rage like you, but it only tired me + out. Rink and Knipperdollink have served as my outposts. They had to + fall, that's plain; now my work begins. + </p> + <p> + (Drum-beats are heard from the street.) + </p> + <p> + Olof. What is that? + </p> + <p> + Gert. The royal drums that keep the captives company to prison. Come + here and see! + </p> + <p> + Olof (mounting one of the benches and looking out of the window). What + do I see? Women and children are dragged along by the soldiers! + </p> + <p> + Gert. Well, they have been throwing stones at the King's guard. Do you + think such things can be allowed? + </p> + <p> + Olof. But are madmen and sick people to be put into prison? + </p> + <p> + Gert. There are two kinds of madmen. One kind is sent to the hospital + and treated with pills and cold baths. Those of the other kind have + their heads cut off. It is a radical treatment, but then, for a fact, + they are rather dangerous. + </p> + <p> + Olof. I'll go to the King. He cannot wish such dreadful things to + happen. + </p> + <p> + Gert. Take care of your head, Olof! + </p> + <p> + Olof. Take care of your own, Father Gert! + </p> + <p> + Gert. No danger in my case, for I have a warrant for the asylum. + </p> + <p> + Olof. I cannot bear to see these things. I am going to the King, even if + it cost my life. (He goes toward the door.) + </p> + <p> + Gert. This is a matter not to be settled by the King. You should appeal + to the law. + </p> + <p> + Olof. The King is the law! + </p> + <p> + Gert. Unfortunately!—If the horse knew his own strength, he would + never be mad enough, as he is now, to bear the yoke. But when once in a + while he gets his reason back and runs away from his oppressors, then + they call him mad—Let us pray the Lord to give these poor + creatures their reason back! + </p> + <a name="link2H_4_0005" id="link2H_4_0005"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + ACT III + </h2> + <h3> + SCENE 1 + </h3> + <p> + (A Hall in the Royal Palace at Stockholm. In the background is a gallery + which can be partitioned off by curtains. In elderly servant of the + palace is pacing back and forth in the gallery.) + </p> + <p> + Enter Olof. + </p> + <p> + Olof. Is the King receiving to-day? + </p> + <p> + Servant. Yes. + </p> + <p> + Olof. Can you tell me why I have been kept waiting here in vain four + days at a stretch? + </p> + <p> + Servant. No, heavens, I know nothing at all. + </p> + <p> + Olof. It seems strange that I have not been admitted. + </p> + <p> + Servant. What is it about? + </p> + <p> + Olof. That's none of your concern! + </p> + <p> + Servant. Of course not! I understand that, but I thought I might be able + to give some information, perhaps. + </p> + <p> + Olof. Have you charge of the King's audiences? + </p> + <p> + Servant. Oh, heavens, no! But you see, when a man hears as much as I do, + he knows a little of everything. (Pause.) + </p> + <p> + Olof. Do you think I shall have to wait long? (The servant pretends not + to hear.) Do you know if the King is coming soon? + </p> + <p> + Servant (with his back turned to Olof). What? + </p> + <p> + Olof. Do you know to whom you are talking? + </p> + <p> + Servant. No, I don't. + </p> + <p> + Olof. I am the King's Secretary. + </p> + <p> + Servant. Oh, mercy, are you Master Olof? I knew your father, Peter the + Smith, for I am also from Örebro. + </p> + <p> + Olof. Well, can't you be civil in spite of that? + </p> + <p> + Servant. Well, well! That's what happens when one gets on a little in + this world—then one's humble parents are forgotten. + </p> + <p> + Olof. It is possible that my father actually honored you with his + acquaintance, but I doubt that he put you in a parent's place to me when + he died. + </p> + <p> + Servant. Well, well! I declare! It must be hard on Dame Christine! [Exit + to the left.] + </p> + <p> + [Olof is left alone for a while. Then Lars Siggesson, the Lord High + Constable, enters from the right.] + </p> + <p> + Constable (throwing his cloak to Olof without looking at him). Will the + King be here soon? + </p> + <p> + Olof (catching the cloak and throwing it on the floor). I do not know! + </p> + <p> + Constable. Bring me a chair. + </p> + <p> + Olof. That's not my office. + </p> + <p> + Constable. I am not familiar with the instructions of the doorkeeper. + </p> + <p> + Olof. I am no doorkeeper! + </p> + <p> + Constable. I don't care what you are, and I don't carry with me a list + of the menials, but you will have to be civil! (Olof remains silent.) + Well, what about it? I think the Devil has got into you! + </p> + <p> + Olof. Pardon me, but it is no part of my duty as secretary to wait on + anybody. + </p> + <p> + Constable. What? Oh, Master Olof! Why, first you sit at the door playing + lackey, and then you drop the mask and step forth as the Lord Himself! + And I took you to be a proud man. (He picks up his cloak and places it + on a bench.) + </p> + <p> + Olof. My Lord Constable! + </p> + <p> + Constable. But, no, you are only a vain upstart! Please step forward and + be seated, Mr. Secretary. + </p> + <p> + [He points Olof to a seat and goes out into one of the side-rooms.] + </p> + <p> + [Olof sits down. A young Courtier enters through the gallery and salutes + Olof.] + </p> + <p> + Courtier. Good morning, Secretary! Is nobody here yet? Well, how is + everything in Stockholm? I have just arrived from Malmö. + </p> + <p> + Olof. Oh, everything is going wrong here. + </p> + <p> + Courtier. So I have heard. The mob has been muttering as usual whenever + the King's back is turned. And then there are those fool priests!—I + beg your pardon, Secretary, but, of course, you are a freethinker? + </p> + <p> + Olof. I don't quite understand. + </p> + <p> + Courtier. Don't mind me, please. You see, I have been educated in Paris. + Francis the First—O Saint-Sauveur!—that's a man who has + extreme views. Do you know what he told me at a bal masqué during the + last carnival? (Olof remains silent.) "Monsieur," he said, "la religion + est morte, est morte," he said. Which didn't keep him from attending + mass. + </p> + <p> + Olof. Is that so? + </p> + <p> + Courtier. Do you know what he replied when I asked him why he did so?—"Poetry! + Poetry!" he said. Oh, he is divine! + </p> + <p> + Olof. What did you answer? + </p> + <p> + Courtier. "Your Majesty," I said—in French, of course—"fortunate + the land that has a king who can look so far beyond the narrow horizon + of his own time that he perceives what the spirit of the age demands, + without trying to urge the masses to embrace that higher view of life + for which they will not be ready for many centuries to come!" Wasn't + that pretty clever? + </p> + <p> + Olof. Oh, yes, but I think it must have lost a great deal in being + translated. Things of that kind should be spoken in French. + </p> + <p> + Courtier (preoccupied). You are quite right.—Tell me—your <i>fortune</i> + ought to be assured—you are so far in advance of your time? + </p> + <p> + Olof. I fear I shall not get very far. My education was neglected, + unfortunately—I studied in Germany, as you may know—and the + Germans are not beyond religion yet. + </p> + <p> + Courtier. Indeed, indeed! Can you tell me why they are making such a + hubbub about that Reformation down there in Germany? Luther is a man of + enlightenment—I know it—I believe it—but why shouldn't + he keep it to himself, or at least not waste any sparks of light on the + brutish herd to which they can be nothing but so many pearls thrown to + the swine. If you let your eye survey the time we are living in—if + you make some effort to follow the great currents of thought—then + you will easily perceive the cause of that disturbed equilibrium which + is now making itself felt in all the great civilized countries; I am not + talking of Sweden, of course, which is not a civilized country. Can you + name the centre of gravity—that centre which cannot be disturbed + without everything going to pieces—the instability of which tends + to upset everything? The name of it is—the nobility. The nobility + is the thinking principle. The feudal system is falling—and that + means the world. Erudition is in decay. Civilization is dying. Yes, + indeed—You don't believe that? But if you have any historical + outlook at all, you can see that it is so. The nobility started the + Crusades. The nobility has done this and that and everything. Why is + Germany being torn to pieces? Because the peasantry has risen against + the nobility, thus cutting off its own head. Why is France safe—la + France? Because France is one with the nobility, and the nobility is one + with France—because those two ideas are identical, inseparable. + And why, I ask again, is Sweden at present shaken to its nethermost + foundations? Because the nobility has been crushed. Christian the Second + was a man of genius. He knew how to conquer a country. He didn't cut off + a leg or an arm—nay, he cut off the head. Well, then! Sweden must + be saved, and the King knows how. The nobility is to be restored, and + the Church is to be crushed. What do you say to that? + </p> + <p> + Olof (rising). Nothing! (Pause.) You are a freethinker? + </p> + <p> + Courtier. Of course! + </p> + <p> + Olof. You don't believe, then, that Balaam's ass could talk? + </p> + <p> + Courtier. Gracious, no! + </p> + <p> + Olof. But I do. + </p> + <p> + Courtier. Really? + </p> + <p> + [Enter Lars Andersson.] + </p> + <p> + Lars Andersson. The peace of the Lord be with you, Olof. + </p> + <p> + Olof (embracing him). Well met, Lars! + </p> + <p> + Courtier. Populace! [Exit.] + </p> + <p> + Lars. Well, how do you like living here? + </p> + <p> + Olof. It's so close! + </p> + <p> + Lars. Somewhat! + </p> + <p> + Olof. And no room overhead. + </p> + <p> + Lars. That's why they find it so hard to keep their backs straight. + </p> + <p> + Olof. In ten minutes I have become so much of a courtier that I know how + to be silent when an ass is talking. + </p> + <p> + Lars. There is no harm in that. + </p> + <p> + Olof. What does the King think? + </p> + <p> + Lars. He doesn't tell. + </p> + <p> + (A number of people have begun to gather in the hall.) + </p> + <p> + Olof. How does he look? + </p> + <p> + Lars. Like an interrogation point followed by several exclamation marks. + </p> + <p> + [Enter Bishop Brask. All give way before him. The Lord High Constable, + who has returned in the meantime, goes to meet him and exchanges + greetings with him. Olof salutes the Bishop, who looks surprised.] + </p> + <p> + Brask (to the Constable). Is this a place for the clerks? + </p> + <p> + Constable. It ought not to be, but our King is so very gracious. + </p> + <p> + Brask. Condescending, you mean? + </p> + <p> + Constable. Exactly. + </p> + <p> + Brask. The audience is well attended to-day. + </p> + <p> + Constable. Mostly formal calls occasioned by the happy return of His + Highness. + </p> + <p> + Brask. It is a pleasure, my Lord Constable, to offer His Highness our + sincere felicitations on the happy solution of this question. + </p> + <p> + Constable. It is indeed courteous in Your Grace to incur the trouble of + such a long journey—especially at Your Grace's advanced age. + </p> + <p> + Brask. Unfortunately, my health is not always to be depended upon. + </p> + <p> + Constable. Is Your Grace not enjoying good health? It is hard to feel + one's strength failing, particularly for one who occupies such an + exalted and responsible position. + </p> + <p> + Brask. You look very well, my Lord Constable. + </p> + <p> + Constable. Yes, thank God! (Pause.) + </p> + <p> + Brask (seating himself). Don't you think there is a draught here, my + Lord? + </p> + <p> + Constable. It seems so. Perhaps we might order the doors to be closed? + </p> + <p> + Brask. No, thank you, that will not be necessary. (Pause.) + </p> + <p> + Constable. The King is long in coming. + </p> + <p> + Brask. Yes. + </p> + <p> + Constable. Perhaps you won't find it worth your while to wait for him. + </p> + <p> + Brask. Perhaps not! + </p> + <p> + Constable. With your permission, I will send word to Your Grace's + servants. + </p> + <p> + Brask. As I have waited so long, I think I shall wait a little longer. + (Pause.) + </p> + <p> + Servant. His Highness! + </p> + <p> + [Enter Gustaf.] + </p> + <p> + Gustaf. I bid you welcome, gentlemen. (He takes a seat at a table.) If + you will please step out into the antechamber, I will receive you one at + a time. (All retire except Bishop Brask.) Our Lord Constable will stay. + </p> + <p> + Brask. Your Highness! + </p> + <p> + Gustaf (raising his voice). Sir Lars! (Brask goes out, the Constable + remaining; pause.) Speak! What am I to do? + </p> + <p> + Constable. Your Highness, the State has lost its prop, and therefore it + is toppling over; the State has an enemy that has grown too strong for + it. Restore the prop, which is the nobility, and crush the enemy, which + is the Church! + </p> + <p> + Gustaf. I dare not! + </p> + <p> + Constable. You must, Your Highness! + </p> + <p> + Gustaf. What's that? + </p> + <p> + Constable. First of all: Brask is in correspondence with the Pope to + have the inquisition established here. Lübeck is insisting on her + shameless demands and threatens war. The treasury is empty. There is + rebellion in every nook and corner of the country— + </p> + <p> + Gustaf. That's enough! But I have the people with me. + </p> + <p> + Constable. I beg your pardon—you have not. There are the + Dalecarlians, for instance—a spoiled lot, always disputing with + those of Lübeck about the honor of having bestowed a king on Sweden. + They are ready to rebel on the slightest occasion, and they are coming + forward with demands like these: "There shall be no outlandish customs + used, with slittered and motley colored clothes, such as have of late + been brought into the King's court." + </p> + <p> + Gustaf. 'Sdeath! + </p> + <p> + Constable. "Whosoever eats meat on Fridays or Saturdays shall be burned + at the stake or otherwise made away with." And furthermore, "There shall + be no new faith or Lutheran teachings foisted upon us." What a + treacherous, impudent people! + </p> + <p> + Gustaf. And yet there was a time when they showed themselves to be men. + </p> + <p> + Constable. Well, what wonder if they carried water when their house was + afire? How many times have they broken troth and faith? But they have so + often heard themselves lauded that they have come to give the name of + "old Swedish honesty" to their own brute arrogance. + </p> + <p> + Gustaf. You belong to the nobility! + </p> + <p> + Constable. Yes, and it is my conviction that the peasant has played out + his part—the part of a crude force needed to drive away the enemy + by sheer strength of arm. Crush the Church, Your Highness, for it is + keeping the people in fetters. Seize the gold of the Church and pay the + country's debt—and give back to the reduced nobility what the + Church has obtained from it by dupery. + </p> + <p> + Gustaf. Call in Brask. + </p> + <p> + Constable. Your Highness! + </p> + <p> + Gustaf. Call Bishop Brask! [Exit the Constable.] + </p> + <p> + [Enter Bishop Brask.] + </p> + <p> + Gustaf. Speak, Your Grace! + </p> + <p> + Brask. I wish to offer our congratulations on— + </p> + <p> + Gustaf. I thank Your Grace! And what more? + </p> + <p> + Brask. There have been complaints from several districts, I am sorry to + say, about unpaid loans of silver exacted from the churches by Your + Highness. + </p> + <p> + Gustaf. Which you now are trying to recover. Are all the chalices + actually needed for communion? + </p> + <p> + Brask. They are. + </p> + <p> + Gustaf Let them use pewter mugs, then. + </p> + <p> + Brask. Your Highness! + </p> + <p> + Gustaf. Anything more? + </p> + <p> + Brask. What is worse than anything else—all this heresy! + </p> + <p> + Gustaf. No concern of mine! I am not the Pope. + </p> + <p> + Brask. I have to warn Your Highness that the Church must look out for + her own rights, even if doing so should bring her into conflict— + </p> + <p> + Gustaf. With whom? + </p> + <p> + Brask. With the State. + </p> + <p> + Gustaf. Your Church can go to the devil! There, I have said it! + </p> + <p> + Brask. I knew it. + </p> + <p> + Gustaf. And you were only waiting for me to say so? + </p> + <p> + Brask. Exactly. + </p> + <p> + Gustaf. Take care! You travel with a following of two hundred men, and + you eat from silver, when the people are living on bark. + </p> + <p> + Brask. Your Highness takes too narrow a view of the matter. + </p> + <p> + Gustaf. Have you heard of Luther? You are a well-informed man. What kind + of a phenomenon is he? What have you to say of the movements that are + now spreading throughout Europe? + </p> + <p> + Brask. Progress backward! Luther is merely destined to serve as a + purging fire for what is ancient, descended from untold ages and well + tried, so that it may be cleansed and by the struggle urged on to + greater victories. + </p> + <p> + Gustaf. I care nothing for your learned arguments. + </p> + <p> + Brask. But Your Highness is extending protection to criminals and + interfering with the privileges of the Church; for the Church has been + grievously wronged by Master Olof. + </p> + <p> + Gustaf. Well, put him under the ban. + </p> + <p> + Brask. It has been done, and yet he remains in the service of Your + Highness. + </p> + <p> + Gustaf. What more do you want done to him? Tell me? (Pause.) + </p> + <p> + Brask. Furthermore, he has gone so far as to marry secretly in violation + of the Canon Law. + </p> + <p> + Gustaf. Is that so? That's quick action. + </p> + <p> + Brask. It doesn't concern Your Highness? Good and well! But if he stirs + up the people? + </p> + <p> + Gustaf. Then I'll step in. Anything more? + </p> + <p> + Brask (after a pause). I ask you for heaven's sake not to plunge the + country into disaster again. It is not yet ripe for a new faith. We are + but reeds in the wind and can be bent—but when it comes to the + faith, or the Church—never! + </p> + <p> + Gustaf (holding out his hand to the Bishop). Maybe you are right! But + let us be enemies rather than false friends, Bishop Hans! + </p> + <p> + Brask. Be it so! But do not do what you will regret. Every stone you + tear out of the Church will be thrown at you by the people. + </p> + <p> + Gustaf. Don't force me to extremes, Your Grace, for then we shall have + the same horrible spectacle here as in Germany. For the last time: are + you willing to make concessions if the welfare of the country is at + stake? + </p> + <p> + Brask. The Church— + </p> + <p> + Gustaf. The Church comes first—very well! Good-bye! + </p> + <p> + [Exit Brask. Reënter the Constable.] + </p> + <p> + Gustaf. The Bishop has confirmed your statement, and that was what I + wanted him to do. Now we shall need stone-masons who know how to tear + down. The walls will be left, the cross may stay on the roof and the + bell in the tower, but I will clear out the vaults. One must begin at + the bottom! + </p> + <p> + Constable. The people will think you are taking away their faith. They + will have to be educated. + </p> + <p> + Gustaf. We'll send Master Olof to preach to them. + </p> + <p> + Constable. Master Olof is a dangerous man. + </p> + <p> + Gustaf. But needed just now. + </p> + <p> + Constable. He has carried on like the Anabaptists instead of opposing + them. + </p> + <p> + Gustaf. I know. We'll get to that later on. Send him in. + </p> + <p> + Constable. Lars the Chancellor would be a better man. + </p> + <p> + Gustaf. Bring them both in. + </p> + <p> + Constable. Or Olof's brother, Lars Pedersson. + </p> + <p> + Gustaf. No good yet. He is too soft for fighting, but his time will + come, too. [Exit Constable.] + </p> + <p> + The Constable returns with Master Olof and Lars Andersson. + </p> + <p> + Gustaf (to the Chancellor). Do you want to help me, Lars? + </p> + <p> + Lars. You are thinking of the Church? + </p> + <p> + Gustaf. Yes, it will have to be torn down. + </p> + <p> + Lars. I am not the man for that. Your Majesty had better ask Master + Olof. + </p> + <p> + Gustaf. You won't, then? + </p> + <p> + Lars. I can't! But I have a weapon for you. (He hands the new + translation of the Bible to the King.) + </p> + <p> + Gustaf. Holy Writ! A good weapon, indeed! Will you wield it, Olof? + </p> + <p> + Olof. With the help of God—yes! + </p> + <p> + Gustaf (to Olof, after having signalled to Lars to leave). Have you + calmed down yet, Olof? (Olof does not answer). I gave you four days to + think it over. How have you been carrying out your task? + </p> + <p> + Olof (impetuously). I have spoken to the people— + </p> + <p> + Gustaf. Still in a fever! And you mean to defend those madmen named + Anabaptists? + </p> + <p> + Olof (bravely). I do! + </p> + <p> + Gustaf. Steady!—You have married in a hurry? + </p> + <p> + Olof. I have. + </p> + <p> + Gustaf. You are under the ban? + </p> + <p> + Olof. I am. + </p> + <p> + Gustaf. And still as brave as ever! If you were sent to the gallows as a + rebel with the rest, what would you say then? + </p> + <p> + Olof. I should regret not being permitted to finish my task, but I + should thank the Lord for having been allowed to do what I have done. + </p> + <p> + Gustaf. That's good! Would you dare to go up to that old owl's-nest + Upsala and tell its learned men that the Pope is not God and that he has + nothing to do with Sweden? + </p> + <p> + Olof. Only that? + </p> + <p> + Gustaf. Will you tell them that the only word of God is the Bible? + </p> + <p> + Olof. Must that be all? + </p> + <p> + Gustaf. You are not to mention the name of Luther! + </p> + <p> + Olof (after some hesitation). Then I will not go. + </p> + <p> + Gustaf. Would you rather go to your death? + </p> + <p> + Olof. No, but I know that my sovereign needs me. + </p> + <p> + Gustaf. It isn't noble to take advantage of my misfortune, Olof. Well, + say anything; you please, but you will have to pardon me if I take back + a part of it afterwards. + </p> + <p> + Olof. Truth isn't sold by the yard. + </p> + <p> + Gustaf. 'Sdeath! (Changing tone.) Well, suit yourself! + </p> + <p> + Olof (kneeling). Then I may say all that is in my mind? + </p> + <p> + Gustaf. You may. + </p> + <p> + Olof. Then, if I can only throw a single spark of doubt into the soul of + this sleeping people, my life will not have been wasted.—It is to + be a reformation, then? + </p> + <p> + Gustaf (after a pause). Yes. (Pause.) + </p> + <p> + Olof (timidly). And what is to become of the Anabaptists? + </p> + <p> + Gustaf. Need you ask? They must die. + </p> + <p> + Olof. Will Your Highness permit me one more question? + </p> + <p> + Gustaf. Tell me: what do those madmen want? + </p> + <p> + Olof. The sad thing is that they do not know it themselves, and if I + were to tell you— + </p> + <p> + Gustaf. Speak out! + </p> + <p> + [Gert enters quickly, pretending to be insane.] + </p> + <p> + Gustaf. Who are you to dare intrude here? + </p> + <p> + Gert. I want most humbly to beseech Your Highness to attest the + correctness of this document. + </p> + <p> + Gustaf. Wait till you are called. + </p> + <p> + Gert. Of course, I should like to, but the guards won't wait for me. I + escaped from prison, you see, because my place wasn't there. + </p> + <p> + Gustaf. Are you one of those Anabaptists? + </p> + <p> + Gert. Yes, I happened to get mixed up with them, but here I have a + certificate proving that I belong to the asylum, the third department + for incurables, cell number seven. + </p> + <p> + Gustaf (to Olof). Send word to the guard. + </p> + <p> + Gert. That isn't necessary, for I want nothing but justice, and it's + something the guard doesn't handle. + </p> + <p> + Gustaf (looking hard at Gert). I suppose you have had a share in those + outrages in the city churches? + </p> + <p> + Gert. Of course, I have! No sane person could behave so madly. We wanted + only to make a few minor alterations in the style. They seemed too low + in the ceiling. + </p> + <p> + Gustaf. What do you really want? + </p> + <p> + Gert. Oh, we want a great deal, although we haven't got through with + one-half of it yet. Yes, we want so many things and we want them so + quickly, that our reason cannot keep pace with them, and that's why it + has been lagging behind a little. Yes, we wish among other things to + change the furnishings a little in the churches, and to remove the + windows because the air seems so musty. Yes, and there is a lot more we + want, but that will have to wait for a while. + </p> + <p> + Gustaf (to Olof). That's a perilous disease—for anything else it + cannot be. + </p> + <p> + Olof. Who knows? + </p> + <p> + Gustaf. Now I am tired. You'll have a fortnight in which to get ready. + Your hand that you will help me! + </p> + <p> + Olof. I will do my part. + </p> + <p> + Gustaf. Give orders to have Rink and Knipperdollink sent to Malmö. + </p> + <p> + Olof. And then? + </p> + <p> + Gustaf. They'll have a chance to escape. That fool over there you can + send back to the asylum. Farewell! [Exit.] + </p> + <p> + Gert (shaking his clenched fist after Gustaf). Well, are we going? + </p> + <p> + Olof. Where? + </p> + <p> + Gert. Home. (Olof remains silent.) You don't wish to send your + father-in-law to the madhouse, do you, Olof? + </p> + <p> + Olof. You ask me what I wish—How about my duty? + </p> + <p> + Gert. Is there no duty above the royal command? + </p> + <p> + Olof. Are you beginning again? + </p> + <p> + Gert. What will Christine say if you put her father among madmen? + </p> + <p> + Olof. Tempt me not! + </p> + <p> + Gert. Do you see how difficult it is to serve the King? (Olof does not + answer.) I won't make you unhappy, my poor boy. Here's balm for your + conscience. (He takes out a document.) + </p> + <p> + Olof. What is it? + </p> + <p> + Gert. A certificate of health. You see, it is necessary to be a madman + among sane people, and sane among mad men. + </p> + <p> + Olof. How did you get it? + </p> + <p> + Gert. Don't you think I deserve it? + </p> + <p> + Olof. I can't tell. + </p> + <p> + Gert. True enough: you don't yet dare. + </p> + <p> + [Enter Servant.] + </p> + <p> + Servant. Will you please go your way. They 're about to sweep. + </p> + <p> + Gert. Perhaps the place has to be aired, too? + </p> + <p> + Servant. Yes, indeed! + </p> + <p> + Gert. Don't forget to open the windows. + </p> + <p> + Servant. No, you may be sure, and it's needed, too, for we are not + accustomed to this kind of company. + </p> + <p> + Gert. Look here, old man—I carry a greeting from your father. + </p> + <p> + Servant. Oh, you do? + </p> + <p> + Gert. Perhaps you never knew him? + </p> + <p> + Servant. Why, certainly! + </p> + <p> + Gert. Do you know what he said? + </p> + <p> + Servant. No. + </p> + <p> + Gert. Wet the broom, he said, or you'll get the dust all over yourself. + </p> + <p> + Servant. I don't understand. + </p> + <p> + Gert. Well, that's your only excuse. + </p> + <p> + [Exeunt Gert and Olof.] + </p> + <p> + Servant. Rabble! + </p> + SCENE 2 + <p> + (Olof's Study. There are windows in the background, through which the + sun is shining into the room. Trees are visible outside. Christine is + standing at one of the windows, watering her flowers. While doing so she + is prattling to some birds in a cage. Olof is seated at a table, + writing. With an impatient mien he looks up and across the room to + Christine as if he wished her to keep quiet. This happens several times, + until at last Christine knocks down one of the flower pots, when Olof + taps the floor lightly with his foot.) + </p> + <p> + Christine. Oh, my poor little flower! Look, Olof, four buds were broken + off. + </p> + <p> + Olof. Yes, I see. + </p> + <p> + Christine. No, you don't. You must come over here. + </p> + <p> + Olof. My dear, I haven't time. + </p> + <p> + Christine. You haven't looked at the starlings which I bought for you + this morning. Don't you think they sing sweetly? + </p> + <p> + Olof. Rather. + </p> + <p> + Christine. Rather? + </p> + <p> + Olof. It's hard for me to work when they are screaming like that. + </p> + <p> + Christine. They are not screaming, Olof, but you seem to be more fond of + a night bird that does scream. Tell me, what is the meaning of the owl + that appears on your signet ring? + </p> + <p> + Olof. The owl is an ancient symbol of wisdom. + </p> + <p> + Christine. I think that's stupid! Wise people don't love the darkness. + </p> + <p> + Olof. The wise man hates the darkness and the night, but his keen eye + turns night into day. + </p> + <p> + Christine. Why are you always right, Olof? Can you tell me? + </p> + <p> + Olof. Because I know it pleases you, my dear, to let me be in the right. + </p> + <p> + Christine. Now, you are right again.—What is that you are writing? + </p> + <p> + Olof. I am translating. + </p> + <p> + Christine. Read a little of it to me. + </p> + <p> + Olof. I don't think you could understand it. + </p> + <p> + Christine. Why shouldn't I? Is it not in Swedish? + </p> + <p> + Olof. Yes, but it is too abstract for you. + </p> + <p> + Christine. Abstract? What does that mean? + </p> + <p> + Olof. You wouldn't understand if I told you, but if you don't understand + what I read to you, then you understand what is meant by "abstract." + </p> + <p> + Christine (picking up a piece of half-finished embroidery). Go on and + read while I work at this. + </p> + <p> + Olof. Listen carefully, then, and forgive me if you find it tedious. + </p> + <p> + Christine. I shall understand because I want to. + </p> + <p> + Olof (reading). "Matter when considered separate from form is something + wholly without predictability, indeterminable and indistinguishable. For + nothing can originate out of pure non-being, but only out of the + non-being of reality, which is synonymous with being as a possibility. + Being in its possibility is no more non-being than is reality. For that + reason every existence is a realized possibility. Thus matter is to + Aristotle a much more positive substratum than to Plato, who declares it + to be pure non-being. And thereby it becomes plain how Aristotle could + conceive of matter in its opposition to form as a positive negativity." + </p> + <p> + Christine (throwing aside her work). Stop! Why is it that I cannot + understand that? Have I not the same mental faculties as you? I am + ashamed, Olof, because you have such a poor creature of a wife that she + cannot understand what you say. No, I will stick to my embroidery, I + will clean and dust your study, I will at least learn to read your + wishes in your eyes. I may become your slave, but never, never shall I + be able to understand you. Oh, Olof, I am not worthy of you! Why did you + make me your wife? You must have over-valued me in a moment of + intoxication. Now you will regret it, and we shall both be unhappy. + </p> + <p> + Olof. Christine! Don't take it like that, dear! Come and sit here by me. + (He picks up the embroidery.) Will you believe me if I tell you that I + couldn't possibly do a thing like this? Never in my life could I do it. + Are you not then cleverer than I, and am I not the lesser of us two? + </p> + <p> + Christine. But why can't you do it? + </p> + <p> + Olof. For the same reason that you couldn't understand me a moment ago: + I haven't learned how. And perhaps you will feel happy once more if I + tell you that you can learn to understand this book—which, by the + by, is not identical with me—while on the other hand, I could + never learn to do your work. + </p> + <p> + Christine. Why couldn't you? + </p> + <p> + Olof. Because I am not built that way and don't want to do it. + </p> + <p> + Christine. But if you wanted to? + </p> + <p> + Olof. Well, there, my dear, you have my weak point. I could never want + to do it. Believe me, you are stronger than I, for you have power over + your own will, but I have not. + </p> + <p> + Christine. Do you think I could learn to understand that book of yours? + </p> + <p> + Olof. I am convinced of it. But you must not. + </p> + <p> + Christine. Am I still to be kept in ignorance? + </p> + <p> + Olof. No, no—understand me right! The moment you understood what I + understand, you would cease to think of me as— + </p> + <p> + Christine. A god— + </p> + <p> + Olof. Let it go at that! But believe me, you would lose what now puts + you above me—the power to control your own will—and then you + would be less than I, and I could not respect you. Do you see? It stakes + us happy to overvalue each other; let us keep that illusion. + </p> + <p> + Christine. Now I don't understand you at all, but I must trust you, + Olof. You are right! + </p> + <p> + Olof. Please leave me alone, Christine—I beg you! + </p> + <p> + Christine. Do I disturb you? + </p> + <p> + Olof. There are some very serious thoughts that occupy me. You know, I + expect something decisive to happen today. The King has abdicated + because the people would not do what he desired. To-day I shall either + reach my goal or have to start the fight all over again. + </p> + <p> + Christine. May I not be happy to-day, Olof—on Midsummer Eve? + </p> + <p> + Olof. Why should you be so very happy to-day? + </p> + <p> + Christine. Why should I not—since I have been set free from + slavery and have become your wife? + </p> + <p> + Olof. Can you forgive me that my happiness is a little more sober + because it has cost me—a mother? + </p> + <p> + Christine. I know, and I feel it very deeply. But when your mother + learns of our marriage, she will forgive you and put her curse on me. + Whose burden will then be the heavier? However, it doesn't matter, + because it's borne for your sake. And this much I know: that terrible + struggles are awaiting you; that daring thoughts are growing in your + mind; and that I can never share your struggle, never help you with + advice, never defend you against those that vilify you—but still I + must look on, and through it all I must go on living in my own little + world, employing myself with petty things which you do not appreciate, + but would miss if they were not attended to. Olof, I cannot weep with + you, so you must help me to make you smile with me. Come down from those + heights which I cannot attain. Leave your battles on the hilltops and + return some time to our home. As I cannot ascend to you, you must + descend to me for a moment. Forgive me, Olof, if I talk childishly! I + know that you are a man sent by the Lord, and I have felt the blessing + with which your words are fraught. But you are more than that—you + are a man, and you are my husband—or at least ought to be. You + won't fall from your exalted place if you put aside your solemn speech + now and then and let the clouds pass from your forehead. You are not too + great, are you, to look at a flower or listen to a bird? I put the + flowers on your table, Olof, in order that they might rest your eyes—and + you ordered the maid to take them out because they gave you a headache. + I tried to cheer the lonely silence of your work by bringing the birds—whose + song you call screaming. I asked you to come to dinner a while ago—you + hadn't time. I wanted to talk to you—you hadn't time. You despise + this little corner of reality—and yet that is what you have set + aside for me. You don't want to lift me up to you—but try at least + not to push me further down. I will take away everything that might + disturb your thoughts. You shall have peace from me—and from my + rubbish! (She throws the flowers out of the window, picks up the + birdcage, and starts to leave.) + </p> + <p> + Olof. Christine, dear child, forgive me! You don't understand me! + </p> + <p> + Christine. Always the same: "You don't understand me!" Oh, I know now + what it means. In that moment in the sacristy I matured so completely + that I reached my second childhood at once! + </p> + <p> + Olof. I'll look at your birds and prattle with your flowers, dear heart. + </p> + <p> + Christine (putting aside the bird-cage). No, the time for prattle is + gone by—from now on we shall be serious. You need not fear my + boisterous happiness. It was only put on for your sake, and as it + doesn't suit your sombre calling, I'll—(She bursts into tears.) + </p> + <p> + Olof (putting his arms around her and kissing her.) Christine! + Christine! You are right! Please pardon me! + </p> + <p> + Christine. You gave me an unlucky gift, Olof, when you gave me freedom, + for I don't know what to do with it. I must have some one to obey! + </p> + <p> + Olof. And so you shall, but don't let us talk of it any more. Let us eat + now—in fact, I feel quite hungry. + </p> + <p> + Christine (pleased). Do you really know how to be hungry? (At that + moment she looks out of the window and makes a gesture of dismay.) Go + on, Olof, and I'll be with you in a moment. I only want to get things in + a little better order in here. + </p> + <p> + Olof (as he goes out). Don't let me wait so long for you as you have had + to wait for me. + </p> + <p> + (Christine folds her hands as if praying and takes up a position + indicating that she is waiting far somebody about to enter from the + street. Pause.) + </p> + <p> + [Enter Olof's Mother. She passes Christine without looking at her.] + </p> + <p> + Mother. Is Master Olof at home? + </p> + <p> + Christine (who has started to meet her in a friendly way, is taken aback + for a moment; then she answers in the same tone). No, but if you care to + be seated, he will be here soon. + </p> + <p> + Mother. Thank you! (She seats herself. Pause.) Bring me a glass of + water. (Christine waits on her.) Now you can leave me. + </p> + <p> + Christine. It is my housewifely duty to bear you company. + </p> + <p> + Mother. I didn't know that the housekeeper of a priest could call + herself a housewife. + </p> + <p> + Christine. I am the wife of Olof with the sanction of the Lord. Don't + you know that we are married? + </p> + <p> + Mother. You are a harlot—that's what I know! + </p> + <p> + Christine. That word I do not understand. + </p> + <p> + Mother. You are the same kind of woman as she with whom Master Olof was + talking that evening in the beer-shop. + </p> + <p> + Christine. The one that looked so unhappy? Yes, I don't feel very happy. + </p> + <p> + Mother. Of course not! Take yourself out of my sight! Your presence + shames me! + </p> + <p> + Christine (on her knees). For the sake of your son, don't heap abuse on + me! + </p> + <p> + Mother. With a mother's authority I command you to leave my son's house, + the threshold of which you have defiled. + </p> + <p> + Christine. As a housewife I open my door to whom I may choose to + receive. I should have closed it to you, had I been able to guess what + language you would use. + </p> + <p> + Mother. Big words, indeed! I command you to leave! + </p> + <p> + Christine. With what right do you force yourself into this house in + order to drive me out of my own home? You have borne a son, and raised + him—that was your duty, your mission, and you may thank your God + for being permitted to fill that mission so well, which is a good + fortune not granted to everybody. Now you have reached the edge of the + grave. Why not resign yourself before the end comes? Or have you raised + your son so poorly that he is still a child and needs your guidance? If + you want gratitude, come and look for it, but not in this way. Or do you + think it is the destiny of a child to sacrifice its own life merely to + show you gratitude? His mission is calling: "Go!" And you cry to him: + "Come to me, you ingrate!" Is he to go astray—is he to waste his + powers, that belong to his country, to mankind—merely for the + satisfaction of your private little selfishness? Or do you imagine that + the fact of having borne and raised him does even entitle you to + gratitude? Did not your life's mission and destiny lie in that? Should + you not thank the Lord for being given such a high mission? Or did you + do it only that you might spend the rest of your life clamoring for + gratitude? Don't you see that by using that word "gratitude" you tear + down all that you have built up before? And what makes you presume that + you have rights over me? Is marriage to mean a mortgaging of my free + will to anybody whom nature has made the mother or father of my husband—who + unfortunately could not exist without either? You are not <i>my</i> + mother. My troth was not pledged to you when I took Olof as my husband. + And I have sufficient respect for my husband not to permit anybody to + insult him, even if it be his own mother. That's why I have spoken as I + have! + </p> + <p> + Mother. Alas, such are the fruits borne by the teachings of my son! + </p> + <p> + Christine. If you choose to revile your son, it had better be in his + presence. (She goes to the door and calls.) Olof! + </p> + <p> + Mother. Such guile already! + </p> + <p> + Christine. Already? It's nothing new, I think, although I didn't know I + had it until it was needed. + </p> + <p> + [Enter Olof.] + </p> + <p> + Olof. Mother! I am right glad to see you! + </p> + <p> + Mother. Thanks, my son—and good-bye! + </p> + <p> + Olof. Are you going? What does that mean? I wish to talk to you. + </p> + <p> + Mother. No need! She has said all there is to say. You will not have to + show me the door. + </p> + <p> + Olof. In God's name, mother, what are you saying? Christine, what does + this mean? + </p> + <p> + Mother (about to leave). Good-bye, Olof! This is more than I can ever + forgive you! + </p> + <p> + Olof (trying to hold her back). Stay and explain, at least! + </p> + <p> + Mother. It was not worthy of you! To send her to tell me that you owe me + nothing and need me no more! Oh, that was cruel! [Exit.] + </p> + <p> + Olof. What did you say, Christine? + </p> + <p> + Christine. I don't remember, because there were so many things which I + had never dared to think, but which I must have dreamt while father kept + me still enslaved. + </p> + <p> + Olof. I don't know you any more, Christine. + </p> + <p> + Christine. No, I begin to feel a little lost myself. + </p> + <p> + Olof. Were you unkind to mother? + </p> + <p> + Christine. I suppose I was. Does it seem to you that I have grown hard, + Olof? + </p> + <p> + Olof. Did you show her the door? + </p> + <p> + Christine. Forgive me, Olof! I was not kind to her. + </p> + <p> + Olof. For my sake you might have made your words a little milder. Why + didn't you call me at once? + </p> + <p> + Christine. I wished to see if I had the strength to take care of myself. + Olof, would you sacrifice me to your mother, if she demanded it? + </p> + <p> + Olof. I cannot answer such a question offhand. + </p> + <p> + Christine. I'll do it in your place. It pleases you to submit willingly + to your mother's will and wish because you are strong—and I, on + the other hand, feel hurt by doing so, for I am weak. I will never do + it! + </p> + <p> + Olof. Not if I ask you? + </p> + <p> + Christine. That's more than you can ask. Or would you have me hate her?—Tell + me, Olof, what is meant by a "harlot"? + </p> + <p> + Olof. You ask such strange questions. + </p> + <p> + Christine. Will you please answer me? + </p> + <p> + Olof. Will you forgive me if I don't? + </p> + <p> + Christine. Always this unending silence! Do you not yet dare to tell me + all? Am I to be a child forever? Then you had better put me in a nursery + and talk baby-talk to me. + </p> + <p> + Olof. It means an unfortunate woman. + </p> + <p> + Christine. No, it means something more than that. + </p> + <p> + Olof. Has anybody dared to use that word to you? + </p> + <p> + Christine (after a pause). No. + </p> + <p> + Olof. Now you are not telling the truth, Christine. + </p> + <p> + Christine. I know I lie! Oh, since yesterday I have grown very wicked! + </p> + <p> + Olof. You are hiding something that happened yesterday! + </p> + <p> + Christine. I am—I thought that I could keep it to myself, but it + has grown too much for me. + </p> + <p> + Olof. Speak—I beg you! + </p> + <p> + Christine. But you mustn't call me silly! A crowd of people pursued me + all the way to our door and called after me that horrible word which I + don't understand. People do not laugh at an unfortunate woman— + </p> + <p> + Olof. Yes, dear, that's just what they do. + </p> + <p> + Christine. I didn't understand their words, but their actions were plain + enough to make me wicked! + </p> + <p> + Olof. And yet you were so kind to me! Forgive me if I have been hard to + you!—It is a name given by brute force to its own victims. Sooner + or later, you'll learn more about it, but never dare to defend an + "unfortunate woman"—for then they will throw mud at you! (A + messenger enters and hands him a letter.) At last! (After a glance at + the letter.) You read it to me, Christine! It is from your lips I want + to hear the glad tidings. + </p> + <p> + Christine (reading). "Young man, you have conquered! I, your enemy, + desire to be the first to tell you so, and I address myself to you + without any sense of humiliation because, in speaking for the new faith, + you have wielded no weapons but those of the spirit. Whether you be + right, I cannot tell, but I think you have deserved a piece of advice + from an older man: stop here, for your enemies are gone! Do not wage war + on creatures made of air, for that will lame your arm and you will die + of dry rot. Do not put your trust in princes—is another piece of + advice given you by a once powerful man who has now to step aside and + leave to the Lord to settle what is to become of his prostrated Church. + Johannes Brask." (Speaking.) You have conquered! + </p> + <p> + Olof (joyfully). I thank Thee, Lord, for this hour. (Pause.) No, it + scares me, Christine! This fortune is too great. I am too young to have + reached the goal already. To have no more to do—oh, what a + frightful thought! No further fighting—that would be death! + </p> + <p> + Christine. Oh, rest a moment, and be happy that it is over. + </p> + <p> + Olof. Can there be an end to anything? An end to such a beginning? No, + no!—Oh, that I could begin it all anew! It wasn't the victory I + wanted, but the fight! + </p> + <p> + Christine. Olof, do not tempt the Lord! I have a feeling that much + remains undone—very much, indeed! + </p> + <p> + [Enter Courtier.] + </p> + <p> + Courtier. Good-day to you, Secretary! And pleasant news! [Exit + Christine.] + </p> + <p> + Olof. Be welcome! Some of it I have heard already. + </p> + <p> + Courtier. Thanks for your splendid answering of that stupid Galle. You + went after him like a man. A little too fiercely, perhaps—not + quite so much fire, you know! And a little venom doesn't hurt. + </p> + <p> + Olof. You have news from the King? + </p> + <p> + Courtier. Yes, and you shall have a brief summary of the conditions + agreed on: First, mutual support for the resistance and punishment of + all rebellions. + </p> + <p> + Olof. Go on, if you please. + </p> + <p> + Courtier. Second, the King shall have the right to take possession of + the palaces and fortified places of the bishops, as well as to fix their + incomes— + </p> + <p> + Olof. Third— + </p> + <p> + Courtier. Now comes the best of all—the principal point of the + whole undertaking: Third, the nobility shall have the right to claim + whatever of its properties and inheritances have fallen to churches and + cloisters since the revision by King Carl Knutsson in 1454— + </p> + <p> + Olof. And fourth? + </p> + <p> + Courtier. Provided the heir can get twelve men under oath to attest his + right of inheritance at the assizes. (He folds the document from which + he has been reading.) + </p> + <p> + Olof. Have you finished? + </p> + <p> + Courtier. Yes. Isn't that pretty good? + </p> + <p> + Olof. Nothing more? + </p> + <p> + Courtier. Oh, there are a few minor points of no special importance. + </p> + <p> + Olof. Let me hear them. + </p> + <p> + Courtier (reading again). There is a fifth point about the right of + preachers to preach the word of God, but, of course, they have had that + all the time. + </p> + <p> + Olof. Nothing more? + </p> + <p> + Courtier. Yes, then comes the ordinance: a register is to be established + showing the amount of tithes collected by all bishops, chapters, and + canons, and the King shall have the right to prescribe— + </p> + <p> + Olof. Oh, that's neither here nor there! + </p> + <p> + Courtier.—how much of those may be retained, and how much shall be + surrendered to him for the use of the Crown; furthermore, all + Appointments to spiritual offices—and this ought to interest you—to + spiritual offices, minor as well as major, can hereafter be made only + with the sanction of the King, so that— + </p> + <p> + Olof. Will you please read me the point dealing with the faith— + </p> + <p> + Courtier. The faith—there is nothing about it. Oh, yes, let me see—from + this day the Gospel is to be read in all schoolhouses. + </p> + <p> + Olof. Is that all? + </p> + <p> + Courtier. All? Oh, no, I remember! I have a special order from the King + to you—and a most sensible one—that, as the people are + stirred up over all these innovations, you must by no means disturb the + old forms; must not abolish masses, holy water, nor any other usage, nor + furthermore indulge in any reckless acts, for hereafter the King will + not close his eyes to your escapades as he has had to do in the past, + when he lacked power to do otherwise. + </p> + <p> + Olof. I see! And the new faith which he has permitted me to preach so + far? + </p> + <p> + Courtier. It is to ripen slowly.—It will come! It will come! + </p> + <p> + Olof. Is there anything more? + </p> + <p> + Courtier (rising). No. If you will only keep calm now, you may go very + far. Oh, yes—I came near forgetting the best part of all. My dear + Pastor, permit me to congratulate you! Here is your appointment. Pastor + of the city church, with an income of three thousand, at your age—indeed, + you could now settle down in peace and enjoy life, even if you were + never to get any further. It is splendid to have reached one's goal + while still so young. I congratulate you! [Exit.] + </p> + <p> + Olof (flinging the appointment on the floor). So this is all that I have + fought and suffered for! An appointment! A royal appointment! I have + been serving Belial instead of God! Woe be to you, false King, who have + sold your Lord and God! Alas for me, who have sold my life and my labors + to mammon! O God in Heaven, forgive me! (He throws himself, weeping, on + a bench.) + </p> + <p> + [Enter Christine and Gert. Christine comes forward, while Gert remains + in the background.] + </p> + <p> + Christine (picks up the appointment and reads it; then she runs to Olof, + her face beaming). Now, Olof, I can wish you joy with a happy heart! + (She starts to caress him, but he leaps to his feet and pushes her + away.) + </p> + <p> + Olof. Leave me alone! You, too! + </p> + <p> + Gert (coming forward). Well, Olof, the faith— + </p> + <p> + Olof. The lack of faith, you mean! + </p> + <p> + Gert. The Pope is beaten, isn't he? Hadn't we better begin with the + Emperor soon? + </p> + <p> + Olof. We began at the wrong end. + </p> + <p> + Gert. At last! + </p> + <p> + Olof. You were right, Gert! I am with you now! It's war, but it must be + open and honest. + </p> + <p> + Gert. Until to-day you have been dreaming childish dreams. + </p> + <p> + Olof. I know it. Now the flood is coming! Let it come! Alas for them and + for us! + </p> + <p> + Christine. Olof, for Heaven's sake, stop! + </p> + <p> + Olof. Leave me, child! Here you will be drowned, or you will drag me + down. + </p> + <p> + Gert. What made you venture out in the storm, my child? + </p> + <p> + [Exit Christine.] + </p> + <p> + (The ringing of bells, the joyful shouting of crowds, and the sounding + of drums and trumpets become audible.) + </p> + <p> + Olof (going to the window). What has set the people shouting? + </p> + <p> + Gert. The King is providing them with a maypole and music outside North + Gate. + </p> + <p> + Olof. And are they not aware that he will chasten them with swords + instead of rods? + </p> + <p> + Gert. Aware? If they were! + </p> + <p> + Olof. Poor children! They dance to his piping and follow his drums to + their death! Must all die, then, in order that one may live? + </p> + <p> + Gert. No, one shall die that all may live! + </p> + <p> + (Olof makes a gesture dismay and repugnance.) + </p> + <a name="link2H_4_0006" id="link2H_4_0006"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + ACT IV + </h2> + <p> + (A Room in the House of Olof's Mother. At the right stands a bedstead + with four posts, in which the Mother is lying sick. Christine is asleep + on a chair. Lars Pedersson is renewing the oil of the night-lamp and + turning the hour glass.) + </p> + <p> + Lars (speaking to himself). Midnight—Now comes the critical time. + (He goes to the bed and listens. At that moment Christine moans in her + sleep. He crosses the room and wakens her.) Christine! (She wakes with a + start.) Go to bed, child; I will watch. + </p> + <p> + Christine. No, I will wait. I must speak to her before she dies—I + think Olof should be here soon. + </p> + <p> + Lars. It is for his sake you are watching! + </p> + <p> + Christine. Yes, and you mustn't say that I have slept. Do you hear? + </p> + <p> + Lars. Poor girl!—You're not happy! + </p> + <p> + Christine. Who says one should be happy? + </p> + <p> + Lars. Does Olof know that you are here? + </p> + <p> + Christine. No, he would never permit it. He wants to keep me like the + carved image of some saint standing on a shelf. The smaller and weaker + he can make me, the greater is his pleasure in placing his strength at + my feet— + </p> + <p> + Mother (waking). Lars! (Christine holds back Lars and steps forward.) + Who is that? + </p> + <p> + Christine. The nurse. + </p> + <p> + Mother. Christine! + </p> + <p> + Christine. Do you want anything? + </p> + <p> + Mother. Nothing from you. + </p> + <p> + Christine. Dame Christine! + </p> + <p> + Mother. Don't make my last moments more bitter. Go away from here! + </p> + <p> + Lars (coming forward). What do you want, mother? + </p> + <p> + Mother. Take away that woman! And bring the father confessor—I + shall soon die. + </p> + <p> + Lars. Is not your own son worthy of receiving your last confidences? + </p> + <p> + Mother. No, he has done nothing to deserve them. Has Mårten come yet? + </p> + <p> + Lars. Mårten is a bad man. + </p> + <p> + Mother. O Lord, how terrible Thy punishment! My children standing + between myself and Thee! Am I then to be denied the consolations of + religion in my last moments? You have taken my life—do you want to + destroy my soul, too—the soul of your mother? (She falls into a + faint.) + </p> + <p> + Lars. Do you hear that, Christine! What are we to do? Shall we let her + die in the deception practised on her by a miserable wretch like Mårten—and + perhaps get her thanks for it—or shall we turn her final prayer + into a curse? No, let them come, rather! Or what do you think, + Christine? + </p> + <p> + Christine. I dare not think at all. + </p> + <p> + Lars (goes out for a moment, but returns quickly). Oh, it is horrible! + They have fallen asleep over their dice and their tumblers. And by such + as those my mother is to be prepared for her death! + </p> + <p> + Christine. But why not tell her the truth? + </p> + <p> + Lars. She won't believe it, and it is cast back on us as a lie. + </p> + <p> + Mother. My son, won't you listen to your mother's last request? + </p> + <p> + Lars (going out). May God forgive me! + </p> + <p> + Christine. Olof would never have done that! + </p> + <p> + (Lars returns with Mårten and Nils, whereupon he leads Christine out of + the room.) + </p> + <p> + Mårten (going up to the bed). She's sleeping. + </p> + <p> + Nils (places a box on the floor, opens it, and begins to take out + aspersorium, censer, chrismatory, palms, and candles). That means we + can't go to work yet. + </p> + <p> + Mårten. If we have waited all this time, we can afford to wait a little + longer—provided that damned priest doesn't show up. + </p> + <p> + Nils. Master Olof, you mean?—Do you think that fellow out there + noticed anything? + </p> + <p> + Mårten. What do I care? As soon as the old woman gives up the coin, I am + free. + </p> + <p> + Nils. You 're a pretty thorough-paced rascal, you are! + </p> + <p> + Mårten. Yes, but I am getting tired of it. I am beginning to long for + peace. Do you know what life is? + </p> + <p> + Nils. No. + </p> + <p> + Mårten. Pleasure! "The flesh was God!" Isn't that the way it's written + somewhere? + </p> + <p> + Nils. "The Word became flesh," you mean? + </p> + <p> + Mårten. Oh, yes—of course! + </p> + <p> + Nils. You might have been it pretty big man, with your head! + </p> + <p> + Mårten. Yes, indeed! That's what they feared, and that's why they + whipped the soul out of my body in the convent—for after all I had + a soul once! But now there's nothing but body left, and now the body is + going to have its turn. + </p> + <p> + Nils. And I suppose they whipped all conscience out of you at the same + time? + </p> + <p> + Mårten. Well, practically.—But now I want that recipe for spiced + Rochelle which you were talking of when we fell asleep out there. + </p> + <p> + Nils. Did I say Rochelle? I meant claret. That is, it can be either the + one or the other. Well, you take a gallon of wine and half a pound of + cardamom that has been well cleaned— + </p> + <p> + Mårten. Hush—damn you! She is moving. Out with the book! + </p> + <p> + Nils (keeps on reading in an undertone during the following scene). + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Aufer immensam, Deus aufer iram; + Et cruentatum cohibe flagellum + Nec scelus nostrum proferes ad aequam + Pendere lancem. +</pre> + <p> + Mother. Is that you, Mårten? + </p> + <p> + Mårten. It's Brother Nils praying to the Holy Virgin. (Nils lights the + censer without interrupting his reading.) + </p> + <p> + Mother. What a precious boon to hear the word of the Lord in the sacred + tongue! + </p> + <p> + Mårten. No sweeter sacrifice is known to God than the prayers of pious + souls. + </p> + <p> + Mother. Like the incense, my heart is set on fire with holy devotion. + </p> + <p> + Mårten (sprinkling her with holy water). The stains of sin are by your + God washed off! + </p> + <p> + Mother. Amen!—Mårten, I am passing away—The godlessness of + the King makes it impossible for me by earthly gifts to strengthen the + Holy Church in her power of saving souls. You are a pious man—take + my property and pray for me and for my children. Pray that the Almighty + may turn their hearts away from all lies, so that some time we may meet + again in heaven. + </p> + <p> + Mårten (taking the bag of money she hands him). Goodwife, your sacrifice + is acceptable to the Lord, and for your sake my prayers will be heard by + God. + </p> + <p> + Mother. I want to sleep awhile in order to be strong enough to receive + the last sacrament. + </p> + <p> + Mårten. No one shall disturb your final moments—not even those who + were your children once. + </p> + <p> + Mother. It seems cruel, Father Mårten, but it's the will of God. (She + falls asleep; Mårten and Nils withdraw from the bed.) + </p> + <p> + Mårten (opening the bag and kissing the gold coins). What stores of + pleasure lie hidden beneath the hardness of this gold—Ah! + </p> + <p> + Nils. Are we going now? + </p> + <p> + Mårten. Oh, we might, as our errand here is done, but I think it would + be a pity to let the old woman die unsaved. + </p> + <p> + Nils. Unsaved? + </p> + <p> + Mårten. Yes! + </p> + <p> + Nils. Do you believe in that? + </p> + <p> + Mårten. It's hard to know what one is to believe nowadays. One dies + happily in this faith, and another in that. All assert that they have + found the truth. + </p> + <p> + Nils. And if you were to die now, Mårten? + </p> + <p> + Mårten. That's out of the question! + </p> + <p> + Nils. But if? + </p> + <p> + Mårten. Then I suppose I should go to heaven like the rest. But I should + prefer to settle a small account with Master Olof first. You see, there + is one pleasure that surpasses all the rest, and that's the pleasure of + revenge. + </p> + <p> + Nils. What has he done to you? + </p> + <p> + Mårten. He has dared to see through me; he has exposed me; he can read + what I am thinking—Oh! + </p> + <p> + Nils. And that's why you hate him? + </p> + <p> + Mårten. Isn't that enough? (Somebody is heard knocking on the door + leading to the street.) Somebody is coming! Read, damn you! + </p> + <p> + (Nils begins to drone out the same verse as before. The sound of a key + being inserted in the lock is heard. The door is opened from the + outside.) + </p> + <p> + [Enter Olof, looking greatly agitated.] + </p> + <p> + Mother (waking up). Father Mårten! + </p> + <p> + Olof (goes to the bed). Here is your son, mother! Why didn't you let me + know that you were sick? + </p> + <p> + Mother. Farewell, Olof! I forgive you all the evil you have done to me, + if you will not disturb the few moments I need to prepare myself for + heaven. Father Mårten! Bring here the sacred ointment, so that I may die + in peace. + </p> + <p> + Olof. So that's why you didn't call me! (He catches sight of the money + bag which Mårten has forgotten to hide, and snatches it away from the + monk.) Oh, souls are being bartered here! And this was to be the price! + Leave this room and this death-bed! Here is my place, not yours! + </p> + <p> + Mårten. You mean to prevent us from fulfilling our office? + </p> + <p> + Olof. I am showing you the door! + </p> + <p> + Mårten. As long as we are not suspended, we are doing our duty here by + the King's authority, and not by the Pope's. + </p> + <p> + Olof. I shall cleanse the Church of the lord without regard to the will + of King or Pope. + </p> + <p> + Mother. Will you plunge my soul into perdition, Olof? Will you let me + die with a curse? + </p> + <p> + Olof. Calm yourself, mother! You are not going to die in a lie. Seek + your God in prayer, He is not so far away as you believe. + </p> + <p> + Mårten. A man who won't save his own mother from the pangs of purgatory + must be the Devil's prophet indeed. + </p> + <p> + Mother. Christ Jesu, help my soul! + </p> + <p> + Olof. Will you leave this room, or must I use force? Take away that + rubbish! (He kicks the ritual accessories across the floor.) + </p> + <p> + Mårten. I'll go if you'll let me have the money your mother has given to + the Church. + </p> + <p> + Mother. So that's why you came, Olof? You wanted my gold! Let him have + it, Mårten. I'll let you have all of it, Olof, if you will only leave me + in peace! I'll give you more than that! I'll let you have everything! + </p> + <p> + Olof (driven to despair). In God's name, take the money and go! I beg + you! + </p> + <p> + Mårten (grabbing the bag and going out with Nils). Where the Devil is + abroad, there our power ends, Dame Christine! (To Olof.) As a heretic + you are lost for all eternity! As a law-breaker you will get your + punishment right here! Beware of the King! [Exeunt.] + </p> + <p> + Olof (kneeling beside his mother's bed). Mother, listen to me before you + die! (The Mother has lost consciousness.) Mother, mother, if you are + alive, speak to your son! Forgive me, but I could not act except as I + have done. I know you have been suffering all your life for my sake. You + have been praying to God that I should keep His paths. The Lord has + heard your prayer. Do you want me now to render your whole life futile? + Do you want me now, by obeying you, to destroy that structure which has + cost you so much in toil and tears? Forgive me! + </p> + <p> + Mother. Olof, my soul is no longer of this world—it's out of + another life I speak to you: turn back! Break that unclean bond which + ties your body only. Take back the faith you got from me, and I will + forgive you! + </p> + <p> + Olof (weeping bitterly). Mother! Mother! + </p> + <p> + Mother. Swear that you will do it! + </p> + <p> + Olof (after long silence). No! + </p> + <p> + Mother. The curse of God is upon you—I see Him—I see His + angry look—Help me, Holy Virgin! + </p> + <p> + Olof. That is not the God of love! + </p> + <p> + Mother. It is the God of retribution!—It is you who have provoked + His ire—and it is you who now cast me into the flames of His + wrath!—Cursed be the hour when I bore you! (She dies.) + </p> + <p> + Olof. Mother! Mother! (He takes her hand.) She's dead! And she has not + forgiven me!—Oh, if your soul be still within this room, behold + your son: I will do your will, and what was sacred to you shall be + sacred to me! (He lights the tall wax candles left behind by the friars + and places them around the bed.) You shall have the consecrated candles + that are to light your road. (He puts a palm leaf in her hand.) And with + this palm of peace shall come forgetfulness of that last struggle with + what was earthly. Oh, mother, if you see me now, then you must forgive + me! (In the meantime the sun has risen, and the red glow of its first + rays lights up the curtains; at the sight of it, Olof leaps to his + feet.) You make my candles fade, O morning sun! You have more love than + I! (He goes to the window and opens it.) + </p> + <p> + Lars (entering softly and looking around surprised). Olof! + </p> + <p> + Olof (putting his arms around him). Brother, all is over! Lars (goes to + the bed and kneels for a moment; then he rises again). She is dead! (He + prays silently.) You were here alone? + </p> + <p> + Olof. It was you who let in the monks. + </p> + <p> + Lars. And you who drove them out. + </p> + <p> + Olof. That should have been your task. + </p> + <p> + Lars. She forgave you? + </p> + <p> + Olof. She died with a curse on her lips. (Pause.) + </p> + <p> + Lars (pointing to the candles). Who arranged these ceremonies? (Pause.) + </p> + <p> + Olof (irritated and humiliated). I weakened for a moment. + </p> + <p> + Lars. So you are human, after all? I thank you for it! + </p> + <p> + Olof. Are you mocking my weakness? + </p> + <p> + Lars. I am praising it. + </p> + <p> + Olof. And I am cursing it!—God in heaven, am I not right? + </p> + <p> + Lars. No, you are wrong. + </p> + <p> + [Enter Christine while Lars is still speaking.] + </p> + <p> + Christine. You are too much in the right! + </p> + <p> + Olof. Christine, what are you doing here? + </p> + <p> + Christine. It was so silent and lonesome at home. + </p> + <p> + Olof. I asked you not to come here. + </p> + <p> + Christine. I thought I might be of some use, but I see now—Another + time I shall stay at home. + </p> + <p> + Olof. You have been awake all night? + </p> + <p> + Christine. That is nothing! I will go now if you tell me to! + </p> + <p> + Olof. Go in there and rest a little while we talk. (Christine begins + absentmindedly to extinguish the candles.) + </p> + <p> + Olof. What are you doing, dear? + </p> + <p> + Christine. Why, it is full daylight. + </p> + <p> + (Lars gives Olof a significant glance.) + </p> + <p> + Olof. My mother is dead, Christine. + </p> + <p> + Christine (as she goes to Olof to let him kiss her on the forehead, the + look on her face is compassionate but cold). I am sorry for your loss. + [Exit Christine.] + </p> + <p> + (Pause. The brothers look for a moment in the direction where she + disappeared, then at each other.) + </p> + <p> + Lars. I beg you, Olof, as your friend and brother, don't go on as you + have been doing. + </p> + <p> + Olof. The old story! But he who has put his axe to the tree cannot draw + back until the tree is down. The King has betrayed our cause. Now I will + see what I can do for it. + </p> + <p> + Lars. The King is wise. + </p> + <p> + Olof. He is a miser, a traitor, and a protector of the nobility. First + he uses me to hunt his game, and then he wants to kick me out. + </p> + <p> + Lars. He sees farther than you do. If you were to go to three million + people, telling them: "Your faith is false; believe my words instead"—do + you think it possible that they would at once cast aside their most + intimate and most keenly experienced conviction, which until then had + been a support to them in sorrow as well as in joy? No, the life of the + soul would be in a bad condition, indeed, if all the old things could be + disposed of so quickly. + </p> + <p> + Olof. But it is not so. The whole people is full of doubt. Among the + priests there is hardly one who knows what to believe—if he cares + to believe anything at all. Everything is ready for the new, and it is + only you who are to blame—you weaklings whose consciences will not + permit you to sow doubt where nothing but a feeble faith remains. + </p> + <p> + Lars. Look out, Olof! You wish to play the part of God. + </p> + <p> + Olof. Well, that is what we must do, for I don't think that He Himself + intends to conic down to us any more. + </p> + <p> + Lars. You are tearing down and tearing down, Olof, so that soon there + will be nothing left, and when people ask, "What do we get instead?" you + always answer, "Not this," "Not that," but never once do you answer, + "This." + </p> + <p> + Olof. Presumptuous man! Do you think faith can be given by one to + another? Do you think that Luther has given us anything new? No! He has + merely torn away the screens that had been placed around the light. The + new that I want is doubt of the old, not because it is old, but because + it is decaying. (Lars points toward their mother's body.) I know what + you mean. She was too old, and I thank God that she is dead. Now I am + free—only now! God has willed it! + </p> + <p> + Lars. Either you have lost your senses, or you are a wicked man! + </p> + <p> + Olof. Don't reproach me! I have as much respect for our mother's memory + as you have, but if she had not died now, I don't know how far my + sacrifices might have gone. Have you noticed in the springtime, brother, + how the fallen leaves of yesteryear cover the ground as if to smother + all the young; things that are coming out? What do these do? They push + aside the withered leaves, or pass right through them, because they must + get up! + </p> + <p> + Lars. You are right to a certain extent.—Olof, you broke the laws + of the Church during a time of lawlessness and unrest. What could be + forgiven then must be punished now. Don't force the King to appear worse + than he is. Don't let your scorn for the law and your wilfulness force + him to punish a man to whom he acknowledges himself indebted. + </p> + <p> + Olof. Nothing is more wilful than his own rule, and he must learn to + tolerate the same thing in others. Tell me you have taken service with + the King—are you going to work against me? + </p> + <p> + Lars. I am. + </p> + <p> + Olof. Then we are enemies, and that is what I need, for the old ones + have disappeared. + </p> + <p> + Lars. But the tie of blood, Olof— + </p> + <p> + Olof. I know it only in its source, which is the heart. + </p> + <p> + Lars. Yet you wept for our mother. + </p> + <p> + Olof. Weakness, or perhaps a touch of old devotion and gratitude, but + not because of the tie of blood. What is it, anyhow? + </p> + <p> + Lars. You are tired out, Olof. + </p> + <p> + Olof. Yes, I feel exhausted; I have been awake all night. + </p> + <p> + Lars. You were so late in coming. + </p> + <p> + Olof. I was out. + </p> + <p> + Lars. Your doings seem to shun the daylight. + </p> + <p> + Olof. The daylight shuns my doings. + </p> + <p> + Lars. Beware of false apostles of freedom! + </p> + <p> + Olof (struggling with sleepiness and fatigue). That's a + self-contradictory term. Oh, don't talk to me—I can't stand any + more. I spoke so much at our meeting—But you don't know about our + society—Concordia res parvae crescunt—We mean to continue + the Reformation—Gert is a farsighted man—I seem so small + beside him—Good-night, Lars! (He falls asleep on a chair.) + </p> + <p> + Lars (stands looking at him with solicitude). Poor brother—may God + protect you! (Resounding blows on the street door are heard.) What's + that? (He goes to the window.) + </p> + <p> + Gert (outside). For God's sake, open! + </p> + <p> + Lars. Why, it isn't a matter of life and death, Father Gert. [Exit.] + </p> + <p> + Gert (outside). In God's name, let me in! + </p> + <p> + [Enter Christine with a blanket.] + </p> + <p> + Christine. Olof, why are they knocking like that? He's asleep! (She + wraps him up in the blanket.) Oh, that I were Sleep, so that you might + flee to me when tired out by your struggles! + </p> + <p> + (The rattle of a heavy cart is heard; then the cart comes to a stop + outside the house.). + </p> + <p> + Olof (waking up with a start). Is it five already? + </p> + <p> + Christine. No, it is only three. + </p> + <p> + Olof. Wasn't that a baker's cart I heard? + </p> + <p> + Christine. I don't know, but I don't think it would make such a noise. + (She goes to the window.) Look, Olof! What can this he? + </p> + <p> + Olof (going to the window). The headsman's cart!—No, it isn't + that. + </p> + <p> + Christine. It is a hearse! + </p> + <p> + [Enter Lars and Gert.] + </p> + <p> + Lars. The plague! + </p> + <p> + All. The plague! + </p> + <p> + Gert. The plague is here! Christine, my child, leave this house! The + angel of death has put his mark upon the gate. + </p> + <p> + Olof. Who sent the cart? + </p> + <p> + Gert. The man who put the black cross on the door. No dead body must be + left a moment in the house. + </p> + <p> + Olof. Then Mårten was the angel of death—and all is nothing but a + lie. + </p> + <p> + Gert. Look out of the window, and you'll see that the cart is loaded + full. (Blows are heard at the street door again.) You hear! They're + waiting! + </p> + <p> + Olof. Without proper burial? That shall never be! + </p> + <p> + Lars. Without ceremonies, Olof! + </p> + <p> + Gert. Come away with me, Christine, from this dreadful place! I'll take + you out of the city to some healthier spot. + </p> + <p> + Christine. I will stay with Olof after this. If you, father, had loved + me a little less, you would not have done so much harm. + </p> + <p> + Gert. Olof, you who have the power, command her to follow me + </p> + <p> + Olof. I set her free from your tyranny once, you selfish man, and she + shall never return to it again. + </p> + <p> + Gert. Christine, get out of this house, at least! + </p> + <p> + Christine. Not a step until Olof orders me. + </p> + <p> + Olof. I will no longer order you at all, Christine—remember that! + </p> + <p> + [Enter several Buriers.] + </p> + <p> + Burier. I've come for a body. No time to spare! + </p> + <p> + Olof. Begone from here! + </p> + <p> + Burier. The King's order! + </p> + <p> + Lars. Consider what you do, Olof! The law demands it! + </p> + <p> + Gert. This is no time to hesitate! The crazy mob is aroused against you. + This house was the first one to be marked, and they are crying: "God's + punishment upon the heretic!" + </p> + <p> + Olof (kneeling beside the bed). Mother, forgive! (Rising.) Do your duty! + </p> + <p> + (The Buriers come forward and begin to get their ropes ready.) + </p> + <p> + Gert (aside to Olof). "God's punishment upon the King" is our cry! + </p> + <a name="link2H_4_0007" id="link2H_4_0007"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + ACT V + </h2> + <h3> + SCENE I + </h3> + <p> + (The Cemetery of the Convent of St. Clara. In the background appears a + partly demolished convent building, from which a gang of workmen are + carrying out timber and debris. At the left is a mortuary chapel. Its + windows are lighted from within, and whenever the door is opened, a + brilliantly illuminated crucifix on the chancel wall, with a sarcophagus + standing in front of it, becomes visible. A number of the graves have + been opened. The moon is just rising from behind the ruined convent. + Windrank is seated outside the chapel door. Singing is heard from within + the chapel.) + </p> + <p> + [Enter Nils.] + </p> + <p> + Nils (goes up to Windrank). Good evening, Windrank. + </p> + <p> + Windrank. Please don't talk to me. + </p> + <p> + Nils. What's the matter now? + </p> + <p> + Windrank. Didn't you hear what I told you? + </p> + <p> + Nils. Has your scurvy ending as a skipper affected you so badly that you + think of turning monk? + </p> + <p> + Windrank. 52, 53, 54, 55, 56, 57. + </p> + <p> + Nils. You haven't lost your reason, have you? + </p> + <p> + Windrank. 58, 59, 60—In the name of Jesu, get away from here! + </p> + <p> + Nils. You had better have a little nightcap with me. + </p> + <p> + Windrank. 64, 65—That's what I expected! Get you gone, tempter! + I'll never take a drink again—until the day after to-morrow. + </p> + <p> + Nils. But it's a fine remedy against the plague, and with all this + cadaverous stuff about, you had better be careful. + </p> + <p> + Windrank. 70—So you really think it's good for the plague? + </p> + <p> + Nils. Excellent! + </p> + <p> + Windrank. Only a drop, then! (He drinks from the bottle offered him by + Nils.) + </p> + <p> + Nils. Only a drop! But tell me, are you suffering from vertigo since you + are counting to a hundred? + </p> + <p> + Windrank. Hush! Hush! There's an epoch coming. + </p> + <p> + Nils. An epoch? + </p> + <p> + Windrank. Yes, the day after to-morrow. + </p> + <p> + Nils. And that's why you keep counting like that? + </p> + <p> + Windrank. No, it's only because I find it so hard to hold my tongue. + Now, for heaven's sake, keep quiet! Please go away, or you'll get me + into trouble!—71, 72, 73. + </p> + <p> + Nils. Who's inside? + </p> + <p> + Windrank. 74, 75. + </p> + <p> + Nils. Is it a funeral? + </p> + <p> + Windrank. 76, 77.—Go to hell, won't you! + </p> + <p> + Nils. Just another tiny drop, and the counting will be easier. + </p> + <p> + Windrank. Just a little one—I will! (He drinks. Singing is heard + outside.) + </p> + <p> + Nils. Here come the nuns of St. Clara to celebrate the memory of their + saint for the last time. + </p> + <p> + Windrank. That's fine mummery in days like these when everybody is + getting educated. + </p> + <p> + Nils. They have obtained the King's permission. You see, the plague + broke out in the parish of St. Clara, and some believe it was because of + the godless destruction of St. Clara's convent. + </p> + <p> + Windrank. And now they mean to drive away the plague with singing—as + if that bugaboo were a hater of music. But, of course, it wouldn't be a + wonder if he did flee from their hoarse screeching. + </p> + <p> + Nils. Will you please tell me who has dared to invade this last + sanctuary—for it's here the bones of the Saint are to be deposited + before the place is torn down entirely. + </p> + <p> + Windrank. Then there'll be a fight, I fear. + </p> + <p> + [The singing has drawn nearer. A procession enters, made up of Dominican + friars and Franciscan nuns, headed by Mårten. They come to a halt and + continue singing, while the workmen are making a great deal of noise in + the background.] + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +Procession. Cur super vermes luteos furorem + Sunnis, O magni fabricator orbis! + Quid sumus quam fex, putris, umbra, pulvis + Glebaque terrae! +</pre> + <p> + Mårten (to the Abbess). You can see, my sister, how the abode of the + Lord has been despoiled. + </p> + <p> + Abbess. The Lord who has delivered us into the hands of the Egyptians + will also set its free in due time. + </p> + <p> + Mårten (to the workmen). Cease working, and do not disturb our pious + task! + </p> + <p> + Overseer. Our orders are to work day and night until this den has been + torn down. + </p> + <p> + Abbess. Alas, that unbelief has spread so far down among the people! + </p> + <p> + Mårten. We are celebrating this feast with the permission of the King. + </p> + <p> + Overseer. Well, I don't mind! + </p> + <p> + Mårten. And therefore I command you to cease your noise. I'll appeal + directly to your workmen, whom you have forced into this shameless + undertaking.—I'll ask them if they have any respect whatever left + for holy— + </p> + <p> + Overseer. You had better not, for I am in command here. Furthermore, I + can tell you that they are glad enough to have a chance of tearing down + these hornets' nests for which they themselves have had to pay—and + then, too, they are pretty thankful to earn something during a time of + famine. (He goes toward the background.) + </p> + <p> + Mårten. Let us forget the wickedness and tumult of this world. Let us + enter the sacred place and pray for them. + </p> + <p> + Abbess. Lord, Lord, the cities of Thy sanctuary are laid waste! Zion is + laid waste, and Jerusalem is lying desolate! + </p> + <p> + Windrank. 100.—Nobody can get in here! + </p> + <p> + The Conspirators (within the chapel). We swear! + </p> + <p> + Mårten. Who has dared to invade the chapel? + </p> + <p> + Windrank. It's no more a chapel since it has become a royal storehouse. + </p> + <p> + Abbess. That's why the godless one gave us his permission! + </p> + <p> + [The door of the chapel is thrown open and the conspirators appear; + among them Olof, Lars Andersson, Gert, the German, the Dane, the Man + from Smaland, and others.] + </p> + <p> + Olof (much excited). What kind of buffoonery is this? + </p> + <p> + Mårten. Make way for the handmaidens of St. Clara! + </p> + <p> + Olof. Do you think your idols can keep away the plague that God has sent + you as a punishment? Do you think the Lord will find those pieces of + bone you carry in the box there so pleasant that He forgives all your + dreadful sins? Take away that abomination! (He takes the reliquary from + the Abbess and throws it into one of the open graves.) From dust you + have come, and to dust you shall return, even if your name was Sancta + Clara da Spoleto and you ate only three ounces of bread a day and slept + among the swine at night! (The nuns scream.) + </p> + <p> + Mårten. If you fear not what is holy, fear at least your temporal ruler. + Look here! He has still so much respect left for divine things that he + dreads the wrath of the saint. (He shows a document to Olof.) + </p> + <p> + Olof. Do you know what the Lord did with the king of the Assyrians when + he permitted the worship of idols? He smote him and all his people. Thus + the righteous is made to suffer with the unrighteous. In the name of the + one omnipotent God, I declare this worship of Baal abolished, even if + all the kings of the earth give their permit. The Pope wanted to sell my + soul to Satan, but I tore the contract to pieces—you remember? + Should I then fear a King who wants to sell his people to the Baalim? + (He tears the document to pieces.) + </p> + <p> + Mårten (to his followers). You are my witnesses that he has defamed the + King. + </p> + <p> + Olof (to his followers). And you are my witnesses before God that I have + led the people of a godless King away from him! + </p> + <p> + Mårten. Listen, ye faithful! It is because of this heretic that God has + smitten us with the plague—it is the punishment of God, and it + fell first of all on his mother. + </p> + <p> + Olof. Listen, ye faithless papists! It was the punishment of the Lord on + me because I had served Sennacherib against Judah. I will atone my crime + by leading Judah against the kings of the Assyrians and the Egyptians. + </p> + <p> + (The moon has risen in the meantime. It is very red, and a fiery glare + pervades the place. The crowd is frightened.) + </p> + <p> + Olof (mounting one of the graves). Heaven is weeping blood over your + sins and your idolatry. Punishment shall be meted out, for those in + authority have fallen into wrongdoing. Can't you see that the very + graves are yawning for prey— + </p> + <p> + (Gert seizes Olof by the arm, whispers to him, and leads him down from + the mound. The crowd is panic-stricken.) + </p> + <p> + Abbess. Give us back our reliquary, so that we may abandon this home of + desolation. + </p> + <p> + Mårten. It is better to let the bones of the Saint remain in this + consecrated soil than to have them touched by the vile hands of + heretics! + </p> + <p> + Olof. You are afraid of the plague, cowards that you are! Is your faith + in the sacred bones no stronger? + </p> + <p> + (Gert whispers to Olof again. The procession has in the meantime + scattered, so that only a part of it remains on the stage.) + </p> + <p> + Olof (to Mårten). Now you should be satisfied, you hypocrite! Go and + tell him whom you serve that a box of silver is about to be buried here, + and he'll dig it out of the earth with his own nails. Tell him that the + moon, which is usually made of silver, has turned into gold, merely to + make your master raise his eyes toward heaven for once. Tell him that + you, by your blasphemous buffooneries, have succeeded in provoking an + honest man's wrath— + </p> + <p> + [Exeunt Mårten and the members of the procession.] + </p> + <p> + Gert. Enough, Olof! (To all the conspirators except Olof and Lars.) + Leave us, please! + </p> + <p> + [Exeunt the conspirators, exchanging whispers.] + </p> + <p> + Gert (to Olof and Lars). It's too late to back down now! + </p> + <p> + Olof. What do you want, Gert—speak! + </p> + <p> + Gert (showing them a bound volume). Before you two, servants of God, a + people steps forth to make its confession. Do you acknowledge your oath? + </p> + <p> + Olof and Lars. We have sworn! + </p> + <p> + Gert. This book is the result of my silent labors. On every page you + will find a cry of distress, a sigh from thousands who have been blind + enough to think it God's will that they should suffer the tyranny of one + man—who have thought it their duty not even to hope for + liberation. (Olof takes the volume and begins to read.) You shall hear + complaints all the way from the primeval forests of Norrland down to the + Sound. Out of the wreckage from the churches the King is building new + castles for the nobility and new prisons for the people. You shall read + how the King is bartering away law and justice by letting murderers + escape their punishment if they seek refuge at the salt-works. You shall + read how he is taxing vice by letting harlots pay for the right to ply + their traffic. Yea, the very fishes of the rivers, the water of the sea + itself, have been usurped by him. But the end is in sight. The eyes of + the people have been opened. There is seething and fermenting + everywhere. Soon the tyranny will be crushed, and the people shall be + free! + </p> + <p> + Olof. Who wrote the songs in this book? + </p> + <p> + Gert. The people! These are songs of the people—so they sing who + feel the yoke pressing. I have visited city and country, asking them: + "Are you happy?" These are the answers! I have held assizes. Here are + the verdicts entered. Do you believe that a million wills may conquer + one? Do you believe that God has bestowed this land with all its human + souls and all its property upon a single man, for him to deal with as it + suits his pleasure? Or do you not rather believe that he should do the + will of all?—You do not answer? You are awed, I see, by the + thought that it may come to an end! Listen to my confession! Tomorrow + the oppressor dies, and you shall all be free! + </p> + <p> + Olof and Lars. What are you saying? + </p> + <p> + Gert. You didn't understand what I was talking about at our meetings. + </p> + <p> + Olof. You have deceived us! + </p> + <p> + Gert. Not at all! You are perfectly free. Two voices less mean nothing. + Everything is prepared. + </p> + <p> + Lars. Have you considered the consequences? + </p> + <p> + Gert. Fool! Is it not for the sake of the consequences that I have done + all this? + </p> + <p> + Olof. Supposing Gert be right—what do you say, Lars? + </p> + <p> + Lars. I wasn't born to lead. + </p> + <p> + Olof. All are born to lead, but all are not willing to sacrifice the + flesh. + </p> + <p> + Gert. Only he who has the courage to face scorn and ridicule can lead. + For hatred is as nothing compared with the laughter that kills. + </p> + <p> + Olof. And if it should miscarry? + </p> + <p> + Gert. Dare to face that, too! You don't know that Thomas Münster has + established a new spiritual kingdom at Muhlhausen. You don't know that + all Europe is in revolt. Who was Dacke, if not a defender of the + oppressed? What have the Dalecarlians meant by all their rebellions, if + not to defend their freedom against him who broke his plighted faith? He + does such things and goes unpunished, but when they want to defend + themselves, then he raises the cry of revolt and treason. + </p> + <p> + Olof. So this is the point to which you wanted to lead me, Gert? + </p> + <p> + Gert. Have you not been led here by the current? You will, but do not + dare! To-morrow, in the church, the mine will go off, and that will be a + signal for the people to rise and choose a ruler after their own heart. + </p> + <p> + Olof (turning over the leaves of the book). If it be the will of all, + then nobody can stop it. Gert, let me take this book to the King and + show him what is the will of his people, and he will grant them their + rights. + </p> + <p> + Gert. Oh, you child! For a moment he may be scared, and perhaps restore + a silver pitcher to some church. Then he'll point toward heaven and say: + "It is not by my own will that I sit here and do you wrong, but by the + will of God!" + </p> + <p> + Olof. Then the will of God be done! + </p> + <p> + Gert. But how? + </p> + <p> + Olof. He must die that all may live. Murderer, ingrate, traitor—those + will be my names, perchance. I am sacrificing everything, even my honor, + my conscience, and my faith—could I possibly give more for those + pitiable ones who are crying for salvation? Let us go ere I repent! + </p> + <p> + Gert. Even if you did, it would already be too late. Don't you know that + Mårten is a spy, and perhaps sentence has already been pronounced + against the rebel! + </p> + <p> + Olof. Well, I won't repent—and why should I repent of an act that + implies the carrying out of God's own judgment? Forward, then, in the + name of the Lord. [Exeunt.] + </p> + <p> + [Enter Harlot, who kneels at a grave which she has strewn with flowers.] + </p> + <p> + Harlot. Hast Thou punished me enough now, O Lord, to pardon me? + </p> + <p> + [Enter Christine quickly.] + </p> + <p> + Christine. Have you seen Master Olof, goodwife? + </p> + <p> + Harlot. Are you his friend or his enemy? + </p> + <p> + Christine. Do you mean to insult me? + </p> + <p> + Harlot. Pardon me! I haven't seen him since the last time I prayed. + </p> + <p> + Christine. You look so sorrowful! Oh, I know you now! It was you to whom + Olof was talking that night in Greatchurch. + </p> + <p> + Harlot. You mustn't let it be seen that you are talking to me. You don't + know who I am, do you? + </p> + <p> + Christine. Oh, yes, I know. + </p> + <p> + Harlot. You know—so they have told you? + </p> + <p> + Christine. Olof told me. + </p> + <p> + Harlot. O my God! And don't you despise me? + </p> + <p> + Christine. You are an unfortunate, down-trodden woman, Olof told me. Why + should I despise misfortune? + </p> + <p> + Harlot. Then you cannot be happy yourself? + </p> + <p> + Christine. No, we have shared the same fate. + </p> + <p> + Harlot. I am not the only one, then! Tell me, who was the worthless man + to whom you gave your love? + </p> + <p> + Christine. Worthless? + </p> + <p> + Harlot. Oh, pardon—to one who loves, no one seems worthless! To + whom did you give your love? + </p> + <p> + Christine. You know Master Olof, don't you? + </p> + <p> + Harlot. Oh, tell me that it is not true! Don't rob me of my faith in + him, too! It is the only thing I have left since God took my child! + </p> + <p> + Christine. You have had a child? Then you have been happy once. + </p> + <p> + Harlot. I thank God, who did not permit my son to find out the + unworthiness of his mother. + </p> + <p> + Christine. Have you been guilty of any crime, that you speak so? + </p> + <p> + Harlot. I have just buried it. + </p> + <p> + Christine. Your child? How can you! And I pray God every day to grant me + a little one—so that I may at least have one creature to love! + </p> + <p> + Harlot. Oh, poor child, pray to God that He preserve you from it! + </p> + <p> + Christine. I don't understand you, goodwife! + </p> + <p> + Harlot. Don't call me that! You know who I am, don't you? + </p> + <p> + Christine. Well, don't they offer prayers in the churches for those who + have hopes? + </p> + <p> + Harlot. Not for such as we! + </p> + <p> + Christine. Such as we? + </p> + <p> + Harlot. They pray for the others and curse us. + </p> + <p> + Christine. What do you mean by "the others"? I don't understand you at + all. + </p> + <p> + Harlot. Do you know the wife of Master Olof? + </p> + <p> + Christine. Why, that is I! + </p> + <p> + Harlot. You? Oh, why didn't I guess at once? Can you forgive me a + moment's doubt? How could vice look like you and him? Alas! You must + leave me. You are a child, still ignorant of wickedness. You must not be + talking to me longer. God bless you! Good-bye! (She starts to leave.) + </p> + <p> + Christine. Don't leave me! Whoever you be, for God's sake, stay! They + have broken into our house, and my husband is not to be found. Take me + away from here—home to yourself—anywhere. You must be a good + woman—you cannot be wicked— + </p> + <p> + Harlot (interrupting her). If I tell you that the brutality of the crowd + wouldn't hurt you half so much as my company, then perhaps you will + forgive me for leaving— + </p> + <p> + Christine. Who are you? + </p> + <p> + Harlot. I am an outcast on whom has been fulfilled that curse which God + hurled at woman after the fall of our first parents. Ask me no more, for + if I told you more, your contempt would goad me to a self-defence that + would be still more contemptible.—Here comes somebody who perhaps + will be generous enough to escort you, if you promise to let him have + your honor and virtue and eternal peace for his trouble—for that + is probably the least he will accept for his protection at such a late + hour as this! Please forgive me—it is not at you that I am + railing. + </p> + <p> + [Enter Windrank, intoxicated.] + </p> + <p> + Windrank. Why the devil can't a fellow be left alone, even here among + the corpses? See here, my good ladies, please don't ask me anything, for + now I can't guarantee that I won't answer. The day after to-morrow I'll + tell you all about it, for then it'll be too late. Perhaps you're some + of those nuns that have been made homeless? Well, although women are + nothing but women, I don't think I have any right to be impolite, for + all that the sun set long ago. Of course, there is an old law saying + that nobody can be arrested after sunset, but though the law is a + bugbear, I think it's too polite to insist on anything when it's a + question of ladies. Hush, hush, tongue! Why, the old thing is going like + a spinning-wheel, but that comes from that infernal gin! Why should I be + dragged into this kind of thing? Of course, I'll get well paid and be a + man of means, but don't believe that I am doing it for the sake of the + money! It's done now, but I don't want to—I don't want to! I want + to sleep in peace nights and have no ghosts to trouble me. Suppose I goo + and tell? No, then they'll arrest me. Suppose somebody else would go and + tell? Perhaps one of you nuns might be so kind as to do it? + </p> + <p> + Christine (who has been conferring with the Harlot). If you have + anything on your conscience that troubles you, please tell us. + </p> + <p> + Windrank. Am I to tell? That's just what I want to get out of, but this + is horrible, and I can't stand it any longer. I am forced to do it. Why + should I be the one? I don't want to. + </p> + <p> + Christine. My dear man, you mean to commit— + </p> + <p> + Windrank. A murder. Who told you? Well, thank God that you know! By all + means, go ahead and tell about it—at once—or I'll have no + peace—no peace in all eternity! + </p> + <p> + Christine (recovering from the first shock). Why should you murder him? + </p> + <p> + Windrank. Oh, there are such a lot of reasons. Just look at the way he + is tearing down your nunneries. + </p> + <p> + Christine. The King? + </p> + <p> + Windrank. Yes, of course! The father and liberator of his country! Of + course, he's an oppressor, but that's no reason why he should be + murdered. + </p> + <p> + Christine. When is it going to happen? + </p> + <p> + Windrank. Why, to-morrow—in Greatchurch—right in church! [At + a signal from Christine, the Harlot leaves.] + </p> + <p> + Christine. How could they pick you for such a deed? + </p> + <p> + Windrank. Well, you see, I gave a connection or two among the church + attendants, and then I am poor, of course. What the devil does it matter + who puts the match to the powder, if only some shrewd fellow is pointing + the gun? And then we have several other little schemes in reserve, + although I'm to fire the first shot. But why don't you run off and tell + about it? + </p> + <p> + Christine. It has already been done. + </p> + <p> + Windrank. Well, God be thanked and praised! Goodbye, there goes all my + money! + </p> + <p> + Christine. Tell me who you are, you conspirators. + </p> + <p> + Windrank. No, that I won't tell! + </p> + <p> + [Enter Nils. He crosses the stage followed by a troop of soldiers and a + crowd of people.] + </p> + <p> + Christine. Do you see that they are already looking for you? + </p> + <p> + Windrank. I wash my hands of it. + </p> + <p> + Nils (goes up to Windrank without noticing Christine). Have you seen + Olof Pedersson? + </p> + <p> + Windrank. Why? + </p> + <p> + Nils. Because he is wanted. + </p> + <p> + Windrank. No, I haven't seen him. Are there others wanted? + </p> + <p> + Nils. Yes, many. + </p> + <p> + Windrank. No, I haven't seen any of them. + </p> + <p> + Nils. Well, it will soon be your turn. [Exit.] + </p> + <p> + Christine. Are they looking for the conspirators? + </p> + <p> + Windrank. What a question! Now I'm going to clear out. Good-bye! + </p> + <p> + Christine. Tell me before you go— + </p> + <p> + Windrank. Haven't time! + </p> + <p> + Christine. Is Master Olof one of them? + </p> + <p> + Windrank. Of course! (Christine sinks down unconscious on one of the + graves. Windrank is suddenly sobered and genuinely moved.) Good Lord in + heaven, it must be his wife! (He goes to Christine.) I think I've killed + her! Oh, Hans, Hans, all you can do now is to get a rope for yourself! + What business did you have to get mixed up with the high and mighty?—Come + here, somebody, and help a poor woman! + </p> + <p> + [Enter Olof, led by soldiers carrying torches as he catches sight of + Christine, he tears himself loose and throws himself on his knees beside + her.] + </p> + <p> + Olof. Christine! + </p> + <p> + Christine. Olof! You're alive! Come away from here and let us go home! + </p> + <p> + Olof (overwhelmed). It's too late! + </p> + SCENE 2 + <p> + (Within Greatchurch. Olof and Gert, dressed as penitents, stand in the + pillory near the entrance. The organ is playing and the bells are + ringing. The service is just ended, and the people are leaving the + church. The Sexton and his wife are standing by themselves in a corner + near the footlights.) + </p> + <p> + Sexton. Lars the Chancellor, he was pardoned, but not Master Olof. + </p> + <p> + Wife. The Chancellor has always been a man of peace and has never + stirred up any trouble, so I can't understand how he could want to have + anything to do with such dreadful things. + </p> + <p> + Sexton. The Chancellor has always had a queer streak, although he has + never said much, and though he was pardoned, it cost him everything he + had. I can't help being sorry for Master Olof; I have always had a + liking for him, even though he has been a fire-brand. + </p> + <p> + Wife. Well, what's the use of making a young fellow like that pastor? + </p> + <p> + Sexton. Of course, he's rather young, and that has been his main fault, + but I'm sure time will cure it. + </p> + <p> + Wife. What nonsense you are talking, seeing that he's going to die + to-day. + </p> + <p> + Sexton. Well, Lord, Lord, if I hadn't clean forgotten about it! But then + it doesn't seem quite right to me, either. + </p> + <p> + Wife. Do you know if he has repented? + </p> + <p> + Sexton. I doubt very much, for I am sure his neck is just as stiff as + ever. + </p> + <p> + Wife. But I suppose he'll thaw out a little now, when he sees his class + of children whom they wouldn't let him prepare for confirmation. + </p> + <p> + Sexton. Well, I must say that the King can be pretty mean when he turns + that side to. Now he is making the pastor do church penance the very + same day his children are being confirmed. It's almost as bad as when he + made the dean drink with the headsman, or when he sent those two + prelates riding through the city with crowns of birch bark on their + heads. + </p> + <p> + Wife. And his own brother Lars has been sent to shrive him. + </p> + <p> + Sexton. See, here come the children! How sad they're looking—well, + I don't wonder. I think I'll have to go in and have a cry myself— + </p> + <p> + (Enter the children about to be confirmed, boys and girls. They begin to + march past Olof, carrying bunches of flowers in their hands. They look + sad and keep their eyes on the ground. A number of older people + accompany the children. A few curious persons point out Olof and are + rebuked by others. Last of all the children in the procession comes + Vilhelm, one of the scholars with whom Olof was seen playing in the + First Act. He stops timidly in front of him, kneels, and drops his bunch + of flowers at the feet of Olof, who does not notice it because he has + pulled down the hood of his penitential robe so that it hides his face. + Some of the people mutter disapprovingly, while others show signs of + pleasure. Mårten comes forward to take away the flowers, but is pushed + back by the crowd. Soldiers clear a path for Lars Pedersson, who appears + in canonicals. The crowd disappears gradually, leaving Lars, Olof, and + Gert alone on the stage. The playing of the organ ceases, but the bells + continue to toll.) + </p> + <p> + Lars. Olof, the King has refused to listen to the petition for pardon + submitted by the City Corporation. Are you prepared to die? + </p> + <p> + Olof. I am not able to think so far. + </p> + <p> + Lars. I have been ordered to prepare you. + </p> + <p> + Olof. That will have to be done in haste, for my blood is still running + quickly through my veins. + </p> + <p> + Lars. Have you repented? + </p> + <p> + Olof. No! + </p> + <p> + Lars. Do you want to pass into eternity with an unforgiving mind? + </p> + <p> + Olof. Oh, put aside the formulas, if you want me to listen to you. I + can't think that I am going to die now—there 's far too much of + life and strength left in me. + </p> + <p> + Lars. I must tell you that I don't think so either, and that it is for a + new life in this world I am trying to prepare you. + </p> + <p> + Olof. Then I may live? + </p> + <p> + Lars. If you will admit that you were mistaken in the past, and if you + will take back what you have said about the King. + </p> + <p> + Olof. How could I? That would be to die indeed! + </p> + <p> + Lars. This was what I had to tell you. Now you must decide for yourself. + </p> + <p> + Olof. One doesn't parley about one's convictions. + </p> + <p> + Lars. Even a mistake may turn into conviction. I shall leave you to + think the matter over. [Exit.] + </p> + <p> + Gert. Our harvest wasn't ready. It takes a lot of snow to make the fall + crops ripen—nay, centuries must pass before you will even see the + first shoots. All the conspirators are under arrest, they say, and te + deums are sung on that account. But they are mistaken; conspirators are + abroad everywhere—in the royal apartments, in the churches, and in + the market-places—but they dare not do what we have dared. And yet + they'll reach that point some time. Good-bye, Olof! You must live a + little longer, for you are young. I shall die with the utmost pleasure. + The name of every new martyr becomes the rallying-cry for a new host. + Don't believe that a human soul was ever set on fire by a lie. Don't + ever distrust those feelings that shake you to your inmost soul when you + have seen some one suffer spiritual or physical oppression. If the whole + world tell you that you are wrong, believe your own heart just the same—if + you are brave enough to do so. The day when you deny your self—then + you are dead, and eternal perdition will seem a mercy to one who, has + been guilty of the sin against the Holy Ghost. + </p> + <p> + Olof. You speak of my release as though it were a certainty. + </p> + <p> + Gert. The Corporation has offered 500 ducats for your ransom, and if it + cost only 2000 to get Birgitta declared a saint, then 500 should suffice + to get you declared guiltless. The King doesn't dare to take your life! + </p> + <p> + [Enter the Lord High Constable, followed by the Headsman and soldiers.] + </p> + <p> + Constable. Take away Gert the Printer. + </p> + <p> + Gert (to Olof, as he is being led away). Good-bye, Olof! Take care of my + daughter, and don't ever forget the great Whitsunday! + </p> + <p> + Constable. Master Olof, you are a young man who has been led astray. The + King will pardon you for the sake of your youth, but as a safeguard he + demands a retraction wherein you take back whatever you have ventured + beyond and against his orders. + </p> + <p> + Olof. Then the King is still in need of me? + </p> + <p> + Constable. There are many more who need you, but don't rely on his mercy + until you have fulfilled his condition. Here is the King's warrant. In a + moment your fetters may be shed, if so be your will, but it will be just + as easy to tear up this sheet of paper. + </p> + <p> + Olof. One who contents himself with 500 ducats is not likely to care + very much for a retraction— + </p> + <p> + Constable. That is a lie! The headsman is waiting for you. But pray + listen to a few words from an old man. I, too, have been young, and + moved by strong passions. They belong to youth; but those passions are + meant to be killed. I did as you do. I went around telling the truth, + and all I got in return was ingratitude, or, at the best, a smile of + derision. I, too, wanted to build a little heaven here on earth—(speaking + with marked emphasis) of course, on other foundations than yours—but + soon I came to my senses, and the chimeras were sent packing. I have no + desire to make you out a man wishing to gain notoriety by getting + himself talked about—I don't believe anything of the kind. You are + moved by good intentions, but they are such as must cause harm. Your + blood is hot, and it blinds you because you exercise no self-control. + You preach freedom, and you are plunging thousands into the slavery of + license. Retrace your steps, young man, and make atonement for your + errors! Restore what you have torn down, and your fellow-men will bless + you! + </p> + <p> + Olof (agitated to a point of desperation). It is the truth you speak; I + hear it, but who taught you to speak like that? + </p> + <p> + Constable. Experience—that which you lack! + </p> + <p> + Olof. Can I have lived and fought for a lie? Must I now declare my whole + youth and the best part of my manhood lost, useless, wasted? Oh, let me + rather die together with my mistake! + </p> + <p> + Constable. You should have broken loose from your dreams earlier. But + calm yourself! Your life is still ahead of you. The past has been a + school—hard, to be sure, but all the more wholesome. Hitherto you + have given your life to whims and follies. Now you have some inkling of + what reality demands of you. Outside that door your creditors are + waiting with their claims. Here are their bills. The clergy of the young + Church demand that you live to finish what you have begun so splendidly. + The City Corporation demands its secretary for the Council. The + congregation demands its shepherd. The children of the confirmation + class demand their teacher. Those are your legal creditors. But there is + one more waiting outside, to whom perhaps you owe more than all the + rest, and who yet demands nothing at all—your young wife. You have + torn her from her father's side and set her adrift in the storm. You + have broken down her childhood faith and filled her mind with + restlessness. Your reckless deeds have goaded the brutal mob into + driving her out of her own home. Yet she does not even demand your love: + all she asks of you is permission to spend a life of suffering by your + side.—Now you can see that we, too, give a little consideration to + other people, although you call us selfish.—Let me open this door, + which will lead you back into the world. Discipline your heart before it + hardens, and thank God for granting you more time to work for mankind. + </p> + <p> + Olof (breaking into tears). I am lost! + </p> + <p> + (Constable gives a sign to the Headsman, who removes the fetters and the + garb of penitence from Olof; then the Constable opens the door to the + sacristy, and delegates from the lords, the clergy, and the city guilds + enter.) + </p> + <p> + Constable. Olof Pedersson, formerly pastor of the city church at + Stockholm, do you hereby repent of your misdeeds and retract what you + have said beyond and against the King's order? Do you declare your + willingness to keep your oath to the sovereign of this realm, and to + serve him faithfully? + </p> + <p> + (Olof remains silent. Lars Pedersson and Christine approach him, while + many of those present make pleading gestures.) + </p> + <p> + Olof (in a cold and determined voice). Yes! + </p> + <p> + Constable. In the name of the King, I set you free! + </p> + <p> + (Olof and Christine embrace. A number of persons come forward to press + his hand and utter words of congratulation.) + </p> + <p> + Olof (in the same cold voice). Before I leave this room, let me be alone + a moment with my God. I need it! Once upon a time I struck the first + blow right here, and here— + </p> + <p> + Lars. Right here you have won your greatest victory this very day! + </p> + <p> + (All leave the room except Olof, who falls on his knees.) + </p> + <p> + [Enter Vilhelm cautiously. He looks very much surprised at seeing Olof + alone and free.] + </p> + <p> + Vilhelm. I come to bid you farewell, Master Olof, before you pass on to + another life. + </p> + <p> + Olof (rising). You have not deserted me, Vilhelm! Help me, then, to + mourn those happy moments of my youth that are now nothing but a memory! + </p> + <p> + Vilhelm. Before you die I want to thank you for all that you have done + for us. It was I who gave you those flowers, which you haven't noticed.—They + have been trampled on, I see. I wanted to bring you a reminder of the + days when we were playing under the lindens in the convent close at + Strängnäs. I thought it might do you good to hear that we have never + thanked God, as you said we would, because you didn't return to us. We + have never forgotten you, for it was you who relieved us of those cruel + penances, and it was you who flung open the heavy convent doors and gave + us back our freedom and the blue sky and the happiness of living. Why + you must die, we do not know, but <i>you</i> could never do anything + wrong. And if you die because you have rendered help to some of those + that were oppressed, as they tell us, then you should not be sorry, + although it hurts very, very much. Once you told us how Hus was burned + because he had dared to tell the truth to those in power. You told us + how he went to the stake and joyfully commended himself into the hands + of God, and how he prophesied about the swan that should come singing + new songs in praise of awakened freedom. That's the way I have thought + that you would meet your death—with your head thrown back, and + your eyes toward the sky, and the people crying: "So dies a witness!" + </p> + <p> + (Olof leans against the pillory, his face showing how the words of + Vilhelm strike home to him.) + </p> + <p> + Gert (his voice heard from a distant part of the church.) Renegade! + </p> + <p> + (Olof sinks down overwhelmed at the foot of the pillory.) + </p> + <br /> + </div> + <p> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Master Olof, by August Strindberg + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MASTER OLOF *** + +***** This file should be named 7363-h.htm or 7363-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/7/3/6/7363/ + +Produced by Nicole Apostola, and David Widger + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, +set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to +copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to +protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. Project +Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you +charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission. If you +do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the +rules is very easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose +such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and +research. They may be modified and printed and given away--you may do +practically ANYTHING with public domain eBooks. Redistribution is +subject to the trademark license, especially commercial +redistribution. + + + +*** START: FULL LICENSE *** + +THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE +PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK + +To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free +distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work +(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project +Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project +Gutenberg-tm License (available with this file or online at +http://gutenberg.org/license). + + +Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic works + +1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to +and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property +(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all +the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy +all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your possession. +If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the +terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or +entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8. + +1.B. "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark. It may only be +used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who +agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few +things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works +even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See +paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement +and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. See paragraph 1.E below. + +1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the Foundation" +or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works. Nearly all the individual works in the +collection are in the public domain in the United States. If an +individual work is in the public domain in the United States and you are +located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from +copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative +works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg +are removed. Of course, we hope that you will support the Project +Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting free access to electronic works by +freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm works in compliance with the terms of +this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with +the work. You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by +keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project +Gutenberg-tm License when you share it without charge with others. + +1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern +what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are in +a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, check +the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement +before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or +creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project +Gutenberg-tm work. The Foundation makes no representations concerning +the copyright status of any work in any country outside the United +States. + +1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg: + +1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate +access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear prominently +whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work on which the +phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the phrase "Project +Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed, +copied or distributed: + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + +1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is derived +from the public domain (does not contain a notice indicating that it is +posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied +and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees +or charges. If you are redistributing or providing access to a work +with the phrase "Project Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the +work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 +through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the +Project Gutenberg-tm trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or +1.E.9. + +1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted +with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution +must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional +terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms will be linked +to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works posted with the +permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work. + +1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this +work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm. + +1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this +electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without +prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with +active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project +Gutenberg-tm License. + +1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary, +compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any +word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access to or +distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format other than +"Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official version +posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site (www.gutenberg.org), +you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a +copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon +request, of the work in its original "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other +form. Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1. + +1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying, +performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works +unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. + +1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing +access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works provided +that + +- You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from + the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method + you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is + owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he + has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the + Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments + must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you + prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax + returns. Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and + sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the + address specified in Section 4, "Information about donations to + the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation." + +- You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies + you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he + does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm + License. You must require such a user to return or + destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium + and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of + Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +- You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any + money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the + electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days + of receipt of the work. + +- You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free + distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set +forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from +both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and Michael +Hart, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark. Contact the +Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below. + +1.F. + +1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable +effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread +public domain works in creating the Project Gutenberg-tm +collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain +"Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or +corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual +property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a +computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by +your equipment. + +1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right +of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project +Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all +liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal +fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT +LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE +PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH F3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE +TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE +LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR +INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH +DAMAGE. + +1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a +defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can +receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a +written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you +received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with +your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you with +the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a +refund. If you received the work electronically, the person or entity +providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to +receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If the second copy +is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further +opportunities to fix the problem. + +1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth +in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS' WITH NO OTHER +WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO +WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTIBILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE. + +1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied +warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages. +If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the +law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be +interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by +the applicable state law. The invalidity or unenforceability of any +provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions. + +1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the +trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone +providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in accordance +with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production, +promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works, +harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees, +that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do +or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg-tm +work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any +Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any Defect you cause. + + +Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm + +Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of +electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers +including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It exists +because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from +people in all walks of life. + +Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the +assistance they need, are critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's +goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will +remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure +and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future generations. +To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation +and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4 +and the Foundation web page at http://www.pglaf.org. + + +Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive +Foundation + +The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit +501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the +state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal +Revenue Service. The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification +number is 64-6221541. Its 501(c)(3) letter is posted at +http://pglaf.org/fundraising. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent +permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state's laws. + +The Foundation's principal office is located at 4557 Melan Dr. S. +Fairbanks, AK, 99712., but its volunteers and employees are scattered +throughout numerous locations. Its business office is located at +809 North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887, email +business@pglaf.org. Email contact links and up to date contact +information can be found at the Foundation's web site and official +page at http://pglaf.org + +For additional contact information: + Dr. Gregory B. Newby + Chief Executive and Director + gbnewby@pglaf.org + + +Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation + +Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide +spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of +increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be +freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest +array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations +($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt +status with the IRS. + +The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating +charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United +States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a +considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up +with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations +where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To +SEND DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any +particular state visit http://pglaf.org + +While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we +have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition +against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who +approach us with offers to donate. + +International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make +any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from +outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff. + +Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation +methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other +ways including checks, online payments and credit card donations. +To donate, please visit: http://pglaf.org/donate + + +Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. + +Professor Michael S. Hart is the originator of the Project Gutenberg-tm +concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared +with anyone. For thirty years, he produced and distributed Project +Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support. + + +Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed +editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the U.S. +unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not necessarily +keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition. + + +Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility: + + http://www.gutenberg.org + +This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, +including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary +Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to +subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. + + +</pre> + </body> +</html> diff --git a/7363.txt b/7363.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..996e0f2 --- /dev/null +++ b/7363.txt @@ -0,0 +1,5941 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Master Olof, by August Strindberg + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Master Olof + A Drama in Five Acts + +Author: August Strindberg + +Release Date: January, 2005 [EBook #7363] +Posting Date: August 7, 2009 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MASTER OLOF *** + + + + +Produced by Nicole Apostola + + + + + +MASTER OLOF + +A DRAMA IN FIVE ACTS + + +By August Strindberg + + + + +INTRODUCTION + +The original prose version of Master Olof, which is here presented for +the first time in English form, was written between June 8 and August +8, 1872, while Strindberg, then only twenty-three years old, was living +with two friends on one of the numerous little islands that lie between +Stockholm and the open sea. + +Up to that time he had produced half-a-dozen plays, one of which had +been performed at the Royal Theatre of Stockholm and had won him the +good-will and financial support of King Carl XV. Thus he had been able +to return to the University of Upsala, whence he had been driven a year +earlier by poverty as well as by spiritual revolt. During his second +term of study at the old university Strindberg wrote some plays that +he subsequently destroyed. In the same period he not only conceived the +idea later developed in Master Olof, but he also acquired the historical +data underlying the play and actually began to put it into dialogue. + +During that same winter of 1871-72 he read extensively, although his +reading probably had slight reference to the university curriculum. The +two works that seem to have taken the lion's share of his attention were +Goethe's youthful drama Goetz von Berlichingen and Buckle's History of +Civilization in England. Both impressed him deeply, and both became in +his mind logically connected with an external event which, perhaps, had +touched his supersensitive soul more keenly than anything else: an event +concerning which he says in the third volume of The Bondwoman's Son, +that "he had just discovered that the men of the Paris Commune merely +put into action what Buckle preached." + +Such were the main influences at work on his mind when, early in +1872, his royal protector died, and Strindberg found himself once more +dependent on his own resources. To continue at the university was out +of the question, and he seems to have taken his final departure from it +without the least feeling of regret. Unwise as he may have been in other +respects, he was wise enough to realize that, whatever his goal, the +road to it must be of his own making. Returning to Stockholm, he groped +around for a while as he had done a year earlier, what he even tried to +eke out a living as the editor of a trade journal. Yet the seeds sown +within him during the previous winter were sprouting. An irresistible +impulse urged him to continue the work of Buckle. History and philosophy +were the ultimate ends tempting his mind, but first of all he was +impelled to express himself in terms of concrete life, and the way had +been shown him by Goethe. Moved by Goethe's example, he felt himself +obliged to break through the stifling forms of classical drama. +"No verse, no eloquence, no unity of place," was the resolution he +formulated straightway. [Note: See again The Bondwoman's Son, vol. iii: +In the Red Room.] + +Having armed himself with a liberal supply of writing-paper, he joined +his two friends in the little island of Kymmendoe. Of money he had so +little that, but for the generosity of one of his friends, he would have +had to leave the island in the autumn without settling the small debt +he owed for board and lodging. Yet those months were happy indeed--above +all because he felt himself moved by an inspiration more authentic than +he had ever before experienced. Thus page was added to page, and act to +act, until at last, in the surprisingly brief time of two months, the +whole play was ready--mighty in bulk and spirit, as became the true +firstling of a young Titan. + +Strindberg had first meant to name his play "What Is Truth?" For a while +he did call it "The Renegade," but in the end he thought both titles +smacked too much of tendency and decided instead, with reasoned +conventionalism, to use the title of Master Olof after its central +figure, the Luther of Sweden. + +From a dramatic point of view it would have been hard to pick a more +promising period than the one he had chosen as a setting for his play. +The early reign of Gustaf Vasa, the founder of modern Sweden, was marked +by three parallel conflicts of equal intensity and interest: between +Swedish and Danish nationalism; between Catholicism and Protestantism; +and, finally, between feudalism and a monarchism based more or less on +the consent of the governed. Its background was the long struggle for +independent national existence in which the country had become involved +by its voluntary federation with Denmark and Norway about the end of the +fourteenth century. That Struggle--made necessary by the insistence of +one sovereign after another on regarding Sweden as a Danish province +rather than as an autonomous part of a united Scandinavia--had reached a +sort of climax, a final moment of utter blackness just before the dawn, +when, at Stockholm in 1520, the Danish king, known ever afterward as +Christian the Tyrant, commanded the arbitrary execution of about eighty +of Sweden's most representative men. + +Until within a few months of that event, named by the horror-stricken +people "the blood-bath of Stockholm," the young Gustaf Eriksson Vasa had +been a prisoner in Denmark, sent there as a hostage of Swedish loyalty. +Having obtained his freedom by flight, he made his way to the inland +province of Dalecarlia, where most of the previous movements on behalf +of national liberty had originated, and having cleared the country of +foreign invaders, chiefly by the help of an aroused peasantry that had +never known the yoke of serfdom, he was elected king at a Riksdag held +in the little city of Straengnaes, not far from Stockholm, in 1523. + +Straengnaes was a cathedral city and had for several years previous been +notorious for the Lutheran leanings of its clergy. After the death of +its bishop as one of the victims of King; Christian, its temporary head +had been the archdeacon, the ambitious and learned Lars Andersson--or +Laurentius Andreae, as, in accordance with the Latinizing tendency +of the time, he was more frequently named. One of its canons was Olof +Pedersson--also known as Olaus Petri, and more commonly as Master Olof +(Master being the vernacular for Magister, which was the equivalent +of our modern Doctor)--who, during two years spent in studies at the +University of Wittenberg, had been in personal contact with Luther, and +who had become fired with an aspiration to carry the Reformation into +his native country. By recent historians Master Olof has been described +as of a "naively humble nature," rather melancholy in temperament, +but endowed with a gift for irony, and capable of fiery outbursts when +deeply stirred. At Straengnaes he had been preaching the new faith more +openly and more effectively than any one else, and he had found a pupil +as well as a protector in the temporary head of the diocese. + +Immediately after his election, the new King called Lars Andersson from +Straengnaes to become his first chancellor. Later on, he pressed Olof, +too, into his service, making him Secretary to the City Corporation +of Stockholm--which meant that Olof practically became the chief +civil administrator of the capital, having to act as both clerk and +magistrate, while at the same time he was continuing his reformatory +propaganda as one of the preachers in the city's principal edifice, +officially named after St. Nicolaus, but commonly spoken of as +Greatchurch. As if this were not sufficient for one man, he plunged also +into a feverish literary activity, doing most of the work on the Swedish +translations of the New and Old Testaments, and paving the way for the +new faith by a series of vigorous polemical writings, the style of which +proclaims him the founder of modern Swedish prose. Centuries passed +before the effective simplicity and homely picturesqueness of his style +were surpassed. He became, furthermore, Sweden's first dramatist. The +Comedy of Tobit, from which Strindberg uses a few passages in slightly +modernized form at the beginning of his play, is now generally +recognized as an authentic product of Olof's pen, although it was not +written until a much later period. + +Strindberg's drama starts at Straengnaes, at the very moment when Olof has +been goaded into open revolt against the abuses of the Church, and when +he is saved from the consequences of that revolt only by the unexpected +arrival of King Gustaf and his own appointment as City Secretary. From +the slightly strained, but not improbable, coincidence of that start +to the striking climax of the last act, the play follows, on the whole, +pretty closely the actual course of events recorded in history. To +understand this course, with its gradually intensified conflict between +the King and Olof, it is above all necessary to bear in mind that the +former regarded the Reformation principally as a means toward that +political reorganization and material upbuilding of the country which +formed his main task; while to Olof the religious reconstruction assumed +supreme importance. This fundamental divergence of purpose is clearly +indicated and effectively used by Strindberg, and we have reason to +believe that he has pictured not only Gustaf Vasa and Master Olof, but +also the other historical characters, in close accordance with what +history has to tell us about them. Among the chief figures there is only +one--Gert the Printer--who is not known to history, and one--the wife of +Olof--who is so little known that the playwright has been at liberty to +create it almost wholly out of his own imagination. + +At the juncture represented by the initial scenes of the play, Olof was +in reality thirty-one years old, but he is made to appear still younger. +The King should be, and is, about twenty-seven, while Lars Andersson is +about fifty-four, and Bishop Brask about seventy. Gert must be thought a +man of about sixty, while Christine must be about twenty. The action +of the play lasts from 1524 to 1540, but Strindberg has contracted the +general perspective, so to speak, giving us the impression that the +entire action takes place within a couple of years. I have tried to work +out a complete chronology, and think it fairly safe to date the several +parts of the play as follows: + +The first act takes place on Whitsun Eve, 1524, which means that the +exact date must fall between May 10 and June 13 of that year, and +probably about June 1. + +The first scene of the second act occurs in the early evening of a +Saturday in the summer--probably in June--of 1524. The second scene is +fixed at midnight of the same day, and the third scene on the following +morning, which, in view of the fact that Olof is to preach, we may +assume to be a Sunday. + +The first scene of the third act seems to take place four days later, +but Olof was not married until February, 1525,--to "Christine, a maiden +of good family,"--and it was only during the winter of 1526-27 that the +Church reformers were given free rein by the King, and Olof himself was +despatched to the University of Upsala for the purpose of challenging +Peder Galle, the noted Catholic theologian, to a joint discussion. This +was also the time when the first Swedish version of the New Testament +was completed by Olof and Lars Andersson--an event referred to in the +scene in question. + +The exact date of the second scene of the third act is St. John's +Eve, or June 24, 1527, at which time occurred the important Riksdag at +Vesteras, where the King broke the final resistance of the nobility and +the Catholic clergy by threatening to abdicate. The debate between Olof +and Peder Galle took place at the Riksdag, Galle having evaded it as +long as he could. + +The date of the fourth act is very uncertain, but it seems safe to place +it in the summer of 1539, when Stockholm was ravaged by an epidemic of a +virulent disease known as "the English sweat." + +The first scene of the fifth act is laid on New Year's Eve, 1539, when +Olof and Lars Andersson were arrested and charged with high treason for +not having informed the proper authorities of a plot against the King's +life. This plot was an old story, having been exposed and punished +in 1536. Their defence was that they had learned of it through secret +confession, which they as ministers had no right to reveal. The trial +took only two days, and on January 2, 1540, both were sentenced to +death. + +The second scene of the final act must be laid in the spring of 1540, as +the ceremony of confirmation has generally taken place about Easter ever +since the Swedish church became Lutheran. + +While, in the main, Strindberg made the events of his play accord +with what was accepted as historical fact when he wrote, there are +anachronisms and inaccuracies to be noted, although to none of them +can be attached much importance. When, in the first and second acts, he +represents the Anabaptist leaders, Rink and Knipperdollink, as then +in Stockholm and actually introduces one of them on the stage, he has +merely availed himself of a legend which had been accepted as truth +for centuries, and which has been exploded only by recent historical +research. We know now that Rink and Knipperdollink could never have been +in Sweden, but we know also that a German lay preacher named Melchior +Hofman appeared at Stockholm about the time indicated in the play, and +that, in 1529, another such preacher, named Tilemann, made Olof himself +the object of his fierce invectives. These instances serve, in fact, to +prove how skilfully Strindberg handled his historical material. He is +never rigid as to fact, but as a rule he is accurate in spirit. Another +instance of this kind is found in the references in the first act to the +use of Swedish for purposes of worship. It is recorded--and by himself, +I think--that Olof once asked his mother whether she really understood +the Latin prayers, since she was so very fond of them. She answered: +"No, I don't understand them, but when I hear them I pray devoutly to +God that they may please Him, which I don't doubt they do." + +On the other hand, what maybe regarded as rather an awkward slip is +found in the first scene of the fifth act, where Gert cries exultantly +to Olof: "You don't know that Thomas Muenster has established a new +spiritual kingdom at Muehlhausen." The name of the great Anabaptist +"prophet" was Thomas Muenzer, and the place where he established his +brief reign was Muenster. Strindberg's habit was to fill his head with +the facts to be used, and then to rely on his memory. Marvellous as his +memory was, it sometimes deceived him, and checking off names or dates +seems to have been utterly beyond him. Thus it is quite probable that +the passage in question represents an unconscious error. At the same +time it is barely possible that the mistake may have been purposely laid +in the mouth of a fanatic, from whom exactness of statement could hardly +be expected. Thus, in the first act, Gert remarks that "Luther is +dead." We understand, of course, that this expression is metaphorical, +signifying that Luther has done all that can be expected of him, but it +is nevertheless characteristically ambiguous. + +The second scene of the third act is apparently laid in Olof's house +at Stockholm, although the location of the building is not definitely +indicated. We find him waiting for a messenger who is to announce the +results of the Riksdag then in session. But the Riksdag was held at +Vesteras, and we know that Olof was one of two delegates sent by the +burghers and the peasants to the King, whom they implored "on their +knees and with tears" to withdraw his abdication. The Courtier's +reference to Olof's debate with Galle renders it still more uncertain +whether we are in Stockholm or in Vesteras. The Courtier also informs +Olof of his appointment as pastor of Greatchurch, the facts being that +Olof was not ordained until 1539 and received his appointment a year +after the events described in the last act of the play. In the metrical +version, Strindberg makes his most radical departure from the historical +course of events by letting Luther's marriage precede and influence +that of Olof, although in reality Olof's anticipated that of Luther by +several months. + +The complaints of the Man from Smaland in the first scene of the second +act could scarcely have been warranted in 1524, when that act takes +place. The hold of the young King was far too precarious at that +early date to permit any regulations of the kind referred to. The +establishment of a maximum price on oxen does not seem to have occurred +until 1532, and a prohibition against the shooting of deer by the +peasants was actually issued in 1538, both measures helping to provoke +the widespread uprising that broke out in Smaland in 1541. It was named +the "Dacke feud" after its principal leader, the peasant-chieftain +Nils Dacke, to whom the Sexton refers in the second scene of the last +act--also a little prematurely. + +Whether these be conscious or unconscious anachronisms, they matter very +little when the general accuracy of the play is considered. From the +moment the Danes had been driven out of the country, one of the most +serious problems confronting the King was the financial chaos into which +the country had fallen, and his efforts, first of all to raise enough +means for ordinary administrative purposes, and secondly to reorganize +trade and agriculture, brought him almost immediately into conflict with +the peasants, who, during the long struggle for national independence, +had become accustomed to do pretty much as they pleased. The utterances +of the Man from Smaland are typical of the sentiments that prevailed +among the peasants throughout the country, not least when he speaks of +the King's intention to "take away their priests and friars," for +the majority of the Swedish people were at that time still intensely +Catholic, and remained so to a large extent long after the Reformation +officially had placed Sweden among Protestant countries. + +Much more serious than any liberties taken with dates or facts, I deem +certain linguistic anachronisms, of which Strindberg not rarely becomes +guilty. Thus, for instance, he makes the King ask Bishop Brask: "What +kind of phenomenon is this?" The phrase is palpably out of place, and +yet it has been used so deliberately that nothing was left for me to +do but to translate it literally. The truth is that Strindberg was not +striving to reproduce the actual language of the Period--a language of +which we get a glimpse in the quotations from The Comedy of Tobit. Here +and there he used archaic expressions (which I have sometimes reproduced +and sometimes disregarded, as the exigencies of the new medium happened +to require). At other times he did not hesitate to employ modern +colloquialisms (most of which have been "toned down"). He did not regard +local color or historical atmosphere as a supreme desideratum. He wanted +to express certain ideas, and he wanted to bring home the essential +humanity of historical figures which, through the operations of +legendary history, had assumed a strange, unhuman aspect. The methods +he employed for these purposes have since been made familiar to the +English-speaking public by the historical plays of Bernard Shaw and the +short stories and novels of Anatole France. + +In his eagerness, however, to express what was burning for utterance in +his own breast, the second purpose was sometimes lost sight of; and at +such times Strindberg hesitated as little to pass the bounds imposed +by an historical period as to break through the much more important +limitations of class and personal antecedents. Thus, for example, +the remarks of Olof's mother are at one moment characterized by the +simplicity to be expected from the aged widow of a small city tradesman +in the early part of the sixteenth century, while in the next--under +the pressure of the author's passion for personal expression--they +grow improbably sophisticated. Yet each figure, when seen in proper +perspective, appears correctly drawn and strikingly consistent with +the part assigned to it in the play. In his very indifference to minor +accuracies, Strindberg sometimes approaches more closely to the larger +truth than men more scrupulous in regard to details. How true he can be +in his delineation of a given type is perhaps best shown by the figure +of Gert. The world's literature holds few portrayals of the anarchistic +temperament that can vie with it in psychological exactness, and it is +as true to-day as it was in 1524 or in 1872. + +This verisimilitude on a universal rather than a specific plane assumes +still greater significance if we consider it in the light of what +Strindberg has told us about his purpose with the main characters of his +first great play. As I have already said, those characters were meant +to be both mouthpieces of the author and revived historical figures, but +they were also meant--and primarily, I suspect--to be something else: +embodiments of the contradictory phases of a single individual, namely +the author himself. + +"The author meant to hide his own self behind the historical +characters," Strindberg tells us, apropos of this very play. [Note: In +one of his biographical novels, The Bondwoman's Son, vol. iii: In +the Red Room.] "As an idealist he was to be represented by Olof; as a +realist by Gustaf; and as a communist by Gert." Farther on in the same +work, he continues his revelation as follows: "The King and his shadow, +the shrewd Constable, represented himself [the author] as he wished to +be; Gert, as he was in moments of aroused passion; and Olof, as, after +years of self-scrutiny, he had come to know himself: ambitious and +weak-willed; unscrupulous when something was at stake, and yielding +at other times; possessed of great self-confidence, mixed with a deep +melancholy; balanced and irrational; hard and gentle." + +Finally, he gives us this illuminating exposition of his own views on +the moral validity of the main characters, thus disposing once for all +of the one-sided interpretations made by persons anxious to use this +or that aspect of the play in support of their own political or social +idiosyncrasies: "All the chief characters are, relatively speaking, in +the right. The Constable, from the standpoint of his own day, is right +in asking Olof to keep calm and go on preaching; Olof is right in +admitting that he had gone too far; the scholar, Vilhelm, is right when, +in the name of youth, he demands the evolution of a new truth; and Gert +is right in calling Olof a renegade. The individual must always become +a renegade--forced by the necessity of natural laws; by fatigue; by +inability to develop indefinitely, as the brain ceases to grow about the +age of forty-five; and by the claims of actual life, which demand that +even a reformer must live as man, mate, head of a family, and +citizen. But those who crave that the individual continue his progress +indefinitely are the shortsighted--particularly those who think that the +cause must perish because the individual deserts it.... It is an open +question, for that matter, whether Olof did not have a better chance to +advance his cause from the pulpit of the reformed Greatchurch than he +would have had in low-class taverns." + +These passages were written by Strindberg fourteen years after the +completion of the play to which they refer. We have other evidence, +however, that, while he might have seen things more clearly in +retrospect, he had not been lured by the lapse of time into placing his +characters in a light different from that in which they were conceived. +On the list of characters forming part of the original handwritten +manuscript of the first version of Master Olof, now preserved in the +Public Library of Gothenburg, Sweden, the author has jotted down certain +very significant notes opposite the more important names. Thus he has +written opposite the name of the King: "To accomplish something in this +world, one has to risk morality and conscience;" opposite the name +of Olof: "He who strives to realize an idea develops greatness of +personality--he accomplishes good by his personal example, but he is +doomed to perish;" opposite that of Bishop Brask: "There is movement in +whatever exists--whatever stands still must be crushed;" and opposite +that of Gert: "He who wills more than his reason can grasp must go mad." + +Such was the play with which the young Strindberg returned to the +Swedish capital in the fall of 1872; and let us remember in this +connection, that up to the time in question no dramatic work of similar +importance had ever been produced in Sweden. Its completion was more +epoch-making for Sweden than that of Brand was for Norway in 1865--since +the coming of Ibsen's first really great play was heralded by earlier +works leading up to it, while Master Olof appeared where nobody had any +reason to expect it. This very fact militated against its success, of +course; it was too unexpected, and also too startlingly original, both +in spirit and in form. + +At the time there was only one stage in Sweden where such a work could +be produced--the Royal Theatre at Stockholm. To the officials of this +state--supported institution Strindberg submitted his work--hopefully, +as we know from his own statement. It was scornfully and ignominiously +rejected, the main criticism being that a serious historical drama +in prose was unthinkable. I shall make no comment whatever on that +judgment, having in mind how several years later Edmund Gosse bewailed +the failure of Ibsen to give a metrical form to his Emperor and +Galilean. + +Strindberg's next effort concerned publication. In this respect he +was equally unsuccessful, although as a rule it has never been very +difficult in Sweden to find a publisher for any work of reasonable +merit. But the play was not only too original, it was too dangerously +radical for a country where a truly modern form of representative +government had not been achieved until seven years earlier. Strindberg +was at first stunned by this failure. He seriously contemplated +giving up writing altogether. When he had recovered somewhat, he seems +reluctantly to have faced the possibility that the fault might be found +in the play and not in the public. + +So he set about to re-write it--and he did so not only once but +repeatedly, producing in all six versions that differ more or less from +one another. At first he clung to the prose form. Gradually he began to +introduce verse, until finally, in 1877 or 1878, he completed an almost +new play, where the metrical form predominated without being used +exclusively. This version was actually published in 1878. Originally, an +epilogue was appended to it, but this was dropped from all but a small +part of the first edition. It is supposed to take place a number of +years later than the fifth act, and shows Olof with his two sons +outside the city walls of Stockholm, where they witness a miracle-play +introducing God as the principle of darkness and Lucifer as the +overthrown but never conquered principle of light. The bitter +generalizations of this afterthought explain Sufficiently why it +was excluded. To the later Strindberg--the man who wrote Advent, for +instance--it must have seemed one of his most unforgivable offences. + +Although Strindberg's main object in working over his play undoubtedly +was to obtain its production, the metrical version was not put on the +stage until 1890, when, however, it was performed at the Royal Theatre, +toward which its author had looked so longingly and so vainly eighteen +years earlier. The prose version, on the other hand, was produced as +early as 1881, at the New Theatre in Stockholm, but was not published +until the same year, when it appeared in book form grouped with a number +of other writings from Strindberg's earliest period. + +Of the five unprinted versions connecting the original prose drama +of 1872 with the final metrical form of 1878, more or less complete +manuscripts have been preserved, and these are now being examined in +detail by the Swedish literary historian, Professor Karl Warburg. A +summary analysis by Dr. John Landquist is appended to the second +volume of the definitive edition of Strindberg's complete works (Albert +Bonnier, Stockholm), where the epilogue to the metrical version is also +reprinted after so many years of oblivion. + +"Of all the manuscripts preceding the final metrical version," says Dr. +Landquist, "the original one, written when Strindberg was twenty-three, +is the masterpiece. There everything is consistent; there the dialogue +has a power and an incisiveness to which it does not attain in any of +the unprinted manuscripts. On the contrary, these seem more youthful +than the original, producing at times an impression of immaturity and +uncertainty on the part of the author. Even when some isolated phrase +strikes one as fortunate, it does not tend to strengthen the drama as +a whole. The later versions lack that sense of inner unity and that +audacious touch which lend fascination and power to the original +manuscript. + +"Not until we reach the first metrical version (of 1876) does the full +power of the playwright begin to reassert itself in such fashion that +out of his untiring labors at last springs a new work, the mood of which +differs essentially from that of the first prose version. These two +versions--the first and the final--are the results of diametrically +opposed methods of work. The first was written with a certainty and +swiftness of inspiration that raised the young poet far above the +productive powers generally characteristic of his years. The subsequent +modifications prove merely how futile are the efforts of reason to +improve what intuition has inspired. But gradually it seems to have +dawned on the poet that he was about to evolve a wholly new work--that +what he had come to aim at was quite distinct from what he had been +aiming at in the beginning, and from that moment his artistic reasoning +carried him onward until at last a new inspiration brought the work to +its completion." + +Concerning the final metrical version, I can give only a few outstanding +and rather superficial facts, hoping that I may some time have the +opportunity of presenting it entire to the American public. Like the +prose version, it has five acts, but these are not subdivided into +scenes. It is briefer, more concentrated both in spirit and in form, +and may be said to display a greater unity of purpose. It is more human, +too, and less titanic. The change shows itself strikingly in a figure +like that of Marten, who in the metrical version has become softened +into an unconscionable but rather lovable rapscallion. The last remark +but one made by Marten when driven from Dame Christine's deathbed by +Olof is: "Talk to your mother, son--the two of you have so much to +forgive each other." + +In strength and passion and daring, on the other hand, the final version +falls far short of the original one, and the very fact that it is more +logical, more carefully reasoned, tends at times to render it less +psychologically true. Each version has its own merits and its own +faults, and in their appeal they are so radically different that +a choice between them must always remain meaningless except on +temperamental grounds. At one point, however--and an important one at +that--the metrical version seems to me the happier by far. + +That cry of "renegade," which, echoing from the dim recesses of the +church, makes the prose version end on a note of perplexing irony, may +be theatrically effective, but it can hardly be called logical. Gert has +been disposed of. His sudden return out of the clutches of the soldiers +is inexplicable and unwarranted. Worse still, he has only a short +while previous been urging Olof to live on for his work. If Olof be +a renegade, he is so upon the advice of Gert himself, and to call the +concession made by Olof for the saving of his own life far-reaching +enough to explain Gert's sudden change of attitude approaches +dangerously near to quibbling. In the metrical version, on the other +hand, the same cry of "renegade" is quite logically and suitably +wrung from the lips of Vilhelm, the scholar who is still dreaming of +uncompromised ideals. But it is not the final word. This comes from +Olof, and takes the form of a brief apostrophe to the fleeing Vilhelm, +which I think ranks with the finest passages produced by Strindberg. +Apologetically, I offer this English version of it as a fitting close to +my Introduction: + + Olof. Oh, what a word! But though it shook the air, + These columns did not stir, nor fell the dome, + And I stand calm upon this lonely shore, + Where I was dropped by the receding waves-- + For, after all, I am ashore. And now + A last "good luck upon the road" I send + To speed the daring sailor who will give + No ear to one that just has come to grief. + With sails hauled close, steer for the open sea + And for the far-off goal your soul desires! + Ere long you must fall off like all the rest, + Although a star your guiding landmark be + For in due time the stars themselves must fall! + +EDWIN BJORKMAN MAY 15, 1915 + + + + +MASTER OLOF + + +DRAMATIS PERSONAE + + OLOF PEDERSSON (Olaus Petri), generally known as MASTER OLOF. + GERT THE PRINTER. + GUSTAF ERIKSSON VASA, King of Sweden. + HANS BRASK, Bishop of Linkoeping. + MANS SOMMAR, Bishop of Straengnaes. + LARS SIGGESON, Lord High Constable. + LARS ANDERSSON (Laurentius Andreae), Lord High Chancellor. + LARS PEDERSSON (Laurentius Petri), brother of Master Olof. + HANS WINDRANK, a Master Mariner. + A Man from Smaland. + A German. + A Dane. + MARTEN and NILS, Black Friars. + A Tavern-keeper. + A Burier. + First Scholar. + Second Scholar. + The Sexton at St. Nicolaus (or Greatchurch). + A Servant of the Palace. + An Overseer. + A Townsman. + A Courtier. + DAME CHRISTINE, Olof's mother. + CHRISTINE, daughter of Gert the Printer. + A Harlot. + A Woman. + The Sexton's Wife. + The Abbess of St. Clara. + Headsman, Townsfolk, Laborers, etc. + +ACT I: At Straengnaes. + +ACTS II, III, IV, AND V: At Stockholm. + + + + +ACT I + +(A Cloister opening upon a Convent Close planted with groups of trees. +The convent church forms the right side of the quadrangle. A brick wall +runs along the rear. Fruit trees in blossom appear above the wall. +Olof is seated on a stone bench. Before him stand two scholars, who are +reading their respective parts out of "The Comedy of Tobit.") + +First Scholar. + + Now have our enemies trapped us full well. + Woe unto us, poor children of Israel! + +Second Scholar. + + Yea, brother, good cause you have to make such plaint! + Now certes we have come upon days of great lament-- + Our land is taken away, and so's our increase, + And ne'er we may look for any help or surcease. + It must be, as long I have both dreamt and said, + That the promise to Abram has been long mislaid. + +[Enter Lars Andersson.] + +Lars Andersson. What are you doing? + +Olof. I am playing. + +Lars. Playing--you? + +Olof. I am playing a little comedy about the children of Israel and the +Babylonian captivity. + +Lars. Have you nothing better to do? Bigger work is waiting for you. + +Olof. I am too young. + +Lars. Do not say you are too young. + +Olof. No, for there are plenty of others who say it. + +Lars (takes out a roll of paper, which he opens; for a while he stands +looking at Olof; then he begins to read) "Then the word of the Lord +came unto Jeremiah: 'Before I formed thee in the belly I knew thee; +and before thou camest forth out of the womb I sanctified thee, and I +ordained thee a prophet unto the nations.' + +"Then said Jeremiah: 'Ah, Lord God! behold, I cannot speak, for I am a +child.' + +"But the Lord said: 'Say not, I am a child; for thou shalt go to all +that I shall send thee, and whatsoever I command thee thou shalt speak. +For, behold, I have made thee this day a defenced city, and an iron +pillar, and brazen walls against the whole land, against the kings of +Judah, against the princes thereof, against the priests thereof, and +against the people of the land. And they shall fight against thee; but +they shall not prevail against thee; for I am with thee,' saith the +Lord, 'to deliver thee.'" + +Olof (leaping to his feet). Did the Lord say that? + +Lars. "Thou therefore gird up thy loins and arise, and speak unto them +all that I command thee." + +Olof. Why do not you go? + +Lars. I am too old. + +Olof. You are afraid! + +Lars. I am, for I have not the strength; but you have--and now may the +Lord give you the faith also. + +Olof. Oh, once I did have the flame of faith, and it burned wondrously, +but the monkish gang smothered it with their holy water when they were +trying to read the devil out of my body. + +Lars. That was a fire of straw which had to flicker out; but now +the Lord will light you a fire of logs by which the offspring of the +Philistines shall be consumed. Do you know your own will, Olof? + +Olof. No, but I feel myself choking when I think of these poor +people who yearn for salvation. They are crying for water--for living +water--but there is no one who can give it to them. + +Lars. Tear down the crumbling old house first, you can do that. Then the +Lord Himself will build them a new one. + +Olof. Then they will be without a roof over their heads for a time. + +Lars. They will at least get fresh air. + +Olof. But to rob a whole nation of its faith--they will despair. + +Lars. Yes, they will despair. + +Olof. But they will decry me, and revile me, and drag me before the +elders. + +Lars. Are you afraid? + +Olof. No--but the offence-- + +Lars. You were born to give offence, Olof; you were born to smite. The +Lord will heal. + +Olof. I can feel the pull of the current; I am still clinging to the +sluice-gate, but if I let go, I shall be swept away. + +Lars. Let go! There are more than enough who hold back. + +Olof. Reach out your hand to me, Lars, if I get too far into the +whirlpool. + +Lars. That is not in my power, and into the whirlpool you must go, even +if it be to perish. + +Olof. What storms you have raised in my soul! A moment ago I sat here +and played in the shadow of the trees, and it was Whitsun Eve, and it +was spring, and all was peace. And now--how can the trees be still, and +why is there no darkness in the sky? Put your hand on my forehead, +feel the blood surging! Do not abandon me, Lars! I see an angel coming +towards me with a cup--she is walking across the evening sky--her path +is blood-red, and in her hand she is carrying a cross--No, it is more +than I avail! I will return to my peaceful valley. Let others fight; I +will look on--No, I will follow in their wake and heal the wounded and +whisper words of peace into the ears of the dying--Peace!--No, I want to +fight with the rest, but in the last ranks--Why should I lead? + +Lars. Because you are the boldest. + +Olof. Not the strongest? + +Lars. The strong will come after you: and the strongest of all is by +your side; it is He who summons you to battle. + +Olof. Help me, O Lord! I go. + +Lars. Amen! + +Olof. And will you come with me? + +Lars. You must go alone--with God! + +Olof. Why do you turn back? + +Lars. I was not born to be a warrior: your armorer is all that I can +be. Your weapon is the pure Word of God, and with that you must arm +the people. For the doors to the popish armory have been broken open at +last, and hereafter every one calling himself a man must fight for the +freedom of his own spirit. + +Olof. But where is the enemy? I am burning for battle, yet see no one to +fight against. + +Lars. No need to summon them; they will come! Farewell! You may begin +whenever you are ready, and may God be with you! + +Olof. Don't go. I have much more to talk with you about. + +Lars. Here comes the vanguard now--to arms! + +[Exit Lars.] + +(A crowd of townsmen with their women and children pass across the stage +to the church door at the right. They stop in front of it, bare their +heads, and make the sign of the cross.) + +Gert the Printer (disguised as a townsman). It's Whitsun Eve, and nobody +has rung the vesper bell--that's very strange. + +A Townsman. The church door is closed. Maybe the priest is sick. + +Gert. Or not yet out of bed. + +Townsman. What do you mean? + +Gert. Only that he might be sick abed. + +Townsman. But there are a lot of acolytes, and one of them might be +saying a mass for us in his place. + +Gert. They are probably too busy. + +Townsman. With what? + +Gert. That's hard to tell. + +Townsman. Take care, my good man! You seem to have a leaning towards +Lutherism. Bishop Hans of Linkoeping is here, and so's the King. + +Gert. Is Brask in town? + +Townsman. Indeed he is. But I suppose we had better try the church door +to see if it be really closed. + +Gert (runs up the steps and beats the church door with his fist).The +house of God is closed this Whitsun Eve. The reverend clergy will grant +no audience with the Lord to-day, and so the worshipful commonalty will +have to go home and go to bed without any mass. Look here, good folk! +Here you have a door--mere wood, of course, but that matters little, as +it is lined with copper. Just take a look at this door! If I say that +the Lord is living within--this being His house; and if I say that the +bishop's diaconus, or secretarius, or canonicus, or some other fellow +ending in 'us'--for it's only these clerical gentlemen that end in 'us'; +and if I say that some fellow of that kind has the key hanging on a nail +in his bedroom: then I don't mean to say that he has locked up the Lord +and put the key on a nail in his bedroom: but all I mean to say is +that we can't get in, and that there will be no divine service for its +to-night--for us who have toiled six days making shoes and coats--who +have spent the whole week brewing and baking and butchering for the +reverend clergy in order that the said clergy might have strength enough +on the seventh day to celebrate divine service for its. Of course, I am +not at all saying this in reproach of the right reverend members of this +Chapter; for they, too, are nothing but human beings, you know, and it +was only the Lord who could stand working six days and be satisfied with +resting on the seventh. + +Townsman. You're blaspheming God, master townsman! + +Gert. Well, He can't hear it when the door is closed. + +A Woman. Jesu Maria! He's an Antichrist! + +Gert (beating at the door). Do you hear how hollow it sounds?--It is +writ in the Bible that once upon a time the veil before the Holiest of +Holies was rent in twain, and it must be true--but nothing is said in +the Bible about the clerical gentlemen having sewed the veil together +again, which, of course, is no reason why it shouldn't have been done. + +(The crowd makes a rush at Gert; the children begin to cry.) + +Townsman. Out on you, Luther! For that's what you are. We have sinned, +and for that reason the Lord has closed His house. Can't you hear that +the very children cry out at the sight of you, unclean spirit that you +are? + +Gert. Naturally, when you step on their toes, my dear friends-- + +Woman. Don't go near him! He has a devil! + +Townsman. Down with him! Down with him! + +Gert. Don't touch me, for here I am under the protection of the Lord. + +Townsman. The Lord will not protect the angel that was cast out. + +Gert. If the Lord won't, the Holy Church will, and I am now within her +consecrated walls. + +Townsman. Get him away from the church wall! + +Gert. If you don't fear God, you must at least fear the ban of the Holy +Father. + +Woman. Drag him away from that door! It is his unclean spirit that has +cast a spell on the church. + +Townsman. That's it! The Lord won't open His church to the Devil. + +(The crowd is rushing at Gert again, when the Bishop's Secretary enters, +preceded by a verger, who calls upon the people to attend.) + +Secretary (reading). "Whereas our cathedral city has failed in the +payment of its tithes to this See, and whereas it continues refractory +in regard to such payments, the Chapter has deemed it necessary, in +accordance with its vested rights and the sanction granted by the Holy +Curia, to close the doors of the church and to discontinue all masses +and sacrifices until the aforesaid dereliction shall have been +duly remedied; failure to observe which shall be at the risk of our +displeasure. Datum vigilia assumptionis Mariae. Chapter of Straengnaes." +[Exit.] + +Gert. What do you say to that, good folk? + +Townsman. No mass on Whitsun Eve? That's a shame! + +Gert. Take care! Say nothing evil of the priests; maybe they're not to +blame. + +Townsman. Who is to blame, then? + +Gert. The Church! That invisible and omnipotent something! It is the +Church, you see, that has closed the church. (The crowd gives evidence +of disapproval.) + +Olof (who in the meantime has come forward, seizes a rope hanging +from the bell tower, and begins to ring vespers). If your worship be +seriously meant, I'll say mass for you. + +Townsman. Many thanks, Master Olof, but are you aware of what that may +lead to? + +Olof. Let us fear the Lord more than men! (The crowd kneels.) Dear +friends! Brothers and sisters in Christ Jesus! As we are now come +together here-- + +Townsman. Master Olof-- + +Olof. What is it? + +Townsman. We want a real mass, and not any new inventions of men. + +Gert. It has to be in Latin, my dear Master Olof, or we can't understand +what you say. + +Townsman. It has to be in the sacred tongue--or anybody might say mass. + +Olof. And so you shall! Everyone for himself, with God! + +Crowd. A Luther! A Luther! Antichrist! + +Townsman. Well, well, Master Olof, have you, too, so young and zealous, +become tainted by the German devil? I am an old man, who has seen much +of the world, and I mean well by you--Turn back while you are still +young!--Do as we ask you and give us the old mass. + +Olof. No, there must be an end to that mummery. Ye shall pray in spirit +and in truth, and not in words ye do not understand. + +Townsman. Don't you think, my young friend, that the Lord understands +Latin? + +Gert. But Swedish He doesn't understand at all! + +Townsman. Master Olof, are you going to let the people depart from you +without a word to edify them? Can't you see how they are yearning for +their God? Make a sacrifice of your own sinful will, and don't let the +people go from you like sheep that have no shepherd. + +Olof. You call my will sinful? + +Townsman. You are a hard man! + +Olof. Say not so! Do you know what the ringing of this bell will cost +me? + +Townsman. Your vanity. + +Gert. And your peace! For it was the alarum bell that rang in the +battle. Hey-ho, this is the start! Soon the bells of Stockholm will +respond, and then the blood of Hus, and of Ziska, and of all the +thousands of peasants will be on the heads of the princes and the +papists. + +Woman. Woe unto us! What is he raving about? + +Townsman. Do you know this man, Master Olof? + +Olof. No. + +Gert. Yes, Olof, you know me. Deny me not! Are you afraid of these +miserable creatures who do not want their own welfare--and who have +never heard the word "freedom"? + +Olof. What is your name? + +Gert. If I told, you would all tremble. Yet you must tremble in order +that you may wake out of your sleep. I am named the angel that was +cast out and that is to come again ten thousand times; I am named the +liberator that came too early; I am named Satan because I love you more +than my own life; I have been named Luther; I have been named Hus. Now I +am named Anabaptist! + +Crowd (shrink back and begin to cross themselves). Anabaptist! + +Gert (removing his disguise and revealing himself as much older than he +had seemed). Do you know me now, Olof? + +Olof. Father Gert! + +Townsman. He calls him father! + +Crowd (drawing back from Olof and Gert). Anabaptist! Anabaptist! + +Woman. Don't you see, it's he who was put under the ban-- + +Townsman. Gert the Printer--the bishop's printer-- + +Another Townsman. The man who printed Luther! + +Woman. Woe unto us and to our city! Woe to our priests when they bear +company with Antichrist! + +Townsman. He denies the holy baptism! + +Woman. He denies God. (The crowd disperses.) + +Olof. That was dangerous talk, Father Gert. + +Gert. You really think it was dangerous, Olof? Bless you for those +words! + +Olof. Dangerous for you, I mean. + +Gert. Not for any one else? + +Olof. Let us hope not. + +Gert. You have known Luther? + +Olof. Indeed, I have! And now I want to carry out his work in my own +country. + +Gert. Is that all? + +Olof. What do you mean? + +Gert. It is not enough! Luther is dead. He made a beginning, we have to +go on. + +Olof. Whither do you want to lead me? + +Gert. Far, Olof, very far! + +Olof. I am afraid of you, Father Gert. + +Gert. Yes, and will be more so; for I shall take you up on a high +mountain, and from there you shall overlook the whole world. You see, +Olof, it is now Whitsuntide; it was at this time the Holy Ghost came +down and filled the Apostles--nay, all humanity. The spirit of the Lord +has descended upon me. I feel it, and for that reason they shut me up +like one demented. But now I am free again, and now I shall speak the +word; for now, Olof, we are standing on the mountain. Behold the people +crawling on their knees before those two men seated on their thrones. +The taller holds two keys in one hand and a thunderbolt in the other. +That is the Pope. Now he hurls his thunderbolt, and a thousand souls +pass into perdition, while the rest kiss his foot and sing Gloria +Deo--but he who is seated on the throne turns about and smiles. Now +behold his companion. He has a sword and at sceptre. Bow down before +the sceptre, lest the sword smite you. When he knits his brows all the +people tremble. (He turns toward the man on the other throne, and both +smile.) They are two pillars of Baal. Then is heard a sound out of +heaven as of a host muttering. "Who is grumbling?" exclaims the Pope, +shaking his thunderbolt. "Who is muttering?"--and the Emperor shakes +his sword. Nobody answers, but still there is grumbling in the air, and +roaring, and a cry of "Think!" The Pope cowers, and the Emperor, turning +pale, demands: "Who was it that cried 'Think'? Bring him here, and I +will take his life!" The Pope shouts: "Bring him here, and I will take +his soul!" The cry came out of heaven, and was uttered by no one. But +still the sound of it rises; a storm wind springs up; it sweeps over the +Alps and goes roaring across Fichtelgebirge; it stirs up the Baltic and +echoes from the shores, and the cry is repeated a thousand times all +over the world: "Freedom, freedom!" The Pope throws his keys into the +sea, and the Emperor sheathes his sword, for against that cry they +avail nothing.--Oh, Olof, you wish to smite the Pope, but you forget the +Emperor--the Emperor, who is killing his people without counting them +because they dare to sigh when he tramples on their chests. You want to +smite the Pope at Rome, but, like Luther, you want to give them a new +pope in Holy Writ. Listen! Listen! Bind not the spirits with any fetters +whatsoever! Forget not the great Whitsunday! Forget not your great goal: +spiritual life and spiritual freedom! Listen not to the cry of death: +"And behold, it is all good!" For then the millennium, the kingdom of +liberty, will never arrive--and it is that which is now beginning. (Olof +remains silent.) Does it make you dizzy? + +Olof. You go too far, Gert. + +Gert. The day shall come when they will call me papist. Aim at the sky, +and you will hit the forest line ahead of you. + +Olof. Turn back, Gert! You'll bring disaster on yourself and on the +realm. Can't you see how the country is still shivering with the +wound-fever caused by the last war? And you wish to sow the seeds of +civil war. It is a godless deed! + +Gert. No, the knife is in the flesh now. Cut away, and the body may be +saved. + +Olof. I'll denounce you as a traitor to your country. + +Gert. You had better not, seeing that to-day you have offended the +Church beyond repair. Besides-- + +Olof. Speak out, Gert. Just now you look like Satan himself! + +Gert. You shall have my secret: deal with it to suit yourself. The +King leaves for Malmoe to-day, and the day after to-morrow, perchance, +Stockholm may be in open revolt. + +Olof. What are you talking about? + +Gert. Do you know Rink and Knipperdollink? + +Olof (alarmed). The Anabaptists! + +Gert. Yes. What's so startling in that? They are nothing but a couple +of lubberly tradesmen. A furrier and a grocer, who deny the use of +baptizing unconscious children, and who are simple-minded enough to +oppose the forcing of irrational creatures into deliberate perjury. + +Olof. That is not all. + +Gert. What is it, then? + +Olof. They are possessed. + +Gert. Of the spirit, yes. It is the storm wind that is crying through +them. Beware, if you get into its path! + +Olof. This must be stopped. I am going to the King. + +Gert. We should be friends, Olof. Your mother is living in Stockholm, +isn't she? + +Olof. You know it, then? + +Gert. Do you know that my daughter Christine is with your mother? + +Olof. Christine? + +Gert. Yes, for the present. If we win, your mother will be protected +for my daughter's sake; and if the Catholics win, my daughter will +be protected for your mother's sake. You are a little concerned about +Christine, are you not? + +Olof. Gert, Gert, what made you so wise? + +Gert. The madhouse. + +Olof. Go away from me! You'll lead me into disaster. + +Gert. Yes, if you call it a disaster to be robbed of all earthly +happiness, to be dragged into prison, to suffer poverty, to be scorned +and reviled fur the sake of truth. If so, you are not worthy of such a +splendid disaster. I thought you would understand me, I counted on your +help, for in you the fire is still burning, but I see that the world is +tempting you. Well, follow the stream and be happy! + +Olof. How could a man make over the age in which he is living? + +Gert. That's what Luther has done. + +Olof. How can one man check a stream? + +Gert. Guide it, you fool--for we are the stream. The old are stagnant +mudpools, you don't need to check them, but don't let them rot away or +dry up; give them an outlet, and they'll flow with the stream, too. + +Olof. Yes, I understand you! You have bred a thought in my soul, but +that thought must be strangled in its birth, or it will kill me. + +Gert. Believe me, you will be a Daniel, and you will speak the truth +unto princes, and they will conspire to take your life; but the Lord +will protect you.--Now I can safely leave, for I see lightnings flash +from your eyes and tongues of fire flickering over your head. (As he is +leaving.) There comes the Lord of Flies: don't let him defile your pure +soul also. + +Olof. Jesus help me! + +[Enter Bishop Brask and Bishop Sommar. Sommar approaches Olof, while +Brask remains behind, studying the surroundings.] + +Sommar. Who rang vespers, Canonicus? + +Olof (calmly but firmly). I did. + +Sommar. Didn't you know the order? + +Olof. I was aware of the prohibition. + +Sommar. And you dared to defy it? + +Olof. Yes, when the people were let go like sheep without a shepherd, I +wanted to keep them together. + +Sommar. You seem to be finding fault with our actions. That's impudence +indeed. + +Olof. Truth is always impudent. + +Sommar. I believe, young man, that you want to play the part of an +apostle of truth. It will bring you no thanks. + +Olof. All I ask is ingratitude. + +Sommar. Save your truths. They don't retain their value in the market +very long. + +Olof (impetuously). That's advice worthy of the Father of +Lies!--(Mildly.) I ask your pardon! + +Sommar. Do you know to whom you are talking? + +Olof (heatedly). To servus servi servorum Mans Sommar! + +Brask (stepping forward). Who is this man? + +Sommar. One of the attendants in the church. + +Brask. What's his name? + +Sommar. Olof Pedersson, alias Olaus Petri. + +Brask (staring hard at Olof). So you are Master Olof? (Olof bows +and looks fixedly at Brask.) I like you. Would you care to become my +secretary? + +Olof. Many thanks, Your Grace, but I have no recommendations. + +Brask. What have you to say, Bishop Mans? + +Sommar. He is said to have found much favor with Dr. Luther. + +Brask. So I've heard. Nothing but youthful spirits. We'll train him. + +Olof. I fear it is too late! + +Brask. A sapling can be bent. + +Sommar. It is not wise to raise vipers, Your Grace. Our canonicus here +has strong leanings toward heresy, and to-day he has dared to defy our +orders. + +Brask. Is that so? + +Sommar. On fully legal grounds we have proclaimed an interdict, and this +man has ventured to say mass--worse than that, he has said a Lutheran +mass, and thus stirred up the people. + +Brask. Take care, young man! Don't you know that the ban will fall on +anybody who proclaims Luther? + +Olof. I know it, but I fear no other god than God. + +Brask. Consider your words. I mean well by you, and you repel me. + +Olof. You want to purchase my ability for the doctoring of your sick +cause, and I am shameless enough not to sell myself. + +Brask. By Saint George, I think you are out of your senses! + +Olof. If so, don't give me the same treatment as Gert the Printer. You +put him in a madhouse, and it made him too wise, I fear. + +Brask (to Bishop Sommar). Do you know Gert? + +Sommar. No, Your Grace. + +Brask. He's a lunatic who used my press to print Lutheran writings in +place of the anti-Lutheran stuff I put into his hands. Moreover, he was +dreaming of the Apocalypse and the Millennium. (To Olof.) Have you seen +him? + +Olof. He was here awhile ago, and you can expect but little good of him. + +Brask. Is he at large? + +Olof. He'll be in Stockholm soon, and from there you'll hear of him, I +think. Take care, my Lord Bishop! + +Brask. Ho, there is nothing to fear yet. + +Olof. The Anabaptists are in Stockholm. + +Brask. What do you say? + +Olof. The Anabaptists are in Stockholm! + +Brask. The Anabaptists? + +[Enter Gustaf Vasa suddenly.] + +Gustaf. What's up? The city is in a tumult, the people are marching +through the streets crying for the mass. What's the meaning of all this? + +Brask. Mischief, Your Highness. + +Gustaf. Bishop Mans! + +Sommar. The city has failed to pay its tithes. + +Gustaf. And for that reason you refuse to hold divine service? 'Sdeath! + +Brask. Your Highness ought to remember-- + +Gustaf. Answer me, Bishop Malls! + +Sommar. Your Highness ought to remember that matters like these, which +fall within the jurisdiction of the Church-- + +Gustaf. I command you to attend to your duties! + +Brask. The Bishops of Sweden take no orders except from their superiors, +the Pope and the Canon Law. + +Gustaf (checked). I know, but if the Pope cannot always keep an eye on +them? + +Brask. That's our concern. + +Gustaf (flares up, but controls himself at once). Your Grace is right. +It will remain your concern. + +Brask. To change the subject--Stockholm is about to rise in rebellion. + +Gustaf. Who says so? + +Sommar. Our canonicus here. + +Gustaf. Your schoolmaster? Where is he? Oh, is it you? What's your name? + +Olof. Olof Pedersson. + +Gustaf. Master Olof! They tell the you are a heretic, and that you are +scheming against Holy Church! That's a perilous venture! + +Brask. This very day he has dropped his mask by daring to show open +defiance of the Chapter's prohibition against services, and for that +reason we demand that Your Highness consent to have him duly punished. + +Gustaf. That's a matter for the Chapter and does not concern me. (To +Olof.) But what was that you had to say about a rebellion at Stockholm? + +Olof. The Anabaptists! + +Gustaf. Is that all? + +Brask. Does not Your Highness know how those madmen have been carrying +on in Germany? We suggest that Your Highness return to the city in +person with your armed force. + +Gustaf. That's a matter in which I suit myself! + +Brask. But civil war-- + +Gustaf. That's _my_ concern! (To Olof.) Olof, I appoint you to the +clerkship of our court-house at Stockholm. Get over there at once. Speak +to the people. I put my trust in you! + +Brask. For the country's sake I ask Your Highness to consider the +futility of wasting speech on madmen. + +Gustaf. Souls are not controlled by swords. Bear that in mind, Your +Lordships. + +Brask. The Church has never-- + +Gustaf. Nor by keys! (To Olof.) Go to my chancellor, and he will give +you your appointment. + +Brask. You had better wait a moment, canonicus. + +Gustaf. Our secretary will not put your orders ahead of mine. + +Brask. The rights of the Church must be assured first of all. Olof +Pedersson-- + +Gustaf (correcting him). Secretary-- + +Brask. Secretary Olof Pedersson cannot leave this city until the Chapter +has pronounced its verdict. + +Gustaf. The Chapter must try the case before it can pronounce a verdict. + +Brask. That's our concern. + +Gustaf. It is not your concern, Bishop Brask. The Bishop of Linkoeping +cannot sit in judgment on a canonicus at Straengnaes. Speak for yourself, +Bishop Sommar. + +Sommar. After what has just occurred--h'm! + +Brask. All further arguments would seem superfluous. + +Gustaf. You had better be silent, Bishop Brask, or leave us, as I am +talking privately to Bishop Sommar--privately!--Well, speak up, Bishop +Mans! + +Sommar. I cannot see but--that--as His Grace, the Bishop of Linkoeping-- + +Gustaf. We are talking of Master Olof now. Your Lordships will have to +postpone the trial. Be kind enough to leave us. + +[Exeunt Bishops.] + +Gustaf (to Olof). Will you be my man? + +Olof. Your Highness' secretary? + +Gustaf. No, my right hand--on the condition that for the present the +left hand shall not know what the right is doing. Go to Stockholm. + +Olof. The Chapter will demand my surrender and ban me. + +Gustaf. Before they get to that point you may fall back on me, but until +then--stand on your own feet as far as you can. + +Olof. What is Your Highness' will? + +Gustaf. Talk to those fanatics in Stockholm. + +Olof. And then? + +Gustaf. Oh, that's a long way off. I don't dare to think so far +yet.--Let them preach. It can't hurt those sottish spirits to hear a +new word, even if it be not all true. But there must be no violence; for +then the sword will join in the game. Farewell, Olof! [Exit.] + +Olof (alone). So the Emperor won't be friends with the Pope! + +(The two scholars, who have been waiting among the trees in the +background, come forward.) + +First Scholar. Shall we go on with the play, Master Olof? + +Olof. No, children, there will be no more playing. + +First Scholar. Are you going to leave us, Master Olof? + +Olof. Yes, and probably forever. + +First Scholar. Can't you stay over Whitsuntide, so that we can perform +our comedy? + +Second Scholar. And so that I can play the Angel Gabriel? + +First Scholar. Please do as we ask you, Master Olof! You are the only +one who has been nice to us and spared us those terrible fasts. + +Second Scholar. Oh, don't go away from us, Master Olof! + +Olof. You don't know what you are asking, children. The day will come +when you shall thank the Lord that I did go away from you.--Oh, no, +I hope such a day will never come!--But let us make our leave-taking +brief. Good-bye, Nils! Good-bye, Vilhelm! + +(He embraces them, and they kiss his hand. In the meantime Lars +Andersson has entered and is watching the group closely.) + +First Scholar. Won't you ever come back, Master Olof? + +Lars (coming forward). Are you ready to start now? + +Olof (to the scholars). No, I shall never come back. + +Scholars (as they go out). Good-bye, Master Olof, and don't forget us! +(Olof stands looking after them.) + +Lars. I have seen the King. + +Olof (absent-mindedly). Have you? + +Lars. Do you know what he said? + +Olof. No. + +Lars. "I have got a harrier to raise the game; now it remains to be seen +whether he will come back when I whistle for him!" + +Olof. Look at them--playing there among the graves, and picking flowers, +and singing the songs of Whitsuntide. + +Lars (taking hold of Olof's arm). Child! + +Olof (with a start). What did you say? + +Lars. I thought you had laid your hand so firmly on the plough handle +to-day that there could be no question of looking back. (Olof waves his +hand to the scholars.) Are you still dreaming? + +Olof. It was the last bright morning dream that passed away from me. +Pardon me--I am awake now! + +[Exeunt toward the right. Then they are nearly out, Olof turns for a +last look at the scholars. These have disappeared in the meantime, and +in their place appear the two Black Friars, Marten and Nils. On seeing +them, Olof utters a startled cry and puts one hand to his forehead. Lars +drags him out.] + + + + +ACT II + +SCENE 1 + +(A Room in the Foundation Wall of the Church of St. Nicolaus at +Stockholm (generally known as Greatchurch), used as a beer-shop. A bar +full of pots and mugs occupies the background. To the right of the bar +stands a table, back of which appears an iron door. Two disguised friars +(Marten and Nils) are seated at this table drinking beer. The other +tables are surrounded by German mercenaries, peasants, and sailors. +The door to the street is at the right. A fiddler is seated on top of +a barrel. The soldiers are throwing dice. All are drunk and noisy. Hans +Windrank, a man from Smaland, a German tradesman, and a Dane are seated +together at one of the tables.) + +German (to the Dane). So you defend a bloodthirsty brute like Christian? + +Dane. Oh, mercy, he's human, isn't he? + +German. Not, he's a monster! A bloodthirsty brute! A treacherous, +cowardly Dane! + +Dane. Zounds! But you'd better not talk of blood. Do you remember the +massacre on Kaeppling Island, when the Germans-- + +Windrank. Listen to me, good Sirs! Let's be friends now, and have some +fun, and I'll tell you about Americky. + +German. Are you going to blame us of Luebeck for what the Germans did? + +Dane. Oh, mercy, I was talking of the Germans only-- + +Windrank. Listen, good Sirs, what's the use of quarrelling? (To the +Tavern-keeper.) Four noggins of gin! Now let's be calm and agreeable, +and I'll tell you of Americky. (They are served.) + +German (sipping). A noble drink! Think of it, good Sirs, how everything +is advancing. To-day the grain is growing in the field-- + +Windrank. And to-morrow it's made into wine. I wonder who first found +out how it's done? + +German. Beg your pardon, but that's a German invention. I call it +invention, because you discover Americky. + +Windrank. And the Germans never make any discoveries? + +German. 'Sdeath! + +Windrank. Now, now! You're no German, you said. + +Dane (to the German). Can you tell the who invented the story that the +Swedes got their present king from the Germans? (General laughter.) + +German. It was we of Luebeck what gave Sweden a liberator when she was on +the verge of ruin. + +Windrank. Here's to the King! + +Dane. Here's to Luebeck! + +German (flattered). Really I don't know how to-- + +Windrank. Why, you aren't the King! + +German. Beg your pardon, but it was my Danish brother's-- + +Dane. How can you be of Luebeck when you are a citizen of Stockholm? + +Windrank (to the Man from Smaland). Why won't our silent brother drink +at all? + +Man from Smaland. I'll drink your corn-juice, but when it comes to the +King's health, I do like this! (He crushes the tin cup and throws it on +the floor.) + +Windrank (groping with one hand for his sheath knife.) You won't drink +the King's health? + +Man from Smaland. I've been drinking the cup he offered me so long that +I don't care to drink his health any longer. + +Windrank. 'Sblood! + +German (eagerly). Hush, hush! Let's hear what he's got to say. + +Dane (in the same way). Mercy, yes! + +A Man from Smaland. The Lord help me when I get home again! + +Windrank (sentimentally). What is it, my dear man? Why do you look so +sad? Do you need money? Look here, now! (He pulls out his purse.) I've +half my wages left. What's the matter with you? + +Man from Smaland. Don't let us talk about it. More gin! Gin here! I've +money, too. Do you see? Gold! (The liquor is served). It isn't mine, but +I'll spend it on drink to the last farthing, and you'll please help me. + +Windrank. And yet it isn't your money--how can you do that? + +German. Who's wronged you, my dear fellow? I can see that you have fared +badly. + +A Man from Smaland I am ruined! You see, I got two hundred oxen on +trust, and when I came to Stockholm the King's agent took charge of +the whole business, and he said I couldn't sell them for more than he +allowed. It's the King that fixes the price on oxen--it's the King that +has ruined me. + +German. You don't say! + +Man from Smaland. Oh, I know a lot more. He means to take the +priests and the monks away from us in order to give everything to the +gentlefolk. + +Dane. To the gentlefolk? + +Man from Smaland. Exactly! I wish King Christian--God bless him!--had +cut off a few more heads. + +Windrank. Well, is the King like that? I thought he had those noble +fellows by the ear. + +Man from Smaland. He? No, he lets them be born with the right to cut +oak on my ground, if I had any. For I did have a patch of land once, you +see, but then came a lord who said that my great-grandmother had taken +it all in loan from his great-grandfather, and so there was an end to +that story. + +German. Why, is the King like that? I would never have believed it. + +Man from Smaland. Indeed he is! Those high-born brats run around with +their guns in our woods and pick off the deer out of sheer mischief, but +if one of us peasants were dying from hunger and took a shot at one of +the beasts--well, then he wouldn't have to starve to death, for they'd +hang him--but not to an oak--Lord, no! That would be a shame for such +a royal tree. No, just to an ordinary pine. The pine, you see, has no +crown, and that's why it isn't royal--and that's why the old song says: + + The peasants we hanged in lines + From the tops of the tallest pities. + +It has nothing to say about crowns, mind you. + +German. But the pine carries its head high just the same, and its back +is straight. + +Man from Smaland. Drink, good Sirs! You're right welcome to 't. It's a +blessed drink. If only I didn't have wife and children at home! Oh, my, +my, my! But that's all one! Oh, I know a lot more, but I know how to +keep it to myself, too. + +Windrank. What do you know? + +German. Maybe it's something diverting? + +Man from Smaland. You see--if you counted all the pines of Smaland, I +think you'd find a whole lot more of them than of oaks. + +German. You think so? + +Windrank. I don't like you to talk badly of the King. I don't know what +he is doing or saying, and it isn't my business either, but I know he +takes good care of the shipping trade. Yes, it's he who has put ships +on the Spanish trade, and who has made me a skipper, and so I've got no +fault to find with him. + +German. He has done it out of sheer deviltry, just to hurt the trade of +Luebeck--of Luebeck, to which he owes such a great debt! + +Man from Smaland. Well, he'll get what he deserves! A steer doesn't lose +his horns when you make an ox of him. Many thanks for your company. Now +I've got to go. + +German. Oh, no! Just one more noggin--and then we can talk a little +more. + +Man from Smaland. No, thanks, though I'm sure it's good of you, but +that's all I dare take, for otherwise I fear this will end badly. I've +wife and children at home, you see, and now I'm going home--to tell them +we're ruined--no--I don't dare to--I'm much obliged, Mr. German--let's +drink some more. + +German. That's right! (They drink.) + +Man from Smaland (emptying his cup and jumping up). Oh, damn the bitter +stuff! [Exit, staggering.] + +German (to the Dane). O Lord--when that fellow wakes up! + +(The Dane nods assent. The noise has been steadily increasing. The +fiddler is playing. Then the organ begins to play in the church.) + +Windrank. It's strange, I think, that the King lets them have a +drinkshop in the church wall. + +German. Does it hurt your conscience, skipper? The King doesn't know it, +you see. + +Windrank. But they don't go together, the organ music and the singing in +here. I've always been a God-fearing man, ever since I was at home. + +German (ironically). Happy the man brought up in that way! You had a +mother-- + +Windrank (moved). Yes--yes! + +German. Who tucked you up nights and taught you to say: "Now I lay me +down to sleep." + +Windrank. That's it! + +German. And a fine woman she was! + +Windrank (on whom the drink is beginning to show its effect.) Oh, if you +only knew! + +German. The Lord has heard her prayers. You're weeping. So you must be a +good man. + +Dane. Dear me! + +German. If your mother could only see you now--with those tears in your +eyes! + +Windrank. Oh, I know I'm a poor miserable sinner--I know it! But I tell +you--I've got a heart, damn it! Just let a poor wretch come and tell me +he is hungry, and I'll take off my own shirt and give it to him. + +German. How about another drink? + +Windrank. No, I don't think so. + +(Several blows are struck on the iron door from the outside, causing +general excitement.) + +Windrank. God-a-mercy! + +German. Don't get scared. That's not the gate of heaven. + +Windrank. I'll never drink another drop--I vow and swear! + +German (to the Dane). What a blessed drink gin must be, seeing it can +move a rogue like that to sentimentality--nay, even to thoughts of +sobriety. + +Dane. You're right. There is nothing like it. + +German. It opens the heart wide and closes the head. Which means that it +makes good people of us, for those are called good, you know, who have +much heart and little head. + +Dane. I'd go still farther. Gin makes us religious. For it kills reason, +and reason is the rock that keeps religion from entering our hearts. + +German. Most holy is gin! Strange that-- + +Dane. You need say no more! + +(More blows are struck on the iron door.) + +Windrank (who has fallen asleep, is awakened by the blows). Help! I die! + +German. What a pity to lose such a sweet soul! + +(The door is pushed open so that the table at which Marten and Nils are +seated is upset together with the mugs and cups on it. A woman wearing +a red and black skirt, with a nun's veil thrown over her head, comes +running into the room. For a moment Gert can be seen in the doorway +behind her, but the door is immediately closed again.) + +Harlot (with a startled glance at her surroundings). Save me! The people +want to kill me! + +A German Mercenary. A harlot under a nun's veil! Ha-ha-ha! (General +laughter.) + +Marten (making the sign of the cross). A harlot! Who dares to bring her +into this respectable company? Master taverner, take her out of here, or +she'll hurt the good name of the place and the sanctity of the church. + +Harlot. Will nobody here save me? (In the meantime the tavern-keeper has +seized her by the arm to lead her into the street.) Don't give me into +the hands of that furious mob! I wanted to steal into the Lord's house +that I might share in His grace--I wanted to start a new life--but the +monks drove me out and set the people on me--until Father Gert came and +saved me. + +Marten. You can hear for yourselves. She has polluted the Lord's temple. +She wants to hide the garment of shame beneath the veil of sanctity. + +German. And there isn't enough of the veil. + +Marten (approaching the woman to tear the veil from her face). Off with +the mask, and let your abomination be seen by all! (He draws back when +he catches sight of her face.) + +Harlot. So it's you, Marten--you murderer! + +German. Old chums! + +Marten. That's a shameless lie! I never have seen her before. I am +Brother Marten, of the Dominicans, and Brother Nils here can be my +witness. + +Nils (intoxicated). I can testify--that Brother Marten has never seen +this woman. + +Harlot. And yet it was you, Nils, who showed me Marten's letter of +absolution when I was driven out of the convent and he was permitted to +stay. + +Nils. Yes--come to think of it! + +Marten (in a rage, pulling Nils by the sleeve). You're lying--you, too! +Can't you see he is drunk? + +German. My dear folks, I can testify that the reverend brother is drunk, +and that's why he is lying! + +Crowd (with signs of disgust). A drunken priest! + +German. Well, booze is absolution for lying. Isn't that so, Father +Marten? + +Tavern-keeper. Really, I can't let my house be the meeting-place for +any kind of disturbance. If this goes on, I'll lose my customers and +get hauled before the Chapter. Won't you please take away that miserable +creature who's causing all this noise? + +Marten. Take her out, or I'll have you all banned! Don't you know that +we are now within the consecrated walls of the church, although the +Chapter allows this outhouse to be used for the material refreshment of +travellers? + +German. Surely this room is holy, good folk, and surely the Lord doth +dwell here. + +(The crowd begins to drag the Harlot toward the street door.) + +Harlot. Jesus Christ, help me! + +[Enter Olof. He appears in the door, and pushes through the crowd until +he reaches the Harlot, whose hand he takes so that he can pull her away +from the drunken men about her.] + +Olof. Answer me--who is this woman? + +Marten. She's no woman. + +Olof. What do you mean? + +Marten. She is no man either, although she's disguised. + +Olof. "She," you say--and yet not a woman? + +Marten. She's a harlot. + +Olof (shocked, drops the woman's hand). A harlot! + +German. Don't let go of her, Master Olof, or she'll run away. + +Olof. Why are you laying hands on her? What is her crime? + +German. Going to church. + +Olof. I see! (He looks around.) + +Marten. What are you looking for? + +Olof (catching sight of Marten). A priest! + +Marten. I am a Black Friar. + +Olof. Yes, I guessed that much. So it's you who have incited the people +against her? + +Marten. I am protecting the church from foulness and trying to keep it +free of vice. She is a banned woman, who has been trafficking with her +own body, which should be a temple of the Lord. (The woman kneels before +Olof.) + +Olof (taking her by the hand). But I, Dominican, dare to take her hand +and match her against you. She has sold her body, you say--how many +souls have you bought?--I am also a priest--Nay, I am a man, for I +am not presumptuous enough to put a lock on God's own house, and as +a sinful human creature I hold out my hand to my fellow-creature, who +cannot be pure either. Let him who is without sin step forward and cast +the first stone.--Step forward, Brother Marten, you angel of light, who +have donned the black garments of innocence and shaved your hair so +that no one may see how you have grown gray in sin! Or have you no stone +ready, perhaps? Alas for you, then! What have you done with those +you were to hand the people when they were crying for bread? Have you +already given them all away?--Step forward, you highly respectable +citizen. (To Windrank, who is asleep on the floor.) You, who are +sleeping the sleep of a brute, why don't you wake up and fling your +knife at her?--Do you see how he is blushing? Can it be from shame at +the bad company you have brought him into, or from carnal desire? (The +crowd mutters disapprovingly.) You are muttering! Is that because you +are ashamed of my words or of yourselves? Why don't you cast the stones? +Oh, you haven't any. Well, open that door. Summon the people outside and +hand this woman over to them. If you don't think fifty men have power +enough to tear her to pieces, you maybe sure that five hundred women +will avail. Well? You are silent?--Rise up, woman! You have been +acquitted. Go and sin no more. But don't show yourself to the priests, +for they will deliver you up to the women! + +Marten (who has tried to interrupt Olof several times, but has been held +back by the German, now displays a document). This man, to whom you have +been listening, is a heretic, as you may have heard from his talk, +and he has also been t excommunicated. Here you can see! Read for +yourselves! (He takes one of the candles from the nearest table and +throws it on the floor.) "As this candle, that we here cast out, is +extinguished, so shall be extinguished all his happiness and weal and +whatsoever good may come to him from God!" + +Crowd (draws back, making the sign of the cross, so that Olof is left +alone with the Harlot in the middle of the room). Anathema! + +Marten (to the Harlot). There you can hear how much Master Olof's +absolution avails you. + +Olof (who has been taken aback for a moment). Do you still dare to +trust my word, woman? Are you not afraid of me? Can you not hear the +lightnings of the ban hissing around our heads? Why don't you join +these twenty righteous ones who still remain within the refuge of Holy +Church?--Answer me! Do you think the Lord has cast me out as these have +done? + +Harlot. No! + +Olof (seizing the letter of excommunication). Well, then! The great +bishop of the small city of Linkoeping has sold my soul to Satan for the +term of my life--for farther than that his power does not reach--and he +has done so because I bade the people seek their Lord when they had been +prohibited from doing so! Here is the contract! As the Church, by that +contract, has bound me to hell, so I set myself free from it (he tears +the letter to pieces)--and from the ban of the Church, too! So help me +God! Amen! + +Crowd (howling). Anathema! + +Marten. Down with him! At him! He is banned! + +Olof (placing himself in front of the Harlot). Do you hear the devils +yelling for their victim?--Dare not to touch me! + +Marten. At him! Down with him! + +[Just as one of the mercenaries raises his weapon to strike, the +iron door in the rear is flung open, and the Anabaptists, headed by +Knipperdollink, come rushing in, uttering wild cries. They carry broken +crucifixes and images of saints as well as torn vestments. All those in +the room before are forced toward the street door.] + +Knipperdollink (as he pushes back the iron door and enters ahead of +the rest). Come here, folk--here's another sanctum!--What's this? A +drinkshop in the temple!--Look ye! Look ye--the abomination has gone so +far that the tabernacle itself is being polluted. But I will cleanse it +with fire. Set fire to the church and prepare a stake for the saints! + +Olof (stepping forward). Consider what you propose to do! + +Knipperdollink. Are you afraid that the beer kegs will burst from the +heat, you Belial? Are you the popish tapster who thought it not robbery +to build vice a chapel in the very wall of the church? + +Olof. I am the Secretary of the Court-House, and I command you in the +name of the King to keep order! + +Knipperdollink. So you are the man whom the King has sent here to make +war on our sacred cause? Onward, onward, ye men of God, and seize him +first of all! Afterwards we'll cleanse the temple of the Lord from +idolatry. + +Marten. Go at him, good folk, for he's a heretic and under the ban! + +Knipperdollink. A heretic? You are not one of the papists, then? + +Olof. Since they have banned me, I can no longer be of the Church. + +Knipperdollink. Then you are on our side? (Olof remains silent.) Answer: +are you with us or against us? + +Marten. He's Olof Pedersson, the man that was sent here by the King. + +Knipperdollink. Are you Olof Pedersson? + +Olof. I am. + +Knipperdollink. But a heretic? + +Olof. I pride myself on being one. + +Knipperdollink. And yet take service with the King? + +Olof. Yes! + +(The Anabaptists raise an outcry and surround Olof.) + +[Enter Gert quickly through the door in the rear.] + +Gert. Hold! What are you doing? + +Knipperdollink. Gert!--Who is this man? + +Gert. One of our own. Let him go, friends! Over there you see the +emissaries of the Devil! + +(He points to Marten and Nils, who flee through the street door, closely +pursued by the Anabaptists. At the door Gert stops and turns toward +Olof. The Harlot is crouching in a corner of the room. Windrank is still +sleeping under one of the tables. Olof is standing in the middle of the +floor, sunk in deep thought.) + +Gert (exhausted, throws himself on a bench). It's heavy work, Olof. + +Olof. What have you been doing? + +Gert. Oh, a little house-cleaning, to begin with. + +Olof. For which you will pay dearly. + +Gert. So far we have the upper hand. The whole city has been roused. +Rink is at work in St. George's Chapel. Tell me, has the King sent you +to oppose us? + +Olof. He has. + +Gert. That was a most sensible thing to do! + +Olof. To-morrow I am to preach from the new pulpit. + +Gert. Do you call this fulfilling your royal mission? Here you are, +still standing with your arms folded. + +Olof. Come to church to-morrow with your brethren. + +Gert. Is it going to be an archipapal sermon? + +Olof. I have been put under the ban to-day. + +Gert (jumps up and puts his arms around Olof). God bless you, Olof! That +is indeed the baptism of new birth! + +Olof. I don't understand you yet. Why do you carry on like wild beasts? +You seem to be outraging all that is held sacred. + +Gert (picking up the broken image of a saint). Do you call this fellow +holy? A St. Nicolaus, I think. Can it be possible, then, that Jesus +Christ has come down and lived among us to no purpose, as we are still +worshipping logs of wood? Can this be a god, which I can break to +pieces? See! + +Olof. But he is sacred to the people. + +Gert. So was the golden calf, and so was Zeus; so were Thor and Odin, +too. And yet they were struck down. (Catches sight of the Harlot.) Who's +that woman? Oh, the one I tried to save by sending her in here. Tell me +one thing, Olof. Have you been bought by the King? + +Olof. Leave me, Gert! I hate you! + +Gert. Who's that pig asleep over there? + +Olof. When I face you, I seem to shrink. Leave me! I want to do my own +work, and not yours. + +Gert. Listen! + +Olof. You are trying to confuse my fate with your own. + +Gert. Listen! + +Olof. You have surrounded me with an invisible net. You have proclaimed +me an Anabaptist. How am I going to face the King? + +Gert. Which king? + +Olof. King Gustaf! + +Gert. Oh, that one!--Well, good-bye, then, Olof.--So you're going to +preach to-morrow?--Why doesn't that woman go her way?--Good-bye! [Exit.] + +Olof. Is that man running errands for God or for Satan? + +Harlot (approaches Olof and kneels before him). Let me thank you! + +Olof. Give thanks for God alone for having saved your soul, and don't +think that all your sins have been expiated to-day. Try to find strength +to live a life that will always be cursed. God has forgiven you--your +fellow-men will never do so! (He takes her by the hand and leads her to +the street door.) + +[Enter Marten through the doorway in the rear, followed by Olof's Mother +and Christine, the daughter of Gert.] + +Marten. We're in the wrong place, I fear. + +Mother (outraged at seeing Olof and the Harlot together). Olof, Olof! + +Christine. Who is that woman? She looks so unhappy. + +Marten. Let us get away from this den of iniquity! + +Olof (turning and running toward the iron door, which is closed in his +face by Marten). Mother! Mother! + + [He runs out through the other door.] + + (The stage is darkened.) + + +SCENE 2 + +(The Same Room. The door to the church is opened cautiously, and The +Sexton, who is also the organ-blower, enters warily. He carries a +lantern and is followed by his Wife.) + +Sexton. Catherine dear, will you hold the lantern a moment while I put +on the padlock? + +Wife. First we must have a look at all this wretchedness, Bengt dear. +Never could I have believed that the public-house was so near to us. +It's perfectly dreadful! Look--whole barrels full of beer! + +Sexton. And gin, too. Don't you smell it? It will give me a headache if +I stay much longer. + +Wife. Lord have mercy, what a sinful life they must have lived in here! + +Sexton. Catherine dear! + +Wife. Yes, dear. + +Sexton. Do you know I am not feeling quite well. This place is so damp +and cold. + +Wife. Perhaps we had better go home? + +Sexton. Oh, I think I must sit down and rest on the bench here. + +Wife. You shouldn't sit down in all this dampness and cold. Let us get +back into the church. + +Sexton. No, I think it was still colder out there. + +Wife. You haven't a fever, have you? + +Sexton. I almost think I have--I'm so hot. + +Wife. Maybe you want something to drink? + +Sexton. That wouldn't be a bad thing, perhaps. + +Wife. I'll see if there is any water around. + +Sexton. Don't think you'll find any in this kind of a hole. + +Wife. But you can't drink beer if you have a fever. + +Sexton. Do you know, I think the fever has passed away. Now I'm feeling +cold. + +Wife. I'll see if I can't find some small beer. + +Sexton. It has to be pretty strong, I think, if it's to do any good. +There's a keg of Rostock No. 4 over there--marked A. W., don't you see? + +Wife (searching). I can't find it. Here's an Amsterdam No. 3. + +Sexton. Can't you see--up there on the fourth shelf at the right? (His +wife continues to look.) The tap is lying to the left of it, right by +the funnel. + +Wife. I don't think it's there. + +Sexton. Just as if I didn't know! + +Wife. Yes, here it is. + +(The Sexton gets up to help his wile and accidentally steps on +Windrank.) + +Windrank (waking up). Mercy! Jesu Christ! St. Peter and St. Paul! +Ferdinand and Isabella, and St. George and the Dragon, and all the rest! +And ires dire glories in excellence, and deuces tecum vademecum Christ +Jesu, and birds of a feather, and now I lay me down to sleep, and +a child is born for you to keep--Amen! Amen!--Who's stepping on my +windbag? + +Sexton (frightened). Will you please tell me whether you are a man or a +ghost? + +Windrank. Man most of the time, but just now I'm a beast. + +Sexton. What kind of a man, if I may ask? + +Windrank. A shipman--which is nor reason why you should blow all the +wind out of me. + +Sexton. But that's my business, you know--I blow the bellows of the big +organ. + +Windrank. So it was the organ-blower who honored me-- + +Sexton. The sexton, to put it right; but I also keep an old-clothes shop +in the church wall. + +Windrank. So you're organ-blower, sexton, and shopkeeper-- + +Sexton. In one person--without confusion or transformation-- + +Windrank. That's a most respectable trinity. + +Sexton. Such things should not be made fun of! + +Windrank. Oh, my, my! I'm drowning! Help! + +Sexton. Lord, what is it? + +Windrank. There's a whole river coming--Ugh! + +Sexton. Catherine dear! Where are you, my angel? (He runs to look for +her.) Jesu, but you must have scared my wife out of her wits. She has +run away from the keg--and taken the tap along! Get up--up with you, and +let us leave this godless hole! + +Windrank. No, my dear fellow, I'm in my element now, so I think I'll +stay. + +Sexton. Goodness, the clock is striking twelve, and the ghosts will be +coming! + +Windrank (jumping to his feet). That's a different story! (The Sexton +guides Windrank toward the door.) Listen, sexton--I'm beginning to have +strong doubts about the trinity. + +Sexton. Well, I declare! + +Windrank. It's your trinity I'm thinking of. + +Sexton. What do you mean, master skipper? + +Windrank. I think there must be four of you, after all. + +Sexton. Four--of whom? + +Windrank. How about the tapster? Shouldn't he be counted, too? + +Sexton. Hush, man! That's only nights. + +(Both stumble over the broken image of St. Nicolaus and fall down.) + +Windrank. Mercy! Ghosts! Jesu Maria, help! + +Sexton (rising and picking up the image). Well, if that isn't enough to +make your hair stand on end! Here's St. Nicolaus broken all to pieces +and swimming in the beer. It has come to a fine pass when divine +things are defiled like that--I don't think the world will last much +longer--when such things can be done in the dry tree-- + +Windrank (having recovered). In the wet one, you mean. + +Sexton. Keep still, blasphemer! St. Nicolaus is my patron saint. I was +born on his day. + +Windrank. That's probably why both of you like beer. + +Sexton. Yes, it's in the fashion now to be heretical! + +Windrank. It's in the air, I think, for otherwise I'm a most God-fearing +man. But never mind, I'll have St. Nicolaus glued together for you. + +Sexton (calling into the church). Catherine! + +Windrank. Hush, hush, man! You'll make the ghosts appear! + +Sexton. A plague on your tongue! [Exeunt.] + + +SCENE 3 + +(The Sacristy of the Church of St. Nicolaus. There is a door leading to +the church, and another, smaller one, leading to the pulpit. The walls +are hung with chasubles and surplices. Priedieus and a few small chests +are standing about. The sunlight is pouring in through a window. The +church bells are heard ringing. Through the wall at the left can be +heard a constant murmuring. The Sexton and his Wife enter, stop near the +door, and pray silently.) + +Sexton. That's enough! Now, Catherine dear, you'd better hurry up and do +some dusting. + +Wife. Oh, there's no special occasion. It's nobody but that Master Olof +who's going to preach to-day. Really, I can't see why the Chapter allows +it. + +Sexton. Because he's got permission from the King, you see. + +Wife. Well, well! + +Sexton. And then he has had a sort of basket built out from the +wall--nothing but new-fangled tricks! It's all on account of that man +Luther. + +Wife. I suppose we'll have the same kind of trouble that we had +yesterday. I thought they were going to pull the whole church down. + +Sexton (carrying a glass of water up to the pulpit). I'm sure the poor +fellow will need something to wet his whistle to-day. + +Wife. Well, I shouldn't bother, if I were you. + +Sexton (speaking from the pulpit). Catherine--here he comes! + +Wife. Goodness gracious, and the sermon bell hasn't rung yet! Well, I +suppose they won't ring it for a fellow like him. + +[Enter Olof, looking serious and solemn. He crosses to one of the +prie-dieus and kneels on it. The Sexton comes down from the pulpit and +takes from the wall a surplice which he holds out to Olof.] + +Olof (rising). The peace of the Lord be with you! + +[The Wife curtseys and leaves the room. The Sexton holds out the +vestment again.] + +Olof. Leave it hanging! + +Sexton. Don't you want any robe? + +Olof. No. + +Sexton. But it's always used. And the handkerchief? + +Olof. Never mind. + +Sexton. Well, I declare! + +Olof. Will you please leave me alone, my friend? + +Sexton. You want me to get out? But as a rule, I-- + +Olof. Do me the favor, please! + +Sexton. Oh, well! Of course! But first I want to tell you that you'll +find the missal to the right of you as you get up, and I have put in +a stick so you'll know where to open it, and there is a glass of water +beside the book. And you mustn't forget to turn the hour-glass, or it +may chance you'll keep it up a little too long-- + +Olof. Don't worry! There will be plenty of people to tell me when to +quit. + +Sexton. Mercy, yes--beg your pardon! But you see, we've got our own +customs here. + +Olof. Tell me, what is that depressing murmur we hear? + +Sexton. It's some pious brother saying prayers for a poor soul. [Exit.] + +Olof. "Thou therefore gird up thy loins and arise, and speak unto them +all that I command thee."--God help me! (He drops on his knees at a +prie-dieu; there he finds a note, which he reads.) "Don't preach to-day; +your life is in danger."--The Tempter himself wrote that! (He tears the +note to pieces.) + +[Enter Olof's Mother.] + +Mother. You are straying from the right path, my son. + +Olof. Who knows? + +Mother. I know! But as your mother I reach out my hand to you. Turn +back! + +Olof. Where would you lead me? + +Mother. To godliness and virtue. + +Olof. If godliness and virtue are vested in papal decrees, then I fear +it is too late. + +Mother. It isn't only a question of what you teach, but of how you live. + +Olof. I know you are thinking of my company last night, but I am too +proud to answer you. Nor do I think it would do any good. + +Mother. Oh, that I should be thus rewarded for the sacrifice I made when +I let you go out into the world and study! + +Olof. By heaven, your sacrifice shall not be wasted! It is you, mother, +I have to thank for this day when at last I can stand forth with a free +countenance and speak the words of truth. + +Mother. How can _you_ talk of truth, you who have made yourself a +prophet of lies? + +Olof. Those are hard words, mother! + +Mother. Or perhaps I and my forbears have lived and worshipped and died +in a lie? + +Olof. It wasn't a lie, but it has become one. When you were young, +mother, you were right, and when I grow old--well, perhaps I may find +myself in the wrong. One cannot keep apace with the times. + +Mother. I don't understand! + +Olof. This is my one sorrow--the greatest one of my life: that all I +do and say with the purest purpose must appear to you a crime and +sacrilege. + +Mother. I know what you mean to do, Olof--I know what error you have +fallen into--and I cannot hope to persuade you out of it, for you know +so much more than I do, and I am sure that the Lord will put you on the +right path again--but I ask you to take care of your own life, so that +you won't plunge headlong into perdition! Don't risk your life! + +Olof. What do you mean? They won't kill me in the pulpit, will they? + +Mother. Haven't you heard that Bishop Brask wants the Pope to introduce +the law that sends all heretics to the stake? + +Olof. The inquisition? + +Mother. Yes, that's what they call it. + +Olof. Leave me, mother! To-day I must stand up and preach. + +Mother. You shall not do it. + +Olof. Nothing can prevent me. + +Mother. I have prayed to God that He would touch your heart--I'll tell +you, but you mustn't speak of it to anybody. I am weak with age, and I +couldn't trust my own knees, so I went to see a servant of the Lord and +asked him, who is nearer to God, to say some prayers for your soul. He +refused because you are under the ban. Oh, it's dreadful! May the +Lord forgive me my sin! I bribed the pure conscience of that man with +gold--with the Devil's own gold--just to save you! + +Olof. Mother, what do I hear? It can't be possible! + +Mother (takes Olof by the hand and leads him over to the left, close to +the wall). Listen! Do you hear? He is praying for you now in the chapel +next to this room. + +Olof. So that was the murmur I heard! Who is he? + +Mother. You know him--Brother Marten, of the Dominicans-- + +Olof. You get Satan to say prayers for me!--Forgive me, mother--I thank +you for your good intention, but-- + +Mother (on her knees, weeping). Olof! Olof! + +Olof. Don't ask me! A mother's plea might tempt the angels of heaven to +recant!--Now the hymn is ended: I must go! The people are waiting. + +Mother. You'll send me into my grave, Olof! + +Olof (passionately). The Lord will resurrect you! (Kissing her hand.) +Don't talk to me any more--I don't know what I am saying! + +Mother. Listen! Listen! The people are muttering! + +Olof. I'm coming! I'm coming! He who protected Daniel in the lions' den +will also protect me! + +(Olof ascends the stairs leading to the pulpit. Throughout the ensuing +scenes a man's voice can be heard speaking with great power, but no +words can be distinguished. After a while mutterings are heard, which +change into loud cries.) + +[Enter Christine.] + +Christine. Mother, did you see him? + +Mother. Are you here, child? I asked you to stay at home! + +Christine. Why shouldn't I visit the house of the Lord? There is +something you hide from me! + +Mother. Go home, Christine! + +Christine. May I not hear Olof preach? It's the word of God, isn't it, +mother? (The Mother remains silent.) You don't answer? What does it +mean? Hasn't Olof permission to preach? Why do the people out there look +so mysterious? They were muttering when I came. + +Mother. Don't ask me! Go home and thank God for your ignorance! + +Christine. Am I a child, then, since nobody dares to tell me-- + +Mother. Your soul is still pure, and nobody must defile it. What place +is there for you in the battle? + +Christine. Battle? I thought so! + +Mother. Yes, here the battle rages, and so you must get out of the way. +You know our lot when the men go to war. + +Christine. But let me first know what it is all about. Not to know +anything at all makes me so unhappy. I see nothing but a dreadful +darkness, and shadows that are moving about--Give me light, so that I +may see clearly! Perhaps I know these ghostly shallows? + +Mother. You will shudder when you see who they are. + +Christine. It is better to shudder than to be tormented by this horrible +calm. + +Mother. Don't pray for the cloud to flash forth lightning: it may +destroy you! + +Christine. You frighten me! But tell me the truth--I must know--or I +shall ask some one else. + +Mother. Are you firm in your decision to withdraw within the sacred +walls of the convent? + +Christine. My father wishes it. + +Mother. You hesitate? (Christine does not answer.) There is some tie +that holds you back. + +Christine. You know? + +Mother. I know, and tell you to break it! + +Christine. It will soon be impossible. + +Mother. I will save you, child, for you can still be saved. I will offer +the Lord the greatest sacrifice of all if a single soul can be saved +from perdition--my son! + +Christine. Olof? + +Mother. He's lost, I tell you, and I, his mother, have to tell you so! + +Christine. Lost? + +Mother. He is a prophet of lies. The Devil has taken possession of his +soul. + +Christine (passionately). It isn't true! + +Mother. God grant that you are right! + +Christine. Why--why haven't you told me this before?--But, of course, +it's a lie! (She goes to the door leading into the church and pushes +it ajar.) Look at him, mother--there he is! Can that be an evil spirit +speaking out of his mouth? Can that be a hellish flame burning in +his eyes? Can lies be told with trembling lips? Does darkness shed +light--can't you see the halo about his head? You are wrong! I feel +it within me! I don't know what he preaches--I don't know what he +denies--but he is right! He is right, and the Lord is with him! + +Mother. You don't know the world, my child. You don't know the tricks of +the Devil. Beware! (She pulls Christine away from the door.) You mustn't +listen to him. There is no strength in your soul, and he's the apostle +of Antichrist! + +Christine. Who is Antichrist? + +Mother. He is a Luther! + +Christine. You have never told me who Luther is, but if Olof is his +apostle, then Luther must be a great man. + +Mother. Luther is possessed of the Devil! + +Christine. Why didn't you tell me before? Now I can't believe you! + +Mother. I am telling you now--Alas, I wanted to save you from the +world's wickedness, and so I kept you in ignorance-- + +Christine. I don't believe you! Let me go! I must see him--I must listen +to him--for he doesn't talk like the rest. + +Mother. Jesus, my Saviour! Are you, too, possessed by the unclean +spirit? + +Christine (at the door). "Bind not the souls," he said--did you hear? +"You are free, for the Lord has set you free." See how the people +shudder at his words--now they rise up--they mutter. "You want no +freedom--woe unto you! For that is the sin against the Holy Ghost!" + +[Enter Sexton.] + +Sexton. I don't think it's well for you to stay here any longer, my good +ladies. The people are getting restless. This will never end well for +Master Olof. + +Mother. Jesu Maria! What are you saying? + +Christine. Fear not! The spirit of the Lord is with him! + +Sexton. Well, I don't know about that, but he's a wonder at preaching. +Old sinner that I am, I couldn't keep from crying where I was sitting in +the organ-loft. I don't understand how it can be possible for a heretic +and an Antichrist to talk like that. That man Luther, I must say, +I--(Cries are heard from the church.) There, there! Now something +dreadful is going to happen again! And to think that the King should be +gone just now! + +Mother. Let us get away from here. If the Lord is with him, they can +do him no harm. If it be the Devil--then Thy will be done, O Lord--but +forgive him! + +(Cries are heard outside. Exeunt the Mother, Christine, and the Sexton. +For a few moments the stage stands empty and Olof's voice is heard more +clearly than before. It is interrupted by cries and the rattling of +stones thrown at the pulpit. Christine returns alone, locks the door on +the inside, and falls on her knees at a prie-dieu. A number of violent +blows are directed against the door from without, while the tumult in +the church continues to increase. Then silence is restored, as Olof +descends from the pulpit. His forehead is bleeding and he wears a +haggard look.) + +Olof (dropping into a chair without perceiving Christine). In vain! They +will not! I take the fetters from the prisoner, and he hits me. I tell +him he is free, and he doesn't believe me. Is that word "free" so big, +then, that it can't be contained in a human brain? Oh, that I had one at +least who believed--but to be alone--a fool whom no one understands-- + +Christine (coming forward). I believe in you, Olof! + +Olof. Christine! + +Christine. _You_ are right! + +Olof. How do you know? + +Christine. I can't tell, but I believe it. I have been listening to you. + +Olof. And you do not curse me? + +Christine. You are preaching the word of God, are you not? + +Olof. I am! + +Christine. Why have we not been told these things before? Or why have +they been told us in a language that we do not understand? + +Olof. Who has put those words into your mouth, girl? + +Christine. Who? I haven't thought of asking. + +Olof. Your father? + +Christine. He wants me to enter a convent. + +Olof. Has it come to that? And what is your own wish? + +Christine (catching sight of Olof's bleeding forehead). They have hurt +you, Olof! For heaven's sake, let me help you! + +Olof (sitting down again). Have I unsettled your faith, Christine? + +Christine (takes the handkerchief, tears it into strips, and begins +to dress Olof's wounds while speaking). My faith? I don't understand +you.--Tell me, who is Luther? + +Olof. I mustn't tell you. + +Christine. Always the same answer! From my father, from your mother, and +from yourself. Are you timid about telling me the truth, or is the truth +really dangerous? + +Olof. Truth is dangerous. Can't you see? (He points to his forehead.) + +Christine. So you want me to be shut up in a convent cell to live a +lifeless life in ignorance? (Olof does not reply.) You want me to weep +away my life and my youth, and to keep on saying those endlessly long +prayers until my soul is put to sleep? No--I won't do it, for now I am +awake. All around me they are fighting, and suffering, and despairing. +I have seen it, but I was to have no share in it. I was not even to look +on, or to know the purpose of the fighting. You wanted me to be sunk in +bestial slumber. But don't you believe me possessed of a soul, then--a +soul that cannot be satisfied by bread or by dry prayers put into my +mouth by others? "Bind not the spirits," you said. Oh, if you could only +know how that word pierced me! Daylight came, and those wild cries out +there sounded like the singing of birds in the morning-- + +Olof. You are a woman, Christine, and not born to fight! + +Christine. But in the name of God, let me suffer, then! Only not be +asleep! Don't you see that the Lord has awakened me in spite of all? You +have never dared to tell me who Antichrist was. You have never dared +to tell me who Luther was, and when your mother called you a Luther, I +blessed Luther. If he be a heretic or a believer, I don't know, and +I don't care; for no one--whether it be Luther, or the Pope, or +Antichrist-can satisfy my immortal soul when I have no faith in the +eternal God. + +Olof. Will you follow me into the battle, Christine? For you can sustain +me, and you only! + +Christine. Now I am able to answer you with a frank "yes," for I know +my own will--and I can do so without asking father first, for I am free. +Oh, I am free! + +Olof. And do you know what is in store for you? + +Christine. I know! You will not have to shatter my mocking dreams--they +are already gone. But you may be sure that I, too, have been dreaming of +a knight who was to lay a kingdom at my feet and talk to me of flowers +and love--Olof, I want to be your wife! Here is my hand! But this much +I must tell you: that you never have been the knight of my dreams, and +that I thank God he never came. For then he had also gone--as a dream. + +Olof. Christine, you want to be mine--and I will make you happy. For +when I suffered sorrow and temptation, you were always in my mind--and +now you shall be at my side! You were the maiden of my dreams, kept +captive in a tower by the stern castellan--and now you are mine! + +Christine. Beware of dreams, Olof! + +(Blows are heard on the door from outside.) + +Olof. Who is that? + +Voice (outside). Gert. + +Olof. What will he say? My promise-- + +Christine. Are you afraid? Shall I open? + +(Olof opens the door.) + +[Enter Gert.] + +Gert (starting at the sight of his daughter and Olof). Christine?--You +have broken your promise, Olof! + +Olof. I have not. + +Gert. You lie! You have stolen my child, my one solace. + +Christine. Olof is not lying. + +Gert. You have been to church, Christine? + +Christine. I have heard what you didn't want me to hear. + +Gert. O Lord, this only joy Thou hast begrudged me! + +Olof. The stream that you wanted to set free takes its victims where it +can. + +Gert. You have robbed me of her, of my child! + +Olof. Give her to me, Father Gert! + +Gert. Never! + +Olof. Is she not free? + +Gert. She is my child. + +Olof. Are you not preaching freedom? She is mine! The Lord has given her +to me, and you cannot take her away. + +Gert. You are--thank God--a priest. + +Olof and Christine. A priest! + +Gert. And as such you cannot marry. + +Olof. And if I do? + +Gert. You would dare? + +Olof. I would. + +Gert. Do you want a man who is under the ban, Christine? + +Christine. I don't know what that means. + +Olof. There you see, Gert, there you see! + +Gert. Thy punishment is harsh, O Lord! + +Olof. The truth is for all. + +Gert. Your love is greater than mine, which was nothing but selfishness. +God bless you! Now I stand alone! (He embraces them.) There, now! Go +home, Christine, and set their minds at rest. I want to speak to Olof. +(Exit Christine.) Now you belong to me. + +Olof. What do you mean? + +Gert. Kinsman!--You got my letter? + +Olof. It was you who advised me not to preach? + +Gert. Quite the contrary, although I expressed myself somewhat +strangely. + +Olof. I don't understand. + +Gert. No--no! You are still too young, and so you need a providence. To +a man like you one says "Let be" when one wants him to do something. + +Olof. Why were you and your followers not in church? + +Gert. None but the sick need doctors. We were busy elsewhere. You have +done a good piece of work to-day, and I see that you have got your +reward for it. I have set you free to-day, Olof. + +Olof. _You_ have? + +Gert. The King commanded you to quiet the rebellious, and what have you +been doing? + +Olof. Now I begin to understand you, Father Gert. + +Gert. I am delighted! Yes, you have aroused even the calmest. + +Olof. So I have. + +Gert. What do you think the King will say to that? + +Olof. I shall have to face it. + +Gert. Good! + +Olof. The King will approve my actions, for he wants a reformation, +although he does not yet dare to start one himself. + +Gert. You idiot! + +Olof. I see that you want to set me against my lawful sovereign. + +Gert. Tell me, how many masters do you think you can serve? (Olof makes +no reply.) The King is here. + +Olof. What do you say? + +Gert. The King has just returned. + +Olof. And the Anabaptists? + +Gert. Locked up, of course. + +Olof. And you stand here so calmly? + +Gert. I am old now. Once I used to rage like you, but it only tired me +out. Rink and Knipperdollink have served as my outposts. They had to +fall, that's plain; now my work begins. + +(Drum-beats are heard from the street.) + +Olof. What is that? + +Gert. The royal drums that keep the captives company to prison. Come +here and see! + +Olof (mounting one of the benches and looking out of the window). What +do I see? Women and children are dragged along by the soldiers! + +Gert. Well, they have been throwing stones at the King's guard. Do you +think such things can be allowed? + +Olof. But are madmen and sick people to be put into prison? + +Gert. There are two kinds of madmen. One kind is sent to the hospital +and treated with pills and cold baths. Those of the other kind have +their heads cut off. It is a radical treatment, but then, for a fact, +they are rather dangerous. + +Olof. I'll go to the King. He cannot wish such dreadful things to +happen. + +Gert. Take care of your head, Olof! + +Olof. Take care of your own, Father Gert! + +Gert. No danger in my case, for I have a warrant for the asylum. + +Olof. I cannot bear to see these things. I am going to the King, even if +it cost my life. (He goes toward the door.) + +Gert. This is a matter not to be settled by the King. You should appeal +to the law. + +Olof. The King is the law! + +Gert. Unfortunately!--If the horse knew his own strength, he would never +be mad enough, as he is now, to bear the yoke. But when once in a while +he gets his reason back and runs away from his oppressors, then they +call him mad--Let us pray the Lord to give these poor creatures their +reason back! + + + + +ACT III + +SCENE 1 + +(A Hall in the Royal Palace at Stockholm. In the background is a gallery +which can be partitioned off by curtains. In elderly servant of the +palace is pacing back and forth in the gallery.) + +Enter Olof. + +Olof. Is the King receiving to-day? + +Servant. Yes. + +Olof. Can you tell me why I have been kept waiting here in vain four +days at a stretch? + +Servant. No, heavens, I know nothing at all. + +Olof. It seems strange that I have not been admitted. + +Servant. What is it about? + +Olof. That's none of your concern! + +Servant. Of course not! I understand that, but I thought I might be able +to give some information, perhaps. + +Olof. Have you charge of the King's audiences? + +Servant. Oh, heavens, no! But you see, when a man hears as much as I do, +he knows a little of everything. (Pause.) + +Olof. Do you think I shall have to wait long? (The servant pretends not +to hear.) Do you know if the King is coming soon? + +Servant (with his back turned to Olof). What? + +Olof. Do you know to whom you are talking? + +Servant. No, I don't. + +Olof. I am the King's Secretary. + +Servant. Oh, mercy, are you Master Olof? I knew your father, Peter the +Smith, for I am also from Oerebro. + +Olof. Well, can't you be civil in spite of that? + +Servant. Well, well! That's what happens when one gets on a little in +this world--then one's humble parents are forgotten. + +Olof. It is possible that my father actually honored you with his +acquaintance, but I doubt that he put you in a parent's place to me when +he died. + +Servant. Well, well! I declare! It must be hard on Dame Christine! [Exit +to the left.] + +[Olof is left alone for a while. Then Lars Siggesson, the Lord High +Constable, enters from the right.] + +Constable (throwing his cloak to Olof without looking at him). Will the +King be here soon? + +Olof (catching the cloak and throwing it on the floor). I do not know! + +Constable. Bring me a chair. + +Olof. That's not my office. + +Constable. I am not familiar with the instructions of the doorkeeper. + +Olof. I am no doorkeeper! + +Constable. I don't care what you are, and I don't carry with me a list +of the menials, but you will have to be civil! (Olof remains silent.) +Well, what about it? I think the Devil has got into you! + +Olof. Pardon me, but it is no part of my duty as secretary to wait on +anybody. + +Constable. What? Oh, Master Olof! Why, first you sit at the door playing +lackey, and then you drop the mask and step forth as the Lord Himself! +And I took you to be a proud man. (He picks up his cloak and places it +on a bench.) + +Olof. My Lord Constable! + +Constable. But, no, you are only a vain upstart! Please step forward and +be seated, Mr. Secretary. + +[He points Olof to a seat and goes out into one of the side-rooms.] + +[Olof sits down. A young Courtier enters through the gallery and salutes +Olof.] + +Courtier. Good morning, Secretary! Is nobody here yet? Well, how is +everything in Stockholm? I have just arrived from Malmoe. + +Olof. Oh, everything is going wrong here. + +Courtier. So I have heard. The mob has been muttering as usual whenever +the King's back is turned. And then there are those fool priests!--I beg +your pardon, Secretary, but, of course, you are a freethinker? + +Olof. I don't quite understand. + +Courtier. Don't mind me, please. You see, I have been educated in Paris. +Francis the First--O Saint-Sauveur!--that's a man who has extreme views. +Do you know what he told me at a bal masque during the last carnival? +(Olof remains silent.) "Monsieur," he said, "la religion est morte, est +morte," he said. Which didn't keep him from attending mass. + +Olof. Is that so? + +Courtier. Do you know what he replied when I asked him why he did +so?--"Poetry! Poetry!" he said. Oh, he is divine! + +Olof. What did you answer? + +Courtier. "Your Majesty," I said--in French, of course--"fortunate the +land that has a king who can look so far beyond the narrow horizon +of his own time that he perceives what the spirit of the age demands, +without trying to urge the masses to embrace that higher view of life +for which they will not be ready for many centuries to come!" Wasn't +that pretty clever? + +Olof. Oh, yes, but I think it must have lost a great deal in being +translated. Things of that kind should be spoken in French. + +Courtier (preoccupied). You are quite right.--Tell me--your _fortune_ +ought to be assured--you are so far in advance of your time? + +Olof. I fear I shall not get very far. My education was neglected, +unfortunately--I studied in Germany, as you may know--and the Germans +are not beyond religion yet. + +Courtier. Indeed, indeed! Can you tell me why they are making such a +hubbub about that Reformation down there in Germany? Luther is a man of +enlightenment--I know it--I believe it--but why shouldn't he keep it to +himself, or at least not waste any sparks of light on the brutish herd +to which they can be nothing but so many pearls thrown to the swine. +If you let your eye survey the time we are living in--if you make some +effort to follow the great currents of thought--then you will easily +perceive the cause of that disturbed equilibrium which is now making +itself felt in all the great civilized countries; I am not talking of +Sweden, of course, which is not a civilized country. Can you name +the centre of gravity--that centre which cannot be disturbed without +everything going to pieces--the instability of which tends to upset +everything? The name of it is--the nobility. The nobility is the +thinking principle. The feudal system is falling--and that means the +world. Erudition is in decay. Civilization is dying. Yes, indeed--You +don't believe that? But if you have any historical outlook at all, you +can see that it is so. The nobility started the Crusades. The nobility +has done this and that and everything. Why is Germany being torn to +pieces? Because the peasantry has risen against the nobility, thus +cutting off its own head. Why is France safe--la France? Because France +is one with the nobility, and the nobility is one with France--because +those two ideas are identical, inseparable. And why, I ask again, is +Sweden at present shaken to its nethermost foundations? Because the +nobility has been crushed. Christian the Second was a man of genius. He +knew how to conquer a country. He didn't cut off a leg or an arm--nay, +he cut off the head. Well, then! Sweden must be saved, and the King +knows how. The nobility is to be restored, and the Church is to be +crushed. What do you say to that? + +Olof (rising). Nothing! (Pause.) You are a freethinker? + +Courtier. Of course! + +Olof. You don't believe, then, that Balaam's ass could talk? + +Courtier. Gracious, no! + +Olof. But I do. + +Courtier. Really? + +[Enter Lars Andersson.] + +Lars Andersson. The peace of the Lord be with you, Olof. + +Olof (embracing him). Well met, Lars! + +Courtier. Populace! [Exit.] + +Lars. Well, how do you like living here? + +Olof. It's so close! + +Lars. Somewhat! + +Olof. And no room overhead. + +Lars. That's why they find it so hard to keep their backs straight. + +Olof. In ten minutes I have become so much of a courtier that I know how +to be silent when an ass is talking. + +Lars. There is no harm in that. + +Olof. What does the King think? + +Lars. He doesn't tell. + +(A number of people have begun to gather in the hall.) + +Olof. How does he look? + +Lars. Like an interrogation point followed by several exclamation marks. + +[Enter Bishop Brask. All give way before him. The Lord High Constable, +who has returned in the meantime, goes to meet him and exchanges +greetings with him. Olof salutes the Bishop, who looks surprised.] + +Brask (to the Constable). Is this a place for the clerks? + +Constable. It ought not to be, but our King is so very gracious. + +Brask. Condescending, you mean? + +Constable. Exactly. + +Brask. The audience is well attended to-day. + +Constable. Mostly formal calls occasioned by the happy return of His +Highness. + +Brask. It is a pleasure, my Lord Constable, to offer His Highness our +sincere felicitations on the happy solution of this question. + +Constable. It is indeed courteous in Your Grace to incur the trouble of +such a long journey--especially at Your Grace's advanced age. + +Brask. Unfortunately, my health is not always to be depended upon. + +Constable. Is Your Grace not enjoying good health? It is hard to feel +one's strength failing, particularly for one who occupies such an +exalted and responsible position. + +Brask. You look very well, my Lord Constable. + +Constable. Yes, thank God! (Pause.) + +Brask (seating himself). Don't you think there is a draught here, my +Lord? + +Constable. It seems so. Perhaps we might order the doors to be closed? + +Brask. No, thank you, that will not be necessary. (Pause.) + +Constable. The King is long in coming. + +Brask. Yes. + +Constable. Perhaps you won't find it worth your while to wait for him. + +Brask. Perhaps not! + +Constable. With your permission, I will send word to Your Grace's +servants. + +Brask. As I have waited so long, I think I shall wait a little longer. +(Pause.) + +Servant. His Highness! + +[Enter Gustaf.] + +Gustaf. I bid you welcome, gentlemen. (He takes a seat at a table.) If +you will please step out into the antechamber, I will receive you one at +a time. (All retire except Bishop Brask.) Our Lord Constable will stay. + +Brask. Your Highness! + +Gustaf (raising his voice). Sir Lars! (Brask goes out, the Constable +remaining; pause.) Speak! What am I to do? + +Constable. Your Highness, the State has lost its prop, and therefore it +is toppling over; the State has an enemy that has grown too strong for +it. Restore the prop, which is the nobility, and crush the enemy, which +is the Church! + +Gustaf. I dare not! + +Constable. You must, Your Highness! + +Gustaf. What's that? + +Constable. First of all: Brask is in correspondence with the Pope +to have the inquisition established here. Luebeck is insisting on her +shameless demands and threatens war. The treasury is empty. There is +rebellion in every nook and corner of the country-- + +Gustaf. That's enough! But I have the people with me. + +Constable. I beg your pardon--you have not. There are the Dalecarlians, +for instance--a spoiled lot, always disputing with those of Luebeck about +the honor of having bestowed a king on Sweden. They are ready to rebel +on the slightest occasion, and they are coming forward with demands like +these: "There shall be no outlandish customs used, with slittered and +motley colored clothes, such as have of late been brought into the +King's court." + +Gustaf. 'Sdeath! + +Constable. "Whosoever eats meat on Fridays or Saturdays shall be burned +at the stake or otherwise made away with." And furthermore, "There +shall be no new faith or Lutheran teachings foisted upon us." What a +treacherous, impudent people! + +Gustaf. And yet there was a time when they showed themselves to be men. + +Constable. Well, what wonder if they carried water when their house was +afire? How many times have they broken troth and faith? But they have +so often heard themselves lauded that they have come to give the name of +"old Swedish honesty" to their own brute arrogance. + +Gustaf. You belong to the nobility! + +Constable. Yes, and it is my conviction that the peasant has played out +his part--the part of a crude force needed to drive away the enemy +by sheer strength of arm. Crush the Church, Your Highness, for it is +keeping the people in fetters. Seize the gold of the Church and pay the +country's debt--and give back to the reduced nobility what the Church +has obtained from it by dupery. + +Gustaf. Call in Brask. + +Constable. Your Highness! + +Gustaf. Call Bishop Brask! [Exit the Constable.] + +[Enter Bishop Brask.] + +Gustaf. Speak, Your Grace! + +Brask. I wish to offer our congratulations on-- + +Gustaf. I thank Your Grace! And what more? + +Brask. There have been complaints from several districts, I am sorry +to say, about unpaid loans of silver exacted from the churches by Your +Highness. + +Gustaf. Which you now are trying to recover. Are all the chalices +actually needed for communion? + +Brask. They are. + +Gustaf Let them use pewter mugs, then. + +Brask. Your Highness! + +Gustaf. Anything more? + +Brask. What is worse than anything else--all this heresy! + +Gustaf. No concern of mine! I am not the Pope. + +Brask. I have to warn Your Highness that the Church must look out for +her own rights, even if doing so should bring her into conflict-- + +Gustaf. With whom? + +Brask. With the State. + +Gustaf. Your Church can go to the devil! There, I have said it! + +Brask. I knew it. + +Gustaf. And you were only waiting for me to say so? + +Brask. Exactly. + +Gustaf. Take care! You travel with a following of two hundred men, and +you eat from silver, when the people are living on bark. + +Brask. Your Highness takes too narrow a view of the matter. + +Gustaf. Have you heard of Luther? You are a well-informed man. What kind +of a phenomenon is he? What have you to say of the movements that are +now spreading throughout Europe? + +Brask. Progress backward! Luther is merely destined to serve as a +purging fire for what is ancient, descended from untold ages and well +tried, so that it may be cleansed and by the struggle urged on to +greater victories. + +Gustaf. I care nothing for your learned arguments. + +Brask. But Your Highness is extending protection to criminals and +interfering with the privileges of the Church; for the Church has been +grievously wronged by Master Olof. + +Gustaf. Well, put him under the ban. + +Brask. It has been done, and yet he remains in the service of Your +Highness. + +Gustaf. What more do you want done to him? Tell me? (Pause.) + +Brask. Furthermore, he has gone so far as to marry secretly in violation +of the Canon Law. + +Gustaf. Is that so? That's quick action. + +Brask. It doesn't concern Your Highness? Good and well! But if he stirs +up the people? + +Gustaf. Then I'll step in. Anything more? + +Brask (after a pause). I ask you for heaven's sake not to plunge the +country into disaster again. It is not yet ripe for a new faith. We are +but reeds in the wind and can be bent--but when it comes to the faith, +or the Church--never! + +Gustaf (holding out his hand to the Bishop). Maybe you are right! But +let us be enemies rather than false friends, Bishop Hans! + +Brask. Be it so! But do not do what you will regret. Every stone you +tear out of the Church will be thrown at you by the people. + +Gustaf. Don't force me to extremes, Your Grace, for then we shall have +the same horrible spectacle here as in Germany. For the last time: are +you willing to make concessions if the welfare of the country is at +stake? + +Brask. The Church-- + +Gustaf. The Church comes first--very well! Good-bye! + +[Exit Brask. Reenter the Constable.] + +Gustaf. The Bishop has confirmed your statement, and that was what I +wanted him to do. Now we shall need stone-masons who know how to tear +down. The walls will be left, the cross may stay on the roof and the +bell in the tower, but I will clear out the vaults. One must begin at +the bottom! + +Constable. The people will think you are taking away their faith. They +will have to be educated. + +Gustaf. We'll send Master Olof to preach to them. + +Constable. Master Olof is a dangerous man. + +Gustaf. But needed just now. + +Constable. He has carried on like the Anabaptists instead of opposing +them. + +Gustaf. I know. We'll get to that later on. Send him in. + +Constable. Lars the Chancellor would be a better man. + +Gustaf. Bring them both in. + +Constable. Or Olof's brother, Lars Pedersson. + +Gustaf. No good yet. He is too soft for fighting, but his time will +come, too. [Exit Constable.] + +The Constable returns with Master Olof and Lars Andersson. + +Gustaf (to the Chancellor). Do you want to help me, Lars? + +Lars. You are thinking of the Church? + +Gustaf. Yes, it will have to be torn down. + +Lars. I am not the man for that. Your Majesty had better ask Master +Olof. + +Gustaf. You won't, then? + +Lars. I can't! But I have a weapon for you. (He hands the new +translation of the Bible to the King.) + +Gustaf. Holy Writ! A good weapon, indeed! Will you wield it, Olof? + +Olof. With the help of God--yes! + +Gustaf (to Olof, after having signalled to Lars to leave). Have you +calmed down yet, Olof? (Olof does not answer). I gave you four days to +think it over. How have you been carrying out your task? + +Olof (impetuously). I have spoken to the people-- + +Gustaf. Still in a fever! And you mean to defend those madmen named +Anabaptists? + +Olof (bravely). I do! + +Gustaf. Steady!--You have married in a hurry? + +Olof. I have. + +Gustaf. You are under the ban? + +Olof. I am. + +Gustaf. And still as brave as ever! If you were sent to the gallows as a +rebel with the rest, what would you say then? + +Olof. I should regret not being permitted to finish my task, but I +should thank the Lord for having been allowed to do what I have done. + +Gustaf. That's good! Would you dare to go up to that old owl's-nest +Upsala and tell its learned men that the Pope is not God and that he has +nothing to do with Sweden? + +Olof. Only that? + +Gustaf. Will you tell them that the only word of God is the Bible? + +Olof. Must that be all? + +Gustaf. You are not to mention the name of Luther! + +Olof (after some hesitation). Then I will not go. + +Gustaf. Would you rather go to your death? + +Olof. No, but I know that my sovereign needs me. + +Gustaf. It isn't noble to take advantage of my misfortune, Olof. Well, +say anything; you please, but you will have to pardon me if I take back +a part of it afterwards. + +Olof. Truth isn't sold by the yard. + +Gustaf. 'Sdeath! (Changing tone.) Well, suit yourself! + +Olof (kneeling). Then I may say all that is in my mind? + +Gustaf. You may. + +Olof. Then, if I can only throw a single spark of doubt into the soul of +this sleeping people, my life will not have been wasted.--It is to be a +reformation, then? + +Gustaf (after a pause). Yes. (Pause.) + +Olof (timidly). And what is to become of the Anabaptists? + +Gustaf. Need you ask? They must die. + +Olof. Will Your Highness permit me one more question? + +Gustaf. Tell me: what do those madmen want? + +Olof. The sad thing is that they do not know it themselves, and if I +were to tell you-- + +Gustaf. Speak out! + +[Gert enters quickly, pretending to be insane.] + +Gustaf. Who are you to dare intrude here? + +Gert. I want most humbly to beseech Your Highness to attest the +correctness of this document. + +Gustaf. Wait till you are called. + +Gert. Of course, I should like to, but the guards won't wait for me. I +escaped from prison, you see, because my place wasn't there. + +Gustaf. Are you one of those Anabaptists? + +Gert. Yes, I happened to get mixed up with them, but here I have a +certificate proving that I belong to the asylum, the third department +for incurables, cell number seven. + +Gustaf (to Olof). Send word to the guard. + +Gert. That isn't necessary, for I want nothing but justice, and it's +something the guard doesn't handle. + +Gustaf (looking hard at Gert). I suppose you have had a share in those +outrages in the city churches? + +Gert. Of course, I have! No sane person could behave so madly. We wanted +only to make a few minor alterations in the style. They seemed too low +in the ceiling. + +Gustaf. What do you really want? + +Gert. Oh, we want a great deal, although we haven't got through with +one-half of it yet. Yes, we want so many things and we want them so +quickly, that our reason cannot keep pace with them, and that's why it +has been lagging behind a little. Yes, we wish among other things to +change the furnishings a little in the churches, and to remove the +windows because the air seems so musty. Yes, and there is a lot more we +want, but that will have to wait for a while. + +Gustaf (to Olof). That's a perilous disease--for anything else it cannot +be. + +Olof. Who knows? + +Gustaf. Now I am tired. You'll have a fortnight in which to get ready. +Your hand that you will help me! + +Olof. I will do my part. + +Gustaf. Give orders to have Rink and Knipperdollink sent to Malmoe. + +Olof. And then? + +Gustaf. They'll have a chance to escape. That fool over there you can +send back to the asylum. Farewell! [Exit.] + +Gert (shaking his clenched fist after Gustaf). Well, are we going? + +Olof. Where? + +Gert. Home. (Olof remains silent.) You don't wish to send your +father-in-law to the madhouse, do you, Olof? + +Olof. You ask me what I wish--How about my duty? + +Gert. Is there no duty above the royal command? + +Olof. Are you beginning again? + +Gert. What will Christine say if you put her father among madmen? + +Olof. Tempt me not! + +Gert. Do you see how difficult it is to serve the King? (Olof does not +answer.) I won't make you unhappy, my poor boy. Here's balm for your +conscience. (He takes out a document.) + +Olof. What is it? + +Gert. A certificate of health. You see, it is necessary to be a madman +among sane people, and sane among mad men. + +Olof. How did you get it? + +Gert. Don't you think I deserve it? + +Olof. I can't tell. + +Gert. True enough: you don't yet dare. + +[Enter Servant.] + +Servant. Will you please go your way. They 're about to sweep. + +Gert. Perhaps the place has to be aired, too? + +Servant. Yes, indeed! + +Gert. Don't forget to open the windows. + +Servant. No, you may be sure, and it's needed, too, for we are not +accustomed to this kind of company. + +Gert. Look here, old man--I carry a greeting from your father. + +Servant. Oh, you do? + +Gert. Perhaps you never knew him? + +Servant. Why, certainly! + +Gert. Do you know what he said? + +Servant. No. + +Gert. Wet the broom, he said, or you'll get the dust all over yourself. + +Servant. I don't understand. + +Gert. Well, that's your only excuse. + +[Exeunt Gert and Olof.] + +Servant. Rabble! + + +SCENE 2 + +(Olof's Study. There are windows in the background, through which the +sun is shining into the room. Trees are visible outside. Christine is +standing at one of the windows, watering her flowers. While doing so +she is prattling to some birds in a cage. Olof is seated at a table, +writing. With an impatient mien he looks up and across the room to +Christine as if he wished her to keep quiet. This happens several times, +until at last Christine knocks down one of the flower pots, when Olof +taps the floor lightly with his foot.) + +Christine. Oh, my poor little flower! Look, Olof, four buds were broken +off. + +Olof. Yes, I see. + +Christine. No, you don't. You must come over here. + +Olof. My dear, I haven't time. + +Christine. You haven't looked at the starlings which I bought for you +this morning. Don't you think they sing sweetly? + +Olof. Rather. + +Christine. Rather? + +Olof. It's hard for me to work when they are screaming like that. + +Christine. They are not screaming, Olof, but you seem to be more fond of +a night bird that does scream. Tell me, what is the meaning of the owl +that appears on your signet ring? + +Olof. The owl is an ancient symbol of wisdom. + +Christine. I think that's stupid! Wise people don't love the darkness. + +Olof. The wise man hates the darkness and the night, but his keen eye +turns night into day. + +Christine. Why are you always right, Olof? Can you tell me? + +Olof. Because I know it pleases you, my dear, to let me be in the right. + +Christine. Now, you are right again.--What is that you are writing? + +Olof. I am translating. + +Christine. Read a little of it to me. + +Olof. I don't think you could understand it. + +Christine. Why shouldn't I? Is it not in Swedish? + +Olof. Yes, but it is too abstract for you. + +Christine. Abstract? What does that mean? + +Olof. You wouldn't understand if I told you, but if you don't understand +what I read to you, then you understand what is meant by "abstract." + +Christine (picking up a piece of half-finished embroidery). Go on and +read while I work at this. + +Olof. Listen carefully, then, and forgive me if you find it tedious. + +Christine. I shall understand because I want to. + +Olof (reading). "Matter when considered separate from form is something +wholly without predictability, indeterminable and indistinguishable. +For nothing can originate out of pure non-being, but only out of the +non-being of reality, which is synonymous with being as a possibility. +Being in its possibility is no more non-being than is reality. For that +reason every existence is a realized possibility. Thus matter is to +Aristotle a much more positive substratum than to Plato, who declares it +to be pure non-being. And thereby it becomes plain how Aristotle could +conceive of matter in its opposition to form as a positive negativity." + +Christine (throwing aside her work). Stop! Why is it that I cannot +understand that? Have I not the same mental faculties as you? I am +ashamed, Olof, because you have such a poor creature of a wife that she +cannot understand what you say. No, I will stick to my embroidery, +I will clean and dust your study, I will at least learn to read your +wishes in your eyes. I may become your slave, but never, never shall I +be able to understand you. Oh, Olof, I am not worthy of you! Why did +you make me your wife? You must have over-valued me in a moment of +intoxication. Now you will regret it, and we shall both be unhappy. + +Olof. Christine! Don't take it like that, dear! Come and sit here by me. +(He picks up the embroidery.) Will you believe me if I tell you that I +couldn't possibly do a thing like this? Never in my life could I do it. +Are you not then cleverer than I, and am I not the lesser of us two? + +Christine. But why can't you do it? + +Olof. For the same reason that you couldn't understand me a moment ago: +I haven't learned how. And perhaps you will feel happy once more if I +tell you that you can learn to understand this book--which, by the by, +is not identical with me--while on the other hand, I could never learn +to do your work. + +Christine. Why couldn't you? + +Olof. Because I am not built that way and don't want to do it. + +Christine. But if you wanted to? + +Olof. Well, there, my dear, you have my weak point. I could never want +to do it. Believe me, you are stronger than I, for you have power over +your own will, but I have not. + +Christine. Do you think I could learn to understand that book of yours? + +Olof. I am convinced of it. But you must not. + +Christine. Am I still to be kept in ignorance? + +Olof. No, no--understand me right! The moment you understood what I +understand, you would cease to think of me as-- + +Christine. A god-- + +Olof. Let it go at that! But believe me, you would lose what now puts +you above me--the power to control your own will--and then you would be +less than I, and I could not respect you. Do you see? It stakes us happy +to overvalue each other; let us keep that illusion. + +Christine. Now I don't understand you at all, but I must trust you, +Olof. You are right! + +Olof. Please leave me alone, Christine--I beg you! + +Christine. Do I disturb you? + +Olof. There are some very serious thoughts that occupy me. You know, +I expect something decisive to happen today. The King has abdicated +because the people would not do what he desired. To-day I shall either +reach my goal or have to start the fight all over again. + +Christine. May I not be happy to-day, Olof--on Midsummer Eve? + +Olof. Why should you be so very happy to-day? + +Christine. Why should I not--since I have been set free from slavery and +have become your wife? + +Olof. Can you forgive me that my happiness is a little more sober +because it has cost me--a mother? + +Christine. I know, and I feel it very deeply. But when your mother +learns of our marriage, she will forgive you and put her curse on me. +Whose burden will then be the heavier? However, it doesn't matter, +because it's borne for your sake. And this much I know: that terrible +struggles are awaiting you; that daring thoughts are growing in your +mind; and that I can never share your struggle, never help you with +advice, never defend you against those that vilify you--but still I must +look on, and through it all I must go on living in my own little world, +employing myself with petty things which you do not appreciate, but +would miss if they were not attended to. Olof, I cannot weep with you, +so you must help me to make you smile with me. Come down from those +heights which I cannot attain. Leave your battles on the hilltops +and return some time to our home. As I cannot ascend to you, you must +descend to me for a moment. Forgive me, Olof, if I talk childishly! I +know that you are a man sent by the Lord, and I have felt the blessing +with which your words are fraught. But you are more than that--you are +a man, and you are my husband--or at least ought to be. You won't fall +from your exalted place if you put aside your solemn speech now and then +and let the clouds pass from your forehead. You are not too great, are +you, to look at a flower or listen to a bird? I put the flowers on your +table, Olof, in order that they might rest your eyes--and you ordered +the maid to take them out because they gave you a headache. I tried to +cheer the lonely silence of your work by bringing the birds--whose +song you call screaming. I asked you to come to dinner a while ago--you +hadn't time. I wanted to talk to you--you hadn't time. You despise this +little corner of reality--and yet that is what you have set aside for +me. You don't want to lift me up to you--but try at least not to push +me further down. I will take away everything that might disturb your +thoughts. You shall have peace from me--and from my rubbish! (She throws +the flowers out of the window, picks up the birdcage, and starts to +leave.) + +Olof. Christine, dear child, forgive me! You don't understand me! + +Christine. Always the same: "You don't understand me!" Oh, I know now +what it means. In that moment in the sacristy I matured so completely +that I reached my second childhood at once! + +Olof. I'll look at your birds and prattle with your flowers, dear heart. + +Christine (putting aside the bird-cage). No, the time for prattle +is gone by--from now on we shall be serious. You need not fear my +boisterous happiness. It was only put on for your sake, and as it +doesn't suit your sombre calling, I'll--(She bursts into tears.) + +Olof (putting his arms around her and kissing her.) Christine! +Christine! You are right! Please pardon me! + +Christine. You gave me an unlucky gift, Olof, when you gave me freedom, +for I don't know what to do with it. I must have some one to obey! + +Olof. And so you shall, but don't let us talk of it any more. Let us eat +now--in fact, I feel quite hungry. + +Christine (pleased). Do you really know how to be hungry? (At that +moment she looks out of the window and makes a gesture of dismay.) Go +on, Olof, and I'll be with you in a moment. I only want to get things in +a little better order in here. + +Olof (as he goes out). Don't let me wait so long for you as you have had +to wait for me. + +(Christine folds her hands as if praying and takes up a position +indicating that she is waiting far somebody about to enter from the +street. Pause.) + +[Enter Olof's Mother. She passes Christine without looking at her.] + +Mother. Is Master Olof at home? + +Christine (who has started to meet her in a friendly way, is taken aback +for a moment; then she answers in the same tone). No, but if you care to +be seated, he will be here soon. + +Mother. Thank you! (She seats herself. Pause.) Bring me a glass of +water. (Christine waits on her.) Now you can leave me. + +Christine. It is my housewifely duty to bear you company. + +Mother. I didn't know that the housekeeper of a priest could call +herself a housewife. + +Christine. I am the wife of Olof with the sanction of the Lord. Don't +you know that we are married? + +Mother. You are a harlot--that's what I know! + +Christine. That word I do not understand. + +Mother. You are the same kind of woman as she with whom Master Olof was +talking that evening in the beer-shop. + +Christine. The one that looked so unhappy? Yes, I don't feel very happy. + +Mother. Of course not! Take yourself out of my sight! Your presence +shames me! + +Christine (on her knees). For the sake of your son, don't heap abuse on +me! + +Mother. With a mother's authority I command you to leave my son's house, +the threshold of which you have defiled. + +Christine. As a housewife I open my door to whom I may choose to +receive. I should have closed it to you, had I been able to guess what +language you would use. + +Mother. Big words, indeed! I command you to leave! + +Christine. With what right do you force yourself into this house in +order to drive me out of my own home? You have borne a son, and raised +him--that was your duty, your mission, and you may thank your God for +being permitted to fill that mission so well, which is a good fortune +not granted to everybody. Now you have reached the edge of the grave. +Why not resign yourself before the end comes? Or have you raised your +son so poorly that he is still a child and needs your guidance? If you +want gratitude, come and look for it, but not in this way. Or do you +think it is the destiny of a child to sacrifice its own life merely to +show you gratitude? His mission is calling: "Go!" And you cry to him: +"Come to me, you ingrate!" Is he to go astray--is he to waste his +powers, that belong to his country, to mankind--merely for the +satisfaction of your private little selfishness? Or do you imagine +that the fact of having borne and raised him does even entitle you to +gratitude? Did not your life's mission and destiny lie in that? Should +you not thank the Lord for being given such a high mission? Or did you +do it only that you might spend the rest of your life clamoring for +gratitude? Don't you see that by using that word "gratitude" you tear +down all that you have built up before? And what makes you presume that +you have rights over me? Is marriage to mean a mortgaging of my +free will to anybody whom nature has made the mother or father of my +husband--who unfortunately could not exist without either? You are not +_my_ mother. My troth was not pledged to you when I took Olof as my +husband. And I have sufficient respect for my husband not to permit +anybody to insult him, even if it be his own mother. That's why I have +spoken as I have! + +Mother. Alas, such are the fruits borne by the teachings of my son! + +Christine. If you choose to revile your son, it had better be in his +presence. (She goes to the door and calls.) Olof! + +Mother. Such guile already! + +Christine. Already? It's nothing new, I think, although I didn't know I +had it until it was needed. + +[Enter Olof.] + +Olof. Mother! I am right glad to see you! + +Mother. Thanks, my son--and good-bye! + +Olof. Are you going? What does that mean? I wish to talk to you. + +Mother. No need! She has said all there is to say. You will not have to +show me the door. + +Olof. In God's name, mother, what are you saying? Christine, what does +this mean? + +Mother (about to leave). Good-bye, Olof! This is more than I can ever +forgive you! + +Olof (trying to hold her back). Stay and explain, at least! + +Mother. It was not worthy of you! To send her to tell me that you owe me +nothing and need me no more! Oh, that was cruel! [Exit.] + +Olof. What did you say, Christine? + +Christine. I don't remember, because there were so many things which I +had never dared to think, but which I must have dreamt while father kept +me still enslaved. + +Olof. I don't know you any more, Christine. + +Christine. No, I begin to feel a little lost myself. + +Olof. Were you unkind to mother? + +Christine. I suppose I was. Does it seem to you that I have grown hard, +Olof? + +Olof. Did you show her the door? + +Christine. Forgive me, Olof! I was not kind to her. + +Olof. For my sake you might have made your words a little milder. Why +didn't you call me at once? + +Christine. I wished to see if I had the strength to take care of myself. +Olof, would you sacrifice me to your mother, if she demanded it? + +Olof. I cannot answer such a question offhand. + +Christine. I'll do it in your place. It pleases you to submit willingly +to your mother's will and wish because you are strong--and I, on the +other hand, feel hurt by doing so, for I am weak. I will never do it! + +Olof. Not if I ask you? + +Christine. That's more than you can ask. Or would you have me hate +her?--Tell me, Olof, what is meant by a "harlot"? + +Olof. You ask such strange questions. + +Christine. Will you please answer me? + +Olof. Will you forgive me if I don't? + +Christine. Always this unending silence! Do you not yet dare to tell me +all? Am I to be a child forever? Then you had better put me in a nursery +and talk baby-talk to me. + +Olof. It means an unfortunate woman. + +Christine. No, it means something more than that. + +Olof. Has anybody dared to use that word to you? + +Christine (after a pause). No. + +Olof. Now you are not telling the truth, Christine. + +Christine. I know I lie! Oh, since yesterday I have grown very wicked! + +Olof. You are hiding something that happened yesterday! + +Christine. I am--I thought that I could keep it to myself, but it has +grown too much for me. + +Olof. Speak--I beg you! + +Christine. But you mustn't call me silly! A crowd of people pursued me +all the way to our door and called after me that horrible word which I +don't understand. People do not laugh at an unfortunate woman-- + +Olof. Yes, dear, that's just what they do. + +Christine. I didn't understand their words, but their actions were plain +enough to make me wicked! + +Olof. And yet you were so kind to me! Forgive me if I have been hard to +you!--It is a name given by brute force to its own victims. Sooner +or later, you'll learn more about it, but never dare to defend an +"unfortunate woman"--for then they will throw mud at you! (A messenger +enters and hands him a letter.) At last! (After a glance at the letter.) +You read it to me, Christine! It is from your lips I want to hear the +glad tidings. + +Christine (reading). "Young man, you have conquered! I, your enemy, +desire to be the first to tell you so, and I address myself to you +without any sense of humiliation because, in speaking for the new faith, +you have wielded no weapons but those of the spirit. Whether you be +right, I cannot tell, but I think you have deserved a piece of advice +from an older man: stop here, for your enemies are gone! Do not wage war +on creatures made of air, for that will lame your arm and you will die +of dry rot. Do not put your trust in princes--is another piece of advice +given you by a once powerful man who has now to step aside and leave to +the Lord to settle what is to become of his prostrated Church. Johannes +Brask." (Speaking.) You have conquered! + +Olof (joyfully). I thank Thee, Lord, for this hour. (Pause.) No, it +scares me, Christine! This fortune is too great. I am too young to have +reached the goal already. To have no more to do--oh, what a frightful +thought! No further fighting--that would be death! + +Christine. Oh, rest a moment, and be happy that it is over. + +Olof. Can there be an end to anything? An end to such a beginning? No, +no!--Oh, that I could begin it all anew! It wasn't the victory I wanted, +but the fight! + +Christine. Olof, do not tempt the Lord! I have a feeling that much +remains undone--very much, indeed! + +[Enter Courtier.] + +Courtier. Good-day to you, Secretary! And pleasant news! [Exit +Christine.] + +Olof. Be welcome! Some of it I have heard already. + +Courtier. Thanks for your splendid answering of that stupid Galle. You +went after him like a man. A little too fiercely, perhaps--not quite so +much fire, you know! And a little venom doesn't hurt. + +Olof. You have news from the King? + +Courtier. Yes, and you shall have a brief summary of the conditions +agreed on: First, mutual support for the resistance and punishment of +all rebellions. + +Olof. Go on, if you please. + +Courtier. Second, the King shall have the right to take possession of +the palaces and fortified places of the bishops, as well as to fix their +incomes-- + +Olof. Third-- + +Courtier. Now comes the best of all--the principal point of the whole +undertaking: Third, the nobility shall have the right to claim whatever +of its properties and inheritances have fallen to churches and cloisters +since the revision by King Carl Knutsson in 1454-- + +Olof. And fourth? + +Courtier. Provided the heir can get twelve men under oath to attest his +right of inheritance at the assizes. (He folds the document from which +he has been reading.) + +Olof. Have you finished? + +Courtier. Yes. Isn't that pretty good? + +Olof. Nothing more? + +Courtier. Oh, there are a few minor points of no special importance. + +Olof. Let me hear them. + +Courtier (reading again). There is a fifth point about the right of +preachers to preach the word of God, but, of course, they have had that +all the time. + +Olof. Nothing more? + +Courtier. Yes, then comes the ordinance: a register is to be established +showing the amount of tithes collected by all bishops, chapters, and +canons, and the King shall have the right to prescribe-- + +Olof. Oh, that's neither here nor there! + +Courtier.--how much of those may be retained, and how much shall +be surrendered to him for the use of the Crown; furthermore, all +Appointments to spiritual offices--and this ought to interest you--to +spiritual offices, minor as well as major, can hereafter be made only +with the sanction of the King, so that-- + +Olof. Will you please read me the point dealing with the faith-- + +Courtier. The faith--there is nothing about it. Oh, yes, let me +see--from this day the Gospel is to be read in all schoolhouses. + +Olof. Is that all? + +Courtier. All? Oh, no, I remember! I have a special order from the King +to you--and a most sensible one--that, as the people are stirred up over +all these innovations, you must by no means disturb the old forms; must +not abolish masses, holy water, nor any other usage, nor furthermore +indulge in any reckless acts, for hereafter the King will not close his +eyes to your escapades as he has had to do in the past, when he lacked +power to do otherwise. + +Olof. I see! And the new faith which he has permitted me to preach so +far? + +Courtier. It is to ripen slowly.--It will come! It will come! + +Olof. Is there anything more? + +Courtier (rising). No. If you will only keep calm now, you may go very +far. Oh, yes--I came near forgetting the best part of all. My dear +Pastor, permit me to congratulate you! Here is your appointment. +Pastor of the city church, with an income of three thousand, at your +age--indeed, you could now settle down in peace and enjoy life, even if +you were never to get any further. It is splendid to have reached one's +goal while still so young. I congratulate you! [Exit.] + +Olof (flinging the appointment on the floor). So this is all that I have +fought and suffered for! An appointment! A royal appointment! I have +been serving Belial instead of God! Woe be to you, false King, who have +sold your Lord and God! Alas for me, who have sold my life and my labors +to mammon! O God in Heaven, forgive me! (He throws himself, weeping, on +a bench.) + +[Enter Christine and Gert. Christine comes forward, while Gert remains +in the background.] + +Christine (picks up the appointment and reads it; then she runs to Olof, +her face beaming). Now, Olof, I can wish you joy with a happy heart! +(She starts to caress him, but he leaps to his feet and pushes her +away.) + +Olof. Leave me alone! You, too! + +Gert (coming forward). Well, Olof, the faith-- + +Olof. The lack of faith, you mean! + +Gert. The Pope is beaten, isn't he? Hadn't we better begin with the +Emperor soon? + +Olof. We began at the wrong end. + +Gert. At last! + +Olof. You were right, Gert! I am with you now! It's war, but it must be +open and honest. + +Gert. Until to-day you have been dreaming childish dreams. + +Olof. I know it. Now the flood is coming! Let it come! Alas for them and +for us! + +Christine. Olof, for Heaven's sake, stop! + +Olof. Leave me, child! Here you will be drowned, or you will drag me +down. + +Gert. What made you venture out in the storm, my child? + +[Exit Christine.] + +(The ringing of bells, the joyful shouting of crowds, and the sounding +of drums and trumpets become audible.) + +Olof (going to the window). What has set the people shouting? + +Gert. The King is providing them with a maypole and music outside North +Gate. + +Olof. And are they not aware that he will chasten them with swords +instead of rods? + +Gert. Aware? If they were! + +Olof. Poor children! They dance to his piping and follow his drums to +their death! Must all die, then, in order that one may live? + +Gert. No, one shall die that all may live! + +(Olof makes a gesture dismay and repugnance.) + + + + +ACT IV + +(A Room in the House of Olof's Mother. At the right stands a bedstead +with four posts, in which the Mother is lying sick. Christine is asleep +on a chair. Lars Pedersson is renewing the oil of the night-lamp and +turning the hour glass.) + +Lars (speaking to himself). Midnight--Now comes the critical time. +(He goes to the bed and listens. At that moment Christine moans in her +sleep. He crosses the room and wakens her.) Christine! (She wakes with a +start.) Go to bed, child; I will watch. + +Christine. No, I will wait. I must speak to her before she dies--I think +Olof should be here soon. + +Lars. It is for his sake you are watching! + +Christine. Yes, and you mustn't say that I have slept. Do you hear? + +Lars. Poor girl!--You're not happy! + +Christine. Who says one should be happy? + +Lars. Does Olof know that you are here? + +Christine. No, he would never permit it. He wants to keep me like the +carved image of some saint standing on a shelf. The smaller and weaker +he can make me, the greater is his pleasure in placing his strength at +my feet-- + +Mother (waking). Lars! (Christine holds back Lars and steps forward.) +Who is that? + +Christine. The nurse. + +Mother. Christine! + +Christine. Do you want anything? + +Mother. Nothing from you. + +Christine. Dame Christine! + +Mother. Don't make my last moments more bitter. Go away from here! + +Lars (coming forward). What do you want, mother? + +Mother. Take away that woman! And bring the father confessor--I shall +soon die. + +Lars. Is not your own son worthy of receiving your last confidences? + +Mother. No, he has done nothing to deserve them. Has Marten come yet? + +Lars. Marten is a bad man. + +Mother. O Lord, how terrible Thy punishment! My children standing +between myself and Thee! Am I then to be denied the consolations of +religion in my last moments? You have taken my life--do you want to +destroy my soul, too--the soul of your mother? (She falls into a faint.) + +Lars. Do you hear that, Christine! What are we to do? Shall we let +her die in the deception practised on her by a miserable wretch like +Marten--and perhaps get her thanks for it--or shall we turn her final +prayer into a curse? No, let them come, rather! Or what do you think, +Christine? + +Christine. I dare not think at all. + +Lars (goes out for a moment, but returns quickly). Oh, it is horrible! +They have fallen asleep over their dice and their tumblers. And by such +as those my mother is to be prepared for her death! + +Christine. But why not tell her the truth? + +Lars. She won't believe it, and it is cast back on us as a lie. + +Mother. My son, won't you listen to your mother's last request? + +Lars (going out). May God forgive me! + +Christine. Olof would never have done that! + +(Lars returns with Marten and Nils, whereupon he leads Christine out of +the room.) + +Marten (going up to the bed). She's sleeping. + +Nils (places a box on the floor, opens it, and begins to take out +aspersorium, censer, chrismatory, palms, and candles). That means we +can't go to work yet. + +Marten. If we have waited all this time, we can afford to wait a little +longer--provided that damned priest doesn't show up. + +Nils. Master Olof, you mean?--Do you think that fellow out there noticed +anything? + +Marten. What do I care? As soon as the old woman gives up the coin, I am +free. + +Nils. You 're a pretty thorough-paced rascal, you are! + +Marten. Yes, but I am getting tired of it. I am beginning to long for +peace. Do you know what life is? + +Nils. No. + +Marten. Pleasure! "The flesh was God!" Isn't that the way it's written +somewhere? + +Nils. "The Word became flesh," you mean? + +Marten. Oh, yes--of course! + +Nils. You might have been it pretty big man, with your head! + +Marten. Yes, indeed! That's what they feared, and that's why they +whipped the soul out of my body in the convent--for after all I had a +soul once! But now there's nothing but body left, and now the body is +going to have its turn. + +Nils. And I suppose they whipped all conscience out of you at the same +time? + +Marten. Well, practically.--But now I want that recipe for spiced +Rochelle which you were talking of when we fell asleep out there. + +Nils. Did I say Rochelle? I meant claret. That is, it can be either the +one or the other. Well, you take a gallon of wine and half a pound of +cardamom that has been well cleaned-- + +Marten. Hush--damn you! She is moving. Out with the book! + +Nils (keeps on reading in an undertone during the following scene). + + Aufer immensam, Deus aufer iram; + Et cruentatum cohibe flagellum + Nec scelus nostrum proferes ad aequam + Pendere lancem. + +Mother. Is that you, Marten? + +Marten. It's Brother Nils praying to the Holy Virgin. (Nils lights the +censer without interrupting his reading.) + +Mother. What a precious boon to hear the word of the Lord in the sacred +tongue! + +Marten. No sweeter sacrifice is known to God than the prayers of pious +souls. + +Mother. Like the incense, my heart is set on fire with holy devotion. + +Marten (sprinkling her with holy water). The stains of sin are by your +God washed off! + +Mother. Amen!--Marten, I am passing away--The godlessness of the King +makes it impossible for me by earthly gifts to strengthen the Holy +Church in her power of saving souls. You are a pious man--take my +property and pray for me and for my children. Pray that the Almighty +may turn their hearts away from all lies, so that some time we may meet +again in heaven. + +Marten (taking the bag of money she hands him). Goodwife, your sacrifice +is acceptable to the Lord, and for your sake my prayers will be heard by +God. + +Mother. I want to sleep awhile in order to be strong enough to receive +the last sacrament. + +Marten. No one shall disturb your final moments--not even those who were +your children once. + +Mother. It seems cruel, Father Marten, but it's the will of God. (She +falls asleep; Marten and Nils withdraw from the bed.) + +Marten (opening the bag and kissing the gold coins). What stores of +pleasure lie hidden beneath the hardness of this gold--Ah! + +Nils. Are we going now? + +Marten. Oh, we might, as our errand here is done, but I think it would +be a pity to let the old woman die unsaved. + +Nils. Unsaved? + +Marten. Yes! + +Nils. Do you believe in that? + +Marten. It's hard to know what one is to believe nowadays. One dies +happily in this faith, and another in that. All assert that they have +found the truth. + +Nils. And if you were to die now, Marten? + +Marten. That's out of the question! + +Nils. But if? + +Marten. Then I suppose I should go to heaven like the rest. But I should +prefer to settle a small account with Master Olof first. You see, there +is one pleasure that surpasses all the rest, and that's the pleasure of +revenge. + +Nils. What has he done to you? + +Marten. He has dared to see through me; he has exposed me; he can read +what I am thinking--Oh! + +Nils. And that's why you hate him? + +Marten. Isn't that enough? (Somebody is heard knocking on the door +leading to the street.) Somebody is coming! Read, damn you! + +(Nils begins to drone out the same verse as before. The sound of a +key being inserted in the lock is heard. The door is opened from the +outside.) + +[Enter Olof, looking greatly agitated.] + +Mother (waking up). Father Marten! + +Olof (goes to the bed). Here is your son, mother! Why didn't you let me +know that you were sick? + +Mother. Farewell, Olof! I forgive you all the evil you have done to me, +if you will not disturb the few moments I need to prepare myself for +heaven. Father Marten! Bring here the sacred ointment, so that I may die +in peace. + +Olof. So that's why you didn't call me! (He catches sight of the money +bag which Marten has forgotten to hide, and snatches it away from the +monk.) Oh, souls are being bartered here! And this was to be the price! +Leave this room and this death-bed! Here is my place, not yours! + +Marten. You mean to prevent us from fulfilling our office? + +Olof. I am showing you the door! + +Marten. As long as we are not suspended, we are doing our duty here by +the King's authority, and not by the Pope's. + +Olof. I shall cleanse the Church of the lord without regard to the will +of King or Pope. + +Mother. Will you plunge my soul into perdition, Olof? Will you let me +die with a curse? + +Olof. Calm yourself, mother! You are not going to die in a lie. Seek +your God in prayer, He is not so far away as you believe. + +Marten. A man who won't save his own mother from the pangs of purgatory +must be the Devil's prophet indeed. + +Mother. Christ Jesu, help my soul! + +Olof. Will you leave this room, or must I use force? Take away that +rubbish! (He kicks the ritual accessories across the floor.) + +Marten. I'll go if you'll let me have the money your mother has given to +the Church. + +Mother. So that's why you came, Olof? You wanted my gold! Let him have +it, Marten. I'll let you have all of it, Olof, if you will only leave me +in peace! I'll give you more than that! I'll let you have everything! + +Olof (driven to despair). In God's name, take the money and go! I beg +you! + +Marten (grabbing the bag and going out with Nils). Where the Devil is +abroad, there our power ends, Dame Christine! (To Olof.) As a heretic +you are lost for all eternity! As a law-breaker you will get your +punishment right here! Beware of the King! [Exeunt.] + +Olof (kneeling beside his mother's bed). Mother, listen to me before +you die! (The Mother has lost consciousness.) Mother, mother, if you are +alive, speak to your son! Forgive me, but I could not act except as I +have done. I know you have been suffering all your life for my sake. +You have been praying to God that I should keep His paths. The Lord has +heard your prayer. Do you want me now to render your whole life futile? +Do you want me now, by obeying you, to destroy that structure which has +cost you so much in toil and tears? Forgive me! + +Mother. Olof, my soul is no longer of this world--it's out of another +life I speak to you: turn back! Break that unclean bond which ties your +body only. Take back the faith you got from me, and I will forgive you! + +Olof (weeping bitterly). Mother! Mother! + +Mother. Swear that you will do it! + +Olof (after long silence). No! + +Mother. The curse of God is upon you--I see Him--I see His angry +look--Help me, Holy Virgin! + +Olof. That is not the God of love! + +Mother. It is the God of retribution!--It is you who have provoked His +ire--and it is you who now cast me into the flames of His wrath!--Cursed +be the hour when I bore you! (She dies.) + +Olof. Mother! Mother! (He takes her hand.) She's dead! And she has not +forgiven me!--Oh, if your soul be still within this room, behold your +son: I will do your will, and what was sacred to you shall be sacred to +me! (He lights the tall wax candles left behind by the friars and places +them around the bed.) You shall have the consecrated candles that are to +light your road. (He puts a palm leaf in her hand.) And with this palm +of peace shall come forgetfulness of that last struggle with what was +earthly. Oh, mother, if you see me now, then you must forgive me! (In +the meantime the sun has risen, and the red glow of its first rays +lights up the curtains; at the sight of it, Olof leaps to his feet.) You +make my candles fade, O morning sun! You have more love than I! (He goes +to the window and opens it.) + +Lars (entering softly and looking around surprised). Olof! + +Olof (putting his arms around him). Brother, all is over! Lars (goes to +the bed and kneels for a moment; then he rises again). She is dead! (He +prays silently.) You were here alone? + +Olof. It was you who let in the monks. + +Lars. And you who drove them out. + +Olof. That should have been your task. + +Lars. She forgave you? + +Olof. She died with a curse on her lips. (Pause.) + +Lars (pointing to the candles). Who arranged these ceremonies? (Pause.) + +Olof (irritated and humiliated). I weakened for a moment. + +Lars. So you are human, after all? I thank you for it! + +Olof. Are you mocking my weakness? + +Lars. I am praising it. + +Olof. And I am cursing it!--God in heaven, am I not right? + +Lars. No, you are wrong. + +[Enter Christine while Lars is still speaking.] + +Christine. You are too much in the right! + +Olof. Christine, what are you doing here? + +Christine. It was so silent and lonesome at home. + +Olof. I asked you not to come here. + +Christine. I thought I might be of some use, but I see now--Another time +I shall stay at home. + +Olof. You have been awake all night? + +Christine. That is nothing! I will go now if you tell me to! + +Olof. Go in there and rest a little while we talk. (Christine begins +absentmindedly to extinguish the candles.) + +Olof. What are you doing, dear? + +Christine. Why, it is full daylight. + +(Lars gives Olof a significant glance.) + +Olof. My mother is dead, Christine. + +Christine (as she goes to Olof to let him kiss her on the forehead, the +look on her face is compassionate but cold). I am sorry for your loss. +[Exit Christine.] + +(Pause. The brothers look for a moment in the direction where she +disappeared, then at each other.) + +Lars. I beg you, Olof, as your friend and brother, don't go on as you +have been doing. + +Olof. The old story! But he who has put his axe to the tree cannot draw +back until the tree is down. The King has betrayed our cause. Now I will +see what I can do for it. + +Lars. The King is wise. + +Olof. He is a miser, a traitor, and a protector of the nobility. First +he uses me to hunt his game, and then he wants to kick me out. + +Lars. He sees farther than you do. If you were to go to three +million people, telling them: "Your faith is false; believe my words +instead"--do you think it possible that they would at once cast aside +their most intimate and most keenly experienced conviction, which until +then had been a support to them in sorrow as well as in joy? No, the +life of the soul would be in a bad condition, indeed, if all the old +things could be disposed of so quickly. + +Olof. But it is not so. The whole people is full of doubt. Among the +priests there is hardly one who knows what to believe--if he cares to +believe anything at all. Everything is ready for the new, and it is only +you who are to blame--you weaklings whose consciences will not permit +you to sow doubt where nothing but a feeble faith remains. + +Lars. Look out, Olof! You wish to play the part of God. + +Olof. Well, that is what we must do, for I don't think that He Himself +intends to conic down to us any more. + +Lars. You are tearing down and tearing down, Olof, so that soon there +will be nothing left, and when people ask, "What do we get instead?" +you always answer, "Not this," "Not that," but never once do you answer, +"This." + +Olof. Presumptuous man! Do you think faith can be given by one to +another? Do you think that Luther has given us anything new? No! He has +merely torn away the screens that had been placed around the light. The +new that I want is doubt of the old, not because it is old, but because +it is decaying. (Lars points toward their mother's body.) I know what +you mean. She was too old, and I thank God that she is dead. Now I am +free--only now! God has willed it! + +Lars. Either you have lost your senses, or you are a wicked man! + +Olof. Don't reproach me! I have as much respect for our mother's memory +as you have, but if she had not died now, I don't know how far my +sacrifices might have gone. Have you noticed in the springtime, brother, +how the fallen leaves of yesteryear cover the ground as if to smother +all the young; things that are coming out? What do these do? They push +aside the withered leaves, or pass right through them, because they must +get up! + +Lars. You are right to a certain extent.--Olof, you broke the laws +of the Church during a time of lawlessness and unrest. What could be +forgiven then must be punished now. Don't force the King to appear worse +than he is. Don't let your scorn for the law and your wilfulness force +him to punish a man to whom he acknowledges himself indebted. + +Olof. Nothing is more wilful than his own rule, and he must learn to +tolerate the same thing in others. Tell me you have taken service with +the King--are you going to work against me? + +Lars. I am. + +Olof. Then we are enemies, and that is what I need, for the old ones +have disappeared. + +Lars. But the tie of blood, Olof-- + +Olof. I know it only in its source, which is the heart. + +Lars. Yet you wept for our mother. + +Olof. Weakness, or perhaps a touch of old devotion and gratitude, but +not because of the tie of blood. What is it, anyhow? + +Lars. You are tired out, Olof. + +Olof. Yes, I feel exhausted; I have been awake all night. + +Lars. You were so late in coming. + +Olof. I was out. + +Lars. Your doings seem to shun the daylight. + +Olof. The daylight shuns my doings. + +Lars. Beware of false apostles of freedom! + +Olof (struggling with sleepiness and fatigue). That's a +self-contradictory term. Oh, don't talk to me--I can't stand any more. +I spoke so much at our meeting--But you don't know about our +society--Concordia res parvae crescunt--We mean to continue the +Reformation--Gert is a farsighted man--I seem so small beside +him--Good-night, Lars! (He falls asleep on a chair.) + +Lars (stands looking at him with solicitude). Poor brother--may God +protect you! (Resounding blows on the street door are heard.) What's +that? (He goes to the window.) + +Gert (outside). For God's sake, open! + +Lars. Why, it isn't a matter of life and death, Father Gert. [Exit.] + +Gert (outside). In God's name, let me in! + +[Enter Christine with a blanket.] + +Christine. Olof, why are they knocking like that? He's asleep! (She +wraps him up in the blanket.) Oh, that I were Sleep, so that you might +flee to me when tired out by your struggles! + +(The rattle of a heavy cart is heard; then the cart comes to a stop +outside the house.). + +Olof (waking up with a start). Is it five already? + +Christine. No, it is only three. + +Olof. Wasn't that a baker's cart I heard? + +Christine. I don't know, but I don't think it would make such a noise. +(She goes to the window.) Look, Olof! What can this he? + +Olof (going to the window). The headsman's cart!--No, it isn't that. + +Christine. It is a hearse! + +[Enter Lars and Gert.] + +Lars. The plague! + +All. The plague! + +Gert. The plague is here! Christine, my child, leave this house! The +angel of death has put his mark upon the gate. + +Olof. Who sent the cart? + +Gert. The man who put the black cross on the door. No dead body must be +left a moment in the house. + +Olof. Then Marten was the angel of death--and all is nothing but a lie. + +Gert. Look out of the window, and you'll see that the cart is loaded +full. (Blows are heard at the street door again.) You hear! They're +waiting! + +Olof. Without proper burial? That shall never be! + +Lars. Without ceremonies, Olof! + +Gert. Come away with me, Christine, from this dreadful place! I'll take +you out of the city to some healthier spot. + +Christine. I will stay with Olof after this. If you, father, had loved +me a little less, you would not have done so much harm. + +Gert. Olof, you who have the power, command her to follow me + +Olof. I set her free from your tyranny once, you selfish man, and she +shall never return to it again. + +Gert. Christine, get out of this house, at least! + +Christine. Not a step until Olof orders me. + +Olof. I will no longer order you at all, Christine--remember that! + +[Enter several Buriers.] + +Burier. I've come for a body. No time to spare! + +Olof. Begone from here! + +Burier. The King's order! + +Lars. Consider what you do, Olof! The law demands it! + +Gert. This is no time to hesitate! The crazy mob is aroused against you. +This house was the first one to be marked, and they are crying: "God's +punishment upon the heretic!" + +Olof (kneeling beside the bed). Mother, forgive! (Rising.) Do your duty! + +(The Buriers come forward and begin to get their ropes ready.) + +Gert (aside to Olof). "God's punishment upon the King" is our cry! + + + + +ACT V + +SCENE I + +(The Cemetery of the Convent of St. Clara. In the background appears +a partly demolished convent building, from which a gang of workmen are +carrying out timber and debris. At the left is a mortuary chapel. Its +windows are lighted from within, and whenever the door is opened, a +brilliantly illuminated crucifix on the chancel wall, with a sarcophagus +standing in front of it, becomes visible. A number of the graves have +been opened. The moon is just rising from behind the ruined convent. +Windrank is seated outside the chapel door. Singing is heard from within +the chapel.) + +[Enter Nils.] + +Nils (goes up to Windrank). Good evening, Windrank. + +Windrank. Please don't talk to me. + +Nils. What's the matter now? + +Windrank. Didn't you hear what I told you? + +Nils. Has your scurvy ending as a skipper affected you so badly that you +think of turning monk? + +Windrank. 52, 53, 54, 55, 56, 57. + +Nils. You haven't lost your reason, have you? + +Windrank. 58, 59, 60--In the name of Jesu, get away from here! + +Nils. You had better have a little nightcap with me. + +Windrank. 64, 65--That's what I expected! Get you gone, tempter! I'll +never take a drink again--until the day after to-morrow. + +Nils. But it's a fine remedy against the plague, and with all this +cadaverous stuff about, you had better be careful. + +Windrank. 70--So you really think it's good for the plague? + +Nils. Excellent! + +Windrank. Only a drop, then! (He drinks from the bottle offered him by +Nils.) + +Nils. Only a drop! But tell me, are you suffering from vertigo since you +are counting to a hundred? + +Windrank. Hush! Hush! There's an epoch coming. + +Nils. An epoch? + +Windrank. Yes, the day after to-morrow. + +Nils. And that's why you keep counting like that? + +Windrank. No, it's only because I find it so hard to hold my tongue. +Now, for heaven's sake, keep quiet! Please go away, or you'll get me +into trouble!--71, 72, 73. + +Nils. Who's inside? + +Windrank. 74, 75. + +Nils. Is it a funeral? + +Windrank. 76, 77.--Go to hell, won't you! + +Nils. Just another tiny drop, and the counting will be easier. + +Windrank. Just a little one--I will! (He drinks. Singing is heard +outside.) + +Nils. Here come the nuns of St. Clara to celebrate the memory of their +saint for the last time. + +Windrank. That's fine mummery in days like these when everybody is +getting educated. + +Nils. They have obtained the King's permission. You see, the plague +broke out in the parish of St. Clara, and some believe it was because of +the godless destruction of St. Clara's convent. + +Windrank. And now they mean to drive away the plague with singing--as +if that bugaboo were a hater of music. But, of course, it wouldn't be a +wonder if he did flee from their hoarse screeching. + +Nils. Will you please tell me who has dared to invade this last +sanctuary--for it's here the bones of the Saint are to be deposited +before the place is torn down entirely. + +Windrank. Then there'll be a fight, I fear. + +[The singing has drawn nearer. A procession enters, made up of Dominican +friars and Franciscan nuns, headed by Marten. They come to a halt and +continue singing, while the workmen are making a great deal of noise in +the background.] + +Procession. Cur super vermes luteos furorem + Sunnis, O magni fabricator orbis! + Quid sumus quam fex, putris, umbra, pulvis + Glebaque terrae! + +Marten (to the Abbess). You can see, my sister, how the abode of the +Lord has been despoiled. + +Abbess. The Lord who has delivered us into the hands of the Egyptians +will also set its free in due time. + +Marten (to the workmen). Cease working, and do not disturb our pious +task! + +Overseer. Our orders are to work day and night until this den has been +torn down. + +Abbess. Alas, that unbelief has spread so far down among the people! + +Marten. We are celebrating this feast with the permission of the King. + +Overseer. Well, I don't mind! + +Marten. And therefore I command you to cease your noise. I'll appeal +directly to your workmen, whom you have forced into this shameless +undertaking.--I'll ask them if they have any respect whatever left for +holy-- + +Overseer. You had better not, for I am in command here. Furthermore, I +can tell you that they are glad enough to have a chance of tearing down +these hornets' nests for which they themselves have had to pay--and +then, too, they are pretty thankful to earn something during a time of +famine. (He goes toward the background.) + +Marten. Let us forget the wickedness and tumult of this world. Let us +enter the sacred place and pray for them. + +Abbess. Lord, Lord, the cities of Thy sanctuary are laid waste! Zion is +laid waste, and Jerusalem is lying desolate! + +Windrank. 100.--Nobody can get in here! + +The Conspirators (within the chapel). We swear! + +Marten. Who has dared to invade the chapel? + +Windrank. It's no more a chapel since it has become a royal storehouse. + +Abbess. That's why the godless one gave us his permission! + +[The door of the chapel is thrown open and the conspirators appear; +among them Olof, Lars Andersson, Gert, the German, the Dane, the Man +from Smaland, and others.] + +Olof (much excited). What kind of buffoonery is this? + +Marten. Make way for the handmaidens of St. Clara! + +Olof. Do you think your idols can keep away the plague that God has sent +you as a punishment? Do you think the Lord will find those pieces of +bone you carry in the box there so pleasant that He forgives all your +dreadful sins? Take away that abomination! (He takes the reliquary from +the Abbess and throws it into one of the open graves.) From dust you +have come, and to dust you shall return, even if your name was Sancta +Clara da Spoleto and you ate only three ounces of bread a day and slept +among the swine at night! (The nuns scream.) + +Marten. If you fear not what is holy, fear at least your temporal ruler. +Look here! He has still so much respect left for divine things that he +dreads the wrath of the saint. (He shows a document to Olof.) + +Olof. Do you know what the Lord did with the king of the Assyrians when +he permitted the worship of idols? He smote him and all his people. Thus +the righteous is made to suffer with the unrighteous. In the name of the +one omnipotent God, I declare this worship of Baal abolished, even if +all the kings of the earth give their permit. The Pope wanted to sell my +soul to Satan, but I tore the contract to pieces--you remember? Should +I then fear a King who wants to sell his people to the Baalim? (He tears +the document to pieces.) + +Marten (to his followers). You are my witnesses that he has defamed the +King. + +Olof (to his followers). And you are my witnesses before God that I have +led the people of a godless King away from him! + +Marten. Listen, ye faithful! It is because of this heretic that God has +smitten us with the plague--it is the punishment of God, and it fell +first of all on his mother. + +Olof. Listen, ye faithless papists! It was the punishment of the Lord on +me because I had served Sennacherib against Judah. I will atone my crime +by leading Judah against the kings of the Assyrians and the Egyptians. + +(The moon has risen in the meantime. It is very red, and a fiery glare +pervades the place. The crowd is frightened.) + +Olof (mounting one of the graves). Heaven is weeping blood over your +sins and your idolatry. Punishment shall be meted out, for those in +authority have fallen into wrongdoing. Can't you see that the very +graves are yawning for prey-- + +(Gert seizes Olof by the arm, whispers to him, and leads him down from +the mound. The crowd is panic-stricken.) + +Abbess. Give us back our reliquary, so that we may abandon this home of +desolation. + +Marten. It is better to let the bones of the Saint remain in this +consecrated soil than to have them touched by the vile hands of +heretics! + +Olof. You are afraid of the plague, cowards that you are! Is your faith +in the sacred bones no stronger? + +(Gert whispers to Olof again. The procession has in the meantime +scattered, so that only a part of it remains on the stage.) + +Olof (to Marten). Now you should be satisfied, you hypocrite! Go and +tell him whom you serve that a box of silver is about to be buried here, +and he'll dig it out of the earth with his own nails. Tell him that the +moon, which is usually made of silver, has turned into gold, merely to +make your master raise his eyes toward heaven for once. Tell him that +you, by your blasphemous buffooneries, have succeeded in provoking an +honest man's wrath-- + +[Exeunt Marten and the members of the procession.] + +Gert. Enough, Olof! (To all the conspirators except Olof and Lars.) +Leave us, please! + +[Exeunt the conspirators, exchanging whispers.] + +Gert (to Olof and Lars). It's too late to back down now! + +Olof. What do you want, Gert--speak! + +Gert (showing them a bound volume). Before you two, servants of God, a +people steps forth to make its confession. Do you acknowledge your oath? + +Olof and Lars. We have sworn! + +Gert. This book is the result of my silent labors. On every page you +will find a cry of distress, a sigh from thousands who have been blind +enough to think it God's will that they should suffer the tyranny of +one man--who have thought it their duty not even to hope for liberation. +(Olof takes the volume and begins to read.) You shall hear complaints +all the way from the primeval forests of Norrland down to the Sound. Out +of the wreckage from the churches the King is building new castles for +the nobility and new prisons for the people. You shall read how the +King is bartering away law and justice by letting murderers escape their +punishment if they seek refuge at the salt-works. You shall read how +he is taxing vice by letting harlots pay for the right to ply their +traffic. Yea, the very fishes of the rivers, the water of the sea +itself, have been usurped by him. But the end is in sight. The eyes +of the people have been opened. There is seething and fermenting +everywhere. Soon the tyranny will be crushed, and the people shall be +free! + +Olof. Who wrote the songs in this book? + +Gert. The people! These are songs of the people--so they sing who feel +the yoke pressing. I have visited city and country, asking them: "Are +you happy?" These are the answers! I have held assizes. Here are the +verdicts entered. Do you believe that a million wills may conquer one? +Do you believe that God has bestowed this land with all its human souls +and all its property upon a single man, for him to deal with as it suits +his pleasure? Or do you not rather believe that he should do the will of +all?--You do not answer? You are awed, I see, by the thought that it may +come to an end! Listen to my confession! Tomorrow the oppressor dies, +and you shall all be free! + +Olof and Lars. What are you saying? + +Gert. You didn't understand what I was talking about at our meetings. + +Olof. You have deceived us! + +Gert. Not at all! You are perfectly free. Two voices less mean nothing. +Everything is prepared. + +Lars. Have you considered the consequences? + +Gert. Fool! Is it not for the sake of the consequences that I have done +all this? + +Olof. Supposing Gert be right--what do you say, Lars? + +Lars. I wasn't born to lead. + +Olof. All are born to lead, but all are not willing to sacrifice the +flesh. + +Gert. Only he who has the courage to face scorn and ridicule can lead. +For hatred is as nothing compared with the laughter that kills. + +Olof. And if it should miscarry? + +Gert. Dare to face that, too! You don't know that Thomas Muenster has +established a new spiritual kingdom at Muhlhausen. You don't know +that all Europe is in revolt. Who was Dacke, if not a defender of the +oppressed? What have the Dalecarlians meant by all their rebellions, if +not to defend their freedom against him who broke his plighted faith? +He does such things and goes unpunished, but when they want to defend +themselves, then he raises the cry of revolt and treason. + +Olof. So this is the point to which you wanted to lead me, Gert? + +Gert. Have you not been led here by the current? You will, but do not +dare! To-morrow, in the church, the mine will go off, and that will be a +signal for the people to rise and choose a ruler after their own heart. + +Olof (turning over the leaves of the book). If it be the will of all, +then nobody can stop it. Gert, let me take this book to the King and +show him what is the will of his people, and he will grant them their +rights. + +Gert. Oh, you child! For a moment he may be scared, and perhaps restore +a silver pitcher to some church. Then he'll point toward heaven and say: +"It is not by my own will that I sit here and do you wrong, but by the +will of God!" + +Olof. Then the will of God be done! + +Gert. But how? + +Olof. He must die that all may live. Murderer, ingrate, traitor--those +will be my names, perchance. I am sacrificing everything, even my +honor, my conscience, and my faith--could I possibly give more for those +pitiable ones who are crying for salvation? Let us go ere I repent! + +Gert. Even if you did, it would already be too late. Don't you know +that Marten is a spy, and perhaps sentence has already been pronounced +against the rebel! + +Olof. Well, I won't repent--and why should I repent of an act that +implies the carrying out of God's own judgment? Forward, then, in the +name of the Lord. [Exeunt.] + +[Enter Harlot, who kneels at a grave which she has strewn with flowers.] + +Harlot. Hast Thou punished me enough now, O Lord, to pardon me? + +[Enter Christine quickly.] + +Christine. Have you seen Master Olof, goodwife? + +Harlot. Are you his friend or his enemy? + +Christine. Do you mean to insult me? + +Harlot. Pardon me! I haven't seen him since the last time I prayed. + +Christine. You look so sorrowful! Oh, I know you now! It was you to whom +Olof was talking that night in Greatchurch. + +Harlot. You mustn't let it be seen that you are talking to me. You don't +know who I am, do you? + +Christine. Oh, yes, I know. + +Harlot. You know--so they have told you? + +Christine. Olof told me. + +Harlot. O my God! And don't you despise me? + +Christine. You are an unfortunate, down-trodden woman, Olof told me. Why +should I despise misfortune? + +Harlot. Then you cannot be happy yourself? + +Christine. No, we have shared the same fate. + +Harlot. I am not the only one, then! Tell me, who was the worthless man +to whom you gave your love? + +Christine. Worthless? + +Harlot. Oh, pardon--to one who loves, no one seems worthless! To whom +did you give your love? + +Christine. You know Master Olof, don't you? + +Harlot. Oh, tell me that it is not true! Don't rob me of my faith in +him, too! It is the only thing I have left since God took my child! + +Christine. You have had a child? Then you have been happy once. + +Harlot. I thank God, who did not permit my son to find out the +unworthiness of his mother. + +Christine. Have you been guilty of any crime, that you speak so? + +Harlot. I have just buried it. + +Christine. Your child? How can you! And I pray God every day to grant me +a little one--so that I may at least have one creature to love! + +Harlot. Oh, poor child, pray to God that He preserve you from it! + +Christine. I don't understand you, goodwife! + +Harlot. Don't call me that! You know who I am, don't you? + +Christine. Well, don't they offer prayers in the churches for those who +have hopes? + +Harlot. Not for such as we! + +Christine. Such as we? + +Harlot. They pray for the others and curse us. + +Christine. What do you mean by "the others"? I don't understand you at +all. + +Harlot. Do you know the wife of Master Olof? + +Christine. Why, that is I! + +Harlot. You? Oh, why didn't I guess at once? Can you forgive me a +moment's doubt? How could vice look like you and him? Alas! You must +leave me. You are a child, still ignorant of wickedness. You must not be +talking to me longer. God bless you! Good-bye! (She starts to leave.) + +Christine. Don't leave me! Whoever you be, for God's sake, stay! They +have broken into our house, and my husband is not to be found. Take +me away from here--home to yourself--anywhere. You must be a good +woman--you cannot be wicked-- + +Harlot (interrupting her). If I tell you that the brutality of the crowd +wouldn't hurt you half so much as my company, then perhaps you will +forgive me for leaving-- + +Christine. Who are you? + +Harlot. I am an outcast on whom has been fulfilled that curse which God +hurled at woman after the fall of our first parents. Ask me no more, for +if I told you more, your contempt would goad me to a self-defence that +would be still more contemptible.--Here comes somebody who perhaps will +be generous enough to escort you, if you promise to let him have your +honor and virtue and eternal peace for his trouble--for that is probably +the least he will accept for his protection at such a late hour as this! +Please forgive me--it is not at you that I am railing. + +[Enter Windrank, intoxicated.] + +Windrank. Why the devil can't a fellow be left alone, even here among +the corpses? See here, my good ladies, please don't ask me anything, for +now I can't guarantee that I won't answer. The day after to-morrow I'll +tell you all about it, for then it'll be too late. Perhaps you're some +of those nuns that have been made homeless? Well, although women are +nothing but women, I don't think I have any right to be impolite, for +all that the sun set long ago. Of course, there is an old law saying +that nobody can be arrested after sunset, but though the law is a +bugbear, I think it's too polite to insist on anything when it's a +question of ladies. Hush, hush, tongue! Why, the old thing is going like +a spinning-wheel, but that comes from that infernal gin! Why should I be +dragged into this kind of thing? Of course, I'll get well paid and be a +man of means, but don't believe that I am doing it for the sake of the +money! It's done now, but I don't want to--I don't want to! I want to +sleep in peace nights and have no ghosts to trouble me. Suppose I goo +and tell? No, then they'll arrest me. Suppose somebody else would go and +tell? Perhaps one of you nuns might be so kind as to do it? + +Christine (who has been conferring with the Harlot). If you have +anything on your conscience that troubles you, please tell us. + +Windrank. Am I to tell? That's just what I want to get out of, but this +is horrible, and I can't stand it any longer. I am forced to do it. Why +should I be the one? I don't want to. + +Christine. My dear man, you mean to commit-- + +Windrank. A murder. Who told you? Well, thank God that you know! By all +means, go ahead and tell about it--at once--or I'll have no peace--no +peace in all eternity! + +Christine (recovering from the first shock). Why should you murder him? + +Windrank. Oh, there are such a lot of reasons. Just look at the way he +is tearing down your nunneries. + +Christine. The King? + +Windrank. Yes, of course! The father and liberator of his country! +Of course, he's an oppressor, but that's no reason why he should be +murdered. + +Christine. When is it going to happen? + +Windrank. Why, to-morrow--in Greatchurch--right in church! [At a signal +from Christine, the Harlot leaves.] + +Christine. How could they pick you for such a deed? + +Windrank. Well, you see, I gave a connection or two among the church +attendants, and then I am poor, of course. What the devil does it matter +who puts the match to the powder, if only some shrewd fellow is pointing +the gun? And then we have several other little schemes in reserve, +although I'm to fire the first shot. But why don't you run off and tell +about it? + +Christine. It has already been done. + +Windrank. Well, God be thanked and praised! Goodbye, there goes all my +money! + +Christine. Tell me who you are, you conspirators. + +Windrank. No, that I won't tell! + +[Enter Nils. He crosses the stage followed by a troop of soldiers and a +crowd of people.] + +Christine. Do you see that they are already looking for you? + +Windrank. I wash my hands of it. + +Nils (goes up to Windrank without noticing Christine). Have you seen +Olof Pedersson? + +Windrank. Why? + +Nils. Because he is wanted. + +Windrank. No, I haven't seen him. Are there others wanted? + +Nils. Yes, many. + +Windrank. No, I haven't seen any of them. + +Nils. Well, it will soon be your turn. [Exit.] + +Christine. Are they looking for the conspirators? + +Windrank. What a question! Now I'm going to clear out. Good-bye! + +Christine. Tell me before you go-- + +Windrank. Haven't time! + +Christine. Is Master Olof one of them? + +Windrank. Of course! (Christine sinks down unconscious on one of the +graves. Windrank is suddenly sobered and genuinely moved.) Good Lord in +heaven, it must be his wife! (He goes to Christine.) I think I've killed +her! Oh, Hans, Hans, all you can do now is to get a rope for +yourself! What business did you have to get mixed up with the high and +mighty?--Come here, somebody, and help a poor woman! + +[Enter Olof, led by soldiers carrying torches as he catches sight of +Christine, he tears himself loose and throws himself on his knees beside +her.] + +Olof. Christine! + +Christine. Olof! You're alive! Come away from here and let us go home! + +Olof (overwhelmed). It's too late! + + +SCENE 2 + +(Within Greatchurch. Olof and Gert, dressed as penitents, stand in +the pillory near the entrance. The organ is playing and the bells are +ringing. The service is just ended, and the people are leaving the +church. The Sexton and his wife are standing by themselves in a corner +near the footlights.) + +Sexton. Lars the Chancellor, he was pardoned, but not Master Olof. + +Wife. The Chancellor has always been a man of peace and has never +stirred up any trouble, so I can't understand how he could want to have +anything to do with such dreadful things. + +Sexton. The Chancellor has always had a queer streak, although he has +never said much, and though he was pardoned, it cost him everything +he had. I can't help being sorry for Master Olof; I have always had a +liking for him, even though he has been a fire-brand. + +Wife. Well, what's the use of making a young fellow like that pastor? + +Sexton. Of course, he's rather young, and that has been his main fault, +but I'm sure time will cure it. + +Wife. What nonsense you are talking, seeing that he's going to die +to-day. + +Sexton. Well, Lord, Lord, if I hadn't clean forgotten about it! But then +it doesn't seem quite right to me, either. + +Wife. Do you know if he has repented? + +Sexton. I doubt very much, for I am sure his neck is just as stiff as +ever. + +Wife. But I suppose he'll thaw out a little now, when he sees his class +of children whom they wouldn't let him prepare for confirmation. + +Sexton. Well, I must say that the King can be pretty mean when he turns +that side to. Now he is making the pastor do church penance the very +same day his children are being confirmed. It's almost as bad as when +he made the dean drink with the headsman, or when he sent those two +prelates riding through the city with crowns of birch bark on their +heads. + +Wife. And his own brother Lars has been sent to shrive him. + +Sexton. See, here come the children! How sad they're looking--well, I +don't wonder. I think I'll have to go in and have a cry myself-- + +(Enter the children about to be confirmed, boys and girls. They begin to +march past Olof, carrying bunches of flowers in their hands. They +look sad and keep their eyes on the ground. A number of older people +accompany the children. A few curious persons point out Olof and are +rebuked by others. Last of all the children in the procession comes +Vilhelm, one of the scholars with whom Olof was seen playing in the +First Act. He stops timidly in front of him, kneels, and drops his bunch +of flowers at the feet of Olof, who does not notice it because he has +pulled down the hood of his penitential robe so that it hides his face. +Some of the people mutter disapprovingly, while others show signs of +pleasure. Marten comes forward to take away the flowers, but is pushed +back by the crowd. Soldiers clear a path for Lars Pedersson, who appears +in canonicals. The crowd disappears gradually, leaving Lars, Olof, and +Gert alone on the stage. The playing of the organ ceases, but the bells +continue to toll.) + +Lars. Olof, the King has refused to listen to the petition for pardon +submitted by the City Corporation. Are you prepared to die? + +Olof. I am not able to think so far. + +Lars. I have been ordered to prepare you. + +Olof. That will have to be done in haste, for my blood is still running +quickly through my veins. + +Lars. Have you repented? + +Olof. No! + +Lars. Do you want to pass into eternity with an unforgiving mind? + +Olof. Oh, put aside the formulas, if you want me to listen to you. I +can't think that I am going to die now--there 's far too much of life +and strength left in me. + +Lars. I must tell you that I don't think so either, and that it is for a +new life in this world I am trying to prepare you. + +Olof. Then I may live? + +Lars. If you will admit that you were mistaken in the past, and if you +will take back what you have said about the King. + +Olof. How could I? That would be to die indeed! + +Lars. This was what I had to tell you. Now you must decide for yourself. + +Olof. One doesn't parley about one's convictions. + +Lars. Even a mistake may turn into conviction. I shall leave you to +think the matter over. [Exit.] + +Gert. Our harvest wasn't ready. It takes a lot of snow to make the fall +crops ripen--nay, centuries must pass before you will even see the first +shoots. All the conspirators are under arrest, they say, and te deums +are sung on that account. But they are mistaken; conspirators are +abroad everywhere--in the royal apartments, in the churches, and in the +market-places--but they dare not do what we have dared. And yet they'll +reach that point some time. Good-bye, Olof! You must live a little +longer, for you are young. I shall die with the utmost pleasure. The +name of every new martyr becomes the rallying-cry for a new host. Don't +believe that a human soul was ever set on fire by a lie. Don't ever +distrust those feelings that shake you to your inmost soul when you +have seen some one suffer spiritual or physical oppression. If the +whole world tell you that you are wrong, believe your own heart just +the same--if you are brave enough to do so. The day when you deny your +self--then you are dead, and eternal perdition will seem a mercy to one +who, has been guilty of the sin against the Holy Ghost. + +Olof. You speak of my release as though it were a certainty. + +Gert. The Corporation has offered 500 ducats for your ransom, and if it +cost only 2000 to get Birgitta declared a saint, then 500 should suffice +to get you declared guiltless. The King doesn't dare to take your life! + +[Enter the Lord High Constable, followed by the Headsman and soldiers.] + +Constable. Take away Gert the Printer. + +Gert (to Olof, as he is being led away). Good-bye, Olof! Take care of my +daughter, and don't ever forget the great Whitsunday! + +Constable. Master Olof, you are a young man who has been led astray. The +King will pardon you for the sake of your youth, but as a safeguard he +demands a retraction wherein you take back whatever you have ventured +beyond and against his orders. + +Olof. Then the King is still in need of me? + +Constable. There are many more who need you, but don't rely on his mercy +until you have fulfilled his condition. Here is the King's warrant. In a +moment your fetters may be shed, if so be your will, but it will be just +as easy to tear up this sheet of paper. + +Olof. One who contents himself with 500 ducats is not likely to care +very much for a retraction-- + +Constable. That is a lie! The headsman is waiting for you. But pray +listen to a few words from an old man. I, too, have been young, and +moved by strong passions. They belong to youth; but those passions are +meant to be killed. I did as you do. I went around telling the truth, +and all I got in return was ingratitude, or, at the best, a smile +of derision. I, too, wanted to build a little heaven here on +earth--(speaking with marked emphasis) of course, on other foundations +than yours--but soon I came to my senses, and the chimeras were +sent packing. I have no desire to make you out a man wishing to gain +notoriety by getting himself talked about--I don't believe anything of +the kind. You are moved by good intentions, but they are such as must +cause harm. Your blood is hot, and it blinds you because you exercise +no self-control. You preach freedom, and you are plunging thousands +into the slavery of license. Retrace your steps, young man, and make +atonement for your errors! Restore what you have torn down, and your +fellow-men will bless you! + +Olof (agitated to a point of desperation). It is the truth you speak; I +hear it, but who taught you to speak like that? + +Constable. Experience--that which you lack! + +Olof. Can I have lived and fought for a lie? Must I now declare my whole +youth and the best part of my manhood lost, useless, wasted? Oh, let me +rather die together with my mistake! + +Constable. You should have broken loose from your dreams earlier. But +calm yourself! Your life is still ahead of you. The past has been a +school--hard, to be sure, but all the more wholesome. Hitherto you have +given your life to whims and follies. Now you have some inkling of what +reality demands of you. Outside that door your creditors are waiting +with their claims. Here are their bills. The clergy of the young Church +demand that you live to finish what you have begun so splendidly. The +City Corporation demands its secretary for the Council. The congregation +demands its shepherd. The children of the confirmation class demand +their teacher. Those are your legal creditors. But there is one more +waiting outside, to whom perhaps you owe more than all the rest, and who +yet demands nothing at all--your young wife. You have torn her from her +father's side and set her adrift in the storm. You have broken down her +childhood faith and filled her mind with restlessness. Your reckless +deeds have goaded the brutal mob into driving her out of her own +home. Yet she does not even demand your love: all she asks of you is +permission to spend a life of suffering by your side.--Now you can see +that we, too, give a little consideration to other people, although you +call us selfish.--Let me open this door, which will lead you back into +the world. Discipline your heart before it hardens, and thank God for +granting you more time to work for mankind. + +Olof (breaking into tears). I am lost! + +(Constable gives a sign to the Headsman, who removes the fetters and the +garb of penitence from Olof; then the Constable opens the door to the +sacristy, and delegates from the lords, the clergy, and the city guilds +enter.) + +Constable. Olof Pedersson, formerly pastor of the city church at +Stockholm, do you hereby repent of your misdeeds and retract what you +have said beyond and against the King's order? Do you declare your +willingness to keep your oath to the sovereign of this realm, and to +serve him faithfully? + +(Olof remains silent. Lars Pedersson and Christine approach him, while +many of those present make pleading gestures.) + +Olof (in a cold and determined voice). Yes! + +Constable. In the name of the King, I set you free! + +(Olof and Christine embrace. A number of persons come forward to press +his hand and utter words of congratulation.) + +Olof (in the same cold voice). Before I leave this room, let me be alone +a moment with my God. I need it! Once upon a time I struck the first +blow right here, and here-- + +Lars. Right here you have won your greatest victory this very day! + +(All leave the room except Olof, who falls on his knees.) + +[Enter Vilhelm cautiously. He looks very much surprised at seeing Olof +alone and free.] + +Vilhelm. I come to bid you farewell, Master Olof, before you pass on to +another life. + +Olof (rising). You have not deserted me, Vilhelm! Help me, then, to +mourn those happy moments of my youth that are now nothing but a memory! + +Vilhelm. Before you die I want to thank you for all that you have +done for us. It was I who gave you those flowers, which you haven't +noticed.--They have been trampled on, I see. I wanted to bring you +a reminder of the days when we were playing under the lindens in the +convent close at Straengnaes. I thought it might do you good to hear that +we have never thanked God, as you said we would, because you didn't +return to us. We have never forgotten you, for it was you who relieved +us of those cruel penances, and it was you who flung open the heavy +convent doors and gave us back our freedom and the blue sky and the +happiness of living. Why you must die, we do not know, but _you_ could +never do anything wrong. And if you die because you have rendered help +to some of those that were oppressed, as they tell us, then you should +not be sorry, although it hurts very, very much. Once you told us how +Hus was burned because he had dared to tell the truth to those in power. +You told us how he went to the stake and joyfully commended himself into +the hands of God, and how he prophesied about the swan that should come +singing new songs in praise of awakened freedom. That's the way I have +thought that you would meet your death--with your head thrown back, and +your eyes toward the sky, and the people crying: "So dies a witness!" + +(Olof leans against the pillory, his face showing how the words of +Vilhelm strike home to him.) + +Gert (his voice heard from a distant part of the church.) Renegade! + +(Olof sinks down overwhelmed at the foot of the pillory.) + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Master Olof, by August Strindberg + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MASTER OLOF *** + +***** This file should be named 7363.txt or 7363.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/7/3/6/7363/ + +Produced by Nicole Apostola + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, +set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to +copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to +protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. Project +Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you +charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission. If you +do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the +rules is very easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose +such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and +research. They may be modified and printed and given away--you may do +practically ANYTHING with public domain eBooks. Redistribution is +subject to the trademark license, especially commercial +redistribution. + + + +*** START: FULL LICENSE *** + +THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE +PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK + +To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free +distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work +(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project +Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project +Gutenberg-tm License (available with this file or online at +http://gutenberg.org/license). + + +Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic works + +1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to +and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property +(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all +the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy +all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your possession. +If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the +terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or +entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8. + +1.B. "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark. It may only be +used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who +agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few +things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works +even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See +paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement +and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. See paragraph 1.E below. + +1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the Foundation" +or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works. Nearly all the individual works in the +collection are in the public domain in the United States. If an +individual work is in the public domain in the United States and you are +located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from +copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative +works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg +are removed. Of course, we hope that you will support the Project +Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting free access to electronic works by +freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm works in compliance with the terms of +this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with +the work. You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by +keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project +Gutenberg-tm License when you share it without charge with others. + +1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern +what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are in +a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, check +the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement +before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or +creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project +Gutenberg-tm work. The Foundation makes no representations concerning +the copyright status of any work in any country outside the United +States. + +1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg: + +1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate +access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear prominently +whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work on which the +phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the phrase "Project +Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed, +copied or distributed: + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + +1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is derived +from the public domain (does not contain a notice indicating that it is +posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied +and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees +or charges. If you are redistributing or providing access to a work +with the phrase "Project Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the +work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 +through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the +Project Gutenberg-tm trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or +1.E.9. + +1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted +with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution +must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional +terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms will be linked +to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works posted with the +permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work. + +1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this +work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm. + +1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this +electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without +prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with +active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project +Gutenberg-tm License. + +1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary, +compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any +word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access to or +distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format other than +"Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official version +posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site (www.gutenberg.org), +you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a +copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon +request, of the work in its original "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other +form. Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1. + +1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying, +performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works +unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. + +1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing +access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works provided +that + +- You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from + the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method + you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is + owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he + has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the + Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments + must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you + prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax + returns. Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and + sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the + address specified in Section 4, "Information about donations to + the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation." + +- You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies + you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he + does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm + License. You must require such a user to return or + destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium + and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of + Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +- You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any + money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the + electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days + of receipt of the work. + +- You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free + distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set +forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from +both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and Michael +Hart, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark. Contact the +Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below. + +1.F. + +1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable +effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread +public domain works in creating the Project Gutenberg-tm +collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain +"Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or +corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual +property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a +computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by +your equipment. + +1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right +of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project +Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all +liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal +fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT +LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE +PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH F3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE +TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE +LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR +INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH +DAMAGE. + +1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a +defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can +receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a +written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you +received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with +your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you with +the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a +refund. If you received the work electronically, the person or entity +providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to +receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If the second copy +is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further +opportunities to fix the problem. + +1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth +in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS' WITH NO OTHER +WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO +WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTIBILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE. + +1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied +warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages. +If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the +law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be +interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by +the applicable state law. The invalidity or unenforceability of any +provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions. + +1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the +trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone +providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in accordance +with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production, +promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works, +harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees, +that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do +or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg-tm +work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any +Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any Defect you cause. + + +Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm + +Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of +electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers +including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It exists +because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from +people in all walks of life. + +Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the +assistance they need, are critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's +goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will +remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure +and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future generations. +To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation +and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4 +and the Foundation web page at http://www.pglaf.org. + + +Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive +Foundation + +The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit +501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the +state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal +Revenue Service. The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification +number is 64-6221541. Its 501(c)(3) letter is posted at +http://pglaf.org/fundraising. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent +permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state's laws. + +The Foundation's principal office is located at 4557 Melan Dr. S. +Fairbanks, AK, 99712., but its volunteers and employees are scattered +throughout numerous locations. Its business office is located at +809 North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887, email +business@pglaf.org. Email contact links and up to date contact +information can be found at the Foundation's web site and official +page at http://pglaf.org + +For additional contact information: + Dr. Gregory B. Newby + Chief Executive and Director + gbnewby@pglaf.org + + +Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation + +Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide +spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of +increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be +freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest +array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations +($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt +status with the IRS. + +The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating +charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United +States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a +considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up +with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations +where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To +SEND DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any +particular state visit http://pglaf.org + +While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we +have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition +against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who +approach us with offers to donate. + +International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make +any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from +outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff. + +Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation +methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other +ways including checks, online payments and credit card donations. +To donate, please visit: http://pglaf.org/donate + + +Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. + +Professor Michael S. Hart is the originator of the Project Gutenberg-tm +concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared +with anyone. For thirty years, he produced and distributed Project +Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support. + + +Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed +editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the U.S. +unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not necessarily +keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition. + + +Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility: + + http://www.gutenberg.org + +This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, +including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary +Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to +subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. diff --git a/7363.zip b/7363.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..31d9c47 --- /dev/null +++ b/7363.zip diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..ff34a31 --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #7363 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/7363) diff --git a/old/7olof10.txt b/old/7olof10.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..f465ca8 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/7olof10.txt @@ -0,0 +1,6182 @@ +Project Gutenberg's Master Olof: A Drama in Five Acts, by August Strindberg +#4 in our series by August Strindberg + +Copyright laws are changing all over the world. Be sure to check the +copyright laws for your country before downloading or redistributing +this or any other Project Gutenberg eBook. + +This header should be the first thing seen when viewing this Project +Gutenberg file. Please do not remove it. Do not change or edit the +header without written permission. + +Please read the "legal small print," and other information about the +eBook and Project Gutenberg at the bottom of this file. Included is +important information about your specific rights and restrictions in +how the file may be used. You can also find out about how to make a +donation to Project Gutenberg, and how to get involved. + + +**Welcome To The World of Free Plain Vanilla Electronic Texts** + +**eBooks Readable By Both Humans and By Computers, Since 1971** + +*****These eBooks Were Prepared By Thousands of Volunteers!***** + + +Title: Master Olof: A Drama in Five Acts. + +Author: August Strindberg + +Release Date: January, 2005 [EBook #7363] +[Yes, we are more than one year ahead of schedule] +[This file was first posted on April 21, 2003] + +Edition: 10 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MASTER OLOF: A DRAMA IN FIVE ACTS. *** + + + + +Produced by Nicole Apostola + + + + +INTRODUCTION + +The original prose version of Master Olof, which is here +presented for the first time in English form, was written between +June 8 and August 8, 1872, while Strindberg, then only twenty-three +years old, was living with two friends on one of the numerous +little islands that lie between Stockholm and the open sea. + +Up to that time he had produced half-a-dozen plays, one of which +had been performed at the Royal Theatre of Stockholm and had won +him the good-will and financial support of King Carl XV. Thus he +had been able to return to the University of Upsala, whence he +had been driven a year earlier by poverty as well as by spiritual +revolt. During his second term of study at the old university +Strindberg wrote some plays that he subsequently destroyed. In +the same period he not only conceived the idea later developed in +Master Olof, but he also acquired the historical data underlying +the play and actually began to put it into dialogue. + +During that same winter of 1871-72 he read extensively, although +his reading probably had slight reference to the university +curriculum. The two works that seem to have taken the lion's +share of his attention were Goethe's youthful drama Goetz von +Berlichingen and Buckle's History of Civilization in England. +Both impressed him deeply, and both became in his mind logically +connected with an external event which, perhaps, had touched his +supersensitive soul more keenly than anything else: an event +concerning which he says in the third volume of The Bondwoman's +Son, that "he had just discovered that the men of the Paris +Commune merely put into action what Buckle preached." + +Such were the main influences at work on his mind when, early in +1872, his royal protector died, and Strindberg found himself once +more dependent on his own resources. To continue at the +university was out of the question, and he seems to have taken +his final departure from it without the least feeling of regret. +Unwise as he may have been in other respects, he was wise enough +to realize that, whatever his goal, the road to it must be of his +own making. Returning to Stockholm, he groped around for a while +as he had done a year earlier, what he even tried to eke out a +living as the editor of a trade journal. Yet the seeds sown +within him during the previous winter were sprouting. An +irresistible impulse urged him to continue the work of Buckle. +History and philosophy were the ultimate ends tempting his mind, +but first of all he was impelled to express himself in terms of +concrete life, and the way had been shown him by Goethe. Moved by +Goethe's example, he felt himself obliged to break through the +stifling forms of classical drama. "No verse, no eloquence, no +unity of place," was the resolution he formulated straightway. +[Note: See again The Bondwoman's Son, vol. iii: In the Red Room.] + +Having armed himself with a liberal supply of writing-paper, he +joined his two friends in the little island of Kymmendo. Of money +he had so little that, but for the generosity of one of his +friends, he would have had to leave the island in the autumn +without settling the small debt he owed for board and lodging. +Yet those months were happy indeed--above all because he felt +himself moved by an inspiration more authentic than he had ever +before experienced. Thus page was added to page, and act to act, +until at last, in the surprisingly brief time of two months, +the whole play was ready--mighty in bulk and spirit, as became +the true firstling of a young Titan. + +Strindberg had first meant to name his play "What Is Truth?" For +a while he did call it "The Renegade," but in the end he thought +both titles smacked too much of tendency and decided instead, +with reasoned conventionalism, to use the title of Master Olof +after its central figure, the Luther of Sweden. + +From a dramatic point of view it would have been hard to pick a +more promising period than the one he had chosen as a setting for +his play. The early reign of Gustaf Vasa, the founder of modern +Sweden, was marked by three parallel conflicts of equal intensity +and interest: between Swedish and Danish nationalism; between +Catholicism and Protestantism; and, finally, between feudalism +and a monarchism based more or less on the consent of the +governed. Its background was the long struggle for independent +national existence in which the country had become involved by +its voluntary federation with Denmark and Norway about the end of +the fourteenth century. That Struggle--made necessary by the +insistence of one sovereign after another on regarding Sweden as +a Danish province rather than as an autonomous part of a united +Scandinavia--had reached a sort of climax, a final moment of +utter blackness just before the dawn, when, at Stockholm in 1520, +the Danish king, known ever afterward as Christian the Tyrant, +commanded the arbitrary execution of about eighty of Sweden's +most representative men. + +Until within a few months of that event, named by the horror- +stricken people "the blood-bath of Stockholm," the young Gustaf +Eriksson Vasa had been a prisoner in Denmark, sent there as a +hostage of Swedish loyalty. Having obtained his freedom by +flight, he made his way to the inland province of Dalecarlia, +where most of the previous movements on behalf of national +liberty had originated, and having cleared the country of foreign +invaders, chiefly by the help of an aroused peasantry that had +never known the yoke of serfdom, he was elected king at a Riksdag +held in the little city of Strangnas, not far from Stockholm, in +1523. + +Strangnas was a cathedral city and had for several years previous +been notorious for the Lutheran leanings of its clergy. After the +death of its bishop as one of the victims of King; Christian, its +temporary head had been the archdeacon, the ambitious and learned +Lars Andersson--or Laurentius Andreae, as, in accordance with the +Latinizing tendency of the time, he was more frequently named. +One of its canons was Olof Pedersson--also known as Olaus Petri, +and more commonly as Master Olof (Master being the vernacular for +Magister, which was the equivalent of our modern Doctor)--who, +during two years spent in studies at the University of Wittenberg, +had been in personal contact with Luther, and who had become fired +with an aspiration to carry the Reformation into his native +country. By recent historians Master Olof has been described as +of a "naively humble nature," rather melancholy in temperament, +but endowed with a gift for irony, and capable of fiery outbursts +when deeply stirred. At Strangnas he had been preaching the new +faith more openly and more effectively than any one else, and he +had found a pupil as well as a protector in the temporary head of +the diocese. + +Immediately after his election, the new King called Lars +Andersson from Strangnas to become his first chancellor. Later +on, he pressed Olof, too, into his service, making him Secretary +to the City Corporation of Stockholm--which meant that Olof +practically became the chief civil administrator of the capital, +having to act as both clerk and magistrate, while at the same +time he was continuing his reformatory propaganda as one of the +preachers in the city's principal edifice, officially named after +St. Nicolaus, but commonly spoken of as Greatchurch. As if this +were not sufficient for one man, he plunged also into a feverish +literary activity, doing most of the work on the Swedish +translations of the New and Old Testaments, and paving the way +for the new faith by a series of vigorous polemical writings, the +style of which proclaims him the founder of modern Swedish prose. +Centuries passed before the effective simplicity and homely +picturesqueness of his style were surpassed. He became, +furthermore, Sweden's first dramatist. The Comedy of Tobit, +from which Strindberg uses a few passages in slightly modernized +form at the beginning of his play, is now generally recognized as +an authentic product of Olof's pen, although it was not written +until a much later period. + +Strindberg's drama starts at Strangnas, at the very moment when +Olof has been goaded into open revolt against the abuses of the +Church, and when he is saved from the consequences of that revolt +only by the unexpected arrival of King Gustaf and his own +appointment as City Secretary. From the slightly strained, but +not improbable, coincidence of that start to the striking climax +of the last act, the play follows, on the whole, pretty closely +the actual course of events recorded in history. To understand +this course, with its gradually intensified conflict between the +King and Olof, it is above all necessary to bear in mind that the +former regarded the Reformation principally as a means toward +that political reorganization and material upbuilding of the +country which formed his main task; while to Olof the religious +reconstruction assumed supreme importance. This fundamental +divergence of purpose is clearly indicated and effectively used +by Strindberg, and we have reason to believe that he has pictured +not only Gustaf Vasa and Master Olof, but also the other +historical characters, in close accordance with what history has +to tell us about them. Among the chief figures there is only one +--Gert the Printer--who is not known to history, and one--the +wife of Olof--who is so little known that the playwright has been +at liberty to create it almost wholly out of his own imagination. + +At the juncture represented by the initial scenes of the play, +Olof was in reality thirty-one years old, but he is made to +appear still younger. The King should be, and is, about twenty- +seven, while Lars Andersson is about fifty-four, and Bishop Brask +about seventy. Gert must be thought a man of about sixty, while +Christine must be about twenty. The action of the play lasts from +1524 to 1540, but Strindberg has contracted the general +perspective, so to speak, giving us the impression that the +entire action takes place within a couple of years. I have tried +to work out a complete chronology, and think it fairly safe to +date the several parts of the play as follows: + +The first act takes place on Whitsun Eve, 1524, which means that +the exact date must fall between May 10 and June 13 of that year, +and probably about June 1. + +The first scene of the second act occurs in the early evening of +a Saturday in the summer--probably in June--of 1524. The second +scene is fixed at midnight of the same day, and the third scene +on the following morning, which, in view of the fact that Olof is +to preach, we may assume to be a Sunday. + +The first scene of the third act seems to take place four days +later, but Olof was not married until February, 1525,--to +"Christine, a maiden of good family,"--and it was only during +the winter of 1526-27 that the Church reformers were given +free rein by the King, and Olof himself was despatched to the +University of Upsala for the purpose of challenging Peder Galle, +the noted Catholic theologian, to a joint discussion. This was +also the time when the first Swedish version of the New Testament +was completed by Olof and Lars Andersson--an event referred to in +the scene in question. + +The exact date of the second scene of the third act is St. John's +Eve, or June 24, 1527, at which time occurred the important +Riksdag at Vesteras, where the King broke the final resistance of +the nobility and the Catholic clergy by threatening to abdicate. +The debate between Olof and Peder Galle took place at the +Riksdag, Galle having evaded it as long as he could. + +The date of the fourth act is very uncertain, but it seems safe +to place it in the summer of 1539, when Stockholm was ravaged by +an epidemic of a virulent disease known as "the English sweat." + +The first scene of the fifth act is laid on New Year's Eve, 1539, +when Olof and Lars Andersson were arrested and charged with high +treason for not having informed the proper authorities of a plot +against the King's life. This plot was an old story, having been +exposed and punished in 1536. Their defence was that they had +learned of it through secret confession, which they as ministers +had no right to reveal. The trial took only two days, and on +January 2, 1540, both were sentenced to death. + +The second scene of the final act must be laid in the spring of +1540, as the ceremony of confirmation has generally taken place +about Easter ever since the Swedish church became Lutheran. + +While, in the main, Strindberg made the events of his play accord +with what was accepted as historical fact when he wrote, there +are anachronisms and inaccuracies to be noted, although to none +of them can be attached much importance. When, in the first and +second acts, he represents the Anabaptist leaders, Rink and +Knipperdollink, as then in Stockholm and actually introduces one +of them on the stage, he has merely availed himself of a legend +which had been accepted as truth for centuries, and which has +been exploded only by recent historical research. We know now +that Rink and Knipperdollink could never have been in Sweden, but +we know also that a German lay preacher named Melchior Hofman +appeared at Stockholm about the time indicated in the play, and +that, in 1529, another such preacher, named Tilemann, made Olof +himself the object of his fierce invectives. These instances +serve, in fact, to prove how skilfully Strindberg handled his +historical material. He is never rigid as to fact, but as a rule +he is accurate in spirit. Another instance of this kind is found +in the references in the first act to the use of Swedish for +purposes of worship. It is recorded--and by himself, I think-- +that Olof once asked his mother whether she really understood the +Latin prayers, since she was so very fond of them. She answered: +"No, I don't understand them, but when I hear them I pray +devoutly to God that they may please Him, which I don't doubt +they do." + +On the other hand, what maybe regarded as rather an awkward slip +is found in the first scene of the fifth act, where Gert cries +exultantly to Olof: "You don't know that Thomas Munster has +established a new spiritual kingdom at Muhlhausen." The name of +the great Anabaptist "prophet" was Thomas Munzer, and the place +where he established his brief reign was Munster. Strindberg's +habit was to fill his head with the facts to be used, and then to +rely on his memory. Marvellous as his memory was, it sometimes +deceived him, and checking off names or dates seems to have been +utterly beyond him. Thus it is quite probable that the passage in +question represents an unconscious error. At the same time it is +barely possible that the mistake may have been purposely laid in +the mouth of a fanatic, from whom exactness of statement could +hardly be expected. Thus, in the first act, Gert remarks that +"Luther is dead." We understand, of course, that this expression +is metaphorical, signifying that Luther has done all that can be +expected of him, but it is nevertheless characteristically +ambiguous. + +The second scene of the third act is apparently laid in Olof's +house at Stockholm, although the location of the building is not +definitely indicated. We find him waiting for a messenger who is +to announce the results of the Riksdag then in session. But the +Riksdag was held at Vesteras, and we know that Olof was one of +two delegates sent by the burghers and the peasants to the King, +whom they implored "on their knees and with tears" to withdraw +his abdication. The Courtier's reference to Olof's debate with +Galle renders it still more uncertain whether we are in Stockholm +or in Vesteras. The Courtier also informs Olof of his appointment +as pastor of Greatchurch, the facts being that Olof was not +ordained until 1539 and received his appointment a year after the +events described in the last act of the play. In the metrical +version, Strindberg makes his most radical departure from the +historical course of events by letting Luther's marriage precede +and influence that of Olof, although in reality Olof's anticipated +that of Luther by several months. + +The complaints of the Man from Smaland in the first scene of the +second act could scarcely have been warranted in 1524, when that +act takes place. The hold of the young King was far too +precarious at that early date to permit any regulations of the +kind referred to. The establishment of a maximum price on oxen +does not seem to have occurred until 1532, and a prohibition +against the shooting of deer by the peasants was actually issued +in 1538, both measures helping to provoke the widespread uprising +that broke out in Smaland in 1541. It was named the "Dacke feud" +after its principal leader, the peasant-chieftain Nils Dacke, to +whom the Sexton refers in the second scene of the last act--also +a little prematurely. + +Whether these be conscious or unconscious anachronisms, they +matter very little when the general accuracy of the play is +considered. From the moment the Danes had been driven out of the +country, one of the most serious problems confronting the King +was the financial chaos into which the country had fallen, and +his efforts, first of all to raise enough means for ordinary +administrative purposes, and secondly to reorganize trade and +agriculture, brought him almost immediately into conflict with +the peasants, who, during the long struggle for national +independence, had become accustomed to do pretty much as they +pleased. The utterances of the Man from Smaland are typical of +the sentiments that prevailed among the peasants throughout the +country, not least when he speaks of the King's intention to +"take away their priests and friars," for the majority of the +Swedish people were at that time still intensely Catholic, and +remained so to a large extent long after the Reformation +officially had placed Sweden among Protestant countries. + +Much more serious than any liberties taken with dates or facts, I +deem certain linguistic anachronisms, of which Strindberg not rarely +becomes guilty. Thus, for instance, he makes the King ask Bishop +Brask: "What kind of phenomenon is this?" The phrase is palpably +out of place, and yet it has been used so deliberately that nothing +was left for me to do but to translate it literally. The truth is that +Strindberg was not striving to reproduce the actual language of the +Period--a language of which we get a glimpse in the quotations from +The Comedy of Tobit. Here and there he used archaic expressions +(which I have sometimes reproduced and sometimes disregarded, as +the exigencies of the new medium happened to require). At other +times he did not hesitate to employ modern colloquialisms (most of +which have been "toned down"). He did not regard local color or +historical atmosphere as a supreme desideratum. He wanted to +express certain ideas, and he wanted to bring home the essential +humanity of historical figures which, through the operations of +legendary history, had assumed a strange, unhuman aspect. The +methods he employed for these purposes have since been made +familiar to the English-speaking public by the historical plays +of Bernard Shaw and the short stories and novels of Anatole France. + +In his eagerness, however, to express what was burning for +utterance in his own breast, the second purpose was sometimes +lost sight of; and at such times Strindberg hesitated as little +to pass the bounds imposed by an historical period as to break +through the much more important limitations of class and personal +antecedents. Thus, for example, the remarks of Olof's mother are +at one moment characterized by the simplicity to be expected from +the aged widow of a small city tradesman in the early part of the +sixteenth century, while in the next--under the pressure of the +author's passion for personal expression--they grow improbably +sophisticated. Yet each figure, when seen in proper perspective, +appears correctly drawn and strikingly consistent with the part +assigned to it in the play. In his very indifference to minor +accuracies, Strindberg sometimes approaches more closely to the +larger truth than men more scrupulous in regard to details. How +true he can be in his delineation of a given type is perhaps best +shown by the figure of Gert. The world's literature holds few +portrayals of the anarchistic temperament that can vie with it in +psychological exactness, and it is as true to-day as it was in +1524 or in 1872. + +This verisimilitude on a universal rather than a specific plane +assumes still greater significance if we consider it in the light +of what Strindberg has told us about his purpose with the main +characters of his first great play. As I have already said, those +characters were meant to be both mouthpieces of the author and +revived historical figures, but they were also meant--and +primarily, I suspect--to be something else: embodiments of the +contradictory phases of a single individual, namely the author +himself. + +"The author meant to hide his own self behind the historical +characters," Strindberg tells us, apropos of this very play. +[Note: In one of his biographical novels, The Bondwoman's Son, +vol. iii: In the Red Room.] "As an idealist he was to be +represented by Olof; as a realist by Gustaf; and as a communist +by Gert." Farther on in the same work, he continues his +revelation as follows: "The King and his shadow, the shrewd +Constable, represented himself [the author] as he wished to be; +Gert, as he was in moments of aroused passion; and Olof, as, +after years of self-scrutiny, he had come to know himself: +ambitious and weak-willed; unscrupulous when something was at +stake, and yielding at other times; possessed of great self-confidence, +mixed with a deep melancholy; balanced and irrational; hard and gentle." + +Finally, he gives us this illuminating exposition of his own +views on the moral validity of the main characters, thus +disposing once for all of the one-sided interpretations made by +persons anxious to use this or that aspect of the play in support +of their own political or social idiosyncrasies: "All the chief +characters are, relatively speaking, in the right. The Constable, +from the standpoint of his own day, is right in asking Olof to +keep calm and go on preaching; Olof is right in admitting that he +had gone too far; the scholar, Vilhelm, is right when, in the +name of youth, he demands the evolution of a new truth; and Gert +is right in calling Olof a renegade. The individual must always +become a renegade--forced by the necessity of natural laws; by +fatigue; by inability to develop indefinitely, as the brain +ceases to grow about the age of forty-five; and by the claims of +actual life, which demand that even a reformer must live as man, +mate, head of a family, and citizen. But those who crave that the +individual continue his progress indefinitely are the shortsighted +--particularly those who think that the cause must perish because +the individual deserts it. ... It is an open question, for that +matter, whether Olof did not have a better chance to advance his +cause from the pulpit of the reformed Greatchurch than he would +have had in low-class taverns." + +These passages were written by Strindberg fourteen years after +the completion of the play to which they refer. We have other +evidence, however, that, while he might have seen things more +clearly in retrospect, he had not been lured by the lapse of time +into placing his characters in a light different from that in +which they were conceived. On the list of characters forming part +of the original handwritten manuscript of the first version of +Master Olof, now preserved in the Public Library of Gothenburg, +Sweden, the author has jotted down certain very significant notes +opposite the more important names. Thus he has written opposite +the name of the King: "To accomplish something in this world, one +has to risk morality and conscience;" opposite the name of Olof: +"He who strives to realize an idea develops greatness of +personality--he accomplishes good by his personal example, but he +is doomed to perish;" opposite that of Bishop Brask: "There is +movement in whatever exists--whatever stands still must be +crushed;" and opposite that of Gert: "He who wills more than his +reason can grasp must go mad." + +Such was the play with which the young Strindberg returned to the +Swedish capital in the fall of 1872; and let us remember in this +connection, that up to the time in question no dramatic work of +similar importance had ever been produced in Sweden. Its +completion was more epoch-making for Sweden than that of Brand +was for Norway in 1865--since the coming of Ibsen's first really +great play was heralded by earlier works leading up to it, while +Master Olof appeared where nobody had any reason to expect it. +This very fact militated against its success, of course; it was +too unexpected, and also too startlingly original, both in spirit +and in form. + +At the time there was only one stage in Sweden where such a work +could be produced--the Royal Theatre at Stockholm. To the +officials of this state--supported institution Strindberg +submitted his work--hopefully, as we know from his own statement. +It was scornfully and ignominiously rejected, the main criticism +being that a serious historical drama in prose was unthinkable. I +shall make no comment whatever on that judgment, having in mind +how several years later Edmund Gosse bewailed the failure of +Ibsen to give a metrical form to his Emperor and Galilean. + +Strindberg's next effort concerned publication. In this respect +he was equally unsuccessful, although as a rule it has never been +very difficult in Sweden to find a publisher for any work of +reasonable merit. But the play was not only too original, it was +too dangerously radical for a country where a truly modern form +of representative government had not been achieved until seven +years earlier. Strindberg was at first stunned by this failure. +He seriously contemplated giving up writing altogether. When he +had recovered somewhat, he seems reluctantly to have faced the +possibility that the fault might be found in the play and not in +the public. + +So he set about to re-write it--and he did so not only once but +repeatedly, producing in all six versions that differ more or +less from one another. At first he clung to the prose form. +Gradually he began to introduce verse, until finally, in 1877 or +1878, he completed an almost new play, where the metrical form +predominated without being used exclusively. This version was +actually published in 1878. Originally, an epilogue was appended +to it, but this was dropped from all but a small part of the +first edition. It is supposed to take place a number of years +later than the fifth act, and shows Olof with his two sons +outside the city walls of Stockholm, where they witness a +miracle-play introducing God as the principle of darkness and +Lucifer as the overthrown but never conquered principle of light. +The bitter generalizations of this afterthought explain +Sufficiently why it was excluded. To the later Strindberg--the +man who wrote Advent, for instance--it must have seemed one of +his most unforgivable offences. + +Although Strindberg's main object in working over his play +undoubtedly was to obtain its production, the metrical version +was not put on the stage until 1890, when, however, it was +performed at the Royal Theatre, toward which its author had +looked so longingly and so vainly eighteen years earlier. The +prose version, on the other hand, was produced as early as 1881, +at the New Theatre in Stockholm, but was not published until the +same year, when it appeared in book form grouped with a number of +other writings from Strindberg's earliest period. + +Of the five unprinted versions connecting the original prose +drama of 1872 with the final metrical form of 1878, more or less +complete manuscripts have been preserved, and these are now being +examined in detail by the Swedish literary historian, Professor +Karl Warburg. A summary analysis by Dr. John Landquist is +appended to the second volume of the definitive edition of +Strindberg's complete works (Albert Bonnier, Stockholm), where +the epilogue to the metrical version is also reprinted after so +many years of oblivion. + +"Of all the manuscripts preceding the final metrical version," +says Dr. Landquist, "the original one, written when Strindberg +was twenty-three, is the masterpiece. There everything is +consistent; there the dialogue has a power and an incisiveness to +which it does not attain in any of the unprinted manuscripts. On +the contrary, these seem more youthful than the original, +producing at times an impression of immaturity and uncertainty on +the part of the author. Even when some isolated phrase strikes +one as fortunate, it does not tend to strengthen the drama as a +whole. The later versions lack that sense of inner unity and that +audacious touch which lend fascination and power to the original +manuscript. + +"Not until we reach the first metrical version (of 1876) does the +full power of the playwright begin to reassert itself in such +fashion that out of his untiring labors at last springs a new +work, the mood of which differs essentially from that of the +first prose version. These two versions--the first and the final +--are the results of diametrically opposed methods of work. The +first was written with a certainty and swiftness of inspiration +that raised the young poet far above the productive powers +generally characteristic of his years. The subsequent modifications +prove merely how futile are the efforts of reason to improve +what intuition has inspired. But gradually it seems to have +dawned on the poet that he was about to evolve a wholly new +work--that what he had come to aim at was quite distinct from +what he had been aiming at in the beginning, and from that moment +his artistic reasoning carried him onward until at last a new +inspiration brought the work to its completion." + +Concerning the final metrical version, I can give only a few +outstanding and rather superficial facts, hoping that I may some +time have the opportunity of presenting it entire to the American +public. Like the prose version, it has five acts, but these are +not subdivided into scenes. It is briefer, more concentrated both +in spirit and in form, and may he said to display a greater unity +of purpose. It is more human, too, and less titanic. The change +shows itself strikingly in a figure like that of Marten, who in +the metrical version has become softened into an unconscionable +but rather lovable rapscallion. The last remark but one made by +Marten when driven from Dame Christine's deathbed by Olof is: +"Talk to your mother, son--the two of you have so much to forgive +each other." + +In strength and passion and daring, on the other hand, the final +version falls far short of the original one, and the very fact +that it is more logical, more carefully reasoned, tends at times +to render it less psychologically true. Each version has its own +merits and its own faults, and in their appeal they are so +radically different that a choice between them must always remain +meaningless except on temperamental grounds. At one point, +however--and an important one at that--the metrical version seems +to me the happier by far. + +That cry of "renegade," which, echoing from the dim recesses of +the church, makes the prose version end on a note of perplexing +irony, may be theatrically effective, but it can hardly be called +logical. Gert has been disposed of. His sudden return out of the +clutches of the soldiers is inexplicable and unwarranted. Worse +still, he has only a short while previous been urging Olof to +live on for his work. If Olof be a renegade, he is so upon the +advice of Gert himself, and to call the concession made by Olof +for the saving of his own life far-reaching enough to explain +Gert's sudden change of attitude approaches dangerously near to +quibbling. In the metrical version, on the other hand, the same +cry of "renegade" is quite logically and suitably wrung from the +lips of Vilhelm, the scholar who is still dreaming of uncompromised +ideals. But it is not the final word. This comes from Olof, +and takes the form of a brief apostrophe to the fleeing Vilhelm, +which I think ranks with the finest passages produced by Strindberg. +Apologetically, I offer this English version of it as a fitting +close to my Introduction: + +Olof. Oh, what a word! But though it shook the air, + These columns did not stir, nor fell the dome, + And I stand calm upon this lonely shore, + Where I was dropped by the receding waves-- + For, after all, I am ashore. And now + A last "good luck upon the road" I send + To speed the daring sailor who will give + No ear to one that just has come to grief. + With sails hauled close, steer for the open sea + And for the far-off goal your soul desires! + Ere long you must fall off like all the rest, + Although a star your guiding landmark be + For in due time the stars themselves must fall! + +EDWIN BJORKMAN +MAY 15, 1915 + + + +MASTER OLOF + + +DRAMATIS PERSONAE + +OLOF PEDERSSON (Olaus Petri), generally known as MASTER OLOF. +GERT THE PRINTER. +GUSTAF ERIKSSON VASA, King of Sweden. +HANS BRASK, Bishop of Linkoping. +MANS SOMMAR, Bishop of Strangnas. +LARS SIGGESON, Lord High Constable. +LARS ANDERSSON (Laurentius Andreae), Lord High Chancellor. +LARS PEDERSSON (Laurentius Petri), brother of Master Olof. +HANS WINDRANK, a Master Mariner. +A Man from Smaland. +A German. +A Dane. +MARTEN and NILS, Black Friars. +A Tavern-keeper. +A Burier. +First Scholar. +Second Scholar. +The Sexton at St. Nicolaus (or Greatchurch). +A Servant of the Palace. +An Overseer. +A Townsman. +A Courtier. +DAME CHRISTINE, Olof's mother. +CHRISTINE, daughter of Gert the Printer. +A Harlot. +A Woman. +The Sexton's Wife. +The Abbess of St. Clara. +Headsman, Townsfolk, Laborers, etc. + +ACT I: At Strangnas. + +ACTS II, III, IV, AND V: At Stockholm. + + + +ACT I + +(A Cloister opening upon a Convent Close planted with groups of +trees. The convent church forms the right side of the quadrangle. +A brick wall runs along the rear. Fruit trees in blossom appear +above the wall. Olof is seated on a stone bench. Before him stand +two scholars, who are reading their respective parts out of "The +Comedy of Tobit.") + +First Scholar. +Now have our enemies trapped us full well. +Woe unto us, poor children of Israel! + +Second Scholar. +Yea, brother, good cause you have to make such plaint! +Now certes we have come upon days of great lament-- +Our land is taken away, and so's our increase, +And ne'er we may look for any help or surcease. +It must be, as long I have both dreamt and said, +That the promise to Abram has been long mislaid. + +[Enter Lars Andersson.] + +Lars Andersson. What are you doing? + +Olof. I am playing. + +Lars. Playing--you? + +Olof. I am playing a little comedy about the children of Israel +and the Babylonian captivity. + +Lars. Have you nothing better to do? Bigger work is waiting for +you. + +Olof. I am too young. + +Lars. Do not say you are too young. + +Olof. No, for there are plenty of others who say it. + +Lars (takes out a roll of paper, which he opens; for a while he +stands looking at Olof; then he begins to read) "Then the word of +the Lord came unto Jeremiah: 'Before I formed thee in the belly I +knew thee; and before thou camest forth out of the womb I +sanctified thee, and I ordained thee a prophet unto the nations.' + +"Then said Jeremiah: 'Ah, Lord God! behold, I cannot speak, for I +am a child.' + +"But the Lord said: 'Say not, I am a child; for thou shalt go to +all that I shall send thee, and whatsoever I command thee thou +shalt speak. For, behold, I have made thee this day a defenced +city, and an iron pillar, and brazen walls against the whole +land, against the kings of Judah, against the princes thereof, +against the priests thereof, and against the people of the land. +And they shall fight against thee; but they shall not prevail +against thee; for I am with thee,' saith the Lord, 'to deliver +thee.'" + +Olof (leaping to his feet). Did the Lord say that? + +Lars. "Thou therefore gird up thy loins and arise, and speak unto +them all that I command thee." + +Olof. Why do not you go? + +Lars. I am too old. + +Olof. You are afraid! + +Lars. I am, for I have not the strength; but you have--and now +may the Lord give you the faith also. + +Olof. Oh, once I did have the flame of faith, and it burned +wondrously, but the monkish gang smothered it with their holy +water when they were trying to read the devil out of my body. + +Lars. That was a fire of straw which had to flicker out; but now +the Lord will light you a fire of logs by which the offspring of +the Philistines shall be consumed. Do you know your own will, +Olof? + +Olof. No, but I feel myself choking when I think of these poor +people who yearn for salvation. They are crying for water--for +living water--but there is no one who can give it to them. + +Lars. Tear down the crumbling old house first, you can do that. +Then the Lord Himself will build them a new one. + +Olof. Then they will be without a roof over their heads for a +time. + +Lars. They will at least get fresh air. + +Olof. But to rob a whole nation of its faith--they will despair. + +Lars. Yes, they will despair. + +Olof. But they will decry me, and revile me, and drag me before +the elders. + +Lars. Are you afraid? + +Olof. No--but the offence-- + +Lars. You were born to give offence, Olof; you were born to +smite. The Lord will heal. + +Olof. I can feel the pull of the current; I am still clinging to +the sluice-gate, but if I let go, I shall be swept away. + +Lars. Let go! There are more than enough who hold back. + +Olof. Reach out your hand to me, Lars, if I get too far into the +whirlpool. + +Lars. That is not in my power, and into the whirlpool you must +go, even if it be to perish. + +Olof. What storms you have raised in my soul! A moment ago I sat +here and played in the shadow of the trees, and it was Whitsun +Eve, and it was spring, and all was peace. And now--how can the +trees be still, and why is there no darkness in the sky? Put your +hand on my forehead, feel the blood surging! Do not abandon me, +Lars! I see an angel coming towards me with a cup--she is walking +across the evening sky--her path is blood-red, and in her hand +she is carrying a cross--No, it is more than I avail! I will +return to my peaceful valley. Let others fight; I will look on-- +No, I will follow in their wake and heal the wounded and whisper +words of peace into the ears of the dying--Peace!--No, I want to +fight with the rest, but in the last ranks--Why should I lead? + +Lars. Because you are the boldest. + +Olof. Not the strongest? + +Lars. The strong will come after you: and the strongest of all is +by your side; it is He who summons you to battle. + +Olof. Help me, O Lord! I go. + +Lars. Amen! + +Olof. And will you come with me? + +Lars. You must go alone--with God! + +Olof. Why do you turn back? + +Lars. I was not born to be a warrior: your armorer is all that I +can be. Your weapon is the pure Word of God, and with that you +must arm the people. For the doors to the popish armory have been +broken open at last, and hereafter every one calling himself a +man must fight for the freedom of his own spirit. + +Olof. But where is the enemy? I am burning for battle, yet see no +one to fight against. + +Lars. No need to summon them; they will come! Farewell! You may +begin whenever you are ready, and may God be with you! + +Olof. Don't go. I have much more to talk with you about. + +Lars. Here comes the vanguard now--to arms! + +[Exit Lars.] + +(A crowd of townsmen with their women and children pass across +the stage to the church door at the right. They stop in front of +it, bare their heads, and make the sign of the cross.) + +Gert the Printer (disguised as a townsman). It's Whitsun Eve, and +nobody has rung the vesper bell--that's very strange. + +A Townsman. The church door is closed. Maybe the priest is sick. + +Gert. Or not yet out of bed. + +Townsman. What do you mean? + +Gert. Only that he might be sick abed. + +Townsman. But there are a lot of acolytes, and one of them might +be saying a mass for us in his place. + +Gert. They are probably too busy. + +Townsman. With what? + +Gert. That's hard to tell. + +Townsman. Take care, my good man! You seem to have a leaning +towards Lutherism. Bishop Hans of Linkoping is here, and so's the +King. + +Gert. Is Brask in town? + +Townsman. Indeed he is. But I suppose we had better try the +church door to see if it be really closed. + +Gert (runs up the steps and beats the church door with his +fist).The house of God is closed this Whitsun Eve. The reverend +clergy will grant no audience with the Lord to-day, and so the +worshipful commonalty will have to go home and go to bed without +any mass. Look here, good folk! Here you have a door--mere wood, +of course, but that matters little, as it is lined with copper. +Just take a look at this door! If I say that the Lord is living +within--this being His house; and if I say that the bishop's +diaconus, or secretarius, or canonicus, or some other fellow +ending in 'us'--for it's only these clerical gentlemen that end +in 'us'; and if I say that some fellow of that kind has the key +hanging on a nail in his bedroom: then I don't mean to say that +he has locked up the Lord and put the key on a nail in his +bedroom: but all I mean to say is that we can't get in, and that +there will be no divine service for its to-night--for us who +have toiled six days making shoes and coats--who have spent the +whole week brewing and baking and butchering for the reverend +clergy in order that the said clergy might have strength enough +on the seventh day to celebrate divine service for its. Of +course, I am not at all saying this in reproach of the right +reverend members of this Chapter; for they, too, are nothing but +human beings, you know, and it was only the Lord who could stand +working six days and be satisfied with resting on the seventh. + +Townsman. You're blaspheming God, master townsman! + +Gert. Well, He can't hear it when the door is closed. + +A Woman. Jesu Maria! He's an Antichrist! + +Gert (beating at the door). Do you hear how hollow it sounds?--It +is writ in the Bible that once upon a time the veil before the +Holiest of Holies was rent in twain, and it must be true--but +nothing is said in the Bible about the clerical gentlemen having +sewed the veil together again, which, of course, is no reason why +it shouldn't have been done. + +(The crowd makes a rush at Gert; the children begin to cry.) + +Townsman. Out on you, Luther! For that's what you are. We have +sinned, and for that reason the Lord has closed His house. Can't +you hear that the very children cry out at the sight of you, +unclean spirit that you are? + +Gert. Naturally, when you step on their toes, my dear friends-- + +Woman. Don't go near him! He has a devil! + +Townsman. Down with him! Down with him! + +Gert. Don't touch me, for here I am under the protection of the +Lord. + +Townsman. The Lord will not protect the angel that was cast out. + +Gert. If the Lord won't, the Holy Church will, and I am now +within her consecrated walls. + +Townsman. Get him away from the church wall! + +Gert. If you don't fear God, you must at least fear the ban of +the Holy Father. + +Woman. Drag him away from that door! It is his unclean spirit +that has cast a spell on the church. + +Townsman. That's it! The Lord won't open His church to the Devil. + +(The crowd is rushing at Gert again, when the Bishop's Secretary +enters, preceded by a verger, who calls upon the people to +attend.) + +Secretary (reading). "Whereas our cathedral city has failed in +the payment of its tithes to this See, and whereas it continues +refractory in regard to such payments, the Chapter has deemed it +necessary, in accordance with its vested rights and the sanction +granted by the Holy Curia, to close the doors of the church and +to discontinue all masses and sacrifices until the aforesaid +dereliction shall have been duly remedied; failure to observe +which shall be at the risk of our displeasure. Datum vigilia +assumptionis Mariae. Chapter of Strangnas." [Exit.] + +Gert. What do you say to that, good folk? + +Townsman. No mass on Whitsun Eve? That's a shame! + +Gert. Take care! Say nothing evil of the priests; maybe they're +not to blame. + +Townsman. Who is to blame, then? + +Gert. The Church! That invisible and omnipotent something! It is +the Church, you see, that has closed the church. (The crowd gives +evidence of disapproval.) + +Olof (who in the meantime has come forward, seizes a rope hanging +from the bell tower, and begins to ring vespers). If your worship +be seriously meant, I'll say mass for you. + +Townsman. Many thanks, Master Olof, but are you aware of what +that may lead to? + +Olof. Let us fear the Lord more than men! (The crowd kneels.) +Dear friends! Brothers and sisters in Christ Jesus! As we are now +come together here-- + +Townsman. Master Olof-- + +Olof. What is it? + +Townsman. We want a real mass, and not any new inventions of men. + +Gert. It has to be in Latin, my dear Master Olof, or we can't +understand what you say. + +Townsman. It has to be in the sacred tongue--or anybody might say +mass. + +Olof. And so you shall! Everyone for himself, with God! + +Crowd. A Luther! A Luther! Antichrist! + +Townsman. Well, well, Master Olof, have you, too, so young and +zealous, become tainted by the German devil? I am an old man, who +has seen much of the world, and I mean well by you--Turn back +while you are still young!--Do as we ask you and give us the old +mass. + +Olof. No, there must be an end to that mummery. Ye shall pray in +spirit and in truth, and not in words ye do not understand. + +Townsman. Don't you think, my young friend, that the Lord +understands Latin? + +Gert. But Swedish He doesn't understand at all! + +Townsman. Master Olof, are you going to let the people depart +from you without a word to edify them? Can't you see how they +are yearning for their God? Make a sacrifice of your own sinful +will, and don't let the people go from you like sheep that have +no shepherd. + +Olof. You call my will sinful? + +Townsman. You are a hard man! + +Olof. Say not so! Do you know what the ringing of this bell will +cost me? + +Townsman. Your vanity. + +Gert. And your peace! For it was the alarum bell that rang in the +battle. Hey-ho, this is the start! Soon the bells of Stockholm +will respond, and then the blood of Hus, and of Ziska, and of all +the thousands of peasants will be on the heads of the princes and +the papists. + +Woman. Woe unto us! What is he raving about? + +Townsman. Do you know this man, Master Olof? + +Olof. No. + +Gert. Yes, Olof, you know me. Deny me not! Are you afraid of +these miserable creatures who do not want their own welfare--and +who have never heard the word "freedom"? + +Olof. What is your name? + +Gert. If I told, you would all tremble. Yet you must tremble in +order that you may wake out of your sleep. I am named the angel +that was cast out and that is to come again ten thousand times; I +am named the liberator that came too early; I am named Satan +because I love you more than my own life; I have been named +Luther; I have been named Hus. Now I am named Anabaptist! + +Crowd (shrink back and begin to cross themselves). Anabaptist! + +Gert (removing his disguise and revealing himself as much older +than he had seemed). Do you know me now, Olof? + +Olof. Father Gert! + +Townsman. He calls him father! + +Crowd (drawing back from Olof and Gert). Anabaptist! Anabaptist! + +Woman. Don't you see, it's he who was put under the ban-- + +Townsman. Gert the Printer--the bishop's printer-- + +Another Townsman. The man who printed Luther! + +Woman. Woe unto us and to our city! Woe to our priests when they +bear company with Antichrist! + +Townsman. He denies the holy baptism! + +Woman. He denies God. (The crowd disperses.) + +Olof. That was dangerous talk, Father Gert. + +Gert. You really think it was dangerous, Olof? Bless you for +those words! + +Olof. Dangerous for you, I mean. + +Gert. Not for any one else? + +Olof. Let us hope not. + +Gert. You have known Luther? + +Olof. Indeed, I have! And now I want to carry out his work in my +own country. + +Gert. Is that all? + +Olof. What do you mean? + +Gert. It is not enough! Luther is dead. He made a beginning, we +have to go on. + +Olof. Whither do you want to lead me? + +Gert. Far, Olof, very far! + +Olof. I am afraid of you, Father Gert. + +Gert. Yes, and will be more so; for I shall take you up on a high +mountain, and from there you shall overlook the whole world. You +see, Olof, it is now Whitsuntide; it was at this time the Holy +Ghost came down and filled the Apostles--nay, all humanity. The +spirit of the Lord has descended upon me. I feel it, and for that +reason they shut me up like one demented. But now I am free +again, and now I shall speak the word; for now, Olof, we are +standing on the mountain. Behold the people crawling on their +knees before those two men seated on their thrones. The taller +holds two keys in one hand and a thunderbolt in the other. That +is the Pope. Now he hurls his thunderbolt, and a thousand souls +pass into perdition, while the rest kiss his foot and sing Gloria +Deo--but he who is seated on the throne turns about and smiles. +Now behold his companion. He has a sword and at sceptre. Bow down +before the sceptre, lest the sword smite you. When he knits his +brows all the people tremble. (He turns toward the man on the +other throne, and both smile.) They are two pillars of Baal. Then +is heard a sound out of heaven as of a host muttering. "Who is +grumbling?" exclaims the Pope, shaking his thunderbolt. "Who is +muttering?"--and the Emperor shakes his sword. Nobody answers, +but still there is grumbling in the air, and roaring, and a cry +of "Think!" The Pope cowers, and the Emperor, turning pale, +demands: "Who was it that cried 'Think'? Bring him here, and I +will take his life!" The Pope shouts: "Bring him here, and I will +take his soul!" The cry came out of heaven, and was uttered by no +one. But still the sound of it rises; a storm wind springs up; it +sweeps over the Alps and goes roaring across Fichtelgebirge; it +stirs up the Baltic and echoes from the shores, and the cry is +repeated a thousand times all over the world: "Freedom, freedom!" +The Pope throws his keys into the sea, and the Emperor sheathes +his sword, for against that cry they avail nothing.--Oh, Olof, +you wish to smite the Pope, but you forget the Emperor--the +Emperor, who is killing his people without counting them because +they dare to sigh when he tramples on their chests. You want to +smite the Pope at Rome, but, like Luther, you want to give them a +new pope in Holy Writ. Listen! Listen! Bind not the spirits with +any fetters whatsoever! Forget not the great Whitsunday! +Forget not your great goal: spiritual life and spiritual freedom! +Listen not to the cry of death: "And behold, it is all good!" For +then the millennium, the kingdom of liberty, will never arrive-- +and it is that which is now beginning. (Olof remains silent.) +Does it make you dizzy? + +0lof. You go too far, Gert. + +Gert. The day shall come when they will call me papist. Aim at +the sky, and you will hit the forest line ahead of you. + +0lof. Turn back, Gert! You'll bring disaster on yourself and on +the realm. Can't you see how the country is still shivering with +the wound-fever caused by the last war? And you wish to sow the +seeds of civil war. It is a godless deed! + +Gert. No, the knife is in the flesh now. Cut away, and the body +may be saved. + +Olof. I'll denounce you as a traitor to your country. + +Gert. You had better not, seeing that to-day you have offended +the Church beyond repair. Besides-- + +Olof. Speak out, Gert. Just now you look like Satan himself! + +Gert. You shall have my secret: deal with it to suit yourself. +The King leaves for Malmo to-day, and the day after to-morrow, +perchance, Stockholm may be in open revolt. + +Olof. What are you talking about? + +Gert. Do you know Rink and Knipperdollink? + +Olof (alarmed). The Anabaptists! + +Gert. Yes. What's so startling in that? They are nothing but a +couple of lubberly tradesmen. A furrier and a grocer, who deny +the use of baptizing unconscious children, and who are simple-minded +enough to oppose the forcing of irrational creatures into +deliberate perjury. + +Olof. That is not all. + +Gert. What is it, then? + +Olof. They are possessed. + +Gert. Of the spirit, yes. It is the storm wind that is crying +through them. Beware, if you get into its path! + +Olof. This must be stopped. I am going to the King. + +Gert. We should be friends, Olof. Your mother is living in +Stockholm, isn't she? + +Olof. You know it, then? + +Gert. Do you know that my daughter Christine is with your mother? + +Olof. Christine? + +Gert. Yes, for the present. If we win, your mother will be +protected for my daughter's sake; and if the Catholics win, my +daughter will be protected for your mother's sake. You are a +little concerned about Christine, are you not? + +Olof. Gert, Gert, what made you so wise? + +Gert. The madhouse. + +Olof. Go away from me! You'll lead me into disaster. + +Gert. Yes, if you call it a disaster to be robbed of all +earthly happiness, to be dragged into prison, to suffer poverty, +to be scorned and reviled fur the sake of truth. If so, you are +not worthy of such a splendid disaster. I thought you would +understand me, I counted on your help, for in you the fire is +still burning, but I see that the world is tempting you. Well, +follow the stream and be happy! + +Olof. How could a man make over the age in which he is living? + +Gert. That's what Luther has done. + +Olof. How can one man check a stream? + +Gert. Guide it, you fool--for we are the stream. The old are +stagnant mudpools, you don't need to check them, but don't let +them rot away or dry up; give them an outlet, and they'll flow +with the stream, too. + +Olof. Yes, I understand you! You have bred a thought in my soul, +but that thought must be strangled in its birth, or it will kill +me. + +Gert. Believe me, you will be a Daniel, and you will speak the +truth unto princes, and they will conspire to take your life; but +the Lord will protect you.--Now I can safely leave, for I see +lightnings flash from your eyes and tongues of fire flickering +over your head. (As he is leaving.) There comes the Lord of +Flies: don't let him defile your pure soul also. + +Olof. Jesus help me! + +[Enter Bishop Brask and Bishop Sommar. Sommar approaches Olof, +while Brask remains behind, studying the surroundings.] + +Sommar. Who rang vespers, Canonicus? + +Olof (calmly but firmly). I did. + +Sommar. Didn't you know the order? + +Olof. I was aware of the prohibition. + +Sommar. And you dared to defy it? + +Olof. Yes, when the people were let go like sheep without a +shepherd, I wanted to keep them together. + +Sommar. You seem to be finding fault with our actions. That's +impudence indeed. + +Olof. Truth is always impudent. + +Sommar. I believe, young man, that you want to play the part of +an apostle of truth. It will bring you no thanks. + +Olof. All I ask is ingratitude. + +Sommar. Save your truths. They don't retain their value in the +market very long. + +Olof (impetuously). That's advice worthy of the Father of Lies!-- +(Mildly.) I ask your pardon! + +Sommar. Do you know to whom you are talking? + +Olof (heatedly). To servus servi servorum Mans Sommar! + +Brask (stepping forward). Who is this man? + +Sommar. One of the attendants in the church. + +Brask. What's his name? + +Sommar. Olof Pedersson, alias Olaus Petri. + +Brask (staring hard at Olof). So you are Master Olof? (Olof bows +and looks fixedly at Brask.) I like you. Would you care to become +my secretary? + +Olof. Many thanks, Your Grace, but I have no recommendations. + +Brask. What have you to say, Bishop Mans? + +Sommar. He is said to have found much favor with Dr. Luther. + +Brask. So I've heard. Nothing but youthful spirits. We'll train +him. + +Olof. I fear it is too late! + +Brask. A sapling can be bent. + +Sommar. It is not wise to raise vipers, Your Grace. Our +canonicus here has strong leanings toward heresy, and to-day he +has dared to defy our orders. + +Brask. Is that so? + +Sommar. On fully legal grounds we have proclaimed an interdict, +and this man has ventured to say mass--worse than that, he has +said a Lutheran mass, and thus stirred up the people. + +Brask. Take care, young man! Don't you know that the ban will +fall on anybody who proclaims Luther? + +Olof. I know it, but I fear no other god than God. + +Brask. Consider your words. I mean well by you, and you repel me. + +Olof. You want to purchase my ability for the doctoring of your +sick cause, and I am shameless enough not to sell myself. + +Brask. By Saint George, I think you are out of your senses! + +0lof. If so, don't give me the same treatment as Gert the +Printer. You put him in a madhouse, and it made him too wise, I fear. + +Brask (to Bishop Sommar). Do you know Gert? + +Sommar. No, Your Grace. + +Brask. He's a lunatic who used my press to print Lutheran +writings in place of the anti-Lutheran stuff I put into his +hands. Moreover, he was dreaming of the Apocalypse and the +Millennium. (To Olof.) Have you seen him? + +Olof. He was here awhile ago, and you can expect but little good +of him. + +Brask. Is he at large? + +Olof. He'll be in Stockholm soon, and from there you'll hear of +him, I think. Take care, my Lord Bishop! + +Brask. Ho, there is nothing to fear yet. + +Olof. The Anabaptists are in Stockholm. + +Brask. What do you say? + +Olof. The Anabaptists are in Stockholm! + +Brask. The Anabaptists? + +[Enter Gustaf Vasa suddenly.] + +Gustaf. What's up? The city is in a tumult, the people are +marching through the streets crying for the mass. What's the +meaning of all this? + +Brask. Mischief, Your Highness. + +Gustaf. Bishop Mans! + +Sommar. The city has failed to pay its tithes. + +Gustaf. And for that reason you refuse to hold divine service? +'Sdeath! + +Brask. Your Highness ought to remember-- + +Gustaf. Answer me, Bishop Malls! + +Sommar. Your Highness ought to remember that matters like these, +which fall within the jurisdiction of the Church-- + +Gustaf. I command you to attend to your duties! + +Brask. The Bishops of Sweden take no orders except from their +superiors, the Pope and the Canon Law. + +Gustaf (checked). I know, but if the Pope cannot always keep an +eye on them? + +Brask. That's our concern. + +Gustaf (flares up, but controls himself at once). Your Grace +is right. It will remain your concern. + +Brask. To change the subject--Stockholm is about to rise in +rebellion. + +Gustaf. Who says so? + +Sommar. Our canonicus here. + +Gustaf. Your schoolmaster? Where is he? Oh, is it you? +What's your name? + +Olof. Olof Pedersson. + +Gustaf. Master Olof! They tell the you are a heretic, and that +you are scheming against Holy Church! That's a perilous venture! + +Brask. This very day he has dropped his mask by daring to show +open defiance of the Chapter's prohibition against services, and +for that reason we demand that Your Highness consent to have him +duly punished. + +Gustaf. That's a matter for the Chapter and does not concern me. +(To Olof.) But what was that you had to say about a rebellion at +Stockholm? + +Olof. The Anabaptists! + +Gustaf. Is that all? + +Brask. Does not Your Highness know how those madmen have been +carrying on in Germany? We suggest that Your Highness return to +the city in person with your armed force. + +Gustaf. That's a matter in which I suit myself! + +Brask. But civil war-- + +Gustaf. That's _my_ concern! (To Olof.) Olof, I appoint you to +the clerkship of our court-house at Stockholm. Get over there at +once. Speak to the people. I put my trust in you! + +Brask. For the country's sake I ask Your Highness to consider the +futility of wasting speech on madmen. + +Gustaf. Souls are not controlled by swords. Bear that in mind, +Your Lordships. + +Brask. The Church has never-- + +Gustaf. Nor by keys! (To Olof.) Go to my chancellor, and he will +give you your appointment. + +Brask. You had better wait a moment, canonicus. + +Gustaf. Our secretary will not put your orders ahead of mine. + +Brask. The rights of the Church must be assured first of all. +Olof Pedersson-- + +Gustaf (correcting him). Secretary-- + +Brask. Secretary Olof Pedersson cannot leave this city until the +Chapter has pronounced its verdict. + +Gustaf. The Chapter must try the case before it can pronounce a +verdict. + +Brask. That's our concern. + +Gustaf. It is not your concern, Bishop Brask. The Bishop of +Linkoping cannot sit in judgment on a canonicus at Strangnas. +Speak for yourself, Bishop Sommar. + +Sommar. After what has just occurred--h'm! + +Brask. All further arguments would seem superfluous. + +Gustaf. You had better be silent, Bishop Brask, or leave us, as I +am talking privately to Bishop Sommar--privately!--Well, speak +up, Bishop Mans! + +Sommar. I cannot see but--that--as His Grace, the Bishop of +Linkoping-- + +Gustaf. We are talking of Master Olof now. Your Lordships will +have to postpone the trial. Be kind enough to leave us. + +[Exeunt Bishops.] + +Gustaf (to Olof). Will you be my man? + +Olof. Your Highness' secretary? + +Gustaf. No, my right hand--on the condition that for the present +the left hand shall not know what the right is doing. Go to +Stockholm. + +Olof. The Chapter will demand my surrender and ban me. + +Gustaf. Before they get to that point you may fall back on me, +but until then--stand on your own feet as far as you can. + +Olof. What is Your Highness' will? + +Gustaf. Talk to those fanatics in Stockholm. + +Olof. And then? + +Gustaf. Oh, that's a long way off. I don't dare to think +so far yet.--Let them preach. It can't hurt those sottish +spirits to hear a new word, even if it he not all true. But +there must be no violence; for then the sword will join +in the game. Farewell, Olof! [Exit.] + +Olof (alone). So the Emperor won't be friends with the Pope! + +(The two scholars, who have been waiting among the trees in the +background, come forward.) + +First Scholar. Shall we go on with the play, Master Olof? + +Olof. No, children, there will be no more playing. + +First Scholar. Are you going to leave us, Master Olof? + +Olof. Yes, and probably forever. + +First Scholar. Can't you stay over Whitsuntide, so that we can +perform our comedy? + +Second Scholar. And so that I can play the Angel Gabriel? + +First Scholar. Please do as we ask you, Master Olof! You are the +only one who has been nice to us and spared us those terrible +fasts. + +Second Scholar. Oh, don't go away from us, Master Olof! + +Olof. You don't know what you are asking, children. The day will +come when you shall thank the Lord that I did go away from you.-- +Oh, no, I hope such a day will never come!--But let us make our +leave-taking brief. Good-bye, Nils! Good-bye, Vilhelm! + +(He embraces them, and they kiss his hand. In the meantime Lars +Andersson has entered and is watching the group closely.) + +First Scholar. Won't you ever come back, Master Olof? + +Lars (coming forward). Are you ready to start now? + +Olof (to the scholars). No, I shall never come back. + +Scholars (as they go out). Good-bye, Master Olof, and don't +forget us! (Olof stands looking after them.) + +Lars. I have seen the King. + +Olof (absent-mindedly). Have you? + +Lars. Do you know what he said? + +Olof. No. + +Lars. "I have got a harrier to raise the game; now it remains to +be seen whether he will come back when I whistle for him!" + +Olof. Look at them--playing there among the graves, and picking +flowers, and singing the songs of Whitsuntide. + +Lars (taking hold of Olof's arm). Child! + +Olof (with a start). What did you say? + +Lars. I thought you had laid your hand so firmly on the plough +handle to-day that there could he no question of looking back. +(Olof waves his hand to the scholars.) Are you still dreaming? + +Olof. It was the last bright morning dream that passed away from +me. Pardon me--I am awake now! + +[Exeunt toward the right. Then they are nearly out, Olof turns +for a last look at the scholars. These have disappeared in the +meantime, and in their place appear the two Black Friars, Marten +and Nils. On seeing them, Olof utters a startled cry and puts one +hand to his forehead. Lars drags him out.] + + +ACT II + +SCENE 1 + +(A Room in the Foundation Wall of the Church of St. Nicolaus at +Stockholm (generally known as Greatchurch), used as a beer-shop. +A bar full of pots and mugs occupies the background. To the +right of the bar stands a table, back of which appears an iron +door. Two disguised friars (Marten and Nils) are seated at this +table drinking beer. The other tables are surrounded by German +mercenaries, peasants, and sailors. The door to the street is at +the right. A fiddler is seated on top of a barrel. The soldiers +are throwing dice. All are drunk and noisy. Hans Windrank, a man +from Smaland, a German tradesman, and a Dane are seated together +at one of the tables.) + +German (to the Dane). So you defend a bloodthirsty brute like +Christian? + +Dane. Oh, mercy, he's human, isn't he? + +German. Not, he's a monster! A bloodthirsty brute! A treacherous, +cowardly Dane! + +Dane. Zounds! But you'd better not talk of blood. Do you remember +the massacre on Kappling Island, when the Germans-- + +Windrank. Listen to me, good Sirs! Let's be friends now, and have +some fun, and I'll tell you about Americky. + +German. Are you going to blame us of Lubeck for what the Germans +did? + +Dane. Oh, mercy, I was talking of the Germans only-- + +Windrank. Listen, good Sirs, what's the use of quarrelling? (To +the Tavern-keeper.) Four noggins of gin! Now let's be calm and +agreeable, and I'll tell you of Americky. (They are served.) + +German (sipping). A noble drink! Think of it, good Sirs, how +everything is advancing. To-day the grain is growing in the +field-- + +Windrank. And to-morrow it's made into wine. I wonder who first +found out how it's done? + +German. Beg your pardon, but that's a German invention. I call it +invention, because you discover Americky. + +Windrank. And the Germans never make any discoveries? + +German. 'Sdeath! + +Windrank. Now, now! You're no German, you said. + +Dane (to the German). Can you tell the who invented the story +that the Swedes got their present king from the Germans? (General +laughter.) + +German. It was we of Lubeck what gave Sweden a liberator when she +was on the verge of ruin. + +Windrank. Here's to the King! + +Dane. Here's to Lubeck! + +German (flattered). Really I don't know how to-- + +Windrank. Why, you aren't the King! + +German. Beg your pardon, but it was my Danish brother's-- + +Dane. How can you be of Lubeck when you are a citizen of +Stockholm? + +Windrank (to the Man from Smaland). Why won't our silent brother +drink at all? + +Man from Smaland. I'll drink your corn-juice, but when it comes +to the King's health, I do like this! (He crushes the tin cup and +throws it on the floor.) + +Windrank (groping with one hand for his sheath knife.) +You won't drink the King's health? + +Man from Smaland. I've been drinking the cup he offered me so +long that I don't care to drink his health any longer. + +Windrank. 'Sblood! + +German (eagerly). Hush, hush! Let's hear what he's got to say. + +Dane (in the same way). Mercy, yes! + +A Man from Smaland. The Lord help me when I get home again! + +Windrank (sentimentally). What is it, my dear man? Why do you +look so sad? Do you need money? Look here, now! (He pulls out his +purse.) I've half my wages left. What's the matter with you? + +Man from Smaland. Don't let us talk about it. More gin! +Gin here! I've money, too. Do you see? Gold! (The liquor is +served). It isn't mine, but I'll spend it on drink to the last +farthing, and you'll please help me. + +Windrank. And yet it isn't your money--how can you do that? + +German. Who's wronged you, my dear fellow? I can see that you +have fared badly. + +A Man from Smaland I am ruined! You see, I got two hundred oxen +on trust, and when I came to Stockholm the King's agent took +charge of the whole business, and he said I couldn't sell them +for more than he allowed. It's the King that fixes the price on +oxen--it's the King that has ruined me. + +German. You don't say! + +Man from Smaland. Oh, I know a lot more. He means to take the +priests and the monks away from us in order to give everything to +the gentlefolk. + +Dane. To the gentlefolk? + +Man from Smaland. Exactly! I wish King Christian--God bless him! +--had cut off a few more heads. + +Windrank. Well, is the King like that? I thought he had those +noble fellows by the ear. + +Man from Smaland. He? No, he lets them be born with the right to +cut oak on my ground, if I had any. For I did have a patch of +land once, you see, but then came a lord who said that my +great-grandmother had taken it all in loan from his great-grandfather, +and so there was an end to that story. + +German. Why, is the King like that? I would never have believed +it. + +Man from Smaland. Indeed he is! Those high-born brats run around +with their guns in our woods and pick off the deer out of sheer +mischief, but if one of us peasants were dying from hunger and +took a shot at one of the beasts--well, then he wouldn't have to +starve to death, for they'd hang him--but not to an oak--Lord, +no! That would be a shame for such a royal tree. No, just to an +ordinary pine. The pine, you see, has no crown, and that's why it +isn't royal--and that's why the old song says: + The peasants we hanged in lines + From the tops of the tallest pities. +It has nothing to say about crowns, mind you. + +German. But the pine carries its head high just the same, and its +back is straight. + +Man from Smaland. Drink, good Sirs! You're right welcome to 't. It's +a blessed drink. If only I didn't have wife and children at home! Oh, +my, my, my! But that's all one! Oh, I know a lot more, but I know +how to keep it to myself, too. + +Windrank. What do you know? + +German. Maybe it's something diverting? + +Man from Smaland. You see--if you counted all the pines of +Smaland, I think you'd find a whole lot more of them than of +oaks. + +German. You think so? + +Windrank. I don't like you to talk badly of the King. I don't +know what he is doing or saying, and it isn't my business either, +but I know he takes good care of the shipping trade. Yes, it's he +who has put ships on the Spanish trade, and who has made me a +skipper, and so I've got no fault to find with him. + +German. He has done it out of sheer deviltry, just to hurt the +trade of Lubeck--of Lubeck, to which he owes such a great debt! + +Man from Smaland. Well, he'll get what he deserves! A steer +doesn't lose his horns when you make an ox of him. Many thanks +for your company. Now I've got to go. + +German. Oh, no! Just one more noggin--and then we can talk a +little more. + +Man from Smaland. No, thanks, though I'm sure it's good of you, +but that's all I dare take, for otherwise I fear this will end +badly. I've wife and children at home, you see, and now I'm going +home--to tell them we're ruined--no--I don't dare to--I'm much +obliged, Mr. German--let's drink some more. + +German. That's right! (They drink.) + +Man from Smaland (emptying his cup and jumping up). +Oh, damn the bitter stuff! [Exit, staggering.] + +German (to the Dane). O Lord--when that fellow wakes up! + +(The Dane nods assent. The noise has been steadily increasing. +The fiddler is playing. Then the organ begins to play in the +church.) + +Windrank. It's strange, I think, that the King lets them have a +drinkshop in the church wall. + +German. Does it hurt your conscience, skipper? The King doesn't +know it, you see. + +Windrank. But they don't go together, the organ music and the +singing in here. I've always been a God-fearing man, ever since I +was at home. + +German (ironically). Happy the man brought up in that way! You +had a mother-- + +Windrank (moved). Yes--yes! + +German. Who tucked you up nights and taught you to say: "Now I +lay me down to sleep." + +Windrank. That's it! + +German. And a fine woman she was! + +Windrank (on whom the drink is beginning to show its effect.) +Oh, if you only knew! + +German. The Lord has heard her prayers. You're weeping. So you +must be a good man. + +Dane. Dear me! + +German. If your mother could only see you now--with those tears +in your eyes! + +Windrank. Oh, I know I'm a poor miserable sinner--I know it! But +I tell you--I've got a heart, damn it! Just let a poor wretch +come and tell me he is hungry, and I'll take off my own shirt and +give it to him. + +German. How about another drink? + +Windrank. No, I don't think so. + +(Several blows are struck on the iron door from the outside, +causing general excitement.) + +Windrank. God-a-mercy! + +German. Don't get scared. That's not the gate of heaven. + +Windrank. I'll never drink another drop--I vow and swear! + +German (to the Dane). What a blessed drink gin must be, seeing it +can move a rogue like that to sentimentality--nay, even to +thoughts of sobriety. + +Dane. You're right. There is nothing like it. + +German. It opens the heart wide and closes the head. Which means +that it makes good people of us, for those are called good, you +know, who have much heart and little head. + +Dane. I'd go still farther. Gin makes us religious. For it kills +reason, and reason is the rock that keeps religion from entering +our hearts. + +German. Most holy is gin! Strange that-- + +Dane. You need say no more! + +(More blows are struck on the iron door.) + +Windrank (who has fallen asleep, is awakened by the blows). +Help! I die! + +German. What a pity to lose such a sweet soul! + +(The door is pushed open so that the table at which Marten +and Nils are seated is upset together with the mugs and cups +on it. A woman wearing a red and black skirt, with a nun's +veil thrown over her head, comes running into the room. For +a moment Gert can be seen in the doorway behind her, but the +door is immediately closed again.) + +Harlot (with a startled glance at her surroundings). Save me! The +people want to kill me! + +A German Mercenary. A harlot under a nun's veil! Ha-ha-ha! +(General laughter.) + +Marten (making the sign of the cross). A harlot! Who dares +to bring her into this respectable company? Master taverner, take +her out of here, or she'll hurt the good name of the place and +the sanctity of the church. + +Harlot. Will nobody here save me? (In the meantime the tavern- +keeper has seized her by the arm to lead her into the street.) +Don't give me into the hands of that furious mob! I wanted to +steal into the Lord's house that I might share in His grace--I +wanted to start a new life--but the monks drove me out and set +the people on me--until Father Gert came and saved me. + +Marten. You can hear for yourselves. She has polluted the Lord's +temple. She wants to hide the garment of shame beneath the veil +of sanctity. + +German. And there isn't enough of the veil. + +Marten (approaching the woman to tear the veil from her face). +Off with the mask, and let your abomination be seen by all! (He +draws back when he catches sight of her face.) + +Harlot. So it's you, Marten--you murderer! + +German. Old chums! + +Marten. That's a shameless lie! I never have seen her before. I +am Brother Marten, of the Dominicans, and Brother Nils here can +be my witness. + +Nils (intoxicated). I can testify--that Brother Marten has never +seen this woman. + +Harlot. And yet it was you, Nils, who showed me Marten's letter +of absolution when I was driven out of the convent and he was +permitted to stay. + +Nils. Yes--come to think of it! + +Marten (in a rage, pulling Nils by the sleeve). You're lying-- +you, too! Can't you see he is drunk? + +German. My dear folks, I can testify that the reverend brother is +drunk, and that's why he is lying! + +Crowd (with signs of disgust). A drunken priest! + +German. Well, booze is absolution for lying. Isn't that so, +Father Marten? + +Tavern-keeper. Really, I can't let my house be the meeting-place +for any kind of disturbance. If this goes on, I'll lose my +customers and get hauled before the Chapter. Won't you please +take away that miserable creature who's causing all this noise? + +Marten. Take her out, or I'll have you all banned! Don't you know +that we are now within the consecrated walls of the church, +although the Chapter allows this outhouse to be used for the +material refreshment of travellers? + +German. Surely this room is holy, good folk, and surely the Lord +doth dwell here. + +(The crowd begins to drag the Harlot toward the street door.) + +Harlot. Jesus Christ, help me! + +[Enter Olof. He appears in the door, and pushes through the crowd +until he reaches the Harlot, whose hand he takes so that he can +pull her away from the drunken men about her.] + +Olof. Answer me--who is this woman? + +Marten. She's no woman. + +Olof. What do you mean? + +Marten. She is no man either, although she's disguised. + +Olof. "She," you say--and yet not a woman? + +Marten. She's a harlot. + +Olof (shocked, drops the woman's hand). A harlot! + +German. Don't let go of her, Master Olof, or she'll run away. + +Olof. Why are you laying hands on her? What is her crime? + +German. Going to church. + +Olof. I see! (He looks around.) + +Marten. What are you looking for? + +Olof (catching sight of Marten). A priest! + +Marten. I am a Black Friar. + +Olof. Yes, I guessed that much. So it's you who have incited the +people against her? + +Marten. I am protecting the church from foulness and trying to +keep it free of vice. She is a banned woman, who has been +trafficking with her own body, which should be a temple of the +Lord. (The woman kneels before Olof.) + +Olof (taking her by the hand). But I, Dominican, dare to take her +hand and match her against you. She has sold her body, you say-- +how many souls have you bought?--I am also a priest--Nay, I am a +man, for I am not presumptuous enough to put a lock on God's own +house, and as a sinful human creature I hold out my hand to my +fellow-creature, who cannot be pure either. Let him who is +without sin step forward and cast the first stone.--Step forward, +Brother Marten, you angel of light, who have donned the black +garments of innocence and shaved your hair so that no one may see +how you have grown gray in sin! Or have you no stone ready, +perhaps? Alas for you, then! What have you done with those you +were to hand the people when they were crying for bread? Have you +already given them all away?--Step forward, you highly respectable +citizen. (To Windrank, who is asleep on the floor.) You, who +are sleeping the sleep of a brute, why don't you wake up and +fling your knife at her?--Do you see how he is blushing? Can +it be from shame at the bad company you have brought him into, or +from carnal desire? (The crowd mutters disapprovingly.) +You are muttering! Is that because you are ashamed of my words or +of yourselves? Why don't you cast the stones? Oh, you haven't +any. Well, open that door. Summon the people outside and hand +this woman over to them. If you don't think fifty men have power +enough to tear her to pieces, you maybe sure that five hundred +women will avail. Well? You are silent?--Rise up, woman! You have +been acquitted. Go and sin no more. But don't show yourself to +the priests, for they will deliver you up to the women! + +Marten (who has tried to interrupt Olof several times, but has +been held back by the German, now displays a document). This man, +to whom you have been listening, is a heretic, as you may have +heard from his talk, and he has also been t excommunicated. Here +you can see! Read for yourselves! (He takes one of the candles +from the nearest table and throws it on the floor.) "As this +candle, that we here cast out, is extinguished, so shall be +extinguished all his happiness and weal and whatsoever good may +come to him from God!" + +Crowd (draws back, making the sign of the cross, so that Olof is +left alone with the Harlot in the middle of the room). Anathema! + +Marten (to the Harlot). There you can hear how much Master Olof's +absolution avails you. + +Olof (who has been taken aback for a moment). Do you still dare +to trust my word, woman? Are you not afraid of me? Can you not +hear the lightnings of the ban hissing around our heads? Why +don't you join these twenty righteous ones who still remain +within the refuge of Holy Church?--Answer me! Do you think the +Lord has cast me out as these have done? + +Harlot. No! + +Olof (seizing the letter of excommunication). Well, then! The +great bishop of the small city of Linkoping has sold my soul to +Satan for the term of my life--for farther than that his power +does not reach--and he has done so because I bade the people seek +their Lord when they had been prohibited from doing so! Here is +the contract! As the Church, by that contract, has bound me to +hell, so I set myself free from it (he tears the letter to +pieces)--and from the ban of the Church, too! So help me God! +Amen! + +Crowd (howling). Anathema! + +Marten. Down with him! At him! He is banned! + +Olof (placing himself in front of the Harlot). Do you hear the +devils yelling for their victim?--Dare not to touch me! + +Marten. At him! Down with him! + +[Just as one of the mercenaries raises his weapon to strike, the +iron door in the rear is flung open, and the Anabaptists, headed +by Knipperdollink, come rushing in, uttering wild cries. They +carry broken crucifixes and images of saints as well as torn vestments. +All those in the room before are forced toward the street door.] + +Knipperdollink (as he pushes back the iron door and enters ahead +of the rest). Come here, folk--here's another sanctum!--What's +this? A drinkshop in the temple!--Look ye! Look ye--the +abomination has gone so far that the tabernacle itself is being +polluted. But I will cleanse it with fire. Set fire to the church +and prepare a stake for the saints! + +Olof (stepping forward). Consider what you propose to do! + +Knipperdollink. Are you afraid that the beer kegs will burst from +the heat, you Belial? Are you the popish tapster who thought it +not robbery to build vice a chapel in the very wall of the +church? + +Olof. I am the Secretary of the Court-House, and I command you +in the name of the King to keep order! + +Knipperdollink. So you are the man whom the King has sent here to +make war on our sacred cause? Onward, onward, ye men of God, +and seize him first of all! Afterwards we'll cleanse the temple +of the Lord from idolatry. + +Marten. Go at him, good folk, for he's a heretic and under the +ban! + +Knipperdollink. A heretic? You are not one of the papists, then? + +Olof. Since they have banned me, I can no longer be of the +Church. + +Knipperdollink. Then you are on our side? (Olof remains silent.) +Answer: are you with us or against us? + +Marten. He's Olof Pedersson, the man that was sent here by the +King. + +Knipperdollink. Are you Olof Pedersson? + +Olof. I am. + +Knipperdollink. But a heretic? + +Olof. I pride myself on being one. + +Knipperdollink. And yet take service with the King? + +Olof. Yes! + +(The Anabaptists raise an outcry and surround Olof.) + +[Enter Gert quickly through the door in the rear.] + +Gert. Hold! What are you doing? + +Knipperdollink. Gert!--Who is this man? + +Gert. One of our own. Let him go, friends! Over there you see the +emissaries of the Devil! + +(He points to Marten and Nils, who flee through the street door, +closely pursued by the Anabaptists. At the door Gert stops and +turns toward Olof. The Harlot is crouching in a corner of the +room. Windrank is still sleeping under one of the tables. Olof is +standing in the middle of the floor, sunk in deep thought.) + +Gert (exhausted, throws himself on a bench). It's heavy work, +Olof. + +Olof. What have you been doing? + +Gert. Oh, a little house-cleaning, to begin with. + +Olof. For which you will pay dearly. + +Gert. So far we have the upper hand. The whole city has been +roused. Rink is at work in St. George's Chapel. Tell me, has the +King sent you to oppose us? + +Olof. He has. + +Gert. That was a most sensible thing to do! + +Olof. To-morrow I am to preach from the new pulpit. + +Gert. Do you call this fulfilling your royal mission? Here you +are, still standing with your arms folded. + +Olof. Come to church to-morrow with your brethren. + +Gert. Is it going to be an archipapal sermon? + +Olof. I have been put under the ban to-day. + +Gert (jumps up and puts his arms around Olof). God bless you, +Olof! That is indeed the baptism of new birth! + +Olof. I don't understand you yet. Why do you carry on like wild +beasts? You seem to be outraging all that is held sacred. + +Gert (picking up the broken image of a saint). Do you call this +fellow holy? A St. Nicolaus, I think. Can it be possible, then, +that Jesus Christ has come down and lived among us to no purpose, +as we are still worshipping logs of wood? Can this be a god, +which I can break to pieces? See! + +Olof. But he is sacred to the people. + +Gert. So was the golden calf, and so was Zeus; so were Thor and +Odin, too. And yet they were struck down. (Catches sight of the +Harlot.) Who's that woman? Oh, the one I tried to save by sending +her in here. Tell me one thing, Olof. Have you been bought by the +King? + +Olof. Leave me, Gert! I hate you! + +Gert. Who's that pig asleep over there? + +Olof. When I face you, I seem to shrink. Leave me! I want to do +my own work, and not yours. + +Gert. Listen! + +Olof. You are trying to confuse my fate with your own. + +Gert. Listen! + +Olof. You have surrounded me with an invisible net. You have +proclaimed me an Anabaptist. How am I going to face the King? + +Gert. Which king? + +Olof. King Gustaf! + +Gert. Oh, that one!--Well, good-bye, then, Olof.--So +you're going to preach to-morrow?--Why doesn't that +woman go her way?--Good-bye! [Exit.] + +0lof. Is that man running errands for God or for Satan? + +Harlot (approaches Olof and kneels before him). Let me thank you! + +Olof. Give thanks for God alone for having saved your soul, and +don't think that all your sins have been expiated to-day. Try to +find strength to live a life that will always be cursed. God has +forgiven you--your fellow-men will never do so! (He takes her by +the hand and leads her to the street door.) + +[Enter Marten through the doorway in the rear, followed by Olof's +Mother and Christine, the daughter of Gert.] + +Marten. We're in the wrong place, I fear. + +Mother (outraged at seeing Olof and the Harlot together). Olof, +Olof! + +Christine. Who is that woman? She looks so unhappy. + +Marten. Let us get away from this den of iniquity! + +Olof (turning and running toward the iron door, which is closed +in his face by Marten). Mother! Mother! + [He runs out through the other door.] + +(The stage is darkened.) + + +SCENE 2 + +(The Same Room. The door to the church is opened cautiously, and +The Sexton, who is also the organ-blower, enters warily. He +carries a lantern and is followed by his Wife.) + +Sexton. Catherine dear, will you hold the lantern a moment while +I put on the padlock? + +Wife. First we must have a look at all this wretchedness, Bengt +dear. Never could I have believed that the public-house was so +near to us. It's perfectly dreadful! Look--whole barrels full of +beer! + +Sexton. And gin, too. Don't you smell it? It will give me a +headache if I stay much longer. + +Wife. Lord have mercy, what a sinful life they must have lived in +here! + +Sexton. Catherine dear! + +Wife. Yes, dear. + +Sexton. Do you know I am not feeling quite well. This place is so +damp and cold. + +Wife. Perhaps we had better go home? + +Sexton. Oh, I think I must sit down and rest on the bench here. + +Wife. You shouldn't sit down in all this dampness and cold. Let +us get back into the church. + +Sexton. No, I think it was still colder out there. + +Wife. You haven't a fever, have you? + +Sexton. I almost think I have--I'm so hot. + +Wife. Maybe you want something to drink? + +Sexton. That wouldn't be a bad thing, perhaps. + +Wife. I'll see if there is any water around. + +Sexton. Don't think you'll find any in this kind of a hole. + +Wife. But you can't drink beer if you have a fever. + +Sexton. Do you know, I think the fever has passed away. Now I'm +feeling cold. + +Wife. I'll see if I can't find some small beer. + +Sexton. It has to be pretty strong, I think, if it's to do any +good. There's a keg of Rostock No. 4 over there--marked A. W., +don't you see? + +Wife (searching). I can't find it. Here's an Amsterdam No. 3. + +Sexton. Can't you see--up there on the fourth shelf at the right? +(His wife continues to look.) The tap is lying to the left of it, +right by the funnel. + +Wife. I don't think it's there. + +Sexton. Just as if I didn't know! + +Wife. Yes, here it is. + +(The Sexton gets up to help his wile and accidentally steps on +Windrank.) + +Windrank (waking up). Mercy! Jesu Christ! St. Peter and St. Paul! +Ferdinand and Isabella, and St. George and the Dragon, and all +the rest! And ires dire glories in excellence, and deuces tecum +vademecum Christ Jesu, and birds of a feather, and now I lay me +down to sleep, and a child is born for you to keep--Amen! Amen!-- +Who's stepping on my windbag? + +Sexton (frightened). Will you please tell me whether you are a +man or a ghost? + +Windrank. Man most of the time, but just now I'm a beast. + +Sexton. What kind of a man, if I may ask? + +Windrank. A shipman--which is nor reason why you should blow all +the wind out of me. + +Sexton. But that's my business, you know--I blow the bellows of +the big organ. + +Windrank. So it was the organ-blower who honored me-- + +Sexton. The sexton, to put it right; but I also keep an old-clothes +shop in the church wall. + +Windrank. So you're organ-blower, sexton, and shopkeeper-- + +Sexton. In one person--without confusion or transformation-- + +Windrank. That's a most respectable trinity. + +Sexton. Such things should not be made fun of! + +Windrank. Oh, my, my! I'm drowning! Help! + +Sexton. Lord, what is it? + +Windrank. There's a whole river coming--Ugh! + +Sexton. Catherine dear! Where are you, my angel? (He runs to look +for her.) Jesu, but you must have scared my wife out of her wits. +She has run away from the keg--and taken the tap along! Get up-- +up with you, and let us leave this godless hole! + +Windrank. No, my dear fellow, I'm in my element now, so I think +I'll stay. + +Sexton. Goodness, the clock is striking twelve, and the ghosts +will be coming! + +Windrank (jumping to his feet). That's a different story! (The +Sexton guides Windrank toward the door.) Listen, sexton--I'm +beginning to have strong doubts about the trinity. + +Sexton. Well, I declare! + +Windrank. It's your trinity I'm thinking of. + +Sexton. What do you mean, master skipper? + +Windrank. I think there must be four of you, after all. + +Sexton. Four--of whom? + +Windrank. How about the tapster? Shouldn't he be counted, too? + +Sexton. Hush, man! That's only nights. + +(Both stumble over the broken image of St. Nicolaus and fall +down.) + +Windrank. Mercy! Ghosts! Jesu Maria, help! + +Sexton (rising and picking up the image). Well, if that isn't +enough to make your hair stand on end! Here's St. Nicolaus broken +all to pieces and swimming in the beer. It has come to a fine +pass when divine things are defiled like that--I don't think the +world will last much longer--when such things can be done in the +dry tree-- + +Windrank (having recovered). In the wet one, you mean. + +Sexton. Keep still, blasphemer! St. Nicolaus is my patron saint. +I was born on his day. + +Windrank. That's probably why both of you like beer. + +Sexton. Yes, it's in the fashion now to be heretical! + +Windrank. It's in the air, I think, for otherwise I'm a most +God-fearing man. But never mind, I'll have St. Nicolaus glued +together for you. + +Sexton (calling into the church). Catherine! + +Windrank. Hush, hush, man! You'll make the ghosts appear! + +Sexton. A plague on your tongue! [Exeunt.] + + +SCENE 3 + +(The Sacristy of the Church of St. Nicolaus. There is a door +leading to the church, and another, smaller one, leading to the +pulpit. The walls are hung with chasubles and surplices. +Priedieus and a few small chests are standing about. The sunlight +is pouring in through a window. The church bells are heard +ringing. Through the wall at the left can be heard a constant +murmuring. The Sexton and his Wife enter, stop near the door, and +pray silently.) + +Sexton. That's enough! Now, Catherine dear, you'd better hurry up +and do some dusting. + +Wife. Oh, there's no special occasion. It's nobody but that +Master Olof who's going to preach to-day. Really, I can't see why +the Chapter allows it. + +Sexton. Because he's got permission from the King, you see. + +Wife. Well, well! + +Sexton. And then he has had a sort of basket built out from the +wall--nothing but new-fangled tricks! It's all on account of that +man Luther. + +Wife. I suppose we'll have the same kind of trouble that we had +yesterday. I thought they were going to pull the whole church +down. + +Sexton (carrying a glass of water up to the pulpit). I'm sure +the poor fellow will need something to wet his whistle to-day. + +Wife. Well, I shouldn't bother, if I were you. + +Sexton (speaking from the pulpit). Catherine--here he comes! + +Wife. Goodness gracious, and the sermon bell hasn't rung yet! +Well, I suppose they won't ring it for a fellow like him. + +[Enter Olof, looking serious and solemn. He crosses to one of the +prie-dieus and kneels on it. The Sexton comes down from the pulpit +and takes from the wall a surplice which he holds out to Olof.] + +Olof (rising). The peace of the Lord be with you! + +[The Wife curtseys and leaves the room. The Sexton holds out the +vestment again.] + +Olof. Leave it hanging! + +Sexton. Don't you want any robe? + +Olof. No. + +Sexton. But it's always used. And the handkerchief? + +Olof. Never mind. + +Sexton. Well, I declare! + +Olof. Will you please leave me alone, my friend? + +Sexton. You want me to get out? But as a rule, I-- + +Olof. Do me the favor, please! + +Sexton. Oh, well! Of course! But first I want to tell you that +you'll find the missal to the right of you as you get up, and I +have put in a stick so you'll know where to open it, and there is +a glass of water beside the book. And you mustn't forget to turn +the hour-glass, or it may chance you'll keep it up a little too +long-- + +Olof. Don't worry! There will be plenty of people to tell me when +to quit. + +Sexton. Mercy, yes--beg your pardon! But you see, we've got our +own customs here. + +Olof. Tell me, what is that depressing murmur we hear? + +Sexton. It's some pious brother saying prayers for a poor +soul. [Exit.] + +Olof. "Thou therefore gird up thy loins and arise, and speak unto +them all that I command thee."--God help me! (He drops on his +knees at a prie-dieu; there he finds a note, which he reads.) +"Don't preach to-day; your life is in danger."--The Tempter +himself wrote that! (He tears the note to pieces.) + +[Enter Olof's Mother.] + +Mother. You are straying from the right path, my son. + +Olof. Who knows? + +Mother. I know! But as your mother I reach out my hand to you. +Turn back! + +Olof. Where would you lead me? + +Mother. To godliness and virtue. + +Olof. If godliness and virtue are vested in papal decrees, then I +fear it is too late. + +Mother. It isn't only a question of what you teach, but of how +you live. + +Olof. I know you are thinking of my company last night, but I am +too proud to answer you. Nor do I think it would do any good. + +Mother. Oh, that I should be thus rewarded for the sacrifice I +made when I let you go out into the world and study! + +Olof. By heaven, your sacrifice shall not be wasted! It is you, +mother, I have to thank for this day when at last I can stand +forth with a free countenance and speak the words of truth. + +Mother. How can _you_ talk of truth, you who have made yourself a +prophet of lies? + +Olof. Those are hard words, mother! + +Mother. Or perhaps I and my forbears have lived and worshipped +and died in a lie? + +Olof. It wasn't a lie, but it has become one. When you were +young, mother, you were right, and when I grow old--well, perhaps +I may find myself in the wrong. One cannot keep apace with the +times. + +Mother. I don't understand! + +Olof. This is my one sorrow--the greatest one of my life: that +all I do and say with the purest purpose must appear to you a +crime and sacrilege. + +Mother. I know what you mean to do, Olof--I know what error you +have fallen into--and I cannot hope to persuade you out of it, +for you know so much more than I do, and I am sure that the Lord +will put you on the right path again--but I ask you to take care +of your own life, so that you won't plunge headlong into +perdition! Don't risk your life! + +Olof. What do you mean? They won't kill me in the pulpit, will +they? + +Mother. Haven't you heard that Bishop Brask wants the Pope to +introduce the law that sends all heretics to the stake? + +Olof. The inquisition? + +Mother. Yes, that's what they call it. + +Olof. Leave me, mother! To-day I must stand up and preach. + +Mother. You shall not do it. + +Olof. Nothing can prevent me. + +Mother. I have prayed to God that He would touch your heart--I'll +tell you, but you mustn't speak of it to anybody. I am weak with +age, and I couldn't trust my own knees, so I went to see a +servant of the Lord and asked him, who is nearer to God, to say +some prayers for your soul. He refused because you are under the +ban. Oh, it's dreadful! May the Lord forgive me my sin! I bribed +the pure conscience of that man with gold--with the Devil's own +gold--just to save you! + +Olof. Mother, what do I hear? It can't be possible! + +Mother (takes Olof by the hand and leads him over to the left, +close to the wall). Listen! Do you hear? He is praying for you +now in the chapel next to this room. + +Olof. So that was the murmur I heard! Who is he? + +Mother. You know him--Brother Marten, of the Dominicans-- + +Olof. You get Satan to say prayers for me!--Forgive me, mother-- +I thank you for your good intention, but-- + +Mother (on her knees, weeping). Olof! Olof! + +Olof. Don't ask me! A mother's plea might tempt the angels of +heaven to recant!--Now the hymn is ended: I must go! The people +are waiting. + +Mother. You'll send me into my grave, Olof! + +Olof (passionately). The Lord will resurrect you! (Kissing her +hand.) Don't talk to me any more--I don't know what I am saying! + +Mother. Listen! Listen! The people are muttering! + +Olof. I'm coming! I'm coming! He who protected Daniel in the +lions' den will also protect me! + +(Olof ascends the stairs leading to the pulpit. Throughout the +ensuing scenes a man's voice can be heard speaking with great +power, but no words can be distinguished. After a while +mutterings are heard, which change into loud cries.) + +[Enter Christine.] + +Christine. Mother, did you see him? + +Mother. Are you here, child? I asked you to stay at home! + +Christine. Why shouldn't I visit the house of the Lord? There is +something you hide from me! + +Mother. Go home, Christine! + +Christine. May I not hear Olof preach? It's the word of God, +isn't it, mother? (The Mother remains silent.) You don't answer? +What does it mean? Hasn't Olof permission to preach? Why do the +people out there look so mysterious? They were muttering when I +came. + +Mother. Don't ask me! Go home and thank God for your ignorance! + +Christine. Am I a child, then, since nobody dares to tell me-- + +Mother. Your soul is still pure, and nobody must defile it. What +place is there for you in the battle? + +Christine. Battle? I thought so! + +Mother. Yes, here the battle rages, and so you must get out of +the way. You know our lot when the men go to war. + +Christine. But let me first know what it is all about. Not to +know anything at all makes me so unhappy. I see nothing but a +dreadful darkness, and shadows that are moving about--Give me +light, so that I may see clearly! Perhaps I know these ghostly +shallows? + +Mother. You will shudder when you see who they are. + +Christine. It is better to shudder than to be tormented by this +horrible calm. + +Mother. Don't pray for the cloud to flash forth lightning: it +may destroy you! + +Christine. You frighten me! But tell me the truth--I must know-- +or I shall ask some one else. + +Mother. Are you firm in your decision to withdraw within the +sacred walls of the convent? + +Christine. My father wishes it. + +Mother. You hesitate? (Christine does not answer.) There is some +tie that holds you back. + +Christine. You know? + +Mother. I know, and tell you to break it! + +Christine. It will soon be impossible. + +Mother. I will save you, child, for you can still be saved. I +will offer the Lord the greatest sacrifice of all if a single +soul can be saved from perdition--my son! + +Christine. Olof? + +Mother. He's lost, I tell you, and I, his mother, have to tell +you so! + +Christine. Lost? + +Mother. He is a prophet of lies. The Devil has taken possession of +his soul. + +Christine (passionately). It isn't true! + +Mother. God grant that you are right! + +Christine. Why--why haven't you told me this before?--But, of +course, it's a lie! (She goes to the door leading into the church +and pushes it ajar.) Look at him, mother--there he is! Can that +be an evil spirit speaking out of his mouth? Can that be a +hellish flame burning in his eyes? Can lies be told with +trembling lips? Does darkness shed light--can't you see the halo +about his head? You are wrong! I feel it within me! I don't know +what he preaches--I don't know what he denies--but he is right! +He is right, and the Lord is with him! + +Mother. You don't know the world, my child. You don't know the +tricks of the Devil. Beware! (She pulls Christine away from the +door.) You mustn't listen to him. There is no strength in your +soul, and he's the apostle of Antichrist! + +Christine. Who is Antichrist? + +Mother. He is a Luther! + +Christine. You have never told me who Luther is, but if Olof is +his apostle, then Luther must be a great man. + +Mother. Luther is possessed of the Devil! + +Christine. Why didn't you tell me before? Now I can't believe +you! + +Mother. I am telling you now--Alas, I wanted to save you from the +world's wickedness, and so I kept you in ignorance-- + +Christine. I don't believe you! Let me go! I must see him--I must +listen to him--for he doesn't talk like the rest. + +Mother. Jesus, my Saviour! Are you, too, possessed by the unclean +spirit? + +Christine (at the door). "Bind not the souls," he said--did you +hear? "You are free, for the Lord has set you free." See how the +people shudder at his words--now they rise up--they mutter. "You +want no freedom--woe unto you! For that is the sin against the +Holy Ghost!" + +[Enter Sexton.] + +Sexton. I don't think it's well for you to stay here any longer, +my good ladies. The people are getting restless. This will never +end well for Master Olof. + +Mother. Jesu Maria! What are you saying? + +Christine. Fear not! The spirit of the Lord is with him! + +Sexton. Well, I don't know about that, but he's a wonder at +preaching. Old sinner that I am, I couldn't keep from crying +where I was sitting in the organ-loft. I don't understand how it +can be possible for a heretic and an Antichrist to talk like +that. That man Luther, I must say, I--(Cries are heard from the +church.) There, there! Now something dreadful is going to happen +again! And to think that the King should be gone just now! + +Mother. Let us get away from here. If the Lord is with +him, they can do him no harm. If it he the Devil--then Thy will +be done, O Lord--but forgive him! + +(Cries are heard outside. Exeunt the Mother, Christine, and the +Sexton. For a few moments the stage stands empty and Olof's +voice is heard more clearly than before. It is interrupted by +cries and the rattling of stones thrown at the pulpit. Christine +returns alone, locks the door on the inside, and falls on her +knees at a prie-dieu. A number of violent blows are directed +against the door from without, while the tumult in the church +continues to increase. Then silence is restored, as Olof descends +from the pulpit. His forehead is bleeding and he wears a haggard +look.) + +Olof (dropping into a chair without perceiving Christine). +In vain! They will not! I take the fetters from the prisoner, and +he hits me. I tell him he is free, and he doesn't believe me. Is +that word "free" so big, then, that it can't be contained in a +human brain? Oh, that I had one at least who believed--but to be +alone--a fool whom no one understands-- + +Christine (coming forward). I believe in you, Olof! + +Olof. Christine! + +Christine. _You_ are right! + +Olof. How do you know? + +Christine. I can't tell, but I believe it. I have been listening +to you. + +Olof. And you do not curse me? + +Christine. You are preaching the word of God, are you not? + +Olof. I am! + +Christine. Why have we not been told these things before? Or why +have they been told us in a language that we do not understand? + +Olof. Who has put those words into your mouth, girl? + +Christine. Who? I haven't thought of asking. + +Olof. Your father? + +Christine. He wants me to enter a convent. + +Olof. Has it come to that? And what is your own wish? + +Christine (catching sight of Olof's bleeding forehead). They have +hurt you, Olof! For heaven's sake, let me help you! + +Olof (sitting down again). Have I unsettled your faith, +Christine? + +Christine (takes the handkerchief, tears it into strips, and +begins to dress Olof's wounds while speaking). My faith? I don't +understand you.--Tell me, who is Luther? + +Olof. I mustn't tell you. + +Christine. Always the same answer! From my father, from your +mother, and from yourself. Are you timid about telling me the +truth, or is the truth really dangerous? + +Olof. Truth is dangerous. Can't you see? (He points to his +forehead.) + +Christine. So you want me to be shut up in a convent cell to live +a lifeless life in ignorance? (Olof does not reply.) You want me +to weep away my life and my youth, and to keep on saying those +endlessly long prayers until my soul is put to sleep? No--I won't +do it, for now I am awake. All around me they are fighting, and +suffering, and despairing. I have seen it, but I was to have no +share in it. I was not even to look on, or to know the purpose of +the fighting. You wanted me to be sunk in bestial slumber. But +don't you believe me possessed of a soul, then--a soul that +cannot be satisfied by bread or by dry prayers put into my mouth +by others? "Bind not the spirits," you said. Oh, if you could +only know how that word pierced me! Daylight came, and those wild +cries out there sounded like the singing of birds in the morning-- + +Olof. You are a woman, Christine, and not born to fight! + +Christine. But in the name of God, let me suffer, then! Only not +be asleep! Don't you see that the Lord has awakened me in spite +of all? You have never dared to tell me who Antichrist was. You +have never dared to tell me who Luther was, and when your mother +called you a Luther, I blessed Luther. If he be a heretic or a +believer, I don't know, and I don't care; for no one--whether it +be Luther, or the Pope, or Antichrist-can satisfy my immortal +soul when I have no faith in the eternal God. + +Olof. Will you follow me into the battle, Christine? For you can +sustain me, and you only! + +Christine. Now I am able to answer you with a frank "yes," for I +know my own will--and I can do so without asking father first, +for I am free. Oh, I am free! + +Olof. And do you know what is in store for you? + +Christine. I know! You will not have to shatter my mocking dreams +--they are already gone. But you may be sure that I, too, +have been dreaming of a knight who was to lay a kingdom at my +feet and talk to me of flowers and love--Olof, I want to be your +wife! Here is my hand! But this much I must tell you: that you +never have been the knight of my dreams, and that I thank God he +never came. For then he had also gone--as a dream. + +Olof. Christine, you want to be mine--and I will make you happy. +For when I suffered sorrow and temptation, you were always in my +mind--and now you shall be at my side! You were the maiden of my +dreams, kept captive in a tower by the stern castellan--and now +you are mine! + +Christine. Beware of dreams, Olof! + +(Blows are heard on the door from outside.) + +Olof. Who is that? + +Voice (outside). Gert. + +Olof. What will he say? My promise-- + +Christine. Are you afraid? Shall I open? + +(Olof opens the door.) + +[Enter Gert.] + +Gert (starting at the sight of his daughter and Olof). +Christine?--You have broken your promise, Olof! + +Olof. I have not. + +Gert. You lie! You have stolen my child, my one solace. + +Christine. Olof is not lying. + +Gert. You have been to church, Christine? + +Christine. I have heard what you didn't want me to hear. + +Gert. O Lord, this only joy Thou hast begrudged me! + +Olof. The stream that you wanted to set free takes its +victims where it can. + +Gert. You have robbed me of her, of my child! + +Olof. Give her to me, Father Gert! + +Gert. Never! + +Olof. Is she not free? + +Gert. She is my child. + +Olof. Are you not preaching freedom? She is mine! The +Lord has given her to me, and you cannot take her away. + +Gert. You are--thank God--a priest. + +Olof and Christine. A priest! + +Gert. And as such you cannot marry. + +Olof. And if I do? + +Gert. You would dare? + +Olof. I would. + +Gert. Do you want a man who is under the ban, Christine? + +Christine. I don't know what that means. + +Olof. There you see, Gert, there you see! + +Gert. Thy punishment is harsh, O Lord! + +Olof. The truth is for all. + +Gert. Your love is greater than mine, which was nothing but +selfishness. God bless you! Now I stand alone! (He embraces +them.) There, now! Go home, Christine, and set their minds at +rest. I want to speak to Olof. (Exit Christine.) Now you belong +to me. + +Olof. What do you mean? + +Gert. Kinsman!--You got my letter? + +Olof. It was you who advised me not to preach? + +Gert. Quite the contrary, although I expressed myself somewhat +strangely. + +Olof. I don't understand. + +Gert. No--no! You are still too young, and so you need a +providence. To a man like you one says "Let be" when one wants +him to do something. + +Olof. Why were you and your followers not in church? + +Gert. None but the sick need doctors. We were busy elsewhere. You +have done a good piece of work to-day, and I see that you have +got your reward for it. I have set you free to-day, Olof. + +Olof. _You_ have? + +Gert. The King commanded you to quiet the rebellious, and what +have you been doing? + +Olof. Now I begin to understand you, Father Gert. + +Gert. I am delighted! Yes, you have aroused even the calmest. + +Olof. So I have. + +Gert. What do you think the King will say to that? + +Olof. I shall have to face it. + +Gert. Good! + +Olof. The King will approve my actions, for he wants a +reformation, although he does not yet dare to start one himself. + +Gert. You idiot! + +Olof. I see that you want to set me against my lawful sovereign. + +Gert. Tell me, how many masters do you think you can serve? (Olof +makes no reply.) The King is here. + +Olof. What do you say? + +Gert. The King has just returned. + +Olof. And the Anabaptists? + +Gert. Locked up, of course. + +Olof. And you stand here so calmly? + +Gert. I am old now. Once I used to rage like you, but it only +tired me out. Rink and Knipperdollink have served as my outposts. +They had to fall, that's plain; now my work begins. + +(Drum-beats are heard from the street.) + +Olof. What is that? + +Gert. The royal drums that keep the captives company to prison. +Come here and see! + +Olof (mounting one of the benches and looking out of the window). +What do I see? Women and children are dragged along by the +soldiers! + +Gert. Well, they have been throwing stones at the King's guard. +Do you think such things can be allowed? + +Olof. But are madmen and sick people to be put into prison? + +Gert. There are two kinds of madmen. One kind is sent to the +hospital and treated with pills and cold baths. Those of the +other kind have their heads cut off. It is a radical treatment, +but then, for a fact, they are rather dangerous. + +Olof. I'll go to the King. He cannot wish such dreadful things to +happen. + +Gert. Take care of your head, Olof! + +Olof. Take care of your own, Father Gert! + +Gert. No danger in my case, for I have a warrant for the asylum. + +Olof. I cannot bear to see these things. I am going to the King, +even if it cost my life. (He goes toward the door.) + +Gert. This is a matter not to be settled by the King. You should +appeal to the law. + +Olof. The King is the law! + +Gert. Unfortunately!--If the horse knew his own strength, he +would never be mad enough, as he is now, to bear the yoke. But +when once in a while he gets his reason back and runs away from +his oppressors, then they call him mad--Let us pray the Lord to +give these poor creatures their reason back! + + +ACT III + +SCENE 1 + +(A Hall in the Royal Palace at Stockholm. In the background is +a gallery which can be partitioned off by curtains. In elderly +servant of the palace is pacing back and forth in the gallery.) + +Enter Olof. + +Olof. Is the King receiving to-day? + +Servant. Yes. + +Olof. Can you tell me why I have been kept waiting here in vain +four days at a stretch? + +Servant. No, heavens, I know nothing at all. + +Olof. It seems strange that I have not been admitted. + +Servant. What is it about? + +Olof. That's none of your concern! + +Servant. Of course not! I understand that, but I thought I might +be able to give some information, perhaps. + +Olof. Have you charge of the King's audiences? + +Servant. Oh, heavens, no! But you see, when a man hears as much +as I do, he knows a little of everything. (Pause.) + +Olof. Do you think I shall have to wait long? (The servant +pretends not to hear.) Do you know if the King is coming soon? + +Servant (with his back turned to Olof). What? + +Olof. Do you know to whom you are talking? + +Servant. No, I don't. + +Olof. I am the King's Secretary. + +Servant. Oh, mercy, are you Master Olof? I knew your father, +Peter the Smith, for I am also from Orebro. + +Olof. Well, can't you be civil in spite of that? + +Servant. Well, well! That's what happens when one gets on a +little in this world--then one's humble parents are forgotten. + +Olof. It is possible that my father actually honored you with his +acquaintance, but I doubt that he put you in a parent's place to +me when he died. + +Servant. Well, well! I declare! It must be hard on Dame +Christine! [Exit to the left.] + +[Olof is left alone for a while. Then Lars Siggesson, the Lord +High Constable, enters from the right.] + +Constable (throwing his cloak to Olof without looking at him). +Will the King be here soon? + +Olof (catching the cloak and throwing it on the floor). I do not +know! + +Constable. Bring me a chair. + +Olof. That's not my office. + +Constable. I am not familiar with the instructions of the +doorkeeper. + +Olof. I am no doorkeeper! + +Constable. I don't care what you are, and I don't carry with me a +list of the menials, but you will have to be civil! (Olof remains +silent.) Well, what about it? I think the Devil has got into you! + +Olof. Pardon me, but it is no part of my duty as secretary to +wait on anybody. + +Constable. What? Oh, Master Olof! Why, first you sit at the door +playing lackey, and then you drop the mask and step forth as the +Lord Himself! And I took you to be a proud man. (He picks up his +cloak and places it on a bench.) + +Olof. My Lord Constable! + +Constable. But, no, you are only a vain upstart! Please step +forward and be seated, Mr. Secretary. + +[He points Olof to a seat and goes out into one of the +side-rooms.] + +[Olof sits down. A young Courtier enters through the gallery and +salutes Olof.] + +Courtier. Good morning, Secretary! Is nobody here yet? Well, how +is everything in Stockholm? I have just arrived from Malmo. + +Olof. Oh, everything is going wrong here. + +Courtier. So I have heard. The mob has been muttering as usual +whenever the King's back is turned. And then there are those fool +priests!--I beg your pardon, Secretary, but, of course, you are +a freethinker? + +Olof. I don't quite understand. + +Courtier. Don't mind me, please. You see, I have been educated in +Paris. Francis the First--O Saint-Sauveur!--that's a man who has +extreme views. Do you know what he told me at a bal masque +during the last carnival? (Olof remains silent.) "Monsieur," he +said, "la religion est morte, est morte," he said. Which didn't +keep him from attending mass. + +Olof. Is that so? + +Courtier. Do you know what he replied when I asked him why he did +so?--"Poetry! Poetry!" he said. Oh, he is divine! + +Olof. What did you answer? + +Courtier. "Your Majesty," I said--in French, of course-- +"fortunate the land that has a king who can look so far beyond +the narrow horizon of his own time that he perceives what the +spirit of the age demands, without trying to urge the masses to +embrace that higher view of life for which they will not be ready +for many centuries to come!" Wasn't that pretty clever? + +Olof. Oh, yes, but I think it must have lost a great deal in +being translated. Things of that kind should be spoken in French. + +Courtier (preoccupied). You are quite right.--Tell me--your +_fortune_ ought to be assured--you are so far in advance of your +time? + +Olof. I fear I shall not get very far. My education was +neglected, unfortunately--I studied in Germany, as you may know-- +and the Germans are not beyond religion yet. + +Courtier. Indeed, indeed! Can you tell me why they are making +such a hubbub about that Reformation down there in Germany? +Luther is a man of enlightenment--I know it--I believe it--but +why shouldn't he keep it to himself, or at least not waste any +sparks of light on the brutish herd to which they can be nothing +but so many pearls thrown to the swine. If you let your eye +survey the time we are living in--if you make some effort to +follow the great currents of thought--then you will easily +perceive the cause of that disturbed equilibrium which is now +making itself felt in all the great civilized countries; I am not +talking of Sweden, of course, which is not a civilized country. +Can you name the centre of gravity--that centre which cannot be +disturbed without everything going to pieces--the instability of +which tends to upset everything? The name of it is--the nobility. +The nobility is the thinking principle. The feudal system is +falling--and that means the world. Erudition is in decay. +Civilization is dying. Yes, indeed--You don't believe that? But +if you have any historical outlook at all, you can see that it is +so. The nobility started the Crusades. The nobility has done this +and that and everything. Why is Germany being torn to pieces? +Because the peasantry has risen against the nobility, thus +cutting off its own head. Why is France safe--la France? Because +France is one with the nobility, and the nobility is one with +France--because those two ideas are identical, inseparable. And +why, I ask again, is Sweden at present shaken to its nethermost +foundations? Because the nobility has been crushed. Christian the +Second was a man of genius. He knew how to conquer a country. He +didn't cut off a leg or an arm--nay, he cut off the head. Well, +then! Sweden must be saved, and the King knows how. The nobility +is to be restored, and the Church is to be crushed. What do you +say to that? + +Olof (rising). Nothing! (Pause.) You are a freethinker? + +Courtier. Of course! + +Olof. You don't believe, then, that Balaam's ass could talk? + +Courtier. Gracious, no! + +Olof. But I do. + +Courtier. Really? + +[Enter Lars Andersson.] + +Lars Andersson. The peace of the Lord be with you, Olof. + +Olof (embracing him). Well met, Lars! + +Courtier. Populace! [Exit.] + +Lars. Well, how do you like living here? + +Olof. It's so close! + +Lars. Somewhat! + +Olof. And no room overhead. + +Lars. That's why they find it so hard to keep their backs +straight. + +Olof. In ten minutes I have become so much of a courtier that I +know how to be silent when an ass is talking. + +Lars. There is no harm in that. + +Olof. What does the King think? + +Lars. He doesn't tell. + +(A number of people have begun to gather in the hall.) + +Olof. How does he look? + +Lars. Like an interrogation point followed by several exclamation +marks. + +[Enter Bishop Brask. All give way before him. The Lord High +Constable, who has returned in the meantime, goes to meet him and +exchanges greetings with him. Olof salutes the Bishop, who looks +surprised.] + +Brask (to the Constable). Is this a place for the clerks? + +Constable. It ought not to be, but our King is so very gracious. + +Brask. Condescending, you mean? + +Constable. Exactly. + +Brask. The audience is well attended to-day. + +Constable. Mostly formal calls occasioned by the happy return of +His Highness. + +Brask. It is a pleasure, my Lord Constable, to offer His Highness +our sincere felicitations on the happy solution of this question. + +Constable. It is indeed courteous in Your Grace to incur the +trouble of such a long journey--especially at Your Grace's +advanced age. + +Brask. Unfortunately, my health is not always to be depended +upon. + +Constable. Is Your Grace not enjoying good health? It is hard to +feel one's strength failing, particularly for one who occupies +such an exalted and responsible position. + +Brask. You look very well, my Lord Constable. + +Constable. Yes, thank God! (Pause.) + +Brask (seating himself). Don't you think there is a draught here, +my Lord? + +Constable. It seems so. Perhaps we might order the doors to be +closed? + +Brask. No, thank you, that will not be necessary. (Pause.) + +Constable. The King is long in coming. + +Brask. Yes. + +Constable. Perhaps you won't find it worth your while to wait for +him. + +Brask. Perhaps not! + +Constable. With your permission, I will send word to Your Grace's +servants. + +Brask. As I have waited so long, I think I shall wait a little +longer. (Pause.) + +Servant. His Highness! + +[Enter Gustaf.] + +Gustaf. I bid you welcome, gentlemen. (He takes a seat at a +table.) If you will please step out into the antechamber, I will +receive you one at a time. (All retire except Bishop Brask.) Our +Lord Constable will stay. + +Brask. Your Highness! + +Gustaf (raising his voice). Sir Lars! (Brask goes out, the +Constable remaining; pause.) Speak! What am I to do? + +Constable. Your Highness, the State has lost its prop, and +therefore it is toppling over; the State has an enemy that has +grown too strong for it. Restore the prop, which is the nobility, +and crush the enemy, which is the Church! + +Gustaf. I dare not! + +Constable. You must, Your Highness! + +Gustaf. What's that? + +Constable. First of all: Brask is in correspondence with the Pope +to have the inquisition established here. Lubeck is insisting on +her shameless demands and threatens war. The treasury is empty. +There is rebellion in every nook and corner of the country-- + +Gustaf. That's enough! But I have the people with me. + +Constable. I beg your pardon--you have not. There are the +Dalecarlians, for instance--a spoiled lot, always disputing with +those of Lubeck about the honor of having bestowed a king on +Sweden. They are ready to rebel on the slightest occasion, and +they are coming forward with demands like these: "There shall he +no outlandish customs used, with slittered and motley colored +clothes, such as have of late been brought into the King's +court." + +Gustaf. 'Sdeath! + +Constable. "Whosoever eats meat on Fridays or Saturdays shall be +burned at the stake or otherwise made away with." And furthermore, +"There shall be no new faith or Lutheran teachings foisted +upon us." What a treacherous, impudent people! + +Gustaf. And yet there was a time when they showed themselves to +be men. + +Constable. Well, what wonder if they carried water when their +house was afire? How many times have they broken troth and faith? +But they have so often heard themselves lauded that they have +come to give the name of "old Swedish honesty" to their own brute +arrogance. + +Gustaf. You belong to the nobility! + +Constable. Yes, and it is my conviction that the peasant has +played out his part--the part of a crude force needed to drive +away the enemy by sheer strength of arm. Crush the Church, Your +Highness, for it is keeping the people in fetters. Seize the gold +of the Church and pay the country's debt--and give back to the +reduced nobility what the Church has obtained from it by dupery. + +Gustaf. Call in Brask. + +Constable. Your Highness! + +Gustaf. Call Bishop Brask! [Exit the Constable.] + +[Enter Bishop Brask.] + +Gustaf. Speak, Your Grace! + +Brask. I wish to offer our congratulations on-- + +Gustaf. I thank Your Grace! And what more? + +Brask. There have been complaints from several districts, I am +sorry to say, about unpaid loans of silver exacted from the +churches by Your Highness. + +Gustaf. Which you now are trying to recover. Are all the chalices +actually needed for communion? + +Brask. They are. + +Gustaf Let them use pewter mugs, then. + +Brask. Your Highness! + +Gustaf. Anything more? + +Brask. What is worse than anything else--all this heresy! + +Gustaf. No concern of mine! I am not the Pope. + +Brask. I have to warn Your Highness that the Church must look out +for her own rights, even if doing so should bring her into +conflict-- + +Gustaf. With whom? + +Brask. With the State. + +Gustaf. Your Church can go to the devil! There, I have said it! + +Brask. I knew it. + +Gustaf. And you were only waiting for me to say so? + +Brask. Exactly. + +Gustaf. Take care! You travel with a following of two hundred +men, and you eat from silver, when the people are living on bark. + +Brask. Your Highness takes too narrow a view of the matter. + +Gustaf. Have you heard of Luther? You are a well-informed man. +What kind of a phenomenon is he? What have you to say of the +movements that are now spreading throughout Europe? + +Brask. Progress backward! Luther is merely destined to serve as a +purging fire for what is ancient, descended from untold ages and +well tried, so that it may be cleansed and by the struggle urged +on to greater victories. + +Gustaf. I care nothing for your learned arguments. + +Brask. But Your Highness is extending protection to criminals and +interfering with the privileges of the Church; for the Church has +been grievously wronged by Master Olof. + +Gustaf. Well, put him under the ban. + +Brask. It has been done, and yet he remains in the service of +Your Highness. + +Gustaf. What more do you want done to him? Tell me? (Pause.) + +Brask. Furthermore, he has gone so far as to marry secretly in +violation of the Canon Law. + +Gustaf. Is that so? That's quick action. + +Brask. It doesn't concern Your Highness? Good and well! But if he +stirs up the people? + +Gustaf. Then I'll step in. Anything more? + +Brask (after a pause). I ask you for heaven's sake not to plunge +the country into disaster again. It is not yet ripe for a new +faith. We are but reeds in the wind and can be bent--but when it +comes to the faith, or the Church--never! + +Gustaf (holding out his hand to the Bishop). Maybe you are right! +But let us be enemies rather than false friends, Bishop Hans! + +Brask. Be it so! But do not do what you will regret. Every stone +you tear out of the Church will be thrown at you by the people. + +Gustaf. Don't force me to extremes, Your Grace, for then we shall +have the same horrible spectacle here as in Germany. For the last +time: are you willing to make concessions if the welfare of the +country is at stake? + +Brask. The Church-- + +Gustaf. The Church comes first--very well! Good-bye! + +[Exit Brask. Reenter the Constable.] + +Gustaf. The Bishop has confirmed your statement, and that was +what I wanted him to do. Now we shall need stone-masons who +know how to tear down. The walls will be left, the cross may stay +on the roof and the bell in the tower, but I will clear out the +vaults. One must begin at the bottom! + +Constable. The people will think you are taking away their faith. +They will have to be educated. + +Gustaf. We'll send Master Olof to preach to them. + +Constable. Master Olof is a dangerous man. + +Gustaf. But needed just now. + +Constable. He has carried on like the Anabaptists instead of +opposing them. + +Gustaf. I know. We'll get to that later on. Send him in. + +Constable. Lars the Chancellor would be a better man. + +Gustaf. Bring them both in. + +Constable. Or Olof's brother, Lars Pedersson. + +Gustaf. No good yet. He is too soft for fighting, but +his time will come, too. [Exit Constable.] + +The Constable returns with Master Olof and Lars Andersson. + +Gustaf (to the Chancellor). Do you want to help me, Lars? + +Lars. You are thinking of the Church? + +Gustaf. Yes, it will have to be torn down. + +Lars. I am not the man for that. Your Majesty had better ask +Master Olof. + +Gustaf. You won't, then? + +Lars. I can't! But I have a weapon for you. (He hands the new +translation of the Bible to the King.) + +Gustaf. Holy Writ! A good weapon, indeed! Will you wield it, +Olof? + +Olof. With the help of God--yes! + +Gustaf (to Olof, after having signalled to Lars to leave). Have +you calmed down yet, Olof? (Olof does not answer). I gave you +four days to think it over. How have you been carrying out your +task? + +Olof (impetuously). I have spoken to the people-- + +Gustaf. Still in a fever! And you mean to defend those madmen +named Anabaptists? + +Olof (bravely). I do! + +Gustaf. Steady!--You have married in a hurry? + +Olof. I have. + +Gustaf. You are under the ban? + +Olof. I am. + +Gustaf. And still as brave as ever! If you were sent to the +gallows as a rebel with the rest, what would you say then? + +Olof. I should regret not being permitted to finish my task, but +I should thank the Lord for having been allowed to do what I have +done. + +Gustaf. That's good! Would you dare to go up to that old owl's-nest +Upsala and tell its learned men that the Pope is not God and that +he has nothing to do with Sweden? + +Olof. Only that? + +Gustaf. Will you tell them that the only word of God is the +Bible? + +Olof. Must that be all? + +Gustaf. You are not to mention the name of Luther! + +Olof (after some hesitation). Then I will not go. + +Gustaf. Would you rather go to your death? + +Olof. No, but I know that my sovereign needs me. + +Gustaf. It isn't noble to take advantage of my misfortune, Olof. +Well, say anything; you please, but you will have to pardon me if +I take back a part of it afterwards. + +Olof. Truth isn't sold by the yard. + +Gustaf. 'Sdeath! (Changing tone.) Well, suit yourself! + +Olof (kneeling). Then I may say all that is in my mind? + +Gustaf. You may. + +Olof. Then, if I can only throw a single spark of doubt into the +soul of this sleeping people, my life will not have been wasted. +--It is to be a reformation, then? + +Gustaf (after a pause). Yes. (Pause.) + +Olof (timidly). And what is to become of the Anabaptists? + +Gustaf. Need you ask? They must die. + +Olof. Will Your Highness permit me one more question? + +Gustaf. Tell me: what do those madmen want? + +Olof. The sad thing is that they do not know it themselves, and +if I were to tell you-- + +Gustaf. Speak out! + +[Gert enters quickly, pretending to be insane.] + +Gustaf. Who are you to dare intrude here? + +Gert. I want most humbly to beseech Your Highness to attest the +correctness of this document. + +Gustaf. Wait till you are called. + +Gert. Of course, I should like to, but the guards won't wait for +me. I escaped from prison, you see, because my place wasn't +there. + +Gustaf. Are you one of those Anabaptists? + +Gert. Yes, I happened to get mixed up with them, but here I have +a certificate proving that I belong to the asylum, the third +department for incurables, cell number seven. + +Gustaf (to Olof). Send word to the guard. + +Gert. That isn't necessary, for I want nothing but justice, and +it's something the guard doesn't handle. + +Gustaf (looking hard at Gert). I suppose you have had a share in +those outrages in the city churches? + +Gert. Of course, I have! No sane person could behave so madly. We +wanted only to make a few minor alterations in the style. They +seemed too low in the ceiling. + +Gustaf. What do you really want? + +Gert. Oh, we want a great deal, although we haven't got through +with one-half of it yet. Yes, we want so many things and we want +them so quickly, that our reason cannot keep pace with them, and +that's why it has been lagging behind a little. Yes, we wish +among other things to change the furnishings a little in the +churches, and to remove the windows because the air seems so +musty. Yes, and there is a lot more we want, but that will have +to wait for a while. + +Gustaf (to Olof). That's a perilous disease--for anything +else it cannot be. + +Olof. Who knows? + +Gustaf. Now I am tired. You'll have a fortnight in which to get +ready. Your hand that you will help me! + +Olof. I will do my part. + +Gustaf. Give orders to have Rink and Knipperdollink sent to +Malmo. + +Olof. And then? + +Gustaf. They'll have a chance to escape. That fool over there you +can send back to the asylum. Farewell! [Exit.] + +Gert (shaking his clenched fist after Gustaf). Well, are we +going? + +Olof. Where? + +Gert. Home. (Olof remains silent.) You don't wish to send your +father-in-law to the madhouse, do you, Olof? + +Olof. You ask me what I wish--How about my duty? + +Gert. Is there no duty above the royal command? + +Olof. Are you beginning again? + +Gert. What will Christine say if you put her father among madmen? + +Olof. Tempt me not! + +Gert. Do you see how difficult it is to serve the King? (Olof +does not answer.) I won't make you unhappy, my poor boy. Here's +balm for your conscience. (He takes out a document.) + +Olof. What is it? + +Gert. A certificate of health. You see, it is necessary to be a +madman among sane people, and sane among mad men. + +Olof. How did you get it? + +Gert. Don't you think I deserve it? + +Olof. I can't tell. + +Gert. True enough: you don't yet dare. + +[Enter Servant.] + +Servant. Will you please go your way. They 're about to sweep. + +Gert. Perhaps the place has to be aired, too? + +Servant. Yes, indeed! + +Gert. Don't forget to open the windows. + +Servant. No, you may be sure, and it's needed, too, for we are +not accustomed to this kind of company. + +Gert. Look here, old man--I carry a greeting from your father. + +Servant. Oh, you do? + +Gert. Perhaps you never knew him? + +Servant. Why, certainly! + +Gert. Do you know what he said? + +Servant. No. + +Gert. Wet the broom, he said, or you'll get the dust all over +yourself. + +Servant. I don't understand. + +Gert. Well, that's your only excuse. + +[Exeunt Gert and Olof.] + +Servant. Rabble! + + +SCENE 2 + +(Olof's Study. There are windows in the background, through +which the sun is shining into the room. Trees are visible +outside. Christine is standing at one of the windows, watering +her flowers. While doing so she is prattling to some birds in a +cage. Olof is seated at a table, writing. With an impatient +mien he looks up and across the room to Christine as if he wished +her to keep quiet. This happens several times, until at last +Christine knocks down one of the flower pots, when Olof taps the +floor lightly with his foot.) + +Christine. Oh, my poor little flower! Look, Olof, four buds were +broken off. + +Olof. Yes, I see. + +Christine. No, you don't. You must come over here. + +Olof. My dear, I haven't time. + +Christine. You haven't looked at the starlings which I bought for +you this morning. Don't you think they sing sweetly? + +Olof. Rather. + +Christine. Rather? + +Olof. It's hard for me to work when they are screaming like that. + +Christine. They are not screaming, Olof, but you seem to be more +fond of a night bird that does scream. Tell me, what is the +meaning of the owl that appears on your signet ring? + +Olof. The owl is an ancient symbol of wisdom. + +Christine. I think that's stupid! Wise people don't love the +darkness. + +Olof. The wise man hates the darkness and the night, but his keen +eye turns night into day. + +Christine. Why are you always right, Olof? Can you tell me? + +Olof. Because I know it pleases you, my dear, to let me be in the +right. + +Christine. Now, you are right again.--What is that you are +writing? + +Olof. I am translating. + +Christine. Read a little of it to me. + +Olof. I don't think you could understand it. + +Christine. Why shouldn't I? Is it not in Swedish? + +Olof. Yes, but it is too abstract for you. + +Christine. Abstract? What does that mean? + +Olof. You wouldn't understand if I told you, but if you don't +understand what I read to you, then you understand what is meant +by "abstract." + +Christine (picking up a piece of half-finished embroidery). +Go on and read while I work at this. + +Olof. Listen carefully, then, and forgive me if you find it +tedious. + +Christine. I shall understand because I want to. + +Olof (reading). "Matter when considered separate from form is +something wholly without predictability, indeterminable and +indistinguishable. For nothing can originate out of pure +non-being, but only out of the non-being of reality, which is +synonymous with being as a possibility. Being in its possibility +is no more non-being than is reality. For that reason every +existence is a realized possibility. Thus matter is to Aristotle +a much more positive substratum than to Plato, who declares it to +be pure non-being. And thereby it becomes plain how Aristotle +could conceive of matter in its opposition to form as a positive +negativity." + +Christine (throwing aside her work). Stop! Why is it that I +cannot understand that? Have I not the same mental faculties as +you? I am ashamed, Olof, because you have such a poor creature of +a wife that she cannot understand what you say. No, I will stick +to my embroidery, I will clean and dust your study, I will at +least learn to read your wishes in your eyes. I may become your +slave, but never, never shall I be able to understand you. Oh, +Olof, I am not worthy of you! Why did you make me your wife? You +must have over-valued me in a moment of intoxication. Now you +will regret it, and we shall both be unhappy. + +Olof. Christine! Don't take it like that, dear! Come and sit here +by me. (He picks up the embroidery.) Will you believe me if I +tell you that I couldn't possibly do a thing like this? Never in +my life could I do it. Are you not then cleverer than I, and am I +not the lesser of us two? + +Christine. But why can't you do it? + +Olof. For the same reason that you couldn't understand me a +moment ago: I haven't learned how. And perhaps you will feel +happy once more if I tell you that you can learn to understand +this book--which, by the by, is not identical with me--while on +the other hand, I could never learn to do your work. + +Christine. Why couldn't you? + +Olof. Because I am not built that way and don't want to do it. + +Christine. But if you wanted to? + +Olof. Well, there, my dear, you have my weak point. I could never +want to do it. Believe me, you are stronger than I, for you have +power over your own will, but I have not. + +Christine. Do you think I could learn to understand that book of +yours? + +Olof. I am convinced of it. But you must not. + +Christine. Am I still to be kept in ignorance? + +Olof. No, no--understand me right! The moment you understood +what I understand, you would cease to think of me as-- + +Christine. A god-- + +Olof. Let it go at that! But believe me, you would lose what now +puts you above me--the power to control your own will--and then +you would be less than I, and I could not respect you. Do you +see? It stakes us happy to overvalue each other; let us keep that +illusion. + +Christine. Now I don't understand you at all, but I must trust +you, Olof. You are right! + +Olof. Please leave me alone, Christine--I beg you! + +Christine. Do I disturb you? + +Olof. There are some very serious thoughts that occupy me. You +know, I expect something decisive to happen today. The King has +abdicated because the people would not do what he desired. To-day +I shall either reach my goal or have to start the fight all over +again. + +Christine. May I not be happy to-day, Olof--on Midsummer Eve? + +Olof. Why should you be so very happy to-day? + +Christine. Why should I not--since I have been set free from +slavery and have become your wife? + +Olof. Can you forgive me that my happiness is a little more sober +because it has cost me--a mother? + +Christine. I know, and I feel it very deeply. But when your +mother learns of our marriage, she will forgive you and put her +curse on me. Whose burden will then be the heavier? However, it +doesn't matter, because it's borne for your sake. And this much +I know: that terrible struggles are awaiting you; that daring +thoughts are growing in your mind; and that I can never share +your struggle, never help you with advice, never defend you +against those that vilify you--but still I must look on, and +through it all I must go on living in my own little world, +employing myself with petty things which you do not appreciate, +but would miss if they were not attended to. Olof, I cannot +weep with you, so you must help me to make you smile with me. +Come down from those heights which I cannot attain. Leave your +battles on the hilltops and return some time to our home. As I +cannot ascend to you, you must descend to me for a moment. +Forgive me, Olof, if I talk childishly! I know that you are a man +sent by the Lord, and I have felt the blessing with which your +words are fraught. But you are more than that--you are a man, and +you are my husband--or at least ought to be. You won't fall from +your exalted place if you put aside your solemn speech now and +then and let the clouds pass from your forehead. You are not too +great, are you, to look at a flower or listen to a bird? I put +the flowers on your table, Olof, in order that they might rest +your eyes--and you ordered the maid to take them out because they +gave you a headache. I tried to cheer the lonely silence of your +work by bringing the birds--whose song you call screaming. I +asked you to come to dinner a while ago--you hadn't time. I +wanted to talk to you--you hadn't time. You despise this little +corner of reality--and yet that is what you have set aside for +me. You don't want to lift me up to you--but try at least not to +push me further down. I will take away everything that might +disturb your thoughts. You shall have peace from me--and from my +rubbish! (She throws the flowers out of the window, picks up the +birdcage, and starts to leave.) + +Olof. Christine, dear child, forgive me! You don't understand me! + +Christine. Always the same: "You don't understand me!" Oh, I know +now what it means. In that moment in the sacristy I matured so +completely that I reached my second childhood at once! + +Olof. I'll look at your birds and prattle with your flowers, dear +heart. + +Christine (putting aside the bird-cage). No, the time for prattle +is gone by--from now on we shall be serious. You need not fear my +boisterous happiness. It was only put on for your sake, and as it +doesn't suit your sombre calling, I'll--(She bursts into tears.) + +Olof (putting his arms around her and kissing her.) +Christine! Christine! You are right! Please pardon me! + +Christine. You gave me an unlucky gift, Olof, when you gave me +freedom, for I don't know what to do with it. I must have some +one to obey! + +Olof. And so you shall, but don't let us talk of it any more. Let +us eat now--in fact, I feel quite hungry. + +Christine (pleased). Do you really know how to be hungry? (At +that moment she looks out of the window and makes a gesture of +dismay.) Go on, Olof, and I'll be with you in a moment. I only +want to get things in a little better order in here. + +Olof (as he goes out). Don't let me wait so long for you as you +have had to wait for me. + +(Christine folds her hands as if praying and takes up a position +indicating that she is waiting far somebody about to enter from +the street. Pause.) + +[Enter Olof's Mother. She passes Christine without looking at her.] + +Mother. Is Master Olof at home? + +Christine (who has started to meet her in a friendly way, is +taken aback for a moment; then she answers in the same tone). No, +but if you care to be seated, he will be here soon. + +Mother. Thank you! (She seats herself. Pause.) Bring me a glass +of water. (Christine waits on her.) Now you can leave me. + +Christine. It is my housewifely duty to bear you company. + +Mother. I didn't know that the housekeeper of a priest could call +herself a housewife. + +Christine. I am the wife of Olof with the sanction of the Lord. +Don't you know that we are married? + +Mother. You are a harlot--that's what I know! + +Christine. That word I do not understand. + +Mother. You are the same kind of woman as she with whom Master +Olof was talking that evening in the beer-shop. + +Christine. The one that looked so unhappy? Yes, I don't feel very +happy. + +Mother. Of course not! Take yourself out of my sight! Your +presence shames me! + +Christine (on her knees). For the sake of your son, don't heap +abuse on me! + +Mother. With a mother's authority I command you to leave my son's +house, the threshold of which you have defiled. + +Christine. As a housewife I open my door to whom I may choose to +receive. I should have closed it to you, had I been able to guess +what language you would use. + +Mother. Big words, indeed! I command you to leave! + +Christine. With what right do you force yourself into this house +in order to drive me out of my own home? You have borne a son, +and raised him--that was your duty, your mission, and you may +thank your God for being permitted to fill that mission so well, +which is a good fortune not granted to everybody. Now you have +reached the edge of the grave. Why not resign yourself before the +end comes? Or have you raised your son so poorly that he is still +a child and needs your guidance? If you want gratitude, come and +look for it, but not in this way. Or do you think it is the +destiny of a child to sacrifice its own life merely to show you +gratitude? His mission is calling: "Go!" And you cry to him: +"Come to me, you ingrate!" Is he to go astray--is he to waste his +powers, that belong to his country, to mankind--merely for the +satisfaction of your private little selfishness? Or do you +imagine that the fact of having borne and raised him does even +entitle you to gratitude? Did not your life's mission and destiny +lie in that? Should you not thank the Lord for being given such a +high mission? Or did you do it only that you might spend the rest +of your life clamoring for gratitude? Don't you see that by using +that word "gratitude" you tear down all that you have built up +before? And what makes you presume that you have rights over me? +Is marriage to mean a mortgaging of my free will to anybody whom +nature has made the mother or father of my husband--who +unfortunately could not exist without either? You are not _my_ +mother. My troth was not pledged to you when I took Olof as my +husband. And I have sufficient respect for my husband not to +permit anybody to insult him, even if it be his own mother. +That's why I have spoken as I have! + +Mother. Alas, such are the fruits borne by the teachings of my +son! + +Christine. If you choose to revile your son, it had better be in +his presence. (She goes to the door and calls.) Olof! + +Mother. Such guile already! + +Christine. Already? It's nothing new, I think, although I didn't +know I had it until it was needed. + +[Enter Olof.] + +Olof. Mother! I am right glad to see you! + +Mother. Thanks, my son--and good-bye! + +Olof. Are you going? What does that mean? I wish to talk to you. + +Mother. No need! She has said all there is to say. You will not +have to show me the door. + +Olof. In God's name, mother, what are you saying? Christine, what +does this mean? + +Mother (about to leave). Good-bye, Olof! This is more than I can +ever forgive you! + +Olof (trying to hold her back). Stay and explain, at least! + +Mother. It was not worthy of you! To send her to tell me that you +owe me nothing and need me no more! Oh, that was cruel! [Exit.] + +Olof. What did you say, Christine? + +Christine. I don't remember, because there were so many things +which I had never dared to think, but which I must have dreamt +while father kept me still enslaved. + +Olof. I don't know you any more, Christine. + +Christine. No, I begin to feel a little lost myself. + +Olof. Were you unkind to mother? + +Christine. I suppose I was. Does it seem to you that I have grown +hard, Olof? + +Olof. Did you show her the door? + +Christine. Forgive me, Olof! I was not kind to her. + +Olof. For my sake you might have made your words a little milder. +Why didn't you call me at once? + +Christine. I wished to see if I had the strength to take care of +myself. Olof, would you sacrifice me to your mother, if she +demanded it? + +Olof. I cannot answer such a question offhand. + +Christine. I'll do it in your place. It pleases you to submit +willingly to your mother's will and wish because you are strong-- +and I, on the other hand, feel hurt by doing so, for I am weak. I +will never do it! + +Olof. Not if I ask you? + +Christine. That's more than you can ask. Or would you have me +hate her?--Tell me, Olof, what is meant by a "harlot"? + +Olof. You ask such strange questions. + +Christine. Will you please answer me? + +Olof. Will you forgive me if I don't? + +Christine. Always this unending silence! Do you not yet dare to +tell me all? Am I to be a child forever? Then you had better put +me in a nursery and talk baby-talk to me. + +Olof. It means an unfortunate woman. + +Christine. No, it means something more than that. + +Olof. Has anybody dared to use that word to you? + +Christine (after a pause). No. + +Olof. Now you are not telling the truth, Christine. + +Christine. I know I lie! Oh, since yesterday I have grown very +wicked! + +Olof. You are hiding something that happened yesterday! + +Christine. I am--I thought that I could keep it to myself, but it +has grown too much for me. + +Olof. Speak--I beg you! + +Christine. But you mustn't call me silly! A crowd of people +pursued me all the way to our door and called after me that +horrible word which I don't understand. People do not laugh at an +unfortunate woman-- + +Olof. Yes, dear, that's just what they do. + +Christine. I didn't understand their words, but their actions +were plain enough to make me wicked! + +Olof. And yet you were so kind to me! Forgive me if I have been +hard to you!--It is a name given by brute force to its own +victims. Sooner or later, you'll learn more about it, but never +dare to defend an "unfortunate woman"--for then they will throw +mud at you! (A messenger enters and hands him a letter.) At last! +(After a glance at the letter.) You read it to me, Christine! It +is from your lips I want to hear the glad tidings. + +Christine (reading). "Young man, you have conquered! I, your +enemy, desire to be the first to tell you so, and I address +myself to you without any sense of humiliation because, in +speaking for the new faith, you have wielded no weapons but those +of the spirit. Whether you be right, I cannot tell, but I think +you have deserved a piece of advice from an older man: stop here, +for your enemies are gone! Do not wage war on creatures made of +air, for that will lame your arm and you will die of dry rot. Do +not put your trust in princes--is another piece of advice given +you by a once powerful man who has now to step aside and leave to +the Lord to settle what is to become of his prostrated Church. +Johannes Brask." (Speaking.) You have conquered! + +Olof (joyfully). I thank Thee, Lord, for this hour. (Pause.) No, +it scares me, Christine! This fortune is too great. I am too +young to have reached the goal already. To have no more to do-- +oh, what a frightful thought! No further fighting--that would be +death! + +Christine. Oh, rest a moment, and be happy that it is over. + +Olof. Can there be an end to anything? An end to such a +beginning? No, no!--Oh, that I could begin it all anew! It wasn't +the victory I wanted, but the fight! + +Christine. Olof, do not tempt the Lord! I have a feeling that +much remains undone--very much, indeed! + +[Enter Courtier.] + +Courtier. Good-day to you, Secretary! And pleasant +news! [Exit Christine.] + +Olof. Be welcome! Some of it I have heard already. + +Courtier. Thanks for your splendid answering of that stupid +Galle. You went after him like a man. A little too fiercely, +perhaps--not quite so much fire, you know! And a little venom +doesn't hurt. + +Olof. You have news from the King? + +Courtier. Yes, and you shall have a brief summary of the +conditions agreed on: First, mutual support for the resistance +and punishment of all rebellions. + +Olof. Go on, if you please. + +Courtier. Second, the King shall have the right to take +possession of the palaces and fortified places of the bishops, as +well as to fix their incomes-- + +Olof. Third-- + +Courtier. Now comes the best of all--the principal point of the +whole undertaking: Third, the nobility shall have the right to +claim whatever of its properties and inheritances have fallen to +churches and cloisters since the revision by King Carl Knutsson +in 1454-- + +Olof. And fourth? + +Courtier. Provided the heir can get twelve men under oath to +attest his right of inheritance at the assizes. (He folds the +document from which he has been reading.) + +Olof. Have you finished? + +Courtier. Yes. Isn't that pretty good? + +Olof. Nothing more? + +Courtier. Oh, there are a few minor points of no special +importance. + +Olof. Let me hear them. + +Courtier (reading again). There is a fifth point about the right +of preachers to preach the word of God, but, of course, they have +had that all the time. + +Olof. Nothing more? + +Courtier. Yes, then comes the ordinance: a register is to be +established showing the amount of tithes collected by all +bishops, chapters, and canons, and the King shall have the right +to prescribe-- + +Olof. Oh, that's neither here nor there! + +Courtier. --how much of those may be retained, and how much shall +be surrendered to him for the use of the Crown; furthermore, all +Appointments to spiritual offices--and this ought to interest +you--to spiritual offices, minor as well as major, can hereafter +be made only with the sanction of the King, so that-- + +Olof. Will you please read me the point dealing with the faith-- + +Courtier. The faith--there is nothing about it. Oh, yes, +let me see--from this day the Gospel is to be read in all +schoolhouses. + +Olof. Is that all? + +Courtier. All? Oh, no, I remember! I have a special order from +the King to you--and a most sensible one--that, as the people +are stirred up over all these innovations, you must by no means +disturb the old forms; must not abolish masses, holy water, nor +any other usage, nor furthermore indulge in any reckless acts, +for hereafter the King will not close his eyes to your escapades +as he has had to do in the past, when he lacked power to do +otherwise. + +Olof. I see! And the new faith which he has permitted me to +preach so far? + +Courtier. It is to ripen slowly.--It will come! It will +come! + +Olof. Is there anything more? + +Courtier (rising). No. If you will only keep calm now, you may go +very far. Oh, yes--I came near forgetting the best part of all. +My dear Pastor, permit me to congratulate you! Here is your +appointment. Pastor of the city church, with an income of three +thousand, at your age--indeed, you could now settle down in peace +and enjoy life, even if you were never to get any further. +It is splendid to have reached one's goal while still so young. I +congratulate you! [Exit.] + +Olof (flinging the appointment on the floor). So this is all +that I have fought and suffered for! An appointment! A royal +appointment! I have been serving Belial instead of God! Woe be to +you, false King, who have sold your Lord and God! Alas for me, +who have sold my life and my labors to mammon! O God in Heaven, +forgive me! (He throws himself, weeping, on a bench.) + +[Enter Christine and Gert. Christine comes forward, while Gert +remains in the background.] + +Christine (picks up the appointment and reads it; then she runs +to Olof, her face beaming). Now, Olof, I can wish you joy with a +happy heart! (She starts to caress him, but he leaps to his feet +and pushes her away.) + +Olof. Leave me alone! You, too! + +Gert (coming forward). Well, Olof, the faith-- + +Olof. The lack of faith, you mean! + +Gert. The Pope is beaten, isn't he? Hadn't we better begin with +the Emperor soon? + +Olof. We began at the wrong end. + +Gert. At last! + +Olof. You were right, Gert! I am with you now! It's war, but it +must be open and honest. + +Gert. Until to-day you have been dreaming childish dreams. + +Olof. I know it. Now the flood is coming! Let it come! Alas for +them and for us! + +Christine. Olof, for Heaven's sake, stop! + +Olof. Leave me, child! Here you will be drowned, or you will drag +me down. + +Gert. What made you venture out in the storm, my child? + +[Exit Christine.] + +(The ringing of bells, the joyful shouting of crowds, and the +sounding of drums and trumpets become audible.) + +Olof (going to the window). What has set the people shouting? + +Gert. The King is providing them with a maypole and music outside +North Gate. + +Olof. And are they not aware that he will chasten them with +swords instead of rods? + +Gert. Aware? If they were! + +Olof. Poor children! They dance to his piping and follow his +drums to their death! Must all die, then, in order that one may +live? + +Gert. No, one shall die that all may live! + +(Olof makes a gesture dismay and repugnance.) + + +ACT IV + +(A Room in the House of Olof's Mother. At the right stands +a bedstead with four posts, in which the Mother is lying sick. +Christine is asleep on a chair. Lars Pedersson is renewing the +oil of the night-lamp and turning the hour glass.) + +Lars (speaking to himself). Midnight--Now comes the critical +time. (He goes to the bed and listens. At that moment Christine +moans in her sleep. He crosses the room and wakens her.) +Christine! (She wakes with a start.) Go to bed, child; I will +watch. + +Christine. No, I will wait. I must speak to her before she dies-- +I think Olof should be here soon. + +Lars. It is for his sake you are watching! + +Christine. Yes, and you mustn't say that I have slept. Do you +hear? + +Lars. Poor girl!--You're not happy! + +Christine. Who says one should be happy? + +Lars. Does Olof know that you are here? + +Christine. No, he would never permit it. He wants to keep me like +the carved image of some saint standing on a shelf. The smaller +and weaker he can make me, the greater is his pleasure in placing +his strength at my feet-- + +Mother (waking). Lars! (Christine holds back Lars and steps +forward.) Who is that? + +Christine. The nurse. + +Mother. Christine! + +Christine. Do you want anything? + +Mother. Nothing from you. + +Christine. Dame Christine! + +Mother. Don't make my last moments more bitter. Go away from +here! + +Lars (coming forward). What do you want, mother? + +Mother. Take away that woman! And bring the father confessor--I +shall soon die. + +Lars. Is not your own son worthy of receiving your last +confidences? + +Mother. No, he has done nothing to deserve them. Has Marten come +yet? + +Lars. Marten is a bad man. + +Mother. O Lord, how terrible Thy punishment! My children +standing between myself and Thee! Am I then to be denied the +consolations of religion in my last moments? You have taken my +life--do you want to destroy my soul, too--the soul of your +mother? (She falls into a faint.) + +Lars. Do you hear that, Christine! What are we to do? Shall we +let her die in the deception practised on her by a miserable +wretch like Marten--and perhaps get her thanks for it--or shall +we turn her final prayer into a curse? No, let them come, rather! +Or what do you think, Christine? + +Christine. I dare not think at all. + +Lars (goes out for a moment, but returns quickly). Oh, it is +horrible! They have fallen asleep over their dice and their +tumblers. And by such as those my mother is to be prepared for +her death! + +Christine. But why not tell her the truth? + +Lars. She won't believe it, and it is cast back on us as a lie. + +Mother. My son, won't you listen to your mother's last request? + +Lars (going out). May God forgive me! + +Christine. Olof would never have done that! + +(Lars returns with Marten and Nils, whereupon he leads Christine +out of the room.) + +Marten (going up to the bed). She's sleeping. + +Nils (places a box on the floor, opens it, and begins to take out +aspersorium, censer, chrismatory, palms, and candles). That means +we can't go to work yet. + +Marten. If we have waited all this time, we can afford to wait a +little longer--provided that damned priest doesn't show up. + +Nils. Master Olof, you mean?--Do you think that fellow out there +noticed anything? + +Marten. What do I care? As soon as the old woman gives up the +coin, I am free. + +Nils. You 're a pretty thorough-paced rascal, you are! + +Marten. Yes, but I am getting tired of it. I am beginning to long +for peace. Do you know what life is? + +Nils. No. + +Marten. Pleasure! "The flesh was God!" Isn't that the way it's +written somewhere? + +Nils. "The Word became flesh," you mean? + +Marten. Oh, yes--of course! + +Nils. You might have been it pretty big man, with your head! + +Marten. Yes, indeed! That's what they feared, and that's why they +whipped the soul out of my body in the convent--for after all I +had a soul once! But now there's nothing but body left, and now +the body is going to have its turn. + +Nils. And I suppose they whipped all conscience out of you at the +same time? + +Marten. Well, practically.--But now I want that recipe for spiced +Rochelle which you were talking of when we fell asleep out there. + +Nils. Did I say Rochelle? I meant claret. That is, it can be +either the one or the other. Well, you take a gallon of wine and +half a pound of cardamom that has been well cleaned-- + +Marten. Hush--damn you! She is moving. Out with the book! + +Nils (keeps on reading in an undertone during the following +scene). + Aufer immensam, Deus aufer iram; + Et cruentatum cohibe flagellum + Nec scelus nostrum proferes ad aequam + Pendere lancem. + +Mother. Is that you, Marten? + +Marten. It's Brother Nils praying to the Holy Virgin. (Nils +lights the censer without interrupting his reading.) + +Mother. What a precious boon to hear the word of the Lord in the +sacred tongue! + +Marten. No sweeter sacrifice is known to God than the prayers of +pious souls. + +Mother. Like the incense, my heart is set on fire with holy +devotion. + +Marten (sprinkling her with holy watter). The stains of sin are +by your God washed off! + +Mother. Amen!--Marten, I am passing away--The godlessness of the +King makes it impossible for me by earthly gifts to strengthen +the Holy Church in her power of saving souls. You are a pious +man--take my property and pray for me and for my children. Pray +that the Almighty may turn their hearts away from all lies, so +that some time we may meet again in heaven. + +Marten (taking the bag of money she hands him). Goodwife, your +sacrifice is acceptable to the Lord, and for your sake my prayers +will be heard by God. + +Mother. I want to sleep awhile in order to be strong enough to +receive the last sacrament. + +Marten. No one shall disturb your final moments--not even those +who were your children once. + +Mother. It seems cruel, Father Marten, but it's the will of God. +(She falls asleep; Marten and Nils withdraw from the bed.) + +Marten (opening the bag and kissing the gold coins). What stores +of pleasure lie hidden beneath the hardness of this gold--Ah! + +Nils. Are we going now? + +Marten. Oh, we might, as our errand here is done, but I think it +would be a pity to let the old woman die unsaved. + +Nils. Unsaved? + +Marten. Yes! + +Nils. Do you believe in that? + +Marten. It's hard to know what one is to believe nowadays. One +dies happily in this faith, and another in that. All assert that +they have found the truth. + +Nils. And if you were to die now, Marten? + +Marten. That's out of the question! + +Nils. But if? + +Marten. Then I suppose I should go to heaven like the rest. But I +should prefer to settle a small account with Master Olof first. +You see, there is one pleasure that surpasses all the rest, and +that's the pleasure of revenge. + +Nils. What has he done to you? + +Marten. He has dared to see through me; he has exposed me; he can +read what I am thinking--Oh! + +Nils. And that's why you hate him? + +Marten. Isn't that enough? (Somebody is heard knocking on the +door leading to the street.) Somebody is coming! Read, damn you! + +(Nils begins to drone out the same verse as before. The sound of +a key being inserted in the lock is heard. The door is opened +from the outside.) + +[Enter Olof, looking greatly agitated.] + +Mother (waking up). Father Marten! + +Olof (goes to the bed). Here is your son, mother! Why didn't you +let me know that you were sick? + +Mother. Farewell, Olof! I forgive you all the evil you have done +to me, if you will not disturb the few moments I need to prepare +myself for heaven. Father Marten! Bring here the sacred ointment, +so that I may die in peace. + +Olof. So that's why you didn't call me! (He catches sight of the +money bag which Marten has forgotten to hide, and snatches it +away from the monk.) Oh, souls are being bartered here! And this +was to be the price! Leave this room and this death-bed! Here is +my place, not yours! + +Marten. You mean to prevent us from fulfilling our office? + +Olof. I am showing you the door! + +Marten. As long as we are not suspended, we are doing our duty +here by the King's authority, and not by the Pope's. + +Olof. I shall cleanse the Church of the lord without regard to +the will of King or Pope. + +Mother. Will you plunge my soul into perdition, Olof? Will you +let me die with a curse? + +Olof. Calm yourself, mother! You are not going to die in a lie. +Seek your God in prayer, He is not so far away as you believe. + +Marten. A man who won't save his own mother from the pangs of +purgatory must be the Devil's prophet indeed. + +Mother. Christ Jesu, help my soul! + +Olof. Will you leave this room, or must I use force? Take away +that rubbish! (He kicks the ritual accessories across the floor.) + +Marten. I'll go if you'll let me have the money your mother has +given to the Church. + +Mother. So that's why you came, Olof? You wanted my gold! Let him +have it, Marten. I'll let you have all of it, Olof, if you will +only leave me in peace! I'll give you more than that! I'll let +you have everything! + +Olof (driven to despair). In God's name, take the money and go! I +beg you! + +Marten (grabbing the bag and going out with Nils). Where the +Devil is abroad, there our power ends, Dame Christine! (To Olof.) +As a heretic you are lost for all eternity! As a law-breaker you +will get your punishment right here! Beware of the King! [Exeunt.] + +Olof (kneeling beside his mother's bed). Mother, listen to me +before you die! (The Mother has lost consciousness.) Mother, +mother, if you are alive, speak to your son! Forgive me, but I +could not act except as I have done. I know you have been +suffering all your life for my sake. You have been praying to God +that I should keep His paths. The Lord has heard your prayer. Do +you want me now to render your whole life futile? Do you want me +now, by obeying you, to destroy that structure which has cost +you so much in toil and tears? Forgive me! + +Mother. Olof, my soul is no longer of this world--it's out of +another life I speak to you: turn back! Break that unclean bond +which ties your body only. Take back the faith you got from me, +and I will forgive you! + +Olof (weeping bitterly). Mother! Mother! + +Mother. Swear that you will do it! + +Olof (after long silence). No! + +Mother. The curse of God is upon you--I see Him--I see His angry +look--Help me, Holy Virgin! + +Olof. That is not the God of love! + +Mother. It is the God of retribution!--It is you who have +provoked His ire--and it is you who now cast me into the flames +of His wrath!--Cursed be the hour when I bore you! (She dies.) + +Olof. Mother! Mother! (He takes her hand.) She's dead! And she +has not forgiven me!--Oh, if your soul be still within this room, +behold your son: I will do your will, and what was sacred to you +shall be sacred to me! (He lights the tall wax candles left +behind by the friars and places them around the bed.) You shall +have the consecrated candles that are to light your road. (He +puts a palm leaf in her hand.) And with this palm of peace shall +come forgetfulness of that last struggle with what was earthly. +Oh, mother, if you see me now, then you must forgive me! (In the +meantime the sun has risen, and the red glow of its first rays +lights up the curtains; at the sight of it, Olof leaps to his +feet.) You make my candles fade, O morning sun! You have more +love than I! (He goes to the window and opens it.) + +Lars (entering softly and looking around surprised). Olof! + +Olof (putting his arms around him). Brother, all is over! +Lars (goes to the bed and kneels for a moment; then he rises +again). She is dead! (He prays silently.) You were here alone? + +Olof. It was you who let in the monks. + +Lars. And you who drove them out. + +Olof. That should have been your task. + +Lars. She forgave you? + +Olof. She died with a curse on her lips. (Pause.) + +Lars (pointing to the candles). Who arranged these ceremonies? +(Pause.) + +Olof (irritated and humiliated). I weakened for a moment. + +Lars. So you are human, after all? I thank you for it! + +Olof. Are you mocking my weakness? + +Lars. I am praising it. + +Olof. And I am cursing it!--God in heaven, am I not right? + +Lars. No, you are wrong. + +[Enter Christine while Lars is still speaking.] + +Christine. You are too much in the right! + +Olof. Christine, what are you doing here? + +Christine. It was so silent and lonesome at home. + +Olof. I asked you not to come here. + +Christine. I thought I might be of some use, but I see now-- +Another time I shall stay at home. + +Olof. You have been awake all night? + +Christine. That is nothing! I will go now if you tell me to! + +Olof. Go in there and rest a little while we talk. (Christine +begins absentmindedly to extinguish the candles.) + +Olof. What are you doing, dear? + +Christine. Why, it is full daylight. + +(Lars gives Olof a significant glance.) + +0lof. My mother is dead, Christine. + +Christine (as she goes to Olof to let him kiss her on the forehead, +the look on her face is compassionate but cold). I am sorry for +your loss. [Exit Christine.] + +(Pause. The brothers look for a moment in the direction where +she disappeared, then at each other.) + +Lars. I beg you, Olof, as your friend and brother, don't go on as +you have been doing. + +Olof. The old story! But he who has put his axe to the tree +cannot draw back until the tree is down. The King has betrayed +our cause. Now I will see what I can do for it. + +Lars. The King is wise. + +Olof. He is a miser, a traitor, and a protector of the nobility. +First he uses me to hunt his game, and then he wants to kick me +out. + +Lars. He sees farther than you do. If you were to go to three million +people, telling them: "Your faith is false; believe my words instead" +--do you think it possible that they would at once cast aside their +most intimate and most keenly experienced conviction, which until +then had been a support to them in sorrow as well as in joy? No, +the life of the soul would be in a bad condition, indeed, if all +the old things could be disposed of so quickly. + +Olof. But it is not so. The whole people is full of doubt. Among +the priests there is hardly one who knows what to believe--if he +cares to believe anything at all. Everything is ready for the +new, and it is only you who are to blame--you weaklings whose +consciences will not permit you to sow doubt where nothing but a +feeble faith remains. + +Lars. Look out, Olof! You wish to play the part of God. + +Olof. Well, that is what we must do, for I don't think that He +Himself intends to conic down to us any more. + +Lars. You are tearing down and tearing down, Olof, so that soon +there will be nothing left, and when people ask, "What do we get +instead?" you always answer, "Not this," "Not that," but never +once do you answer, "This." + +Olof. Presumptuous man! Do you think faith can be given by one to +another? Do you think that Luther has given us anything new? No! +He has merely torn away the screens that had been placed around +the light. The new that I want is doubt of the old, not because +it is old, but because it is decaying. (Lars points toward their +mother's body.) I know what you mean. She was too old, and I +thank God that she is dead. Now I am free--only now! God has +willed it! + +Lars. Either you have lost your senses, or you are a wicked man! + +Olof. Don't reproach me! I have as much respect for our mother's +memory as you have, but if she had not died now, I don't know how +far my sacrifices might have gone. Have you noticed in the +springtime, brother, how the fallen leaves of yesteryear cover +the ground as if to smother all the young; things that are coming +out? What do these do? They push aside the withered leaves, or +pass right through them, because they must get up! + +Lars. You are right to a certain extent.--Olof, you broke the +laws of the Church during a time of lawlessness and unrest. What +could be forgiven then must be punished now. Don't force the King +to appear worse than he is. Don't let your scorn for the law and +your wilfulness force him to punish a man to whom he acknowledges +himself indebted. + +Olof. Nothing is more wilful than his own rule, and he must learn +to tolerate the same thing in others. Tell me you have taken +service with the King--are you going to work against me? + +Lars. I am. + +Olof. Then we are enemies, and that is what I need, for the old +ones have disappeared. + +Lars. But the tie of blood, Olof-- + +Olof. I know it only in its source, which is the heart. + +Lars. Yet you wept for our mother. + +Olof. Weakness, or perhaps a touch of old devotion and gratitude, +but not because of the tie of blood. What is it, anyhow? + +Lars. You are tired out, Olof. + +Olof. Yes, I feel exhausted; I have been awake all night. + +Lars. You were so late in coming. + +Olof. I was out. + +Lars. Your doings seem to shun the daylight. + +Olof. The daylight shuns my doings. + +Lars. Beware of false apostles of freedom! + +Olof (struggling with sleepiness and fatigue). That's a self-contradictory +term. Oh, don't talk to me--I can't stand any more. I spoke so much +at our meeting--But you don't know about our society--Concordia res +parvae crescunt--We mean to continue the Reformation--Gert is a +farsighted man--I seem so small beside him--Good-night, Lars! +(He falls asleep on a chair.) + +Lars (stands looking at him with solicitude). Poor brother--may +God protect you! (Resounding blows on the street door are heard.) +What's that? (He goes to the window.) + +Gert (outside). For God's sake, open! + +Lars. Why, it isn't a matter of life and death, Father +Gert. [Exit.] + +Gert (outside). In God's name, let me in! + +[Enter Christine with a blanket.] + +Christine. Olof, why are they knocking like that? He's asleep! +(She wraps him up in the blanket.) Oh, that I were Sleep, so that +you might flee to me when tired out by your struggles! + +(The rattle of a heavy cart is heard; then the cart comes to a +stop outside the house.). + +0lof (waking up with a start). Is it five already? + +Christine. No, it is only three. + +Olof. Wasn't that a baker's cart I heard? + +Christine. I don't know, but I don't think it would make such a +noise. (She goes to the window.) Look, Olof! What can this he? + +Olof (going to the window). The headsman's cart!--No, it isn't +that. + +Christine. It is a hearse! + +[Enter Lars and Gert.] + +Lars. The plague! + +All. The plague! + +Gert. The plague is here! Christine, my child, leave this house! +The angel of death has put his mark upon the gate. + +Olof. Who sent the cart? + +Gert. The man who put the black cross on the door. No dead body +must be left a moment in the house. + +Olof. Then Marten was the angel of death--and all is nothing but +a lie. + +Gert. Look out of the window, and you'll see that the cart is +loaded full. (Blows are heard at the street door again.) +You hear! They're waiting! + +Olof. Without proper burial? That shall never be! + +Lars. Without ceremonies, Olof! + +Gert. Come away with me, Christine, from this dreadful place! +I'll take you out of the city to some healthier spot. + +Christine. I will stay with Olof after this. If you, father, had +loved me a little less, you would not have done so much harm. + +Gert. Olof, you who have the power, command her to follow me + +Olof. I set her free from your tyranny once, you selfish man, and +she shall never return to it again. + +Gert. Christine, get out of this house, at least! + +Christine. Not a step until Olof orders me. + +Olof. I will no longer order you at all, Christine--remember +that! + +[Enter several Buriers.] + +Burier. I've come for a body. No time to spare! + +Olof. Begone from here! + +Burier. The King's order! + +Lars. Consider what you do, Olof! The law demands it! + +Gert. This is no time to hesitate! The crazy mob is aroused +against you. This house was the first one to be marked, and they +are crying: "God's punishment upon the heretic!" + +Olof (kneeling beside the bed). Mother, forgive! (Rising.) Do +your duty! + +(The Buriers come forward and begin to get their ropes ready.) + +Gert (aside to Olof). "God's punishment upon the King" is our +cry! + + +ACT V + +SCENE I + +(The Cemetery of the Convent of St. Clara. In the background +appears a partly demolished convent building, from which a gang +of workmen are carrying out timber and debris. At the left is a +mortuary chapel. Its windows are lighted from within, and +whenever the door is opened, a brilliantly illuminated crucifix +on the chancel wall, with a sarcophagus standing in front of it, +becomes visible. A number of the graves have been opened. The +moon is just rising from behind the ruined convent. Windrank is +seated outside the chapel door. Singing is heard from within the +chapel.) + +[Enter Nils.] + +Nils (goes up to Windrank). Good evening, Windrank. + +Windrank. Please don't talk to me. + +Nils. What's the matter now? + +Windrank. Didn't you hear what I told you? + +Nils. Has your scurvy ending as a skipper affected you so badly +that you think of turning monk? + +Windrank. 52, 53, 54, 55, 56, 57. + +Nils. You haven't lost your reason, have you? + +Windrank. 58, 59, 60--In the name of Jesu, get away from here! + +Nils. You had better have a little nightcap with me. + +Windrank. 64, 65--That's what I expected! Get you gone, tempter! +I'll never take a drink again--until the day after to-morrow. + +Nils. But it's a fine remedy against the plague, and with all +this cadaverous stuff about, you had better be careful. + +Windrank. 70--So you really think it's good for the plague? + +Nils. Excellent! + +Windrank. Only a drop, then! (He drinks from the bottle offered +him by Nils.) + +Nils. Only a drop! But tell me, are you suffering from vertigo +since you are counting to a hundred? + +Windrank. Hush! Hush! There's an epoch coming. + +Nils. An epoch? + +Windrank. Yes, the day after to-morrow. + +Nils. And that's why you keep counting like that? + +Windrank. No, it's only because I find it so hard to hold my +tongue. Now, for heaven's sake, keep quiet! Please go away, or +you'll get me into trouble!--71, 72, 73. + +Nils. Who's inside? + +Windrank. 74, 75. + +Nils. Is it a funeral? + +Windrank. 76, 77.--Go to hell, won't you! + +Nils. Just another tiny drop, and the counting will be easier. + +Windrank. Just a little one--I will! (He drinks. Singing is heard +outside.) + +Nils. Here come the nuns of St. Clara to celebrate the memory of +their saint for the last time. + +Windrank. That's fine mummery in days like these when everybody +is getting educated. + +Nils. They have obtained the King's permission. You see, the +plague broke out in the parish of St. Clara, and some believe it +was because of the godless destruction of St. Clara's convent. + +Windrank. And now they mean to drive away the plague with +singing--as if that bugaboo were a hater of music. But, of +course, it wouldn't be a wonder if he did flee from their +hoarse screeching. + +Nils. Will you please tell me who has dared to invade this last +sanctuary--for it's here the bones of the Saint are to be +deposited before the place is torn down entirely. + +Windrank. Then there'll be a fight, I fear. + +[The singing has drawn nearer. A procession enters, made up of +Dominican friars and Franciscan nuns, headed by Marten. They +come to a halt and continue singing, while the workmen are making +a great deal of noise in the background.] + +Procession. + Cur super vermes luteos furorem + Sunnis, O magni fabricator orbis! + Quid sumus quam fex, putris, umbra, pulvis + Glebaque terrae! + +Marten (to the Abbess). You can see, my sister, how the abode of +the Lord has been despoiled. + +Abbess. The Lord who has delivered us into the hands of the +Egyptians will also set its free in due time. + +Marten (to the workmen). Cease working, and do not disturb our +pious task! + +Overseer. Our orders are to work day and night until this den has +been torn down. + +Abbess. Alas, that unbelief has spread so far down among the +people! + +Marten. We are celebrating this feast with the permission of the +King. + +Overseer. Well, I don't mind! + +Marten. And therefore I command you to cease your noise. I'll +appeal directly to your workmen, whom you have forced into this +shameless undertaking.--I'll ask them if they have any respect +whatever left for holy-- + +Overseer. You had better not, for I am in command here. +Furthermore, I can tell you that they are glad enough to have a +chance of tearing down these hornets' nests for which they +themselves have had to pay--and then, too, they are pretty +thankful to earn something during a time of famine. (He goes +toward the background.) + +Marten. Let us forget the wickedness and tumult of this world. +Let us enter the sacred place and pray for them. + +Abbess. Lord, Lord, the cities of Thy sanctuary are laid waste! +Zion is laid waste, and Jerusalem is lying desolate! + +Windrank. 100.--Nobody can get in here! + +The Conspirators (within the chapel). We swear! + +Marten. Who has dared to invade the chapel? + +Windrank. It's no more a chapel since it has become a royal +storehouse. + +Abbess. That's why the godless one gave us his permission! + +[The door of the chapel is thrown open and the conspirators +appear; among them Olof, Lars Andersson, Gert, the German, the +Dane, the Man from Smaland, and others.] + +Olof (much excited). What kind of buffoonery is this? + +Marten. Make way for the handmaidens of St. Clara! + +Olof. Do you think your idols can keep away the plague that God +has sent you as a punishment? Do you think the Lord will find +those pieces of bone you carry in the box there so pleasant that +He forgives all your dreadful sins? Take away that abomination! +(He takes the reliquary from the Abbess and throws it into one of +the open graves.) From dust you have come, and to dust you shall +return, even if your name was Sancta Clara da Spoleto and you ate +only three ounces of bread a day and slept among the swine at +night! (The nuns scream.) + +Marten. If you fear not what is holy, fear at least your temporal +ruler. Look here! He has still so much respect left for divine +things that he dreads the wrath of the saint. (He shows a +document to Olof.) + +Olof. Do you know what the Lord did with the king of the +Assyrians when he permitted the worship of idols? He smote him +and all his people. Thus the righteous is made to suffer with the +unrighteous. In the name of the one omnipotent God, I declare +this worship of Baal abolished, even if all the kings of the +earth give their permit. The Pope wanted to sell my soul to +Satan, but I tore the contract to pieces--you remember? Should I +then fear a King who wants to sell his people to the Baalim? (He +tears the document to pieces.) + +Marten (to his followers). You are my witnesses that he has +defamed the King. + +Olof (to his followers). And you are my witnesses before God that +I have led the people of a godless King away from him! + +Marten. Listen, ye faithful! It is because of this heretic that +God has smitten us with the plague--it is the punishment of God, +and it fell first of all on his mother. + +Olof. Listen, ye faithless papists! It was the punishment of the +Lord on me because I had served Sennacherib against Judah. I will +atone my crime by leading Judah against the kings of the +Assyrians and the Egyptians. + +(The moon has risen in the meantime. It is very red, and a fiery +glare pervades the place. The crowd is frightened.) + +Olof (mounting one of the graves). Heaven is weeping blood over +your sins and your idolatry. Punishment shall be meted out, for +those in authority have fallen into wrongdoing. Can't you see +that the very graves are yawning for prey-- + +(Gert seizes Olof by the arm, whispers to him, and leads him down +from the mound. The crowd is panic-stricken.) + +Abbess. Give us back our reliquary, so that we may abandon this +home of desolation. + +Marten. It is better to let the bones of the Saint remain in this +consecrated soil than to have them touched by the vile hands of +heretics! + +Olof. You are afraid of the plague, cowards that you are! Is your +faith in the sacred bones no stronger? + +(Gert whispers to Olof again. The procession has in the meantime +scattered, so that only a part of it remains on the stage.) + +Olof (to Marten). Now you should be satisfied, you hypocrite! Go +and tell him whom you serve that a box of silver is about to be +buried here, and he'll dig it out of the earth with his own +nails. Tell him that the moon, which is usually made of silver, +has turned into gold, merely to make your master raise his eyes +toward heaven for once. Tell him that you, by your blasphemous +buffooneries, have succeeded in provoking an honest man's wrath-- + +[Exeunt Marten and the members of the procession.] + +Gert. Enough, Olof! (To all the conspirators except Olof and +Lars.) Leave us, please! + +[Exeunt the conspirators, exchanging whispers.] + +Gert (to Olof and Lars). It's too late to back down now! + +Olof. What do you want, Gert--speak! + +Gert (showing them a bound volume). Before you two, servants of +God, a people steps forth to make its confession. Do you +acknowledge your oath? + +Olof and Lars. We have sworn! + +Gert. This book is the result of my silent labors. On every page +you will find a cry of distress, a sigh from thousands who have +been blind enough to think it God's will that they should suffer +the tyranny of one man--who have thought it their duty not even +to hope for liberation. (Olof takes the volume and begins to +read.) You shall hear complaints all the way from the primeval +forests of Norrland down to the Sound. Out of the wreckage from +the churches the King is building new castles for the nobility +and new prisons for the people. You shall read how the King is +bartering away law and justice by letting murderers escape their +punishment if they seek refuge at the salt-works. You shall read +how he is taxing vice by letting harlots pay for the right to ply +their traffic. Yea, the very fishes of the rivers, the water of +the sea itself, have been usurped by him. But the end is in +sight. The eyes of the people have been opened. There is seething +and fermenting everywhere. Soon the tyranny will be crushed, and +the people shall be free! + +Olof. Who wrote the songs in this book? + +Gert. The people! These are songs of the people--so they sing who +feel the yoke pressing. I have visited city and country, asking +them: "Are you happy?" These are the answers! I have held +assizes. Here are the verdicts entered. Do you believe that a +million wills may conquer one? Do you believe that God has +bestowed this land with all its human souls and all its property +upon a single man, for him to deal with as it suits his pleasure? +Or do you not rather believe that he should do the will of all?-- +You do not answer? You are awed, I see, by the thought that it +may come to an end! Listen to my confession! Tomorrow the +oppressor dies, and you shall all be free! + +Olof and Lars. What are you saying? + +Gert. You didn't understand what I was talking about at our +meetings. + +Olof. You have deceived us! + +Gert. Not at all! You are perfectly free. Two voices less mean +nothing. Everything is prepared. + +Lars. Have you considered the consequences? + +Gert. Fool! Is it not for the sake of the consequences that I +have done all this? + +Olof. Supposing Gert be right--what do you say, Lars? + +Lars. I wasn't born to lead. + +Olof. All are born to lead, but all are not willing to sacrifice +the flesh. + +Gert. Only he who has the courage to face scorn and ridicule can +lead. For hatred is as nothing compared with the laughter that +kills. + +Olof. And if it should miscarry? + +Gert. Dare to face that, too! You don't know that Thomas Munster +has established a new spiritual kingdom at Muhlhausen. You don't +know that all Europe is in revolt. Who was Dacke, if not a +defender of the oppressed? What have the Dalecarlians meant by +all their rebellions, if not to defend their freedom against him +who broke his plighted faith? He does such things and goes +unpunished, but when they want to defend themselves, then he +raises the cry of revolt and treason. + +Olof. So this is the point to which you wanted to lead me, Gert? + +Gert. Have you not been led here by the current? You will, but do +not dare! To-morrow, in the church, the mine will go off, and +that will be a signal for the people to rise and choose a ruler +after their own heart. + +Olof (turning over the leaves of the book). If it be the will of +all, then nobody can stop it. Gert, let me take this book to the +King and show him what is the will of his people, and he will +grant them their rights. + +Gert. Oh, you child! For a moment he may be scared, and perhaps +restore a silver pitcher to some church. Then he'll point toward +heaven and say: "It is not by my own will that I sit here and do +you wrong, but by the will of God!" + +Olof. Then the will of God be done! + +Gert. But how? + +Olof. He must die that all may live. Murderer, ingrate, traitor-- +those will be my names, perchance. I am sacrificing everything, +even my honor, my conscience, and my faith--could I possibly give +more for those pitiable ones who are crying for salvation? Let us +go ere I repent! + +Gert. Even if you did, it would already be too late. Don't you +know that Marten is a spy, and perhaps sentence has already been +pronounced against the rebel! + +Olof. Well, I won't repent--and why should I repent of an act +that implies the carrying out of God's own judgment? Forward, +then, in the name of the Lord. [Exeunt.] + +[Enter Harlot, who kneels at a grave which she has strewn with +flowers.] + +Harlot. Hast Thou punished me enough now, O Lord, to pardon me? + +[Enter Christine quickly.] + +Christine. Have you seen Master Olof, goodwife? + +Harlot. Are you his friend or his enemy? + +Christine. Do you mean to insult me? + +Harlot. Pardon me! I haven't seen him since the last time I +prayed. + +Christine. You look so sorrowful! Oh, I know you now! It was you +to whom Olof was talking that night in Greatchurch. + +Harlot. You mustn't let it be seen that you are talking to me. +You don't know who I am, do you? + +Christine. Oh, yes, I know. + +Harlot. You know--so they have told you? + +Christine. Olof told me. + +Harlot. O my God! And don't you despise me? + +Christine. You are an unfortunate, down-trodden woman, Olof told +me. Why should I despise misfortune? + +Harlot. Then you cannot be happy yourself? + +Christine. No, we have shared the same fate. + +Harlot. I am not the only one, then! Tell me, who was the +worthless man to whom you gave your love? + +Christine. Worthless? + +Harlot. Oh, pardon--to one who loves, no one seems worthless! To +whom did you give your love? + +Christine. You know Master Olof, don't you? + +Harlot. Oh, tell me that it is not true! Don't rob me of my faith +in him, too! It is the only thing I have left since God took my +child! + +Christine. You have had a child? Then you have been happy once. + +Harlot. I thank God, who did not permit my son to find out the +unworthiness of his mother. + +Christine. Have you been guilty of any crime, that you speak so? + +Harlot. I have just buried it. + +Christine. Your child? How can you! And I pray God every day to +grant me a little one--so that I may at least have one creature +to love! + +Harlot. Oh, poor child, pray to God that He preserve you from it! + +Christine. I don't understand you, goodwife! + +Harlot. Don't call me that! You know who I am, don't you? + +Christine. Well, don't they offer prayers in the churches for +those who have hopes? + +Harlot. Not for such as we! + +Christine. Such as we? + +Harlot. They pray for the others and curse us. + +Christine. What do you mean by "the others"? I don't understand +you at all. + +Harlot. Do you know the wife of Master Olof? + +Christine. Why, that is I! + +Harlot. You? Oh, why didn't I guess at once? Can you forgive me a +moment's doubt? How could vice look like you and him? Alas! You +must leave me. You are a child, still ignorant of wickedness. You +must not be talking to me longer. God bless you! Good-bye! (She +starts to leave.) + +Christine. Don't leave me! Whoever you be, for God's sake, stay! +They have broken into our house, and my husband is not to be +found. Take me away from here--home to yourself--anywhere. You +must be a good woman--you cannot be wicked-- + +Harlot (interrupting her). If I tell you that the brutality of +the crowd wouldn't hurt you half so much as my company, then +perhaps you will forgive me for leaving-- + +Christine. Who are you? + +Harlot. I am an outcast on whom has been fulfilled that curse +which God hurled at woman after the fall of our first parents. +Ask me no more, for if I told you more, your contempt would goad +me to a self-defence that would be still more contemptible.--Here +comes somebody who perhaps will be generous enough to escort you, +if you promise to let him have your honor and virtue and eternal +peace for his trouble--for that is probably the least he will +accept for his protection at such a late hour as this! Please +forgive me--it is not at you that I am railing. + +[Enter Windrank, intoxicated.] + +Windrank. Why the devil can't a fellow be left alone, even here +among the corpses? See here, my good ladies, please don't ask me +anything, for now I can't guarantee that I won't answer. The day +after to-morrow I'll tell you all about it, for then it'll be too +late. Perhaps you're some of those nuns that have been made +homeless? Well, although women are nothing but women, I don't +think I have any right to be impolite, for all that the sun set +long ago. Of course, there is an old law saying that nobody can +be arrested after sunset, but though the law is a bugbear, I +think it's too polite to insist on anything when it's a question +of ladies. Hush, hush, tongue! Why, the old thing is going like a +spinning-wheel, but that comes from that infernal gin! Why should +I be dragged into this kind of thing? Of course, I'll get well +paid and be a man of means, but don't believe that I am doing it +for the sake of the money! It's done now, but I don't want to--I +don't want to! I want to sleep in peace nights and have no ghosts +to trouble me. Suppose I goo and tell? No, then they'll arrest +me. Suppose somebody else would go and tell? Perhaps one of you +nuns might be so kind as to do it? + +Christine (who has been conferring with the, Harlot). If you have +anything on your conscience that troubles you, please tell us. + +Windrank. Am I to tell? That's just what I want to get out of, +but this is horrible, and I can't stand it any longer. I am +forced to do it. Why should I be the one? I don't want to. + +Christine. My dear man, you mean to commit-- + +Windrank. A murder. Who told you? Well, thank God that you +know! By all means, go ahead and tell about it--at once--or I'll +have no peace--no peace in all eternity! + +Christine (recovering from the first shock). Why should you +murder him? + +Windrank. Oh, there are such a lot of reasons. Just look at the +way he is tearing down your nunneries. + +Christine. The King? + +Windrank. Yes, of course! The father and liberator of his +country! Of course, he's an oppressor, but that's no reason why +he should be murdered. + +Christine. When is it going to happen? + +Windrank. Why, to-morrow--in Greatchurch--right in church! [At a +signal from Christine, the Harlot leaves.] + +Christine. How could they pick you for such a deed? + +Windrank. Well, you see, I gave a connection or two among the +church attendants, and then I am poor, of course. What the devil +does it matter who puts the match to the powder, if only some +shrewd fellow is pointing the gun? And then we have several other +little schemes in reserve, although I'm to fire the first shot. +But why don't you run off and tell about it? + +Christine. It has already been done. + +Windrank. Well, God be thanked and praised! Goodbye, there goes +all my money! + +Christine. Tell me who you are, you conspirators. + +Windrank. No, that I won't tell! + +[Enter Nils. He crosses the stage followed by a troop of soldiers +and a crowd of people.] + +Christine. Do you see that they are already looking for you? + +Windrank. I wash my hands of it. + +Nils (goes up to Windrank without noticing Christine). Have you +seen Olof Pedersson? + +Windrank. Why? + +Nils. Because he is wanted. + +Windrank. No, I haven't seen him. Are there others wanted? + +Nils. Yes, many. + +Windrank. No, I haven't seen any of them. + +Nils. Well, it will soon be your turn. [Exit.] + +Christine. Are they looking for the conspirators? + +Windrank. What a question! Now I'm going to clear out. Good-bye! + +Christine. Tell me before you go-- + +Windrank. Haven't time! + +Christine. Is Master Olof one of them? + +Windrank. Of course! (Christine sinks down unconscious on one of +the graves. Windrank is suddenly sobered and genuinely moved.) +Good Lord in heaven, it must be his wife! (He goes to Christine.) +I think I've killed her! Oh, Hans, Hans, all you can do now is to +get a rope for yourself! What business did you have to get mixed +up with the high and mighty?--Come here, somebody, and help a +poor woman! + +[Enter Olof, led by soldiers carrying torches as he catches sight +of Christine, he tears himself loose and throws himself on his +knees beside her.] + +Olof. Christine! + +Christine. Olof! You're alive! Come away from here and let us go +home! + +Olof (overwhelmed). It's too late! + + +SCENE 2 + +(Within Greatchurch. Olof and Gert, dressed as penitents, stand in +the pillory near the entrance. The organ is playing and the bells +are ringing. The service is just ended, and the people are +leaving the church. The Sexton and his wife are standing by +themselves in a corner near the footlights.) + +Sexton. Lars the Chancellor, he was pardoned, but not Master +Olof. + +Wife. The Chancellor has always been a man of peace and has never +stirred up any trouble, so I can't understand how he could want +to have anything to do with such dreadful things. + +Sexton. The Chancellor has always had a queer streak, although he +has never said much, and though he was pardoned, it cost him +everything he had. I can't help being sorry for Master Olof; +I have always had a liking for him, even though he has been a +fire-brand. + +Wife. Well, what's the use of making a young fellow like that +pastor? + +Sexton. Of course, he's rather young, and that has been his main +fault, but I'm sure time will cure it. + +Wife. What nonsense you are talking, seeing that he's going to +die to-day. + +Sexton. Well, Lord, Lord, if I hadn't clean forgotten about it! +But then it doesn't seem quite right to me, either. + +Wife. Do you know if he has repented? + +Sexton. I doubt very much, for I am sure his neck is just as +stiff as ever. + +Wife. But I suppose he'll thaw out a little now, when he sees his +class of children whom they wouldn't let him prepare for +confirmation. + +Sexton. Well, I must say that the King can be pretty mean when he +turns that side to. Now he is making the pastor do church penance +the very same day his children are being confirmed. It's almost +as bad as when he made the dean drink with the headsman, or when +he sent those two prelates riding through the city with crowns of +birch bark on their heads. + +Wife. And his own brother Lars has been sent to shrive him. + +Sexton. See, here come the children! How sad they're looking-- +well, I don't wonder. I think I'll have to go in and have a cry +myself-- + +(Enter the children about to be confirmed, boys and girls. They +begin to march past Olof, carrying bunches of flowers in their +hands. They look sad and keep their eyes on the ground. A number +of older people accompany the children. A few curious persons +point out Olof and are rebuked by others. Last of all the +children in the procession comes Vilhelm, one of the scholars +with whom Olof was seen playing in the First Act. He stops +timidly in front of him, kneels, and drops his bunch of flowers +at the feet of Olof, who does not notice it because he has pulled +down the hood of his penitential robe so that it hides his face. +Some of the people mutter disapprovingly, while others show signs +of pleasure. Marten comes forward to take away the flowers, but +is pushed back by the crowd. Soldiers clear a path for Lars +Pedersson, who appears in canonicals. The crowd disappears +gradually, leaving Lars, Olof, and Gert alone on the stage. The +playing of the organ ceases, but the bells continue to toll.) + +Lars. Olof, the King has refused to listen to the petition for +pardon submitted by the City Corporation. Are you prepared to +die? + +Olof. I am not able to think so far. + +Lars. I have been ordered to prepare you. + +Olof. That will have to be done in haste, for my blood is still +running quickly through my veins. + +Lars. Have you repented? + +Olof. No! + +Lars. Do you want to pass into eternity with an unforgiving mind? + +Olof. Oh, put aside the formulas, if you want me to listen to +you. I can't think that I am going to die now--there 's far too +much of life and strength left in me. + +Lars. I must tell you that I don't think so either, and that it +is for a new life in this world I am trying to prepare you. + +Olof. Then I may live? + +Lars. If you will admit that you were mistaken in the past, and +if you will take back what you have said about the King. + +Olof. How could I? That would be to die indeed! + +Lars. This was what I had to tell you. Now you must decide for +yourself. + +Olof. One doesn't parley about one's convictions. + +Lars. Even a mistake may turn into conviction. I shall +leave you to think the matter over. [Exit.] + +Gert. Our harvest wasn't ready. It takes a lot of snow +to make the fall crops ripen--nay, centuries must pass before you +will even see the first shoots. All the conspirators are under +arrest, they say, and te deums are sung on that account. But they +are mistaken; conspirators are abroad everywhere--in the royal +apartments, in the churches, and in the market-places--but they +dare not do what we have dared. And yet they'll reach that point +some time. Good-bye, Olof! You must live a little longer, for you +are young. I shall die with the utmost pleasure. The name of +every new martyr becomes the rallying-cry for a new host. Don't +believe that a human soul was ever set on fire by a lie. Don't +ever distrust those feelings that shake you to your inmost soul +when you have seen some one suffer spiritual or physical +oppression. If the whole world tell you that you are wrong, +believe your own heart just the same--if you are brave enough to +do so. The day when you deny your self--then you are dead, and +eternal perdition will seem a mercy to one who, has been guilty +of the sin against the Holy Ghost. + +Olof. You speak of my release as though it were a certainty. + +Gert. The Corporation has offered 500 ducats for your ransom, and +if it cost only 2000 to get Birgitta declared a saint, then 500 +should suffice to get you declared guiltless. The King doesn't +dare to take your life! + +[Enter the Lord High Constable, followed by the Headsman and +soldiers.] + +Constable. Take away Gert the Printer. + +Gert (to Olof, as he is being led away). Good-bye, Olof! Take +care of my daughter, and don't ever forget the great Whitsunday! + +Constable. Master Olof, you are a young man who has been led +astray. The King will pardon you for the sake of your youth, but +as a safeguard he demands a retraction wherein you take back +whatever you have ventured beyond and against his orders. + +Olof. Then the King is still in need of me? + +Constable. There are many more who need you, but don't rely on +his mercy until you have fulfilled his condition. Here is the +King's warrant. In a moment your fetters may be shed, if so be +your will, but it will be just as easy to tear up this sheet of +paper. + +Olof. One who contents himself with 500 ducats is not likely to +care very much for a retraction-- + +Constable. That is a lie! The headsman is waiting for you. But +pray listen to a few words from an old man. I, too, have been +young, and moved by strong passions. They belong to youth; but +those passions are meant to be killed. I did as you do. I went +around telling the truth, and all I got in return was ingratitude, +or, at the best, a smile of derision. I, too, wanted to build +a little heaven here on earth--(speaking with marked emphasis) +of course, on other foundations than yours--but soon I came +to my senses, and the chimeras were sent packing. I have no +desire to make you out a man wishing to gain notoriety by getting +himself talked about--I don't believe anything of the kind. You +are moved by good intentions, but they are such as must cause +harm. Your blood is hot, and it blinds you because you exercise +no self-control. You preach freedom, and you are plunging +thousands into the slavery of license. Retrace your steps, young +man, and make atonement for your errors! Restore what you have +torn down, and your fellow-men will bless you! + +Olof (agitated to a point of desperation). It is the truth you +speak; I hear it, but who taught you to speak like that? + +Constable. Experience--that which you lack! + +Olof. Can I have lived and fought for a lie? Must I now declare +my whole youth and the best part of my manhood lost, useless, +wasted? Oh, let me rather die together with my mistake! + +Constable. You should have broken loose from your dreams earlier. +But calm yourself! Your life is still ahead of you. The past has +been a school--hard, to be sure, but all the more wholesome. +Hitherto you have given your life to whims and follies. Now you +have some inkling of what reality demands of you. Outside that +door your creditors are waiting with their claims. Here are their +bills. The clergy of the young Church demand that you live to +finish what you have begun so splendidly. The City Corporation +demands its secretary for the Council. The congregation demands +its shepherd. The children of the confirmation class demand their +teacher. Those are your legal creditors. But there is one more +waiting outside, to whom perhaps you owe more than all the rest, +and who yet demands nothing at all--your young wife. You have +torn her from her father's side and set her adrift in the storm. +You have broken down her childhood faith and filled her mind with +restlessness. Your reckless deeds have goaded the brutal mob into +driving her out of her own home. Yet she does not even demand +your love: all she asks of you is permission to spend a life of +suffering by your side.--Now you can see that we, too, give a +little consideration to other people, although you call us +selfish.--Let me open this door, which will lead you back into +the world. Discipline your heart before it hardens, and thank God +for granting you more time to work for mankind. + +Olof (breaking into tears). I am lost! + +(Constable gives a sign to the Headsman, who removes the fetters +and the garb of penitence from Olof; then the Constable opens the +door to the sacristy, and delegates from the lords, the clergy, +and the city guilds enter.) + +Constable. Olof Pedersson, formerly pastor of the city church at +Stockholm, do you hereby repent of your misdeeds and retract what +you have said beyond and against the King's order? Do you declare +your willingness to keep your oath to the sovereign of this +realm, and to serve him faithfully? + +(Olof remains silent. Lars Pedersson and Christine approach him, +while many of those present make pleading gestures.) + +Olof (in a cold and determined voice). Yes! + +Constable. In the name of the King, I set you free! + +(Olof and Christine embrace. A number of persons come forward to +press his hand and utter words of congratulation.) + +Olof (in the same cold voice). Before I leave this room, let me +be alone a moment with my God. I need it! Once upon a time I +struck the first blow right here, and here-- + +Lars. Right here you have won your greatest victory this very +day! + +(All leave the room except Olof, who falls on his knees.) + +[Enter Vilhelm cautiously. He looks very much surprised at seeing +Olof alone and free.] + +Vilhelm. I come to bid you farewell, Master Olof, before you pass +on to another life. + +Olof (rising). You have not deserted me, Vilhelm! Help me, then, +to mourn those happy moments of my youth that are now nothing but +a memory! + +Vilhelm. Before you die I want to thank you for all that you have +done for us. It was I who gave you those flowers, which you +haven't noticed.--They have been trampled on, I see. I wanted to +bring you a reminder of the days when we were playing under the +lindens in the convent close at Strangnas. I thought it might do +you good to hear that we have never thanked God, as you said we +would, because you didn't return to us. We have never forgotten +you, for it was you who relieved us of those cruel penances, and +it was you who flung open the heavy convent doors and gave us +back our freedom and the blue sky and the happiness of living. +Why you must die, we do not know, but _you_ could never do +anything wrong. And if you die because you have rendered help to +some of those that were oppressed, as they tell us, then you +should not be sorry, although it hurts very, very much. Once you +told us how Hus was burned because he had dared to tell the truth +to those in power. You told us how he went to the stake and +joyfully commended himself into the hands of God, and how he +prophesied about the swan that should come singing new songs in +praise of awakened freedom. That's the way I have thought that +you would meet your death--with your head thrown back, and your +eyes toward the sky, and the people crying: "So dies a witness!" + +(Olof leans against the pillory, his face showing how the words +of Vilhelm strike home to him.) + +Gert (his voice heard from a distant part of the church.) +Renegade! + +(Olof sinks down overwhelmed at the foot of the pillory.) + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Master Olof: A Drama in Five Acts. +by August Strindberg + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MASTER OLOF: A DRAMA IN FIVE ACTS. *** + +This file should be named 7olof10.txt or 7olof10.zip +Corrected EDITIONS of our eBooks get a new NUMBER, 7olof11.txt +VERSIONS based on separate sources get new LETTER, 7olof10a.txt + +Produced by Nicole Apostola + +Project Gutenberg eBooks are often created from several printed +editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the US +unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we usually do not +keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition. + +We are now trying to release all our eBooks one year in advance +of the official release dates, leaving time for better editing. +Please be encouraged to tell us about any error or corrections, +even years after the official publication date. + +Please note neither this listing nor its contents are final til +midnight of the last day of the month of any such announcement. +The official release date of all Project Gutenberg eBooks is at +Midnight, Central Time, of the last day of the stated month. A +preliminary version may often be posted for suggestion, comment +and editing by those who wish to do so. + +Most people start at our Web sites at: +http://gutenberg.net or +http://promo.net/pg + +These Web sites include award-winning information about Project +Gutenberg, including how to donate, how to help produce our new +eBooks, and how to subscribe to our email newsletter (free!). + + +Those of you who want to download any eBook before announcement +can get to them as follows, and just download by date. This is +also a good way to get them instantly upon announcement, as the +indexes our cataloguers produce obviously take a while after an +announcement goes out in the Project Gutenberg Newsletter. + +http://www.ibiblio.org/gutenberg/etext03 or +ftp://ftp.ibiblio.org/pub/docs/books/gutenberg/etext03 + +Or /etext02, 01, 00, 99, 98, 97, 96, 95, 94, 93, 92, 92, 91 or 90 + +Just search by the first five letters of the filename you want, +as it appears in our Newsletters. + + +Information about Project Gutenberg (one page) + +We produce about two million dollars for each hour we work. The +time it takes us, a rather conservative estimate, is fifty hours +to get any eBook selected, entered, proofread, edited, copyright +searched and analyzed, the copyright letters written, etc. Our +projected audience is one hundred million readers. If the value +per text is nominally estimated at one dollar then we produce $2 +million dollars per hour in 2002 as we release over 100 new text +files per month: 1240 more eBooks in 2001 for a total of 4000+ +We are already on our way to trying for 2000 more eBooks in 2002 +If they reach just 1-2% of the world's population then the total +will reach over half a trillion eBooks given away by year's end. + +The Goal of Project Gutenberg is to Give Away 1 Trillion eBooks! +This is ten thousand titles each to one hundred million readers, +which is only about 4% of the present number of computer users. + +Here is the briefest record of our progress (* means estimated): + +eBooks Year Month + + 1 1971 July + 10 1991 January + 100 1994 January + 1000 1997 August + 1500 1998 October + 2000 1999 December + 2500 2000 December + 3000 2001 November + 4000 2001 October/November + 6000 2002 December* + 9000 2003 November* +10000 2004 January* + + +The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation has been created +to secure a future for Project Gutenberg into the next millennium. + +We need your donations more than ever! + +As of February, 2002, contributions are being solicited from people +and organizations in: Alabama, Alaska, Arkansas, Connecticut, +Delaware, District of Columbia, Florida, Georgia, Hawaii, Illinois, +Indiana, Iowa, Kansas, Kentucky, Louisiana, Maine, Massachusetts, +Michigan, Mississippi, Missouri, Montana, Nebraska, Nevada, New +Hampshire, New Jersey, New Mexico, New York, North Carolina, Ohio, +Oklahoma, Oregon, Pennsylvania, Rhode Island, South Carolina, South +Dakota, Tennessee, Texas, Utah, Vermont, Virginia, Washington, West +Virginia, Wisconsin, and Wyoming. + +We have filed in all 50 states now, but these are the only ones +that have responded. + +As the requirements for other states are met, additions to this list +will be made and fund raising will begin in the additional states. +Please feel free to ask to check the status of your state. + +In answer to various questions we have received on this: + +We are constantly working on finishing the paperwork to legally +request donations in all 50 states. If your state is not listed and +you would like to know if we have added it since the list you have, +just ask. + +While we cannot solicit donations from people in states where we are +not yet registered, we know of no prohibition against accepting +donations from donors in these states who approach us with an offer to +donate. + +International donations are accepted, but we don't know ANYTHING about +how to make them tax-deductible, or even if they CAN be made +deductible, and don't have the staff to handle it even if there are +ways. + +Donations by check or money order may be sent to: + +Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation +PMB 113 +1739 University Ave. +Oxford, MS 38655-4109 + +Contact us if you want to arrange for a wire transfer or payment +method other than by check or money order. + +The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation has been approved by +the US Internal Revenue Service as a 501(c)(3) organization with EIN +[Employee Identification Number] 64-622154. Donations are +tax-deductible to the maximum extent permitted by law. As fund-raising +requirements for other states are met, additions to this list will be +made and fund-raising will begin in the additional states. + +We need your donations more than ever! + +You can get up to date donation information online at: + +http://www.gutenberg.net/donation.html + + +*** + +If you can't reach Project Gutenberg, +you can always email directly to: + +Michael S. Hart <hart@pobox.com> + +Prof. Hart will answer or forward your message. + +We would prefer to send you information by email. + + +**The Legal Small Print** + + +(Three Pages) + +***START**THE SMALL PRINT!**FOR PUBLIC DOMAIN EBOOKS**START*** +Why is this "Small Print!" statement here? You know: lawyers. +They tell us you might sue us if there is something wrong with +your copy of this eBook, even if you got it for free from +someone other than us, and even if what's wrong is not our +fault. So, among other things, this "Small Print!" statement +disclaims most of our liability to you. It also tells you how +you may distribute copies of this eBook if you want to. + +*BEFORE!* YOU USE OR READ THIS EBOOK +By using or reading any part of this PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm +eBook, you indicate that you understand, agree to and accept +this "Small Print!" statement. If you do not, you can receive +a refund of the money (if any) you paid for this eBook by +sending a request within 30 days of receiving it to the person +you got it from. If you received this eBook on a physical +medium (such as a disk), you must return it with your request. + +ABOUT PROJECT GUTENBERG-TM EBOOKS +This PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm eBook, like most PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm eBooks, +is a "public domain" work distributed by Professor Michael S. Hart +through the Project Gutenberg Association (the "Project"). +Among other things, this means that no one owns a United States copyright +on or for this work, so the Project (and you!) can copy and +distribute it in the United States without permission and +without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, set forth +below, apply if you wish to copy and distribute this eBook +under the "PROJECT GUTENBERG" trademark. + +Please do not use the "PROJECT GUTENBERG" trademark to market +any commercial products without permission. + +To create these eBooks, the Project expends considerable +efforts to identify, transcribe and proofread public domain +works. Despite these efforts, the Project's eBooks and any +medium they may be on may contain "Defects". Among other +things, Defects may take the form of incomplete, inaccurate or +corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other +intellectual property infringement, a defective or damaged +disk or other eBook medium, a computer virus, or computer +codes that damage or cannot be read by your equipment. + +LIMITED WARRANTY; DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES +But for the "Right of Replacement or Refund" described below, +[1] Michael Hart and the Foundation (and any other party you may +receive this eBook from as a PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm eBook) disclaims +all liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including +legal fees, and [2] YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE OR +UNDER STRICT LIABILITY, OR FOR BREACH OF WARRANTY OR CONTRACT, +INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE +OR INCIDENTAL DAMAGES, EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE +POSSIBILITY OF SUCH DAMAGES. + +If you discover a Defect in this eBook within 90 days of +receiving it, you can receive a refund of the money (if any) +you paid for it by sending an explanatory note within that +time to the person you received it from. If you received it +on a physical medium, you must return it with your note, and +such person may choose to alternatively give you a replacement +copy. If you received it electronically, such person may +choose to alternatively give you a second opportunity to +receive it electronically. + +THIS EBOOK IS OTHERWISE PROVIDED TO YOU "AS-IS". NO OTHER +WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, ARE MADE TO YOU AS +TO THE EBOOK OR ANY MEDIUM IT MAY BE ON, INCLUDING BUT NOT +LIMITED TO WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTABILITY OR FITNESS FOR A +PARTICULAR PURPOSE. + +Some states do not allow disclaimers of implied warranties or +the exclusion or limitation of consequential damages, so the +above disclaimers and exclusions may not apply to you, and you +may have other legal rights. + +INDEMNITY +You will indemnify and hold Michael Hart, the Foundation, +and its trustees and agents, and any volunteers associated +with the production and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm +texts harmless, from all liability, cost and expense, including +legal fees, that arise directly or indirectly from any of the +following that you do or cause: [1] distribution of this eBook, +[2] alteration, modification, or addition to the eBook, +or [3] any Defect. + +DISTRIBUTION UNDER "PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm" +You may distribute copies of this eBook electronically, or by +disk, book or any other medium if you either delete this +"Small Print!" and all other references to Project Gutenberg, +or: + +[1] Only give exact copies of it. Among other things, this + requires that you do not remove, alter or modify the + eBook or this "small print!" statement. You may however, + if you wish, distribute this eBook in machine readable + binary, compressed, mark-up, or proprietary form, + including any form resulting from conversion by word + processing or hypertext software, but only so long as + *EITHER*: + + [*] The eBook, when displayed, is clearly readable, and + does *not* contain characters other than those + intended by the author of the work, although tilde + (~), asterisk (*) and underline (_) characters may + be used to convey punctuation intended by the + author, and additional characters may be used to + indicate hypertext links; OR + + [*] The eBook may be readily converted by the reader at + no expense into plain ASCII, EBCDIC or equivalent + form by the program that displays the eBook (as is + the case, for instance, with most word processors); + OR + + [*] You provide, or agree to also provide on request at + no additional cost, fee or expense, a copy of the + eBook in its original plain ASCII form (or in EBCDIC + or other equivalent proprietary form). + +[2] Honor the eBook refund and replacement provisions of this + "Small Print!" statement. + +[3] Pay a trademark license fee to the Foundation of 20% of the + gross profits you derive calculated using the method you + already use to calculate your applicable taxes. If you + don't derive profits, no royalty is due. Royalties are + payable to "Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation" + the 60 days following each date you prepare (or were + legally required to prepare) your annual (or equivalent + periodic) tax return. Please contact us beforehand to + let us know your plans and to work out the details. + +WHAT IF YOU *WANT* TO SEND MONEY EVEN IF YOU DON'T HAVE TO? +Project Gutenberg is dedicated to increasing the number of +public domain and licensed works that can be freely distributed +in machine readable form. + +The Project gratefully accepts contributions of money, time, +public domain materials, or royalty free copyright licenses. +Money should be paid to the: +"Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation." + +If you are interested in contributing scanning equipment or +software or other items, please contact Michael Hart at: +hart@pobox.com + +[Portions of this eBook's header and trailer may be reprinted only +when distributed free of all fees. Copyright (C) 2001, 2002 by +Michael S. Hart. Project Gutenberg is a TradeMark and may not be +used in any sales of Project Gutenberg eBooks or other materials be +they hardware or software or any other related product without +express permission.] + +*END THE SMALL PRINT! FOR PUBLIC DOMAIN EBOOKS*Ver.02/11/02*END* + diff --git a/old/7olof10.zip b/old/7olof10.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..9389b42 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/7olof10.zip diff --git a/old/8olof10.txt b/old/8olof10.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..8ea06c0 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/8olof10.txt @@ -0,0 +1,6182 @@ +Project Gutenberg's Master Olof: A Drama in Five Acts, by August Strindberg +#4 in our series by August Strindberg + +Copyright laws are changing all over the world. Be sure to check the +copyright laws for your country before downloading or redistributing +this or any other Project Gutenberg eBook. + +This header should be the first thing seen when viewing this Project +Gutenberg file. Please do not remove it. Do not change or edit the +header without written permission. + +Please read the "legal small print," and other information about the +eBook and Project Gutenberg at the bottom of this file. Included is +important information about your specific rights and restrictions in +how the file may be used. You can also find out about how to make a +donation to Project Gutenberg, and how to get involved. + + +**Welcome To The World of Free Plain Vanilla Electronic Texts** + +**eBooks Readable By Both Humans and By Computers, Since 1971** + +*****These eBooks Were Prepared By Thousands of Volunteers!***** + + +Title: Master Olof: A Drama in Five Acts. + +Author: August Strindberg + +Release Date: January, 2005 [EBook #7363] +[Yes, we are more than one year ahead of schedule] +[This file was first posted on April 21, 2003] + +Edition: 10 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-Latin-1 + +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MASTER OLOF: A DRAMA IN FIVE ACTS. *** + + + + +Produced by Nicole Apostola + + + + +INTRODUCTION + +The original prose version of Master Olof, which is here +presented for the first time in English form, was written between +June 8 and August 8, 1872, while Strindberg, then only twenty-three +years old, was living with two friends on one of the numerous +little islands that lie between Stockholm and the open sea. + +Up to that time he had produced half-a-dozen plays, one of which +had been performed at the Royal Theatre of Stockholm and had won +him the good-will and financial support of King Carl XV. Thus he +had been able to return to the University of Upsala, whence he +had been driven a year earlier by poverty as well as by spiritual +revolt. During his second term of study at the old university +Strindberg wrote some plays that he subsequently destroyed. In +the same period he not only conceived the idea later developed in +Master Olof, but he also acquired the historical data underlying +the play and actually began to put it into dialogue. + +During that same winter of 1871-72 he read extensively, although +his reading probably had slight reference to the university +curriculum. The two works that seem to have taken the lion's +share of his attention were Goethe's youthful drama Goetz von +Berlichingen and Buckle's History of Civilization in England. +Both impressed him deeply, and both became in his mind logically +connected with an external event which, perhaps, had touched his +supersensitive soul more keenly than anything else: an event +concerning which he says in the third volume of The Bondwoman's +Son, that "he had just discovered that the men of the Paris +Commune merely put into action what Buckle preached." + +Such were the main influences at work on his mind when, early in +1872, his royal protector died, and Strindberg found himself once +more dependent on his own resources. To continue at the +university was out of the question, and he seems to have taken +his final departure from it without the least feeling of regret. +Unwise as he may have been in other respects, he was wise enough +to realize that, whatever his goal, the road to it must be of his +own making. Returning to Stockholm, he groped around for a while +as he had done a year earlier, what he even tried to eke out a +living as the editor of a trade journal. Yet the seeds sown +within him during the previous winter were sprouting. An +irresistible impulse urged him to continue the work of Buckle. +History and philosophy were the ultimate ends tempting his mind, +but first of all he was impelled to express himself in terms of +concrete life, and the way had been shown him by Goethe. Moved by +Goethe's example, he felt himself obliged to break through the +stifling forms of classical drama. "No verse, no eloquence, no +unity of place," was the resolution he formulated straightway. +[Note: See again The Bondwoman's Son, vol. iii: In the Red Room.] + +Having armed himself with a liberal supply of writing-paper, he +joined his two friends in the little island of Kymmendö. Of money +he had so little that, but for the generosity of one of his +friends, he would have had to leave the island in the autumn +without settling the small debt he owed for board and lodging. +Yet those months were happy indeed--above all because he felt +himself moved by an inspiration more authentic than he had ever +before experienced. Thus page was added to page, and act to act, +until at last, in the surprisingly brief time of two months, +the whole play was ready--mighty in bulk and spirit, as became +the true firstling of a young Titan. + +Strindberg had first meant to name his play "What Is Truth?" For +a while he did call it "The Renegade," but in the end he thought +both titles smacked too much of tendency and decided instead, +with reasoned conventionalism, to use the title of Master Olof +after its central figure, the Luther of Sweden. + +From a dramatic point of view it would have been hard to pick a +more promising period than the one he had chosen as a setting for +his play. The early reign of Gustaf Vasa, the founder of modern +Sweden, was marked by three parallel conflicts of equal intensity +and interest: between Swedish and Danish nationalism; between +Catholicism and Protestantism; and, finally, between feudalism +and a monarchism based more or less on the consent of the +governed. Its background was the long struggle for independent +national existence in which the country had become involved by +its voluntary federation with Denmark and Norway about the end of +the fourteenth century. That Struggle--made necessary by the +insistence of one sovereign after another on regarding Sweden as +a Danish province rather than as an autonomous part of a united +Scandinavia--had reached a sort of climax, a final moment of +utter blackness just before the dawn, when, at Stockholm in 1520, +the Danish king, known ever afterward as Christian the Tyrant, +commanded the arbitrary execution of about eighty of Sweden's +most representative men. + +Until within a few months of that event, named by the horror- +stricken people "the blood-bath of Stockholm," the young Gustaf +Eriksson Vasa had been a prisoner in Denmark, sent there as a +hostage of Swedish loyalty. Having obtained his freedom by +flight, he made his way to the inland province of Dalecarlia, +where most of the previous movements on behalf of national +liberty had originated, and having cleared the country of foreign +invaders, chiefly by the help of an aroused peasantry that had +never known the yoke of serfdom, he was elected king at a Riksdag +held in the little city of Strängnäs, not far from Stockholm, in +1523. + +Strängnäs was a cathedral city and had for several years previous +been notorious for the Lutheran leanings of its clergy. After the +death of its bishop as one of the victims of King; Christian, its +temporary head had been the archdeacon, the ambitious and learned +Lars Andersson--or Laurentius Andreae, as, in accordance with the +Latinizing tendency of the time, he was more frequently named. +One of its canons was Olof Pedersson--also known as Olaus Petri, +and more commonly as Master Olof (Master being the vernacular for +Magister, which was the equivalent of our modern Doctor)--who, +during two years spent in studies at the University of Wittenberg, +had been in personal contact with Luther, and who had become fired +with an aspiration to carry the Reformation into his native +country. By recent historians Master Olof has been described as +of a "naively humble nature," rather melancholy in temperament, +but endowed with a gift for irony, and capable of fiery outbursts +when deeply stirred. At Strängnäs he had been preaching the new +faith more openly and more effectively than any one else, and he +had found a pupil as well as a protector in the temporary head of +the diocese. + +Immediately after his election, the new King called Lars +Andersson from Strängnäs to become his first chancellor. Later +on, he pressed Olof, too, into his service, making him Secretary +to the City Corporation of Stockholm--which meant that Olof +practically became the chief civil administrator of the capital, +having to act as both clerk and magistrate, while at the same +time he was continuing his reformatory propaganda as one of the +preachers in the city's principal edifice, officially named after +St. Nicolaus, but commonly spoken of as Greatchurch. As if this +were not sufficient for one man, he plunged also into a feverish +literary activity, doing most of the work on the Swedish +translations of the New and Old Testaments, and paving the way +for the new faith by a series of vigorous polemical writings, the +style of which proclaims him the founder of modern Swedish prose. +Centuries passed before the effective simplicity and homely +picturesqueness of his style were surpassed. He became, +furthermore, Sweden's first dramatist. The Comedy of Tobit, +from which Strindberg uses a few passages in slightly modernized +form at the beginning of his play, is now generally recognized as +an authentic product of Olof's pen, although it was not written +until a much later period. + +Strindberg's drama starts at Strängnäs, at the very moment when +Olof has been goaded into open revolt against the abuses of the +Church, and when he is saved from the consequences of that revolt +only by the unexpected arrival of King Gustaf and his own +appointment as City Secretary. From the slightly strained, but +not improbable, coincidence of that start to the striking climax +of the last act, the play follows, on the whole, pretty closely +the actual course of events recorded in history. To understand +this course, with its gradually intensified conflict between the +King and Olof, it is above all necessary to bear in mind that the +former regarded the Reformation principally as a means toward +that political reorganization and material upbuilding of the +country which formed his main task; while to Olof the religious +reconstruction assumed supreme importance. This fundamental +divergence of purpose is clearly indicated and effectively used +by Strindberg, and we have reason to believe that he has pictured +not only Gustaf Vasa and Master Olof, but also the other +historical characters, in close accordance with what history has +to tell us about them. Among the chief figures there is only one +--Gert the Printer--who is not known to history, and one--the +wife of Olof--who is so little known that the playwright has been +at liberty to create it almost wholly out of his own imagination. + +At the juncture represented by the initial scenes of the play, +Olof was in reality thirty-one years old, but he is made to +appear still younger. The King should be, and is, about twenty- +seven, while Lars Andersson is about fifty-four, and Bishop Brask +about seventy. Gert must be thought a man of about sixty, while +Christine must be about twenty. The action of the play lasts from +1524 to 1540, but Strindberg has contracted the general +perspective, so to speak, giving us the impression that the +entire action takes place within a couple of years. I have tried +to work out a complete chronology, and think it fairly safe to +date the several parts of the play as follows: + +The first act takes place on Whitsun Eve, 1524, which means that +the exact date must fall between May 10 and June 13 of that year, +and probably about June 1. + +The first scene of the second act occurs in the early evening of +a Saturday in the summer--probably in June--of 1524. The second +scene is fixed at midnight of the same day, and the third scene +on the following morning, which, in view of the fact that Olof is +to preach, we may assume to be a Sunday. + +The first scene of the third act seems to take place four days +later, but Olof was not married until February, 1525,--to +"Christine, a maiden of good family,"--and it was only during +the winter of 1526-27 that the Church reformers were given +free rein by the King, and Olof himself was despatched to the +University of Upsala for the purpose of challenging Peder Galle, +the noted Catholic theologian, to a joint discussion. This was +also the time when the first Swedish version of the New Testament +was completed by Olof and Lars Andersson--an event referred to in +the scene in question. + +The exact date of the second scene of the third act is St. John's +Eve, or June 24, 1527, at which time occurred the important +Riksdag at Vesterås, where the King broke the final resistance of +the nobility and the Catholic clergy by threatening to abdicate. +The debate between Olof and Peder Galle took place at the +Riksdag, Galle having evaded it as long as he could. + +The date of the fourth act is very uncertain, but it seems safe +to place it in the summer of 1539, when Stockholm was ravaged by +an epidemic of a virulent disease known as "the English sweat." + +The first scene of the fifth act is laid on New Year's Eve, 1539, +when Olof and Lars Andersson were arrested and charged with high +treason for not having informed the proper authorities of a plot +against the King's life. This plot was an old story, having been +exposed and punished in 1536. Their defence was that they had +learned of it through secret confession, which they as ministers +had no right to reveal. The trial took only two days, and on +January 2, 1540, both were sentenced to death. + +The second scene of the final act must be laid in the spring of +1540, as the ceremony of confirmation has generally taken place +about Easter ever since the Swedish church became Lutheran. + +While, in the main, Strindberg made the events of his play accord +with what was accepted as historical fact when he wrote, there +are anachronisms and inaccuracies to be noted, although to none +of them can be attached much importance. When, in the first and +second acts, he represents the Anabaptist leaders, Rink and +Knipperdollink, as then in Stockholm and actually introduces one +of them on the stage, he has merely availed himself of a legend +which had been accepted as truth for centuries, and which has +been exploded only by recent historical research. We know now +that Rink and Knipperdollink could never have been in Sweden, but +we know also that a German lay preacher named Melchior Hofman +appeared at Stockholm about the time indicated in the play, and +that, in 1529, another such preacher, named Tilemann, made Olof +himself the object of his fierce invectives. These instances +serve, in fact, to prove how skilfully Strindberg handled his +historical material. He is never rigid as to fact, but as a rule +he is accurate in spirit. Another instance of this kind is found +in the references in the first act to the use of Swedish for +purposes of worship. It is recorded--and by himself, I think-- +that Olof once asked his mother whether she really understood the +Latin prayers, since she was so very fond of them. She answered: +"No, I don't understand them, but when I hear them I pray +devoutly to God that they may please Him, which I don't doubt +they do." + +On the other hand, what maybe regarded as rather an awkward slip +is found in the first scene of the fifth act, where Gert cries +exultantly to Olof: "You don't know that Thomas Münster has +established a new spiritual kingdom at Mühlhausen." The name of +the great Anabaptist "prophet" was Thomas Münzer, and the place +where he established his brief reign was Münster. Strindberg's +habit was to fill his head with the facts to be used, and then to +rely on his memory. Marvellous as his memory was, it sometimes +deceived him, and checking off names or dates seems to have been +utterly beyond him. Thus it is quite probable that the passage in +question represents an unconscious error. At the same time it is +barely possible that the mistake may have been purposely laid in +the mouth of a fanatic, from whom exactness of statement could +hardly be expected. Thus, in the first act, Gert remarks that +"Luther is dead." We understand, of course, that this expression +is metaphorical, signifying that Luther has done all that can be +expected of him, but it is nevertheless characteristically +ambiguous. + +The second scene of the third act is apparently laid in Olof's +house at Stockholm, although the location of the building is not +definitely indicated. We find him waiting for a messenger who is +to announce the results of the Riksdag then in session. But the +Riksdag was held at Vesterås, and we know that Olof was one of +two delegates sent by the burghers and the peasants to the King, +whom they implored "on their knees and with tears" to withdraw +his abdication. The Courtier's reference to Olof's debate with +Galle renders it still more uncertain whether we are in Stockholm +or in Vesterås. The Courtier also informs Olof of his appointment +as pastor of Greatchurch, the facts being that Olof was not +ordained until 1539 and received his appointment a year after the +events described in the last act of the play. In the metrical +version, Strindberg makes his most radical departure from the +historical course of events by letting Luther's marriage precede +and influence that of Olof, although in reality Olof's anticipated +that of Luther by several months. + +The complaints of the Man from Småland in the first scene of the +second act could scarcely have been warranted in 1524, when that +act takes place. The hold of the young King was far too +precarious at that early date to permit any regulations of the +kind referred to. The establishment of a maximum price on oxen +does not seem to have occurred until 1532, and a prohibition +against the shooting of deer by the peasants was actually issued +in 1538, both measures helping to provoke the widespread uprising +that broke out in Småland in 1541. It was named the "Dacke feud" +after its principal leader, the peasant-chieftain Nils Dacke, to +whom the Sexton refers in the second scene of the last act--also +a little prematurely. + +Whether these be conscious or unconscious anachronisms, they +matter very little when the general accuracy of the play is +considered. From the moment the Danes had been driven out of the +country, one of the most serious problems confronting the King +was the financial chaos into which the country had fallen, and +his efforts, first of all to raise enough means for ordinary +administrative purposes, and secondly to reorganize trade and +agriculture, brought him almost immediately into conflict with +the peasants, who, during the long struggle for national +independence, had become accustomed to do pretty much as they +pleased. The utterances of the Man from Småland are typical of +the sentiments that prevailed among the peasants throughout the +country, not least when he speaks of the King's intention to +"take away their priests and friars," for the majority of the +Swedish people were at that time still intensely Catholic, and +remained so to a large extent long after the Reformation +officially had placed Sweden among Protestant countries. + +Much more serious than any liberties taken with dates or facts, I +deem certain linguistic anachronisms, of which Strindberg not rarely +becomes guilty. Thus, for instance, he makes the King ask Bishop +Brask: "What kind of phenomenon is this?" The phrase is palpably +out of place, and yet it has been used so deliberately that nothing +was left for me to do but to translate it literally. The truth is that +Strindberg was not striving to reproduce the actual language of the +Period--a language of which we get a glimpse in the quotations from +The Comedy of Tobit. Here and there he used archaic expressions +(which I have sometimes reproduced and sometimes disregarded, as +the exigencies of the new medium happened to require). At other +times he did not hesitate to employ modern colloquialisms (most of +which have been "toned down"). He did not regard local color or +historical atmosphere as a supreme desideratum. He wanted to +express certain ideas, and he wanted to bring home the essential +humanity of historical figures which, through the operations of +legendary history, had assumed a strange, unhuman aspect. The +methods he employed for these purposes have since been made +familiar to the English-speaking public by the historical plays +of Bernard Shaw and the short stories and novels of Anatole France. + +In his eagerness, however, to express what was burning for +utterance in his own breast, the second purpose was sometimes +lost sight of; and at such times Strindberg hesitated as little +to pass the bounds imposed by an historical period as to break +through the much more important limitations of class and personal +antecedents. Thus, for example, the remarks of Olof's mother are +at one moment characterized by the simplicity to be expected from +the aged widow of a small city tradesman in the early part of the +sixteenth century, while in the next--under the pressure of the +author's passion for personal expression--they grow improbably +sophisticated. Yet each figure, when seen in proper perspective, +appears correctly drawn and strikingly consistent with the part +assigned to it in the play. In his very indifference to minor +accuracies, Strindberg sometimes approaches more closely to the +larger truth than men more scrupulous in regard to details. How +true he can be in his delineation of a given type is perhaps best +shown by the figure of Gert. The world's literature holds few +portrayals of the anarchistic temperament that can vie with it in +psychological exactness, and it is as true to-day as it was in +1524 or in 1872. + +This verisimilitude on a universal rather than a specific plane +assumes still greater significance if we consider it in the light +of what Strindberg has told us about his purpose with the main +characters of his first great play. As I have already said, those +characters were meant to be both mouthpieces of the author and +revived historical figures, but they were also meant--and +primarily, I suspect--to be something else: embodiments of the +contradictory phases of a single individual, namely the author +himself. + +"The author meant to hide his own self behind the historical +characters," Strindberg tells us, apropos of this very play. +[Note: In one of his biographical novels, The Bondwoman's Son, +vol. iii: In the Red Room.] "As an idealist he was to be +represented by Olof; as a realist by Gustaf; and as a communist +by Gert." Farther on in the same work, he continues his +revelation as follows: "The King and his shadow, the shrewd +Constable, represented himself [the author] as he wished to be; +Gert, as he was in moments of aroused passion; and Olof, as, +after years of self-scrutiny, he had come to know himself: +ambitious and weak-willed; unscrupulous when something was at +stake, and yielding at other times; possessed of great self-confidence, +mixed with a deep melancholy; balanced and irrational; hard and gentle." + +Finally, he gives us this illuminating exposition of his own +views on the moral validity of the main characters, thus +disposing once for all of the one-sided interpretations made by +persons anxious to use this or that aspect of the play in support +of their own political or social idiosyncrasies: "All the chief +characters are, relatively speaking, in the right. The Constable, +from the standpoint of his own day, is right in asking Olof to +keep calm and go on preaching; Olof is right in admitting that he +had gone too far; the scholar, Vilhelm, is right when, in the +name of youth, he demands the evolution of a new truth; and Gert +is right in calling Olof a renegade. The individual must always +become a renegade--forced by the necessity of natural laws; by +fatigue; by inability to develop indefinitely, as the brain +ceases to grow about the age of forty-five; and by the claims of +actual life, which demand that even a reformer must live as man, +mate, head of a family, and citizen. But those who crave that the +individual continue his progress indefinitely are the shortsighted +--particularly those who think that the cause must perish because +the individual deserts it. ... It is an open question, for that +matter, whether Olof did not have a better chance to advance his +cause from the pulpit of the reformed Greatchurch than he would +have had in low-class taverns." + +These passages were written by Strindberg fourteen years after +the completion of the play to which they refer. We have other +evidence, however, that, while he might have seen things more +clearly in retrospect, he had not been lured by the lapse of time +into placing his characters in a light different from that in +which they were conceived. On the list of characters forming part +of the original handwritten manuscript of the first version of +Master Olof, now preserved in the Public Library of Gothenburg, +Sweden, the author has jotted down certain very significant notes +opposite the more important names. Thus he has written opposite +the name of the King: "To accomplish something in this world, one +has to risk morality and conscience;" opposite the name of Olof: +"He who strives to realize an idea develops greatness of +personality--he accomplishes good by his personal example, but he +is doomed to perish;" opposite that of Bishop Brask: "There is +movement in whatever exists--whatever stands still must be +crushed;" and opposite that of Gert: "He who wills more than his +reason can grasp must go mad." + +Such was the play with which the young Strindberg returned to the +Swedish capital in the fall of 1872; and let us remember in this +connection, that up to the time in question no dramatic work of +similar importance had ever been produced in Sweden. Its +completion was more epoch-making for Sweden than that of Brand +was for Norway in 1865--since the coming of Ibsen's first really +great play was heralded by earlier works leading up to it, while +Master Olof appeared where nobody had any reason to expect it. +This very fact militated against its success, of course; it was +too unexpected, and also too startlingly original, both in spirit +and in form. + +At the time there was only one stage in Sweden where such a work +could be produced--the Royal Theatre at Stockholm. To the +officials of this state--supported institution Strindberg +submitted his work--hopefully, as we know from his own statement. +It was scornfully and ignominiously rejected, the main criticism +being that a serious historical drama in prose was unthinkable. I +shall make no comment whatever on that judgment, having in mind +how several years later Edmund Gosse bewailed the failure of +Ibsen to give a metrical form to his Emperor and Galilean. + +Strindberg's next effort concerned publication. In this respect +he was equally unsuccessful, although as a rule it has never been +very difficult in Sweden to find a publisher for any work of +reasonable merit. But the play was not only too original, it was +too dangerously radical for a country where a truly modern form +of representative government had not been achieved until seven +years earlier. Strindberg was at first stunned by this failure. +He seriously contemplated giving up writing altogether. When he +had recovered somewhat, he seems reluctantly to have faced the +possibility that the fault might be found in the play and not in +the public. + +So he set about to re-write it--and he did so not only once but +repeatedly, producing in all six versions that differ more or +less from one another. At first he clung to the prose form. +Gradually he began to introduce verse, until finally, in 1877 or +1878, he completed an almost new play, where the metrical form +predominated without being used exclusively. This version was +actually published in 1878. Originally, an epilogue was appended +to it, but this was dropped from all but a small part of the +first edition. It is supposed to take place a number of years +later than the fifth act, and shows Olof with his two sons +outside the city walls of Stockholm, where they witness a +miracle-play introducing God as the principle of darkness and +Lucifer as the overthrown but never conquered principle of light. +The bitter generalizations of this afterthought explain +Sufficiently why it was excluded. To the later Strindberg--the +man who wrote Advent, for instance--it must have seemed one of +his most unforgivable offences. + +Although Strindberg's main object in working over his play +undoubtedly was to obtain its production, the metrical version +was not put on the stage until 1890, when, however, it was +performed at the Royal Theatre, toward which its author had +looked so longingly and so vainly eighteen years earlier. The +prose version, on the other hand, was produced as early as 1881, +at the New Theatre in Stockholm, but was not published until the +same year, when it appeared in book form grouped with a number of +other writings from Strindberg's earliest period. + +Of the five unprinted versions connecting the original prose +drama of 1872 with the final metrical form of 1878, more or less +complete manuscripts have been preserved, and these are now being +examined in detail by the Swedish literary historian, Professor +Karl Warburg. A summary analysis by Dr. John Landquist is +appended to the second volume of the definitive edition of +Strindberg's complete works (Albert Bonnier, Stockholm), where +the epilogue to the metrical version is also reprinted after so +many years of oblivion. + +"Of all the manuscripts preceding the final metrical version," +says Dr. Landquist, "the original one, written when Strindberg +was twenty-three, is the masterpiece. There everything is +consistent; there the dialogue has a power and an incisiveness to +which it does not attain in any of the unprinted manuscripts. On +the contrary, these seem more youthful than the original, +producing at times an impression of immaturity and uncertainty on +the part of the author. Even when some isolated phrase strikes +one as fortunate, it does not tend to strengthen the drama as a +whole. The later versions lack that sense of inner unity and that +audacious touch which lend fascination and power to the original +manuscript. + +"Not until we reach the first metrical version (of 1876) does the +full power of the playwright begin to reassert itself in such +fashion that out of his untiring labors at last springs a new +work, the mood of which differs essentially from that of the +first prose version. These two versions--the first and the final +--are the results of diametrically opposed methods of work. The +first was written with a certainty and swiftness of inspiration +that raised the young poet far above the productive powers +generally characteristic of his years. The subsequent modifications +prove merely how futile are the efforts of reason to improve +what intuition has inspired. But gradually it seems to have +dawned on the poet that he was about to evolve a wholly new +work--that what he had come to aim at was quite distinct from +what he had been aiming at in the beginning, and from that moment +his artistic reasoning carried him onward until at last a new +inspiration brought the work to its completion." + +Concerning the final metrical version, I can give only a few +outstanding and rather superficial facts, hoping that I may some +time have the opportunity of presenting it entire to the American +public. Like the prose version, it has five acts, but these are +not subdivided into scenes. It is briefer, more concentrated both +in spirit and in form, and may he said to display a greater unity +of purpose. It is more human, too, and less titanic. The change +shows itself strikingly in a figure like that of Mårten, who in +the metrical version has become softened into an unconscionable +but rather lovable rapscallion. The last remark but one made by +Mårten when driven from Dame Christine's deathbed by Olof is: +"Talk to your mother, son--the two of you have so much to forgive +each other." + +In strength and passion and daring, on the other hand, the final +version falls far short of the original one, and the very fact +that it is more logical, more carefully reasoned, tends at times +to render it less psychologically true. Each version has its own +merits and its own faults, and in their appeal they are so +radically different that a choice between them must always remain +meaningless except on temperamental grounds. At one point, +however--and an important one at that--the metrical version seems +to me the happier by far. + +That cry of "renegade," which, echoing from the dim recesses of +the church, makes the prose version end on a note of perplexing +irony, may be theatrically effective, but it can hardly be called +logical. Gert has been disposed of. His sudden return out of the +clutches of the soldiers is inexplicable and unwarranted. Worse +still, he has only a short while previous been urging Olof to +live on for his work. If Olof be a renegade, he is so upon the +advice of Gert himself, and to call the concession made by Olof +for the saving of his own life far-reaching enough to explain +Gert's sudden change of attitude approaches dangerously near to +quibbling. In the metrical version, on the other hand, the same +cry of "renegade" is quite logically and suitably wrung from the +lips of Vilhelm, the scholar who is still dreaming of uncompromised +ideals. But it is not the final word. This comes from Olof, +and takes the form of a brief apostrophe to the fleeing Vilhelm, +which I think ranks with the finest passages produced by Strindberg. +Apologetically, I offer this English version of it as a fitting +close to my Introduction: + +Olof. Oh, what a word! But though it shook the air, + These columns did not stir, nor fell the dome, + And I stand calm upon this lonely shore, + Where I was dropped by the receding waves-- + For, after all, I am ashore. And now + A last "good luck upon the road" I send + To speed the daring sailor who will give + No ear to one that just has come to grief. + With sails hauled close, steer for the open sea + And for the far-off goal your soul desires! + Ere long you must fall off like all the rest, + Although a star your guiding landmark be + For in due time the stars themselves must fall! + +EDWIN BJORKMAN +MAY 15, 1915 + + + +MASTER OLOF + + +DRAMATIS PERSONAE + +OLOF PEDERSSON (Olaus Petri), generally known as MASTER OLOF. +GERT THE PRINTER. +GUSTAF ERIKSSON VASA, King of Sweden. +HANS BRASK, Bishop of Linköping. +MÅNS SOMMAR, Bishop of Strängnäs. +LARS SIGGESON, Lord High Constable. +LARS ANDERSSON (Laurentius Andreae), Lord High Chancellor. +LARS PEDERSSON (Laurentius Petri), brother of Master Olof. +HANS WINDRANK, a Master Mariner. +A Man from Småland. +A German. +A Dane. +MÅRTEN and NILS, Black Friars. +A Tavern-keeper. +A Burier. +First Scholar. +Second Scholar. +The Sexton at St. Nicolaus (or Greatchurch). +A Servant of the Palace. +An Overseer. +A Townsman. +A Courtier. +DAME CHRISTINE, Olof's mother. +CHRISTINE, daughter of Gert the Printer. +A Harlot. +A Woman. +The Sexton's Wife. +The Abbess of St. Clara. +Headsman, Townsfolk, Laborers, etc. + +ACT I: At Strängnäs. + +ACTS II, III, IV, AND V: At Stockholm. + + + +ACT I + +(A Cloister opening upon a Convent Close planted with groups of +trees. The convent church forms the right side of the quadrangle. +A brick wall runs along the rear. Fruit trees in blossom appear +above the wall. Olof is seated on a stone bench. Before him stand +two scholars, who are reading their respective parts out of "The +Comedy of Tobit.") + +First Scholar. +Now have our enemies trapped us full well. +Woe unto us, poor children of Israel! + +Second Scholar. +Yea, brother, good cause you have to make such plaint! +Now certes we have come upon days of great lament-- +Our land is taken away, and so's our increase, +And ne'er we may look for any help or surcease. +It must be, as long I have both dreamt and said, +That the promise to Abram has been long mislaid. + +[Enter Lars Andersson.] + +Lars Andersson. What are you doing? + +Olof. I am playing. + +Lars. Playing--you? + +Olof. I am playing a little comedy about the children of Israel +and the Babylonian captivity. + +Lars. Have you nothing better to do? Bigger work is waiting for +you. + +Olof. I am too young. + +Lars. Do not say you are too young. + +Olof. No, for there are plenty of others who say it. + +Lars (takes out a roll of paper, which he opens; for a while he +stands looking at Olof; then he begins to read) "Then the word of +the Lord came unto Jeremiah: 'Before I formed thee in the belly I +knew thee; and before thou camest forth out of the womb I +sanctified thee, and I ordained thee a prophet unto the nations.' + +"Then said Jeremiah: 'Ah, Lord God! behold, I cannot speak, for I +am a child.' + +"But the Lord said: 'Say not, I am a child; for thou shalt go to +all that I shall send thee, and whatsoever I command thee thou +shalt speak. For, behold, I have made thee this day a defenced +city, and an iron pillar, and brazen walls against the whole +land, against the kings of Judah, against the princes thereof, +against the priests thereof, and against the people of the land. +And they shall fight against thee; but they shall not prevail +against thee; for I am with thee,' saith the Lord, 'to deliver +thee.'" + +Olof (leaping to his feet). Did the Lord say that? + +Lars. "Thou therefore gird up thy loins and arise, and speak unto +them all that I command thee." + +Olof. Why do not you go? + +Lars. I am too old. + +Olof. You are afraid! + +Lars. I am, for I have not the strength; but you have--and now +may the Lord give you the faith also. + +Olof. Oh, once I did have the flame of faith, and it burned +wondrously, but the monkish gang smothered it with their holy +water when they were trying to read the devil out of my body. + +Lars. That was a fire of straw which had to flicker out; but now +the Lord will light you a fire of logs by which the offspring of +the Philistines shall be consumed. Do you know your own will, +Olof? + +Olof. No, but I feel myself choking when I think of these poor +people who yearn for salvation. They are crying for water--for +living water--but there is no one who can give it to them. + +Lars. Tear down the crumbling old house first, you can do that. +Then the Lord Himself will build them a new one. + +Olof. Then they will be without a roof over their heads for a +time. + +Lars. They will at least get fresh air. + +Olof. But to rob a whole nation of its faith--they will despair. + +Lars. Yes, they will despair. + +Olof. But they will decry me, and revile me, and drag me before +the elders. + +Lars. Are you afraid? + +Olof. No--but the offence-- + +Lars. You were born to give offence, Olof; you were born to +smite. The Lord will heal. + +Olof. I can feel the pull of the current; I am still clinging to +the sluice-gate, but if I let go, I shall be swept away. + +Lars. Let go! There are more than enough who hold back. + +Olof. Reach out your hand to me, Lars, if I get too far into the +whirlpool. + +Lars. That is not in my power, and into the whirlpool you must +go, even if it be to perish. + +Olof. What storms you have raised in my soul! A moment ago I sat +here and played in the shadow of the trees, and it was Whitsun +Eve, and it was spring, and all was peace. And now--how can the +trees be still, and why is there no darkness in the sky? Put your +hand on my forehead, feel the blood surging! Do not abandon me, +Lars! I see an angel coming towards me with a cup--she is walking +across the evening sky--her path is blood-red, and in her hand +she is carrying a cross--No, it is more than I avail! I will +return to my peaceful valley. Let others fight; I will look on-- +No, I will follow in their wake and heal the wounded and whisper +words of peace into the ears of the dying--Peace!--No, I want to +fight with the rest, but in the last ranks--Why should I lead? + +Lars. Because you are the boldest. + +Olof. Not the strongest? + +Lars. The strong will come after you: and the strongest of all is +by your side; it is He who summons you to battle. + +Olof. Help me, O Lord! I go. + +Lars. Amen! + +Olof. And will you come with me? + +Lars. You must go alone--with God! + +Olof. Why do you turn back? + +Lars. I was not born to be a warrior: your armorer is all that I +can be. Your weapon is the pure Word of God, and with that you +must arm the people. For the doors to the popish armory have been +broken open at last, and hereafter every one calling himself a +man must fight for the freedom of his own spirit. + +Olof. But where is the enemy? I am burning for battle, yet see no +one to fight against. + +Lars. No need to summon them; they will come! Farewell! You may +begin whenever you are ready, and may God be with you! + +Olof. Don't go. I have much more to talk with you about. + +Lars. Here comes the vanguard now--to arms! + +[Exit Lars.] + +(A crowd of townsmen with their women and children pass across +the stage to the church door at the right. They stop in front of +it, bare their heads, and make the sign of the cross.) + +Gert the Printer (disguised as a townsman). It's Whitsun Eve, and +nobody has rung the vesper bell--that's very strange. + +A Townsman. The church door is closed. Maybe the priest is sick. + +Gert. Or not yet out of bed. + +Townsman. What do you mean? + +Gert. Only that he might be sick abed. + +Townsman. But there are a lot of acolytes, and one of them might +be saying a mass for us in his place. + +Gert. They are probably too busy. + +Townsman. With what? + +Gert. That's hard to tell. + +Townsman. Take care, my good man! You seem to have a leaning +towards Lutherism. Bishop Hans of Linköping is here, and so's the +King. + +Gert. Is Brask in town? + +Townsman. Indeed he is. But I suppose we had better try the +church door to see if it be really closed. + +Gert (runs up the steps and beats the church door with his +fist).The house of God is closed this Whitsun Eve. The reverend +clergy will grant no audience with the Lord to-day, and so the +worshipful commonalty will have to go home and go to bed without +any mass. Look here, good folk! Here you have a door--mere wood, +of course, but that matters little, as it is lined with copper. +Just take a look at this door! If I say that the Lord is living +within--this being His house; and if I say that the bishop's +diaconus, or secretarius, or canonicus, or some other fellow +ending in 'us'--for it's only these clerical gentlemen that end +in 'us'; and if I say that some fellow of that kind has the key +hanging on a nail in his bedroom: then I don't mean to say that +he has locked up the Lord and put the key on a nail in his +bedroom: but all I mean to say is that we can't get in, and that +there will be no divine service for its to-night--for us who +have toiled six days making shoes and coats--who have spent the +whole week brewing and baking and butchering for the reverend +clergy in order that the said clergy might have strength enough +on the seventh day to celebrate divine service for its. Of +course, I am not at all saying this in reproach of the right +reverend members of this Chapter; for they, too, are nothing but +human beings, you know, and it was only the Lord who could stand +working six days and be satisfied with resting on the seventh. + +Townsman. You're blaspheming God, master townsman! + +Gert. Well, He can't hear it when the door is closed. + +A Woman. Jesu Maria! He's an Antichrist! + +Gert (beating at the door). Do you hear how hollow it sounds?--It +is writ in the Bible that once upon a time the veil before the +Holiest of Holies was rent in twain, and it must be true--but +nothing is said in the Bible about the clerical gentlemen having +sewed the veil together again, which, of course, is no reason why +it shouldn't have been done. + +(The crowd makes a rush at Gert; the children begin to cry.) + +Townsman. Out on you, Luther! For that's what you are. We have +sinned, and for that reason the Lord has closed His house. Can't +you hear that the very children cry out at the sight of you, +unclean spirit that you are? + +Gert. Naturally, when you step on their toes, my dear friends-- + +Woman. Don't go near him! He has a devil! + +Townsman. Down with him! Down with him! + +Gert. Don't touch me, for here I am under the protection of the +Lord. + +Townsman. The Lord will not protect the angel that was cast out. + +Gert. If the Lord won't, the Holy Church will, and I am now +within her consecrated walls. + +Townsman. Get him away from the church wall! + +Gert. If you don't fear God, you must at least fear the ban of +the Holy Father. + +Woman. Drag him away from that door! It is his unclean spirit +that has cast a spell on the church. + +Townsman. That's it! The Lord won't open His church to the Devil. + +(The crowd is rushing at Gert again, when the Bishop's Secretary +enters, preceded by a verger, who calls upon the people to +attend.) + +Secretary (reading). "Whereas our cathedral city has failed in +the payment of its tithes to this See, and whereas it continues +refractory in regard to such payments, the Chapter has deemed it +necessary, in accordance with its vested rights and the sanction +granted by the Holy Curia, to close the doors of the church and +to discontinue all masses and sacrifices until the aforesaid +dereliction shall have been duly remedied; failure to observe +which shall be at the risk of our displeasure. Datum vigilia +assumptionis Mariae. Chapter of Strängnäs." [Exit.] + +Gert. What do you say to that, good folk? + +Townsman. No mass on Whitsun Eve? That's a shame! + +Gert. Take care! Say nothing evil of the priests; maybe they're +not to blame. + +Townsman. Who is to blame, then? + +Gert. The Church! That invisible and omnipotent something! It is +the Church, you see, that has closed the church. (The crowd gives +evidence of disapproval.) + +Olof (who in the meantime has come forward, seizes a rope hanging +from the bell tower, and begins to ring vespers). If your worship +be seriously meant, I'll say mass for you. + +Townsman. Many thanks, Master Olof, but are you aware of what +that may lead to? + +Olof. Let us fear the Lord more than men! (The crowd kneels.) +Dear friends! Brothers and sisters in Christ Jesus! As we are now +come together here-- + +Townsman. Master Olof-- + +Olof. What is it? + +Townsman. We want a real mass, and not any new inventions of men. + +Gert. It has to be in Latin, my dear Master Olof, or we can't +understand what you say. + +Townsman. It has to be in the sacred tongue--or anybody might say +mass. + +Olof. And so you shall! Everyone for himself, with God! + +Crowd. A Luther! A Luther! Antichrist! + +Townsman. Well, well, Master Olof, have you, too, so young and +zealous, become tainted by the German devil? I am an old man, who +has seen much of the world, and I mean well by you--Turn back +while you are still young!--Do as we ask you and give us the old +mass. + +Olof. No, there must be an end to that mummery. Ye shall pray in +spirit and in truth, and not in words ye do not understand. + +Townsman. Don't you think, my young friend, that the Lord +understands Latin? + +Gert. But Swedish He doesn't understand at all! + +Townsman. Master Olof, are you going to let the people depart +from you without a word to edify them? Can't you see how they +are yearning for their God? Make a sacrifice of your own sinful +will, and don't let the people go from you like sheep that have +no shepherd. + +Olof. You call my will sinful? + +Townsman. You are a hard man! + +Olof. Say not so! Do you know what the ringing of this bell will +cost me? + +Townsman. Your vanity. + +Gert. And your peace! For it was the alarum bell that rang in the +battle. Hey-ho, this is the start! Soon the bells of Stockholm +will respond, and then the blood of Hus, and of Ziska, and of all +the thousands of peasants will be on the heads of the princes and +the papists. + +Woman. Woe unto us! What is he raving about? + +Townsman. Do you know this man, Master Olof? + +Olof. No. + +Gert. Yes, Olof, you know me. Deny me not! Are you afraid of +these miserable creatures who do not want their own welfare--and +who have never heard the word "freedom"? + +Olof. What is your name? + +Gert. If I told, you would all tremble. Yet you must tremble in +order that you may wake out of your sleep. I am named the angel +that was cast out and that is to come again ten thousand times; I +am named the liberator that came too early; I am named Satan +because I love you more than my own life; I have been named +Luther; I have been named Hus. Now I am named Anabaptist! + +Crowd (shrink back and begin to cross themselves). Anabaptist! + +Gert (removing his disguise and revealing himself as much older +than he had seemed). Do you know me now, Olof? + +Olof. Father Gert! + +Townsman. He calls him father! + +Crowd (drawing back from Olof and Gert). Anabaptist! Anabaptist! + +Woman. Don't you see, it's he who was put under the ban-- + +Townsman. Gert the Printer--the bishop's printer-- + +Another Townsman. The man who printed Luther! + +Woman. Woe unto us and to our city! Woe to our priests when they +bear company with Antichrist! + +Townsman. He denies the holy baptism! + +Woman. He denies God. (The crowd disperses.) + +Olof. That was dangerous talk, Father Gert. + +Gert. You really think it was dangerous, Olof? Bless you for +those words! + +Olof. Dangerous for you, I mean. + +Gert. Not for any one else? + +Olof. Let us hope not. + +Gert. You have known Luther? + +Olof. Indeed, I have! And now I want to carry out his work in my +own country. + +Gert. Is that all? + +Olof. What do you mean? + +Gert. It is not enough! Luther is dead. He made a beginning, we +have to go on. + +Olof. Whither do you want to lead me? + +Gert. Far, Olof, very far! + +Olof. I am afraid of you, Father Gert. + +Gert. Yes, and will be more so; for I shall take you up on a high +mountain, and from there you shall overlook the whole world. You +see, Olof, it is now Whitsuntide; it was at this time the Holy +Ghost came down and filled the Apostles--nay, all humanity. The +spirit of the Lord has descended upon me. I feel it, and for that +reason they shut me up like one demented. But now I am free +again, and now I shall speak the word; for now, Olof, we are +standing on the mountain. Behold the people crawling on their +knees before those two men seated on their thrones. The taller +holds two keys in one hand and a thunderbolt in the other. That +is the Pope. Now he hurls his thunderbolt, and a thousand souls +pass into perdition, while the rest kiss his foot and sing Gloria +Deo--but he who is seated on the throne turns about and smiles. +Now behold his companion. He has a sword and at sceptre. Bow down +before the sceptre, lest the sword smite you. When he knits his +brows all the people tremble. (He turns toward the man on the +other throne, and both smile.) They are two pillars of Baal. Then +is heard a sound out of heaven as of a host muttering. "Who is +grumbling?" exclaims the Pope, shaking his thunderbolt. "Who is +muttering?"--and the Emperor shakes his sword. Nobody answers, +but still there is grumbling in the air, and roaring, and a cry +of "Think!" The Pope cowers, and the Emperor, turning pale, +demands: "Who was it that cried 'Think'? Bring him here, and I +will take his life!" The Pope shouts: "Bring him here, and I will +take his soul!" The cry came out of heaven, and was uttered by no +one. But still the sound of it rises; a storm wind springs up; it +sweeps over the Alps and goes roaring across Fichtelgebirge; it +stirs up the Baltic and echoes from the shores, and the cry is +repeated a thousand times all over the world: "Freedom, freedom!" +The Pope throws his keys into the sea, and the Emperor sheathes +his sword, for against that cry they avail nothing.--Oh, Olof, +you wish to smite the Pope, but you forget the Emperor--the +Emperor, who is killing his people without counting them because +they dare to sigh when he tramples on their chests. You want to +smite the Pope at Rome, but, like Luther, you want to give them a +new pope in Holy Writ. Listen! Listen! Bind not the spirits with +any fetters whatsoever! Forget not the great Whitsunday! +Forget not your great goal: spiritual life and spiritual freedom! +Listen not to the cry of death: "And behold, it is all good!" For +then the millennium, the kingdom of liberty, will never arrive-- +and it is that which is now beginning. (Olof remains silent.) +Does it make you dizzy? + +0lof. You go too far, Gert. + +Gert. The day shall come when they will call me papist. Aim at +the sky, and you will hit the forest line ahead of you. + +0lof. Turn back, Gert! You'll bring disaster on yourself and on +the realm. Can't you see how the country is still shivering with +the wound-fever caused by the last war? And you wish to sow the +seeds of civil war. It is a godless deed! + +Gert. No, the knife is in the flesh now. Cut away, and the body +may be saved. + +Olof. I'll denounce you as a traitor to your country. + +Gert. You had better not, seeing that to-day you have offended +the Church beyond repair. Besides-- + +Olof. Speak out, Gert. Just now you look like Satan himself! + +Gert. You shall have my secret: deal with it to suit yourself. +The King leaves for Malmö to-day, and the day after to-morrow, +perchance, Stockholm may be in open revolt. + +Olof. What are you talking about? + +Gert. Do you know Rink and Knipperdollink? + +Olof (alarmed). The Anabaptists! + +Gert. Yes. What's so startling in that? They are nothing but a +couple of lubberly tradesmen. A furrier and a grocer, who deny +the use of baptizing unconscious children, and who are simple-minded +enough to oppose the forcing of irrational creatures into +deliberate perjury. + +Olof. That is not all. + +Gert. What is it, then? + +Olof. They are possessed. + +Gert. Of the spirit, yes. It is the storm wind that is crying +through them. Beware, if you get into its path! + +Olof. This must be stopped. I am going to the King. + +Gert. We should be friends, Olof. Your mother is living in +Stockholm, isn't she? + +Olof. You know it, then? + +Gert. Do you know that my daughter Christine is with your mother? + +Olof. Christine? + +Gert. Yes, for the present. If we win, your mother will be +protected for my daughter's sake; and if the Catholics win, my +daughter will be protected for your mother's sake. You are a +little concerned about Christine, are you not? + +Olof. Gert, Gert, what made you so wise? + +Gert. The madhouse. + +Olof. Go away from me! You'll lead me into disaster. + +Gert. Yes, if you call it a disaster to be robbed of all +earthly happiness, to be dragged into prison, to suffer poverty, +to be scorned and reviled fur the sake of truth. If so, you are +not worthy of such a splendid disaster. I thought you would +understand me, I counted on your help, for in you the fire is +still burning, but I see that the world is tempting you. Well, +follow the stream and be happy! + +Olof. How could a man make over the age in which he is living? + +Gert. That's what Luther has done. + +Olof. How can one man check a stream? + +Gert. Guide it, you fool--for we are the stream. The old are +stagnant mudpools, you don't need to check them, but don't let +them rot away or dry up; give them an outlet, and they'll flow +with the stream, too. + +Olof. Yes, I understand you! You have bred a thought in my soul, +but that thought must be strangled in its birth, or it will kill +me. + +Gert. Believe me, you will be a Daniel, and you will speak the +truth unto princes, and they will conspire to take your life; but +the Lord will protect you.--Now I can safely leave, for I see +lightnings flash from your eyes and tongues of fire flickering +over your head. (As he is leaving.) There comes the Lord of +Flies: don't let him defile your pure soul also. + +Olof. Jesus help me! + +[Enter Bishop Brask and Bishop Sommar. Sommar approaches Olof, +while Brask remains behind, studying the surroundings.] + +Sommar. Who rang vespers, Canonicus? + +Olof (calmly but firmly). I did. + +Sommar. Didn't you know the order? + +Olof. I was aware of the prohibition. + +Sommar. And you dared to defy it? + +Olof. Yes, when the people were let go like sheep without a +shepherd, I wanted to keep them together. + +Sommar. You seem to be finding fault with our actions. That's +impudence indeed. + +Olof. Truth is always impudent. + +Sommar. I believe, young man, that you want to play the part of +an apostle of truth. It will bring you no thanks. + +Olof. All I ask is ingratitude. + +Sommar. Save your truths. They don't retain their value in the +market very long. + +Olof (impetuously). That's advice worthy of the Father of Lies!-- +(Mildly.) I ask your pardon! + +Sommar. Do you know to whom you are talking? + +Olof (heatedly). To servus servi servorum Måns Sommar! + +Brask (stepping forward). Who is this man? + +Sommar. One of the attendants in the church. + +Brask. What's his name? + +Sommar. Olof Pedersson, alias Olaus Petri. + +Brask (staring hard at Olof). So you are Master Olof? (Olof bows +and looks fixedly at Brask.) I like you. Would you care to become +my secretary? + +Olof. Many thanks, Your Grace, but I have no recommendations. + +Brask. What have you to say, Bishop Måns? + +Sommar. He is said to have found much favor with Dr. Luther. + +Brask. So I've heard. Nothing but youthful spirits. We'll train +him. + +Olof. I fear it is too late! + +Brask. A sapling can be bent. + +Sommar. It is not wise to raise vipers, Your Grace. Our +canonicus here has strong leanings toward heresy, and to-day he +has dared to defy our orders. + +Brask. Is that so? + +Sommar. On fully legal grounds we have proclaimed an interdict, +and this man has ventured to say mass--worse than that, he has +said a Lutheran mass, and thus stirred up the people. + +Brask. Take care, young man! Don't you know that the ban will +fall on anybody who proclaims Luther? + +Olof. I know it, but I fear no other god than God. + +Brask. Consider your words. I mean well by you, and you repel me. + +Olof. You want to purchase my ability for the doctoring of your +sick cause, and I am shameless enough not to sell myself. + +Brask. By Saint George, I think you are out of your senses! + +0lof. If so, don't give me the same treatment as Gert the +Printer. You put him in a madhouse, and it made him too wise, I fear. + +Brask (to Bishop Sommar). Do you know Gert? + +Sommar. No, Your Grace. + +Brask. He's a lunatic who used my press to print Lutheran +writings in place of the anti-Lutheran stuff I put into his +hands. Moreover, he was dreaming of the Apocalypse and the +Millennium. (To Olof.) Have you seen him? + +Olof. He was here awhile ago, and you can expect but little good +of him. + +Brask. Is he at large? + +Olof. He'll be in Stockholm soon, and from there you'll hear of +him, I think. Take care, my Lord Bishop! + +Brask. Ho, there is nothing to fear yet. + +Olof. The Anabaptists are in Stockholm. + +Brask. What do you say? + +Olof. The Anabaptists are in Stockholm! + +Brask. The Anabaptists? + +[Enter Gustaf Vasa suddenly.] + +Gustaf. What's up? The city is in a tumult, the people are +marching through the streets crying for the mass. What's the +meaning of all this? + +Brask. Mischief, Your Highness. + +Gustaf. Bishop Måns! + +Sommar. The city has failed to pay its tithes. + +Gustaf. And for that reason you refuse to hold divine service? +'Sdeath! + +Brask. Your Highness ought to remember-- + +Gustaf. Answer me, Bishop Malls! + +Sommar. Your Highness ought to remember that matters like these, +which fall within the jurisdiction of the Church-- + +Gustaf. I command you to attend to your duties! + +Brask. The Bishops of Sweden take no orders except from their +superiors, the Pope and the Canon Law. + +Gustaf (checked). I know, but if the Pope cannot always keep an +eye on them? + +Brask. That's our concern. + +Gustaf (flares up, but controls himself at once). Your Grace +is right. It will remain your concern. + +Brask. To change the subject--Stockholm is about to rise in +rebellion. + +Gustaf. Who says so? + +Sommar. Our canonicus here. + +Gustaf. Your schoolmaster? Where is he? Oh, is it you? +What's your name? + +Olof. Olof Pedersson. + +Gustaf. Master Olof! They tell the you are a heretic, and that +you are scheming against Holy Church! That's a perilous venture! + +Brask. This very day he has dropped his mask by daring to show +open defiance of the Chapter's prohibition against services, and +for that reason we demand that Your Highness consent to have him +duly punished. + +Gustaf. That's a matter for the Chapter and does not concern me. +(To Olof.) But what was that you had to say about a rebellion at +Stockholm? + +Olof. The Anabaptists! + +Gustaf. Is that all? + +Brask. Does not Your Highness know how those madmen have been +carrying on in Germany? We suggest that Your Highness return to +the city in person with your armed force. + +Gustaf. That's a matter in which I suit myself! + +Brask. But civil war-- + +Gustaf. That's _my_ concern! (To Olof.) Olof, I appoint you to +the clerkship of our court-house at Stockholm. Get over there at +once. Speak to the people. I put my trust in you! + +Brask. For the country's sake I ask Your Highness to consider the +futility of wasting speech on madmen. + +Gustaf. Souls are not controlled by swords. Bear that in mind, +Your Lordships. + +Brask. The Church has never-- + +Gustaf. Nor by keys! (To Olof.) Go to my chancellor, and he will +give you your appointment. + +Brask. You had better wait a moment, canonicus. + +Gustaf. Our secretary will not put your orders ahead of mine. + +Brask. The rights of the Church must be assured first of all. +Olof Pedersson-- + +Gustaf (correcting him). Secretary-- + +Brask. Secretary Olof Pedersson cannot leave this city until the +Chapter has pronounced its verdict. + +Gustaf. The Chapter must try the case before it can pronounce a +verdict. + +Brask. That's our concern. + +Gustaf. It is not your concern, Bishop Brask. The Bishop of +Linköping cannot sit in judgment on a canonicus at Strängnäs. +Speak for yourself, Bishop Sommar. + +Sommar. After what has just occurred--h'm! + +Brask. All further arguments would seem superfluous. + +Gustaf. You had better be silent, Bishop Brask, or leave us, as I +am talking privately to Bishop Sommar--privately!--Well, speak +up, Bishop Måns! + +Sommar. I cannot see but--that--as His Grace, the Bishop of +Linköping-- + +Gustaf. We are talking of Master Olof now. Your Lordships will +have to postpone the trial. Be kind enough to leave us. + +[Exeunt Bishops.] + +Gustaf (to Olof). Will you be my man? + +Olof. Your Highness' secretary? + +Gustaf. No, my right hand--on the condition that for the present +the left hand shall not know what the right is doing. Go to +Stockholm. + +Olof. The Chapter will demand my surrender and ban me. + +Gustaf. Before they get to that point you may fall back on me, +but until then--stand on your own feet as far as you can. + +Olof. What is Your Highness' will? + +Gustaf. Talk to those fanatics in Stockholm. + +Olof. And then? + +Gustaf. Oh, that's a long way off. I don't dare to think +so far yet.--Let them preach. It can't hurt those sottish +spirits to hear a new word, even if it he not all true. But +there must be no violence; for then the sword will join +in the game. Farewell, Olof! [Exit.] + +Olof (alone). So the Emperor won't be friends with the Pope! + +(The two scholars, who have been waiting among the trees in the +background, come forward.) + +First Scholar. Shall we go on with the play, Master Olof? + +Olof. No, children, there will be no more playing. + +First Scholar. Are you going to leave us, Master Olof? + +Olof. Yes, and probably forever. + +First Scholar. Can't you stay over Whitsuntide, so that we can +perform our comedy? + +Second Scholar. And so that I can play the Angel Gabriel? + +First Scholar. Please do as we ask you, Master Olof! You are the +only one who has been nice to us and spared us those terrible +fasts. + +Second Scholar. Oh, don't go away from us, Master Olof! + +Olof. You don't know what you are asking, children. The day will +come when you shall thank the Lord that I did go away from you.-- +Oh, no, I hope such a day will never come!--But let us make our +leave-taking brief. Good-bye, Nils! Good-bye, Vilhelm! + +(He embraces them, and they kiss his hand. In the meantime Lars +Andersson has entered and is watching the group closely.) + +First Scholar. Won't you ever come back, Master Olof? + +Lars (coming forward). Are you ready to start now? + +Olof (to the scholars). No, I shall never come back. + +Scholars (as they go out). Good-bye, Master Olof, and don't +forget us! (Olof stands looking after them.) + +Lars. I have seen the King. + +Olof (absent-mindedly). Have you? + +Lars. Do you know what he said? + +Olof. No. + +Lars. "I have got a harrier to raise the game; now it remains to +be seen whether he will come back when I whistle for him!" + +Olof. Look at them--playing there among the graves, and picking +flowers, and singing the songs of Whitsuntide. + +Lars (taking hold of Olof's arm). Child! + +Olof (with a start). What did you say? + +Lars. I thought you had laid your hand so firmly on the plough +handle to-day that there could he no question of looking back. +(Olof waves his hand to the scholars.) Are you still dreaming? + +Olof. It was the last bright morning dream that passed away from +me. Pardon me--I am awake now! + +[Exeunt toward the right. Then they are nearly out, Olof turns +for a last look at the scholars. These have disappeared in the +meantime, and in their place appear the two Black Friars, Mårten +and Nils. On seeing them, Olof utters a startled cry and puts one +hand to his forehead. Lars drags him out.] + + +ACT II + +SCENE 1 + +(A Room in the Foundation Wall of the Church of St. Nicolaus at +Stockholm (generally known as Greatchurch), used as a beer-shop. +A bar full of pots and mugs occupies the background. To the +right of the bar stands a table, back of which appears an iron +door. Two disguised friars (Mårten and Nils) are seated at this +table drinking beer. The other tables are surrounded by German +mercenaries, peasants, and sailors. The door to the street is at +the right. A fiddler is seated on top of a barrel. The soldiers +are throwing dice. All are drunk and noisy. Hans Windrank, a man +from Småland, a German tradesman, and a Dane are seated together +at one of the tables.) + +German (to the Dane). So you defend a bloodthirsty brute like +Christian? + +Dane. Oh, mercy, he's human, isn't he? + +German. Not, he's a monster! A bloodthirsty brute! A treacherous, +cowardly Dane! + +Dane. Zounds! But you'd better not talk of blood. Do you remember +the massacre on Käppling Island, when the Germans-- + +Windrank. Listen to me, good Sirs! Let's be friends now, and have +some fun, and I'll tell you about Americky. + +German. Are you going to blame us of Lübeck for what the Germans +did? + +Dane. Oh, mercy, I was talking of the Germans only-- + +Windrank. Listen, good Sirs, what's the use of quarrelling? (To +the Tavern-keeper.) Four noggins of gin! Now let's be calm and +agreeable, and I'll tell you of Americky. (They are served.) + +German (sipping). A noble drink! Think of it, good Sirs, how +everything is advancing. To-day the grain is growing in the +field-- + +Windrank. And to-morrow it's made into wine. I wonder who first +found out how it's done? + +German. Beg your pardon, but that's a German invention. I call it +invention, because you discover Americky. + +Windrank. And the Germans never make any discoveries? + +German. 'Sdeath! + +Windrank. Now, now! You're no German, you said. + +Dane (to the German). Can you tell the who invented the story +that the Swedes got their present king from the Germans? (General +laughter.) + +German. It was we of Lübeck what gave Sweden a liberator when she +was on the verge of ruin. + +Windrank. Here's to the King! + +Dane. Here's to Lübeck! + +German (flattered). Really I don't know how to-- + +Windrank. Why, you aren't the King! + +German. Beg your pardon, but it was my Danish brother's-- + +Dane. How can you be of Lübeck when you are a citizen of +Stockholm? + +Windrank (to the Man from Småland). Why won't our silent brother +drink at all? + +Man from Småland. I'll drink your corn-juice, but when it comes +to the King's health, I do like this! (He crushes the tin cup and +throws it on the floor.) + +Windrank (groping with one hand for his sheath knife.) +You won't drink the King's health? + +Man from Småland. I've been drinking the cup he offered me so +long that I don't care to drink his health any longer. + +Windrank. 'Sblood! + +German (eagerly). Hush, hush! Let's hear what he's got to say. + +Dane (in the same way). Mercy, yes! + +A Man from Småland. The Lord help me when I get home again! + +Windrank (sentimentally). What is it, my dear man? Why do you +look so sad? Do you need money? Look here, now! (He pulls out his +purse.) I've half my wages left. What's the matter with you? + +Man from Småland. Don't let us talk about it. More gin! +Gin here! I've money, too. Do you see? Gold! (The liquor is +served). It isn't mine, but I'll spend it on drink to the last +farthing, and you'll please help me. + +Windrank. And yet it isn't your money--how can you do that? + +German. Who's wronged you, my dear fellow? I can see that you +have fared badly. + +A Man from Småland I am ruined! You see, I got two hundred oxen +on trust, and when I came to Stockholm the King's agent took +charge of the whole business, and he said I couldn't sell them +for more than he allowed. It's the King that fixes the price on +oxen--it's the King that has ruined me. + +German. You don't say! + +Man from Småland. Oh, I know a lot more. He means to take the +priests and the monks away from us in order to give everything to +the gentlefolk. + +Dane. To the gentlefolk? + +Man from Småland. Exactly! I wish King Christian--God bless him! +--had cut off a few more heads. + +Windrank. Well, is the King like that? I thought he had those +noble fellows by the ear. + +Man from Småland. He? No, he lets them be born with the right to +cut oak on my ground, if I had any. For I did have a patch of +land once, you see, but then came a lord who said that my +great-grandmother had taken it all in loan from his great-grandfather, +and so there was an end to that story. + +German. Why, is the King like that? I would never have believed +it. + +Man from Småland. Indeed he is! Those high-born brats run around +with their guns in our woods and pick off the deer out of sheer +mischief, but if one of us peasants were dying from hunger and +took a shot at one of the beasts--well, then he wouldn't have to +starve to death, for they'd hang him--but not to an oak--Lord, +no! That would be a shame for such a royal tree. No, just to an +ordinary pine. The pine, you see, has no crown, and that's why it +isn't royal--and that's why the old song says: + The peasants we hanged in lines + From the tops of the tallest pities. +It has nothing to say about crowns, mind you. + +German. But the pine carries its head high just the same, and its +back is straight. + +Man from Småland. Drink, good Sirs! You're right welcome to 't. It's +a blessed drink. If only I didn't have wife and children at home! Oh, +my, my, my! But that's all one! Oh, I know a lot more, but I know +how to keep it to myself, too. + +Windrank. What do you know? + +German. Maybe it's something diverting? + +Man from Småland. You see--if you counted all the pines of +Småland, I think you'd find a whole lot more of them than of +oaks. + +German. You think so? + +Windrank. I don't like you to talk badly of the King. I don't +know what he is doing or saying, and it isn't my business either, +but I know he takes good care of the shipping trade. Yes, it's he +who has put ships on the Spanish trade, and who has made me a +skipper, and so I've got no fault to find with him. + +German. He has done it out of sheer deviltry, just to hurt the +trade of Lübeck--of Lübeck, to which he owes such a great debt! + +Man from Småland. Well, he'll get what he deserves! A steer +doesn't lose his horns when you make an ox of him. Many thanks +for your company. Now I've got to go. + +German. Oh, no! Just one more noggin--and then we can talk a +little more. + +Man from Småland. No, thanks, though I'm sure it's good of you, +but that's all I dare take, for otherwise I fear this will end +badly. I've wife and children at home, you see, and now I'm going +home--to tell them we're ruined--no--I don't dare to--I'm much +obliged, Mr. German--let's drink some more. + +German. That's right! (They drink.) + +Man from Småland (emptying his cup and jumping up). +Oh, damn the bitter stuff! [Exit, staggering.] + +German (to the Dane). O Lord--when that fellow wakes up! + +(The Dane nods assent. The noise has been steadily increasing. +The fiddler is playing. Then the organ begins to play in the +church.) + +Windrank. It's strange, I think, that the King lets them have a +drinkshop in the church wall. + +German. Does it hurt your conscience, skipper? The King doesn't +know it, you see. + +Windrank. But they don't go together, the organ music and the +singing in here. I've always been a God-fearing man, ever since I +was at home. + +German (ironically). Happy the man brought up in that way! You +had a mother-- + +Windrank (moved). Yes--yes! + +German. Who tucked you up nights and taught you to say: "Now I +lay me down to sleep." + +Windrank. That's it! + +German. And a fine woman she was! + +Windrank (on whom the drink is beginning to show its effect.) +Oh, if you only knew! + +German. The Lord has heard her prayers. You're weeping. So you +must be a good man. + +Dane. Dear me! + +German. If your mother could only see you now--with those tears +in your eyes! + +Windrank. Oh, I know I'm a poor miserable sinner--I know it! But +I tell you--I've got a heart, damn it! Just let a poor wretch +come and tell me he is hungry, and I'll take off my own shirt and +give it to him. + +German. How about another drink? + +Windrank. No, I don't think so. + +(Several blows are struck on the iron door from the outside, +causing general excitement.) + +Windrank. God-a-mercy! + +German. Don't get scared. That's not the gate of heaven. + +Windrank. I'll never drink another drop--I vow and swear! + +German (to the Dane). What a blessed drink gin must be, seeing it +can move a rogue like that to sentimentality--nay, even to +thoughts of sobriety. + +Dane. You're right. There is nothing like it. + +German. It opens the heart wide and closes the head. Which means +that it makes good people of us, for those are called good, you +know, who have much heart and little head. + +Dane. I'd go still farther. Gin makes us religious. For it kills +reason, and reason is the rock that keeps religion from entering +our hearts. + +German. Most holy is gin! Strange that-- + +Dane. You need say no more! + +(More blows are struck on the iron door.) + +Windrank (who has fallen asleep, is awakened by the blows). +Help! I die! + +German. What a pity to lose such a sweet soul! + +(The door is pushed open so that the table at which Mårten +and Nils are seated is upset together with the mugs and cups +on it. A woman wearing a red and black skirt, with a nun's +veil thrown over her head, comes running into the room. For +a moment Gert can be seen in the doorway behind her, but the +door is immediately closed again.) + +Harlot (with a startled glance at her surroundings). Save me! The +people want to kill me! + +A German Mercenary. A harlot under a nun's veil! Ha-ha-ha! +(General laughter.) + +Mårten (making the sign of the cross). A harlot! Who dares +to bring her into this respectable company? Master taverner, take +her out of here, or she'll hurt the good name of the place and +the sanctity of the church. + +Harlot. Will nobody here save me? (In the meantime the tavern- +keeper has seized her by the arm to lead her into the street.) +Don't give me into the hands of that furious mob! I wanted to +steal into the Lord's house that I might share in His grace--I +wanted to start a new life--but the monks drove me out and set +the people on me--until Father Gert came and saved me. + +Mårten. You can hear for yourselves. She has polluted the Lord's +temple. She wants to hide the garment of shame beneath the veil +of sanctity. + +German. And there isn't enough of the veil. + +Mårten (approaching the woman to tear the veil from her face). +Off with the mask, and let your abomination be seen by all! (He +draws back when he catches sight of her face.) + +Harlot. So it's you, Mårten--you murderer! + +German. Old chums! + +Mårten. That's a shameless lie! I never have seen her before. I +am Brother Mårten, of the Dominicans, and Brother Nils here can +be my witness. + +Nils (intoxicated). I can testify--that Brother Mårten has never +seen this woman. + +Harlot. And yet it was you, Nils, who showed me Mårten's letter +of absolution when I was driven out of the convent and he was +permitted to stay. + +Nils. Yes--come to think of it! + +Mårten (in a rage, pulling Nils by the sleeve). You're lying-- +you, too! Can't you see he is drunk? + +German. My dear folks, I can testify that the reverend brother is +drunk, and that's why he is lying! + +Crowd (with signs of disgust). A drunken priest! + +German. Well, booze is absolution for lying. Isn't that so, +Father Mårten? + +Tavern-keeper. Really, I can't let my house be the meeting-place +for any kind of disturbance. If this goes on, I'll lose my +customers and get hauled before the Chapter. Won't you please +take away that miserable creature who's causing all this noise? + +Mårten. Take her out, or I'll have you all banned! Don't you know +that we are now within the consecrated walls of the church, +although the Chapter allows this outhouse to be used for the +material refreshment of travellers? + +German. Surely this room is holy, good folk, and surely the Lord +doth dwell here. + +(The crowd begins to drag the Harlot toward the street door.) + +Harlot. Jesus Christ, help me! + +[Enter Olof. He appears in the door, and pushes through the crowd +until he reaches the Harlot, whose hand he takes so that he can +pull her away from the drunken men about her.] + +Olof. Answer me--who is this woman? + +Mårten. She's no woman. + +Olof. What do you mean? + +Mårten. She is no man either, although she's disguised. + +Olof. "She," you say--and yet not a woman? + +Mårten. She's a harlot. + +Olof (shocked, drops the woman's hand). A harlot! + +German. Don't let go of her, Master Olof, or she'll run away. + +Olof. Why are you laying hands on her? What is her crime? + +German. Going to church. + +Olof. I see! (He looks around.) + +Mårten. What are you looking for? + +Olof (catching sight of Mårten). A priest! + +Mårten. I am a Black Friar. + +Olof. Yes, I guessed that much. So it's you who have incited the +people against her? + +Mårten. I am protecting the church from foulness and trying to +keep it free of vice. She is a banned woman, who has been +trafficking with her own body, which should be a temple of the +Lord. (The woman kneels before Olof.) + +Olof (taking her by the hand). But I, Dominican, dare to take her +hand and match her against you. She has sold her body, you say-- +how many souls have you bought?--I am also a priest--Nay, I am a +man, for I am not presumptuous enough to put a lock on God's own +house, and as a sinful human creature I hold out my hand to my +fellow-creature, who cannot be pure either. Let him who is +without sin step forward and cast the first stone.--Step forward, +Brother Mårten, you angel of light, who have donned the black +garments of innocence and shaved your hair so that no one may see +how you have grown gray in sin! Or have you no stone ready, +perhaps? Alas for you, then! What have you done with those you +were to hand the people when they were crying for bread? Have you +already given them all away?--Step forward, you highly respectable +citizen. (To Windrank, who is asleep on the floor.) You, who +are sleeping the sleep of a brute, why don't you wake up and +fling your knife at her?--Do you see how he is blushing? Can +it be from shame at the bad company you have brought him into, or +from carnal desire? (The crowd mutters disapprovingly.) +You are muttering! Is that because you are ashamed of my words or +of yourselves? Why don't you cast the stones? Oh, you haven't +any. Well, open that door. Summon the people outside and hand +this woman over to them. If you don't think fifty men have power +enough to tear her to pieces, you maybe sure that five hundred +women will avail. Well? You are silent?--Rise up, woman! You have +been acquitted. Go and sin no more. But don't show yourself to +the priests, for they will deliver you up to the women! + +Mårten (who has tried to interrupt Olof several times, but has +been held back by the German, now displays a document). This man, +to whom you have been listening, is a heretic, as you may have +heard from his talk, and he has also been t excommunicated. Here +you can see! Read for yourselves! (He takes one of the candles +from the nearest table and throws it on the floor.) "As this +candle, that we here cast out, is extinguished, so shall be +extinguished all his happiness and weal and whatsoever good may +come to him from God!" + +Crowd (draws back, making the sign of the cross, so that Olof is +left alone with the Harlot in the middle of the room). Anathema! + +Mårten (to the Harlot). There you can hear how much Master Olof's +absolution avails you. + +Olof (who has been taken aback for a moment). Do you still dare +to trust my word, woman? Are you not afraid of me? Can you not +hear the lightnings of the ban hissing around our heads? Why +don't you join these twenty righteous ones who still remain +within the refuge of Holy Church?--Answer me! Do you think the +Lord has cast me out as these have done? + +Harlot. No! + +Olof (seizing the letter of excommunication). Well, then! The +great bishop of the small city of Linköping has sold my soul to +Satan for the term of my life--for farther than that his power +does not reach--and he has done so because I bade the people seek +their Lord when they had been prohibited from doing so! Here is +the contract! As the Church, by that contract, has bound me to +hell, so I set myself free from it (he tears the letter to +pieces)--and from the ban of the Church, too! So help me God! +Amen! + +Crowd (howling). Anathema! + +Mårten. Down with him! At him! He is banned! + +Olof (placing himself in front of the Harlot). Do you hear the +devils yelling for their victim?--Dare not to touch me! + +Mårten. At him! Down with him! + +[Just as one of the mercenaries raises his weapon to strike, the +iron door in the rear is flung open, and the Anabaptists, headed +by Knipperdollink, come rushing in, uttering wild cries. They +carry broken crucifixes and images of saints as well as torn vestments. +All those in the room before are forced toward the street door.] + +Knipperdollink (as he pushes back the iron door and enters ahead +of the rest). Come here, folk--here's another sanctum!--What's +this? A drinkshop in the temple!--Look ye! Look ye--the +abomination has gone so far that the tabernacle itself is being +polluted. But I will cleanse it with fire. Set fire to the church +and prepare a stake for the saints! + +Olof (stepping forward). Consider what you propose to do! + +Knipperdollink. Are you afraid that the beer kegs will burst from +the heat, you Belial? Are you the popish tapster who thought it +not robbery to build vice a chapel in the very wall of the +church? + +Olof. I am the Secretary of the Court-House, and I command you +in the name of the King to keep order! + +Knipperdollink. So you are the man whom the King has sent here to +make war on our sacred cause? Onward, onward, ye men of God, +and seize him first of all! Afterwards we'll cleanse the temple +of the Lord from idolatry. + +Mårten. Go at him, good folk, for he's a heretic and under the +ban! + +Knipperdollink. A heretic? You are not one of the papists, then? + +Olof. Since they have banned me, I can no longer be of the +Church. + +Knipperdollink. Then you are on our side? (Olof remains silent.) +Answer: are you with us or against us? + +Mårten. He's Olof Pedersson, the man that was sent here by the +King. + +Knipperdollink. Are you Olof Pedersson? + +Olof. I am. + +Knipperdollink. But a heretic? + +Olof. I pride myself on being one. + +Knipperdollink. And yet take service with the King? + +Olof. Yes! + +(The Anabaptists raise an outcry and surround Olof.) + +[Enter Gert quickly through the door in the rear.] + +Gert. Hold! What are you doing? + +Knipperdollink. Gert!--Who is this man? + +Gert. One of our own. Let him go, friends! Over there you see the +emissaries of the Devil! + +(He points to Mårten and Nils, who flee through the street door, +closely pursued by the Anabaptists. At the door Gert stops and +turns toward Olof. The Harlot is crouching in a corner of the +room. Windrank is still sleeping under one of the tables. Olof is +standing in the middle of the floor, sunk in deep thought.) + +Gert (exhausted, throws himself on a bench). It's heavy work, +Olof. + +Olof. What have you been doing? + +Gert. Oh, a little house-cleaning, to begin with. + +Olof. For which you will pay dearly. + +Gert. So far we have the upper hand. The whole city has been +roused. Rink is at work in St. George's Chapel. Tell me, has the +King sent you to oppose us? + +Olof. He has. + +Gert. That was a most sensible thing to do! + +Olof. To-morrow I am to preach from the new pulpit. + +Gert. Do you call this fulfilling your royal mission? Here you +are, still standing with your arms folded. + +Olof. Come to church to-morrow with your brethren. + +Gert. Is it going to be an archipapal sermon? + +Olof. I have been put under the ban to-day. + +Gert (jumps up and puts his arms around Olof). God bless you, +Olof! That is indeed the baptism of new birth! + +Olof. I don't understand you yet. Why do you carry on like wild +beasts? You seem to be outraging all that is held sacred. + +Gert (picking up the broken image of a saint). Do you call this +fellow holy? A St. Nicolaus, I think. Can it be possible, then, +that Jesus Christ has come down and lived among us to no purpose, +as we are still worshipping logs of wood? Can this be a god, +which I can break to pieces? See! + +Olof. But he is sacred to the people. + +Gert. So was the golden calf, and so was Zeus; so were Thor and +Odin, too. And yet they were struck down. (Catches sight of the +Harlot.) Who's that woman? Oh, the one I tried to save by sending +her in here. Tell me one thing, Olof. Have you been bought by the +King? + +Olof. Leave me, Gert! I hate you! + +Gert. Who's that pig asleep over there? + +Olof. When I face you, I seem to shrink. Leave me! I want to do +my own work, and not yours. + +Gert. Listen! + +Olof. You are trying to confuse my fate with your own. + +Gert. Listen! + +Olof. You have surrounded me with an invisible net. You have +proclaimed me an Anabaptist. How am I going to face the King? + +Gert. Which king? + +Olof. King Gustaf! + +Gert. Oh, that one!--Well, good-bye, then, Olof.--So +you're going to preach to-morrow?--Why doesn't that +woman go her way?--Good-bye! [Exit.] + +0lof. Is that man running errands for God or for Satan? + +Harlot (approaches Olof and kneels before him). Let me thank you! + +Olof. Give thanks for God alone for having saved your soul, and +don't think that all your sins have been expiated to-day. Try to +find strength to live a life that will always be cursed. God has +forgiven you--your fellow-men will never do so! (He takes her by +the hand and leads her to the street door.) + +[Enter Mårten through the doorway in the rear, followed by Olof's +Mother and Christine, the daughter of Gert.] + +Mårten. We're in the wrong place, I fear. + +Mother (outraged at seeing Olof and the Harlot together). Olof, +Olof! + +Christine. Who is that woman? She looks so unhappy. + +Mårten. Let us get away from this den of iniquity! + +Olof (turning and running toward the iron door, which is closed +in his face by Mårten). Mother! Mother! + [He runs out through the other door.] + +(The stage is darkened.) + + +SCENE 2 + +(The Same Room. The door to the church is opened cautiously, and +The Sexton, who is also the organ-blower, enters warily. He +carries a lantern and is followed by his Wife.) + +Sexton. Catherine dear, will you hold the lantern a moment while +I put on the padlock? + +Wife. First we must have a look at all this wretchedness, Bengt +dear. Never could I have believed that the public-house was so +near to us. It's perfectly dreadful! Look--whole barrels full of +beer! + +Sexton. And gin, too. Don't you smell it? It will give me a +headache if I stay much longer. + +Wife. Lord have mercy, what a sinful life they must have lived in +here! + +Sexton. Catherine dear! + +Wife. Yes, dear. + +Sexton. Do you know I am not feeling quite well. This place is so +damp and cold. + +Wife. Perhaps we had better go home? + +Sexton. Oh, I think I must sit down and rest on the bench here. + +Wife. You shouldn't sit down in all this dampness and cold. Let +us get back into the church. + +Sexton. No, I think it was still colder out there. + +Wife. You haven't a fever, have you? + +Sexton. I almost think I have--I'm so hot. + +Wife. Maybe you want something to drink? + +Sexton. That wouldn't be a bad thing, perhaps. + +Wife. I'll see if there is any water around. + +Sexton. Don't think you'll find any in this kind of a hole. + +Wife. But you can't drink beer if you have a fever. + +Sexton. Do you know, I think the fever has passed away. Now I'm +feeling cold. + +Wife. I'll see if I can't find some small beer. + +Sexton. It has to be pretty strong, I think, if it's to do any +good. There's a keg of Rostock No. 4 over there--marked A. W., +don't you see? + +Wife (searching). I can't find it. Here's an Amsterdam No. 3. + +Sexton. Can't you see--up there on the fourth shelf at the right? +(His wife continues to look.) The tap is lying to the left of it, +right by the funnel. + +Wife. I don't think it's there. + +Sexton. Just as if I didn't know! + +Wife. Yes, here it is. + +(The Sexton gets up to help his wile and accidentally steps on +Windrank.) + +Windrank (waking up). Mercy! Jesu Christ! St. Peter and St. Paul! +Ferdinand and Isabella, and St. George and the Dragon, and all +the rest! And ires dire glories in excellence, and deuces tecum +vademecum Christ Jesu, and birds of a feather, and now I lay me +down to sleep, and a child is born for you to keep--Amen! Amen!-- +Who's stepping on my windbag? + +Sexton (frightened). Will you please tell me whether you are a +man or a ghost? + +Windrank. Man most of the time, but just now I'm a beast. + +Sexton. What kind of a man, if I may ask? + +Windrank. A shipman--which is nor reason why you should blow all +the wind out of me. + +Sexton. But that's my business, you know--I blow the bellows of +the big organ. + +Windrank. So it was the organ-blower who honored me-- + +Sexton. The sexton, to put it right; but I also keep an old-clothes +shop in the church wall. + +Windrank. So you're organ-blower, sexton, and shopkeeper-- + +Sexton. In one person--without confusion or transformation-- + +Windrank. That's a most respectable trinity. + +Sexton. Such things should not be made fun of! + +Windrank. Oh, my, my! I'm drowning! Help! + +Sexton. Lord, what is it? + +Windrank. There's a whole river coming--Ugh! + +Sexton. Catherine dear! Where are you, my angel? (He runs to look +for her.) Jesu, but you must have scared my wife out of her wits. +She has run away from the keg--and taken the tap along! Get up-- +up with you, and let us leave this godless hole! + +Windrank. No, my dear fellow, I'm in my element now, so I think +I'll stay. + +Sexton. Goodness, the clock is striking twelve, and the ghosts +will be coming! + +Windrank (jumping to his feet). That's a different story! (The +Sexton guides Windrank toward the door.) Listen, sexton--I'm +beginning to have strong doubts about the trinity. + +Sexton. Well, I declare! + +Windrank. It's your trinity I'm thinking of. + +Sexton. What do you mean, master skipper? + +Windrank. I think there must be four of you, after all. + +Sexton. Four--of whom? + +Windrank. How about the tapster? Shouldn't he be counted, too? + +Sexton. Hush, man! That's only nights. + +(Both stumble over the broken image of St. Nicolaus and fall +down.) + +Windrank. Mercy! Ghosts! Jesu Maria, help! + +Sexton (rising and picking up the image). Well, if that isn't +enough to make your hair stand on end! Here's St. Nicolaus broken +all to pieces and swimming in the beer. It has come to a fine +pass when divine things are defiled like that--I don't think the +world will last much longer--when such things can be done in the +dry tree-- + +Windrank (having recovered). In the wet one, you mean. + +Sexton. Keep still, blasphemer! St. Nicolaus is my patron saint. +I was born on his day. + +Windrank. That's probably why both of you like beer. + +Sexton. Yes, it's in the fashion now to be heretical! + +Windrank. It's in the air, I think, for otherwise I'm a most +God-fearing man. But never mind, I'll have St. Nicolaus glued +together for you. + +Sexton (calling into the church). Catherine! + +Windrank. Hush, hush, man! You'll make the ghosts appear! + +Sexton. A plague on your tongue! [Exeunt.] + + +SCENE 3 + +(The Sacristy of the Church of St. Nicolaus. There is a door +leading to the church, and another, smaller one, leading to the +pulpit. The walls are hung with chasubles and surplices. +Priedieus and a few small chests are standing about. The sunlight +is pouring in through a window. The church bells are heard +ringing. Through the wall at the left can be heard a constant +murmuring. The Sexton and his Wife enter, stop near the door, and +pray silently.) + +Sexton. That's enough! Now, Catherine dear, you'd better hurry up +and do some dusting. + +Wife. Oh, there's no special occasion. It's nobody but that +Master Olof who's going to preach to-day. Really, I can't see why +the Chapter allows it. + +Sexton. Because he's got permission from the King, you see. + +Wife. Well, well! + +Sexton. And then he has had a sort of basket built out from the +wall--nothing but new-fangled tricks! It's all on account of that +man Luther. + +Wife. I suppose we'll have the same kind of trouble that we had +yesterday. I thought they were going to pull the whole church +down. + +Sexton (carrying a glass of water up to the pulpit). I'm sure +the poor fellow will need something to wet his whistle to-day. + +Wife. Well, I shouldn't bother, if I were you. + +Sexton (speaking from the pulpit). Catherine--here he comes! + +Wife. Goodness gracious, and the sermon bell hasn't rung yet! +Well, I suppose they won't ring it for a fellow like him. + +[Enter Olof, looking serious and solemn. He crosses to one of the +prie-dieus and kneels on it. The Sexton comes down from the pulpit +and takes from the wall a surplice which he holds out to Olof.] + +Olof (rising). The peace of the Lord be with you! + +[The Wife curtseys and leaves the room. The Sexton holds out the +vestment again.] + +Olof. Leave it hanging! + +Sexton. Don't you want any robe? + +Olof. No. + +Sexton. But it's always used. And the handkerchief? + +Olof. Never mind. + +Sexton. Well, I declare! + +Olof. Will you please leave me alone, my friend? + +Sexton. You want me to get out? But as a rule, I-- + +Olof. Do me the favor, please! + +Sexton. Oh, well! Of course! But first I want to tell you that +you'll find the missal to the right of you as you get up, and I +have put in a stick so you'll know where to open it, and there is +a glass of water beside the book. And you mustn't forget to turn +the hour-glass, or it may chance you'll keep it up a little too +long-- + +Olof. Don't worry! There will be plenty of people to tell me when +to quit. + +Sexton. Mercy, yes--beg your pardon! But you see, we've got our +own customs here. + +Olof. Tell me, what is that depressing murmur we hear? + +Sexton. It's some pious brother saying prayers for a poor +soul. [Exit.] + +Olof. "Thou therefore gird up thy loins and arise, and speak unto +them all that I command thee."--God help me! (He drops on his +knees at a prie-dieu; there he finds a note, which he reads.) +"Don't preach to-day; your life is in danger."--The Tempter +himself wrote that! (He tears the note to pieces.) + +[Enter Olof's Mother.] + +Mother. You are straying from the right path, my son. + +Olof. Who knows? + +Mother. I know! But as your mother I reach out my hand to you. +Turn back! + +Olof. Where would you lead me? + +Mother. To godliness and virtue. + +Olof. If godliness and virtue are vested in papal decrees, then I +fear it is too late. + +Mother. It isn't only a question of what you teach, but of how +you live. + +Olof. I know you are thinking of my company last night, but I am +too proud to answer you. Nor do I think it would do any good. + +Mother. Oh, that I should be thus rewarded for the sacrifice I +made when I let you go out into the world and study! + +Olof. By heaven, your sacrifice shall not be wasted! It is you, +mother, I have to thank for this day when at last I can stand +forth with a free countenance and speak the words of truth. + +Mother. How can _you_ talk of truth, you who have made yourself a +prophet of lies? + +Olof. Those are hard words, mother! + +Mother. Or perhaps I and my forbears have lived and worshipped +and died in a lie? + +Olof. It wasn't a lie, but it has become one. When you were +young, mother, you were right, and when I grow old--well, perhaps +I may find myself in the wrong. One cannot keep apace with the +times. + +Mother. I don't understand! + +Olof. This is my one sorrow--the greatest one of my life: that +all I do and say with the purest purpose must appear to you a +crime and sacrilege. + +Mother. I know what you mean to do, Olof--I know what error you +have fallen into--and I cannot hope to persuade you out of it, +for you know so much more than I do, and I am sure that the Lord +will put you on the right path again--but I ask you to take care +of your own life, so that you won't plunge headlong into +perdition! Don't risk your life! + +Olof. What do you mean? They won't kill me in the pulpit, will +they? + +Mother. Haven't you heard that Bishop Brask wants the Pope to +introduce the law that sends all heretics to the stake? + +Olof. The inquisition? + +Mother. Yes, that's what they call it. + +Olof. Leave me, mother! To-day I must stand up and preach. + +Mother. You shall not do it. + +Olof. Nothing can prevent me. + +Mother. I have prayed to God that He would touch your heart--I'll +tell you, but you mustn't speak of it to anybody. I am weak with +age, and I couldn't trust my own knees, so I went to see a +servant of the Lord and asked him, who is nearer to God, to say +some prayers for your soul. He refused because you are under the +ban. Oh, it's dreadful! May the Lord forgive me my sin! I bribed +the pure conscience of that man with gold--with the Devil's own +gold--just to save you! + +Olof. Mother, what do I hear? It can't be possible! + +Mother (takes Olof by the hand and leads him over to the left, +close to the wall). Listen! Do you hear? He is praying for you +now in the chapel next to this room. + +Olof. So that was the murmur I heard! Who is he? + +Mother. You know him--Brother Mårten, of the Dominicans-- + +Olof. You get Satan to say prayers for me!--Forgive me, mother-- +I thank you for your good intention, but-- + +Mother (on her knees, weeping). Olof! Olof! + +Olof. Don't ask me! A mother's plea might tempt the angels of +heaven to recant!--Now the hymn is ended: I must go! The people +are waiting. + +Mother. You'll send me into my grave, Olof! + +Olof (passionately). The Lord will resurrect you! (Kissing her +hand.) Don't talk to me any more--I don't know what I am saying! + +Mother. Listen! Listen! The people are muttering! + +Olof. I'm coming! I'm coming! He who protected Daniel in the +lions' den will also protect me! + +(Olof ascends the stairs leading to the pulpit. Throughout the +ensuing scenes a man's voice can be heard speaking with great +power, but no words can be distinguished. After a while +mutterings are heard, which change into loud cries.) + +[Enter Christine.] + +Christine. Mother, did you see him? + +Mother. Are you here, child? I asked you to stay at home! + +Christine. Why shouldn't I visit the house of the Lord? There is +something you hide from me! + +Mother. Go home, Christine! + +Christine. May I not hear Olof preach? It's the word of God, +isn't it, mother? (The Mother remains silent.) You don't answer? +What does it mean? Hasn't Olof permission to preach? Why do the +people out there look so mysterious? They were muttering when I +came. + +Mother. Don't ask me! Go home and thank God for your ignorance! + +Christine. Am I a child, then, since nobody dares to tell me-- + +Mother. Your soul is still pure, and nobody must defile it. What +place is there for you in the battle? + +Christine. Battle? I thought so! + +Mother. Yes, here the battle rages, and so you must get out of +the way. You know our lot when the men go to war. + +Christine. But let me first know what it is all about. Not to +know anything at all makes me so unhappy. I see nothing but a +dreadful darkness, and shadows that are moving about--Give me +light, so that I may see clearly! Perhaps I know these ghostly +shallows? + +Mother. You will shudder when you see who they are. + +Christine. It is better to shudder than to be tormented by this +horrible calm. + +Mother. Don't pray for the cloud to flash forth lightning: it +may destroy you! + +Christine. You frighten me! But tell me the truth--I must know-- +or I shall ask some one else. + +Mother. Are you firm in your decision to withdraw within the +sacred walls of the convent? + +Christine. My father wishes it. + +Mother. You hesitate? (Christine does not answer.) There is some +tie that holds you back. + +Christine. You know? + +Mother. I know, and tell you to break it! + +Christine. It will soon be impossible. + +Mother. I will save you, child, for you can still be saved. I +will offer the Lord the greatest sacrifice of all if a single +soul can be saved from perdition--my son! + +Christine. Olof? + +Mother. He's lost, I tell you, and I, his mother, have to tell +you so! + +Christine. Lost? + +Mother. He is a prophet of lies. The Devil has taken possession of +his soul. + +Christine (passionately). It isn't true! + +Mother. God grant that you are right! + +Christine. Why--why haven't you told me this before?--But, of +course, it's a lie! (She goes to the door leading into the church +and pushes it ajar.) Look at him, mother--there he is! Can that +be an evil spirit speaking out of his mouth? Can that be a +hellish flame burning in his eyes? Can lies be told with +trembling lips? Does darkness shed light--can't you see the halo +about his head? You are wrong! I feel it within me! I don't know +what he preaches--I don't know what he denies--but he is right! +He is right, and the Lord is with him! + +Mother. You don't know the world, my child. You don't know the +tricks of the Devil. Beware! (She pulls Christine away from the +door.) You mustn't listen to him. There is no strength in your +soul, and he's the apostle of Antichrist! + +Christine. Who is Antichrist? + +Mother. He is a Luther! + +Christine. You have never told me who Luther is, but if Olof is +his apostle, then Luther must be a great man. + +Mother. Luther is possessed of the Devil! + +Christine. Why didn't you tell me before? Now I can't believe +you! + +Mother. I am telling you now--Alas, I wanted to save you from the +world's wickedness, and so I kept you in ignorance-- + +Christine. I don't believe you! Let me go! I must see him--I must +listen to him--for he doesn't talk like the rest. + +Mother. Jesus, my Saviour! Are you, too, possessed by the unclean +spirit? + +Christine (at the door). "Bind not the souls," he said--did you +hear? "You are free, for the Lord has set you free." See how the +people shudder at his words--now they rise up--they mutter. "You +want no freedom--woe unto you! For that is the sin against the +Holy Ghost!" + +[Enter Sexton.] + +Sexton. I don't think it's well for you to stay here any longer, +my good ladies. The people are getting restless. This will never +end well for Master Olof. + +Mother. Jesu Maria! What are you saying? + +Christine. Fear not! The spirit of the Lord is with him! + +Sexton. Well, I don't know about that, but he's a wonder at +preaching. Old sinner that I am, I couldn't keep from crying +where I was sitting in the organ-loft. I don't understand how it +can be possible for a heretic and an Antichrist to talk like +that. That man Luther, I must say, I--(Cries are heard from the +church.) There, there! Now something dreadful is going to happen +again! And to think that the King should be gone just now! + +Mother. Let us get away from here. If the Lord is with +him, they can do him no harm. If it he the Devil--then Thy will +be done, O Lord--but forgive him! + +(Cries are heard outside. Exeunt the Mother, Christine, and the +Sexton. For a few moments the stage stands empty and Olof's +voice is heard more clearly than before. It is interrupted by +cries and the rattling of stones thrown at the pulpit. Christine +returns alone, locks the door on the inside, and falls on her +knees at a prie-dieu. A number of violent blows are directed +against the door from without, while the tumult in the church +continues to increase. Then silence is restored, as Olof descends +from the pulpit. His forehead is bleeding and he wears a haggard +look.) + +Olof (dropping into a chair without perceiving Christine). +In vain! They will not! I take the fetters from the prisoner, and +he hits me. I tell him he is free, and he doesn't believe me. Is +that word "free" so big, then, that it can't be contained in a +human brain? Oh, that I had one at least who believed--but to be +alone--a fool whom no one understands-- + +Christine (coming forward). I believe in you, Olof! + +Olof. Christine! + +Christine. _You_ are right! + +Olof. How do you know? + +Christine. I can't tell, but I believe it. I have been listening +to you. + +Olof. And you do not curse me? + +Christine. You are preaching the word of God, are you not? + +Olof. I am! + +Christine. Why have we not been told these things before? Or why +have they been told us in a language that we do not understand? + +Olof. Who has put those words into your mouth, girl? + +Christine. Who? I haven't thought of asking. + +Olof. Your father? + +Christine. He wants me to enter a convent. + +Olof. Has it come to that? And what is your own wish? + +Christine (catching sight of Olof's bleeding forehead). They have +hurt you, Olof! For heaven's sake, let me help you! + +Olof (sitting down again). Have I unsettled your faith, +Christine? + +Christine (takes the handkerchief, tears it into strips, and +begins to dress Olof's wounds while speaking). My faith? I don't +understand you.--Tell me, who is Luther? + +Olof. I mustn't tell you. + +Christine. Always the same answer! From my father, from your +mother, and from yourself. Are you timid about telling me the +truth, or is the truth really dangerous? + +Olof. Truth is dangerous. Can't you see? (He points to his +forehead.) + +Christine. So you want me to be shut up in a convent cell to live +a lifeless life in ignorance? (Olof does not reply.) You want me +to weep away my life and my youth, and to keep on saying those +endlessly long prayers until my soul is put to sleep? No--I won't +do it, for now I am awake. All around me they are fighting, and +suffering, and despairing. I have seen it, but I was to have no +share in it. I was not even to look on, or to know the purpose of +the fighting. You wanted me to be sunk in bestial slumber. But +don't you believe me possessed of a soul, then--a soul that +cannot be satisfied by bread or by dry prayers put into my mouth +by others? "Bind not the spirits," you said. Oh, if you could +only know how that word pierced me! Daylight came, and those wild +cries out there sounded like the singing of birds in the morning-- + +Olof. You are a woman, Christine, and not born to fight! + +Christine. But in the name of God, let me suffer, then! Only not +be asleep! Don't you see that the Lord has awakened me in spite +of all? You have never dared to tell me who Antichrist was. You +have never dared to tell me who Luther was, and when your mother +called you a Luther, I blessed Luther. If he be a heretic or a +believer, I don't know, and I don't care; for no one--whether it +be Luther, or the Pope, or Antichrist-can satisfy my immortal +soul when I have no faith in the eternal God. + +Olof. Will you follow me into the battle, Christine? For you can +sustain me, and you only! + +Christine. Now I am able to answer you with a frank "yes," for I +know my own will--and I can do so without asking father first, +for I am free. Oh, I am free! + +Olof. And do you know what is in store for you? + +Christine. I know! You will not have to shatter my mocking dreams +--they are already gone. But you may be sure that I, too, +have been dreaming of a knight who was to lay a kingdom at my +feet and talk to me of flowers and love--Olof, I want to be your +wife! Here is my hand! But this much I must tell you: that you +never have been the knight of my dreams, and that I thank God he +never came. For then he had also gone--as a dream. + +Olof. Christine, you want to be mine--and I will make you happy. +For when I suffered sorrow and temptation, you were always in my +mind--and now you shall be at my side! You were the maiden of my +dreams, kept captive in a tower by the stern castellan--and now +you are mine! + +Christine. Beware of dreams, Olof! + +(Blows are heard on the door from outside.) + +Olof. Who is that? + +Voice (outside). Gert. + +Olof. What will he say? My promise-- + +Christine. Are you afraid? Shall I open? + +(Olof opens the door.) + +[Enter Gert.] + +Gert (starting at the sight of his daughter and Olof). +Christine?--You have broken your promise, Olof! + +Olof. I have not. + +Gert. You lie! You have stolen my child, my one solace. + +Christine. Olof is not lying. + +Gert. You have been to church, Christine? + +Christine. I have heard what you didn't want me to hear. + +Gert. O Lord, this only joy Thou hast begrudged me! + +Olof. The stream that you wanted to set free takes its +victims where it can. + +Gert. You have robbed me of her, of my child! + +Olof. Give her to me, Father Gert! + +Gert. Never! + +Olof. Is she not free? + +Gert. She is my child. + +Olof. Are you not preaching freedom? She is mine! The +Lord has given her to me, and you cannot take her away. + +Gert. You are--thank God--a priest. + +Olof and Christine. A priest! + +Gert. And as such you cannot marry. + +Olof. And if I do? + +Gert. You would dare? + +Olof. I would. + +Gert. Do you want a man who is under the ban, Christine? + +Christine. I don't know what that means. + +Olof. There you see, Gert, there you see! + +Gert. Thy punishment is harsh, O Lord! + +Olof. The truth is for all. + +Gert. Your love is greater than mine, which was nothing but +selfishness. God bless you! Now I stand alone! (He embraces +them.) There, now! Go home, Christine, and set their minds at +rest. I want to speak to Olof. (Exit Christine.) Now you belong +to me. + +Olof. What do you mean? + +Gert. Kinsman!--You got my letter? + +Olof. It was you who advised me not to preach? + +Gert. Quite the contrary, although I expressed myself somewhat +strangely. + +Olof. I don't understand. + +Gert. No--no! You are still too young, and so you need a +providence. To a man like you one says "Let be" when one wants +him to do something. + +Olof. Why were you and your followers not in church? + +Gert. None but the sick need doctors. We were busy elsewhere. You +have done a good piece of work to-day, and I see that you have +got your reward for it. I have set you free to-day, Olof. + +Olof. _You_ have? + +Gert. The King commanded you to quiet the rebellious, and what +have you been doing? + +Olof. Now I begin to understand you, Father Gert. + +Gert. I am delighted! Yes, you have aroused even the calmest. + +Olof. So I have. + +Gert. What do you think the King will say to that? + +Olof. I shall have to face it. + +Gert. Good! + +Olof. The King will approve my actions, for he wants a +reformation, although he does not yet dare to start one himself. + +Gert. You idiot! + +Olof. I see that you want to set me against my lawful sovereign. + +Gert. Tell me, how many masters do you think you can serve? (Olof +makes no reply.) The King is here. + +Olof. What do you say? + +Gert. The King has just returned. + +Olof. And the Anabaptists? + +Gert. Locked up, of course. + +Olof. And you stand here so calmly? + +Gert. I am old now. Once I used to rage like you, but it only +tired me out. Rink and Knipperdollink have served as my outposts. +They had to fall, that's plain; now my work begins. + +(Drum-beats are heard from the street.) + +Olof. What is that? + +Gert. The royal drums that keep the captives company to prison. +Come here and see! + +Olof (mounting one of the benches and looking out of the window). +What do I see? Women and children are dragged along by the +soldiers! + +Gert. Well, they have been throwing stones at the King's guard. +Do you think such things can be allowed? + +Olof. But are madmen and sick people to be put into prison? + +Gert. There are two kinds of madmen. One kind is sent to the +hospital and treated with pills and cold baths. Those of the +other kind have their heads cut off. It is a radical treatment, +but then, for a fact, they are rather dangerous. + +Olof. I'll go to the King. He cannot wish such dreadful things to +happen. + +Gert. Take care of your head, Olof! + +Olof. Take care of your own, Father Gert! + +Gert. No danger in my case, for I have a warrant for the asylum. + +Olof. I cannot bear to see these things. I am going to the King, +even if it cost my life. (He goes toward the door.) + +Gert. This is a matter not to be settled by the King. You should +appeal to the law. + +Olof. The King is the law! + +Gert. Unfortunately!--If the horse knew his own strength, he +would never be mad enough, as he is now, to bear the yoke. But +when once in a while he gets his reason back and runs away from +his oppressors, then they call him mad--Let us pray the Lord to +give these poor creatures their reason back! + + +ACT III + +SCENE 1 + +(A Hall in the Royal Palace at Stockholm. In the background is +a gallery which can be partitioned off by curtains. In elderly +servant of the palace is pacing back and forth in the gallery.) + +Enter Olof. + +Olof. Is the King receiving to-day? + +Servant. Yes. + +Olof. Can you tell me why I have been kept waiting here in vain +four days at a stretch? + +Servant. No, heavens, I know nothing at all. + +Olof. It seems strange that I have not been admitted. + +Servant. What is it about? + +Olof. That's none of your concern! + +Servant. Of course not! I understand that, but I thought I might +be able to give some information, perhaps. + +Olof. Have you charge of the King's audiences? + +Servant. Oh, heavens, no! But you see, when a man hears as much +as I do, he knows a little of everything. (Pause.) + +Olof. Do you think I shall have to wait long? (The servant +pretends not to hear.) Do you know if the King is coming soon? + +Servant (with his back turned to Olof). What? + +Olof. Do you know to whom you are talking? + +Servant. No, I don't. + +Olof. I am the King's Secretary. + +Servant. Oh, mercy, are you Master Olof? I knew your father, +Peter the Smith, for I am also from Örebro. + +Olof. Well, can't you be civil in spite of that? + +Servant. Well, well! That's what happens when one gets on a +little in this world--then one's humble parents are forgotten. + +Olof. It is possible that my father actually honored you with his +acquaintance, but I doubt that he put you in a parent's place to +me when he died. + +Servant. Well, well! I declare! It must be hard on Dame +Christine! [Exit to the left.] + +[Olof is left alone for a while. Then Lars Siggesson, the Lord +High Constable, enters from the right.] + +Constable (throwing his cloak to Olof without looking at him). +Will the King be here soon? + +Olof (catching the cloak and throwing it on the floor). I do not +know! + +Constable. Bring me a chair. + +Olof. That's not my office. + +Constable. I am not familiar with the instructions of the +doorkeeper. + +Olof. I am no doorkeeper! + +Constable. I don't care what you are, and I don't carry with me a +list of the menials, but you will have to be civil! (Olof remains +silent.) Well, what about it? I think the Devil has got into you! + +Olof. Pardon me, but it is no part of my duty as secretary to +wait on anybody. + +Constable. What? Oh, Master Olof! Why, first you sit at the door +playing lackey, and then you drop the mask and step forth as the +Lord Himself! And I took you to be a proud man. (He picks up his +cloak and places it on a bench.) + +Olof. My Lord Constable! + +Constable. But, no, you are only a vain upstart! Please step +forward and be seated, Mr. Secretary. + +[He points Olof to a seat and goes out into one of the +side-rooms.] + +[Olof sits down. A young Courtier enters through the gallery and +salutes Olof.] + +Courtier. Good morning, Secretary! Is nobody here yet? Well, how +is everything in Stockholm? I have just arrived from Malmö. + +Olof. Oh, everything is going wrong here. + +Courtier. So I have heard. The mob has been muttering as usual +whenever the King's back is turned. And then there are those fool +priests!--I beg your pardon, Secretary, but, of course, you are +a freethinker? + +Olof. I don't quite understand. + +Courtier. Don't mind me, please. You see, I have been educated in +Paris. Francis the First--O Saint-Sauveur!--that's a man who has +extreme views. Do you know what he told me at a bal masqué +during the last carnival? (Olof remains silent.) "Monsieur," he +said, "la religion est morte, est morte," he said. Which didn't +keep him from attending mass. + +Olof. Is that so? + +Courtier. Do you know what he replied when I asked him why he did +so?--"Poetry! Poetry!" he said. Oh, he is divine! + +Olof. What did you answer? + +Courtier. "Your Majesty," I said--in French, of course-- +"fortunate the land that has a king who can look so far beyond +the narrow horizon of his own time that he perceives what the +spirit of the age demands, without trying to urge the masses to +embrace that higher view of life for which they will not be ready +for many centuries to come!" Wasn't that pretty clever? + +Olof. Oh, yes, but I think it must have lost a great deal in +being translated. Things of that kind should be spoken in French. + +Courtier (preoccupied). You are quite right.--Tell me--your +_fortune_ ought to be assured--you are so far in advance of your +time? + +Olof. I fear I shall not get very far. My education was +neglected, unfortunately--I studied in Germany, as you may know-- +and the Germans are not beyond religion yet. + +Courtier. Indeed, indeed! Can you tell me why they are making +such a hubbub about that Reformation down there in Germany? +Luther is a man of enlightenment--I know it--I believe it--but +why shouldn't he keep it to himself, or at least not waste any +sparks of light on the brutish herd to which they can be nothing +but so many pearls thrown to the swine. If you let your eye +survey the time we are living in--if you make some effort to +follow the great currents of thought--then you will easily +perceive the cause of that disturbed equilibrium which is now +making itself felt in all the great civilized countries; I am not +talking of Sweden, of course, which is not a civilized country. +Can you name the centre of gravity--that centre which cannot be +disturbed without everything going to pieces--the instability of +which tends to upset everything? The name of it is--the nobility. +The nobility is the thinking principle. The feudal system is +falling--and that means the world. Erudition is in decay. +Civilization is dying. Yes, indeed--You don't believe that? But +if you have any historical outlook at all, you can see that it is +so. The nobility started the Crusades. The nobility has done this +and that and everything. Why is Germany being torn to pieces? +Because the peasantry has risen against the nobility, thus +cutting off its own head. Why is France safe--la France? Because +France is one with the nobility, and the nobility is one with +France--because those two ideas are identical, inseparable. And +why, I ask again, is Sweden at present shaken to its nethermost +foundations? Because the nobility has been crushed. Christian the +Second was a man of genius. He knew how to conquer a country. He +didn't cut off a leg or an arm--nay, he cut off the head. Well, +then! Sweden must be saved, and the King knows how. The nobility +is to be restored, and the Church is to be crushed. What do you +say to that? + +Olof (rising). Nothing! (Pause.) You are a freethinker? + +Courtier. Of course! + +Olof. You don't believe, then, that Balaam's ass could talk? + +Courtier. Gracious, no! + +Olof. But I do. + +Courtier. Really? + +[Enter Lars Andersson.] + +Lars Andersson. The peace of the Lord be with you, Olof. + +Olof (embracing him). Well met, Lars! + +Courtier. Populace! [Exit.] + +Lars. Well, how do you like living here? + +Olof. It's so close! + +Lars. Somewhat! + +Olof. And no room overhead. + +Lars. That's why they find it so hard to keep their backs +straight. + +Olof. In ten minutes I have become so much of a courtier that I +know how to be silent when an ass is talking. + +Lars. There is no harm in that. + +Olof. What does the King think? + +Lars. He doesn't tell. + +(A number of people have begun to gather in the hall.) + +Olof. How does he look? + +Lars. Like an interrogation point followed by several exclamation +marks. + +[Enter Bishop Brask. All give way before him. The Lord High +Constable, who has returned in the meantime, goes to meet him and +exchanges greetings with him. Olof salutes the Bishop, who looks +surprised.] + +Brask (to the Constable). Is this a place for the clerks? + +Constable. It ought not to be, but our King is so very gracious. + +Brask. Condescending, you mean? + +Constable. Exactly. + +Brask. The audience is well attended to-day. + +Constable. Mostly formal calls occasioned by the happy return of +His Highness. + +Brask. It is a pleasure, my Lord Constable, to offer His Highness +our sincere felicitations on the happy solution of this question. + +Constable. It is indeed courteous in Your Grace to incur the +trouble of such a long journey--especially at Your Grace's +advanced age. + +Brask. Unfortunately, my health is not always to be depended +upon. + +Constable. Is Your Grace not enjoying good health? It is hard to +feel one's strength failing, particularly for one who occupies +such an exalted and responsible position. + +Brask. You look very well, my Lord Constable. + +Constable. Yes, thank God! (Pause.) + +Brask (seating himself). Don't you think there is a draught here, +my Lord? + +Constable. It seems so. Perhaps we might order the doors to be +closed? + +Brask. No, thank you, that will not be necessary. (Pause.) + +Constable. The King is long in coming. + +Brask. Yes. + +Constable. Perhaps you won't find it worth your while to wait for +him. + +Brask. Perhaps not! + +Constable. With your permission, I will send word to Your Grace's +servants. + +Brask. As I have waited so long, I think I shall wait a little +longer. (Pause.) + +Servant. His Highness! + +[Enter Gustaf.] + +Gustaf. I bid you welcome, gentlemen. (He takes a seat at a +table.) If you will please step out into the antechamber, I will +receive you one at a time. (All retire except Bishop Brask.) Our +Lord Constable will stay. + +Brask. Your Highness! + +Gustaf (raising his voice). Sir Lars! (Brask goes out, the +Constable remaining; pause.) Speak! What am I to do? + +Constable. Your Highness, the State has lost its prop, and +therefore it is toppling over; the State has an enemy that has +grown too strong for it. Restore the prop, which is the nobility, +and crush the enemy, which is the Church! + +Gustaf. I dare not! + +Constable. You must, Your Highness! + +Gustaf. What's that? + +Constable. First of all: Brask is in correspondence with the Pope +to have the inquisition established here. Lübeck is insisting on +her shameless demands and threatens war. The treasury is empty. +There is rebellion in every nook and corner of the country-- + +Gustaf. That's enough! But I have the people with me. + +Constable. I beg your pardon--you have not. There are the +Dalecarlians, for instance--a spoiled lot, always disputing with +those of Lübeck about the honor of having bestowed a king on +Sweden. They are ready to rebel on the slightest occasion, and +they are coming forward with demands like these: "There shall he +no outlandish customs used, with slittered and motley colored +clothes, such as have of late been brought into the King's +court." + +Gustaf. 'Sdeath! + +Constable. "Whosoever eats meat on Fridays or Saturdays shall be +burned at the stake or otherwise made away with." And furthermore, +"There shall be no new faith or Lutheran teachings foisted +upon us." What a treacherous, impudent people! + +Gustaf. And yet there was a time when they showed themselves to +be men. + +Constable. Well, what wonder if they carried water when their +house was afire? How many times have they broken troth and faith? +But they have so often heard themselves lauded that they have +come to give the name of "old Swedish honesty" to their own brute +arrogance. + +Gustaf. You belong to the nobility! + +Constable. Yes, and it is my conviction that the peasant has +played out his part--the part of a crude force needed to drive +away the enemy by sheer strength of arm. Crush the Church, Your +Highness, for it is keeping the people in fetters. Seize the gold +of the Church and pay the country's debt--and give back to the +reduced nobility what the Church has obtained from it by dupery. + +Gustaf. Call in Brask. + +Constable. Your Highness! + +Gustaf. Call Bishop Brask! [Exit the Constable.] + +[Enter Bishop Brask.] + +Gustaf. Speak, Your Grace! + +Brask. I wish to offer our congratulations on-- + +Gustaf. I thank Your Grace! And what more? + +Brask. There have been complaints from several districts, I am +sorry to say, about unpaid loans of silver exacted from the +churches by Your Highness. + +Gustaf. Which you now are trying to recover. Are all the chalices +actually needed for communion? + +Brask. They are. + +Gustaf Let them use pewter mugs, then. + +Brask. Your Highness! + +Gustaf. Anything more? + +Brask. What is worse than anything else--all this heresy! + +Gustaf. No concern of mine! I am not the Pope. + +Brask. I have to warn Your Highness that the Church must look out +for her own rights, even if doing so should bring her into +conflict-- + +Gustaf. With whom? + +Brask. With the State. + +Gustaf. Your Church can go to the devil! There, I have said it! + +Brask. I knew it. + +Gustaf. And you were only waiting for me to say so? + +Brask. Exactly. + +Gustaf. Take care! You travel with a following of two hundred +men, and you eat from silver, when the people are living on bark. + +Brask. Your Highness takes too narrow a view of the matter. + +Gustaf. Have you heard of Luther? You are a well-informed man. +What kind of a phenomenon is he? What have you to say of the +movements that are now spreading throughout Europe? + +Brask. Progress backward! Luther is merely destined to serve as a +purging fire for what is ancient, descended from untold ages and +well tried, so that it may be cleansed and by the struggle urged +on to greater victories. + +Gustaf. I care nothing for your learned arguments. + +Brask. But Your Highness is extending protection to criminals and +interfering with the privileges of the Church; for the Church has +been grievously wronged by Master Olof. + +Gustaf. Well, put him under the ban. + +Brask. It has been done, and yet he remains in the service of +Your Highness. + +Gustaf. What more do you want done to him? Tell me? (Pause.) + +Brask. Furthermore, he has gone so far as to marry secretly in +violation of the Canon Law. + +Gustaf. Is that so? That's quick action. + +Brask. It doesn't concern Your Highness? Good and well! But if he +stirs up the people? + +Gustaf. Then I'll step in. Anything more? + +Brask (after a pause). I ask you for heaven's sake not to plunge +the country into disaster again. It is not yet ripe for a new +faith. We are but reeds in the wind and can be bent--but when it +comes to the faith, or the Church--never! + +Gustaf (holding out his hand to the Bishop). Maybe you are right! +But let us be enemies rather than false friends, Bishop Hans! + +Brask. Be it so! But do not do what you will regret. Every stone +you tear out of the Church will be thrown at you by the people. + +Gustaf. Don't force me to extremes, Your Grace, for then we shall +have the same horrible spectacle here as in Germany. For the last +time: are you willing to make concessions if the welfare of the +country is at stake? + +Brask. The Church-- + +Gustaf. The Church comes first--very well! Good-bye! + +[Exit Brask. Reënter the Constable.] + +Gustaf. The Bishop has confirmed your statement, and that was +what I wanted him to do. Now we shall need stone-masons who +know how to tear down. The walls will be left, the cross may stay +on the roof and the bell in the tower, but I will clear out the +vaults. One must begin at the bottom! + +Constable. The people will think you are taking away their faith. +They will have to be educated. + +Gustaf. We'll send Master Olof to preach to them. + +Constable. Master Olof is a dangerous man. + +Gustaf. But needed just now. + +Constable. He has carried on like the Anabaptists instead of +opposing them. + +Gustaf. I know. We'll get to that later on. Send him in. + +Constable. Lars the Chancellor would be a better man. + +Gustaf. Bring them both in. + +Constable. Or Olof's brother, Lars Pedersson. + +Gustaf. No good yet. He is too soft for fighting, but +his time will come, too. [Exit Constable.] + +The Constable returns with Master Olof and Lars Andersson. + +Gustaf (to the Chancellor). Do you want to help me, Lars? + +Lars. You are thinking of the Church? + +Gustaf. Yes, it will have to be torn down. + +Lars. I am not the man for that. Your Majesty had better ask +Master Olof. + +Gustaf. You won't, then? + +Lars. I can't! But I have a weapon for you. (He hands the new +translation of the Bible to the King.) + +Gustaf. Holy Writ! A good weapon, indeed! Will you wield it, +Olof? + +Olof. With the help of God--yes! + +Gustaf (to Olof, after having signalled to Lars to leave). Have +you calmed down yet, Olof? (Olof does not answer). I gave you +four days to think it over. How have you been carrying out your +task? + +Olof (impetuously). I have spoken to the people-- + +Gustaf. Still in a fever! And you mean to defend those madmen +named Anabaptists? + +Olof (bravely). I do! + +Gustaf. Steady!--You have married in a hurry? + +Olof. I have. + +Gustaf. You are under the ban? + +Olof. I am. + +Gustaf. And still as brave as ever! If you were sent to the +gallows as a rebel with the rest, what would you say then? + +Olof. I should regret not being permitted to finish my task, but +I should thank the Lord for having been allowed to do what I have +done. + +Gustaf. That's good! Would you dare to go up to that old owl's-nest +Upsala and tell its learned men that the Pope is not God and that +he has nothing to do with Sweden? + +Olof. Only that? + +Gustaf. Will you tell them that the only word of God is the +Bible? + +Olof. Must that be all? + +Gustaf. You are not to mention the name of Luther! + +Olof (after some hesitation). Then I will not go. + +Gustaf. Would you rather go to your death? + +Olof. No, but I know that my sovereign needs me. + +Gustaf. It isn't noble to take advantage of my misfortune, Olof. +Well, say anything; you please, but you will have to pardon me if +I take back a part of it afterwards. + +Olof. Truth isn't sold by the yard. + +Gustaf. 'Sdeath! (Changing tone.) Well, suit yourself! + +Olof (kneeling). Then I may say all that is in my mind? + +Gustaf. You may. + +Olof. Then, if I can only throw a single spark of doubt into the +soul of this sleeping people, my life will not have been wasted. +--It is to be a reformation, then? + +Gustaf (after a pause). Yes. (Pause.) + +Olof (timidly). And what is to become of the Anabaptists? + +Gustaf. Need you ask? They must die. + +Olof. Will Your Highness permit me one more question? + +Gustaf. Tell me: what do those madmen want? + +Olof. The sad thing is that they do not know it themselves, and +if I were to tell you-- + +Gustaf. Speak out! + +[Gert enters quickly, pretending to be insane.] + +Gustaf. Who are you to dare intrude here? + +Gert. I want most humbly to beseech Your Highness to attest the +correctness of this document. + +Gustaf. Wait till you are called. + +Gert. Of course, I should like to, but the guards won't wait for +me. I escaped from prison, you see, because my place wasn't +there. + +Gustaf. Are you one of those Anabaptists? + +Gert. Yes, I happened to get mixed up with them, but here I have +a certificate proving that I belong to the asylum, the third +department for incurables, cell number seven. + +Gustaf (to Olof). Send word to the guard. + +Gert. That isn't necessary, for I want nothing but justice, and +it's something the guard doesn't handle. + +Gustaf (looking hard at Gert). I suppose you have had a share in +those outrages in the city churches? + +Gert. Of course, I have! No sane person could behave so madly. We +wanted only to make a few minor alterations in the style. They +seemed too low in the ceiling. + +Gustaf. What do you really want? + +Gert. Oh, we want a great deal, although we haven't got through +with one-half of it yet. Yes, we want so many things and we want +them so quickly, that our reason cannot keep pace with them, and +that's why it has been lagging behind a little. Yes, we wish +among other things to change the furnishings a little in the +churches, and to remove the windows because the air seems so +musty. Yes, and there is a lot more we want, but that will have +to wait for a while. + +Gustaf (to Olof). That's a perilous disease--for anything +else it cannot be. + +Olof. Who knows? + +Gustaf. Now I am tired. You'll have a fortnight in which to get +ready. Your hand that you will help me! + +Olof. I will do my part. + +Gustaf. Give orders to have Rink and Knipperdollink sent to +Malmö. + +Olof. And then? + +Gustaf. They'll have a chance to escape. That fool over there you +can send back to the asylum. Farewell! [Exit.] + +Gert (shaking his clenched fist after Gustaf). Well, are we +going? + +Olof. Where? + +Gert. Home. (Olof remains silent.) You don't wish to send your +father-in-law to the madhouse, do you, Olof? + +Olof. You ask me what I wish--How about my duty? + +Gert. Is there no duty above the royal command? + +Olof. Are you beginning again? + +Gert. What will Christine say if you put her father among madmen? + +Olof. Tempt me not! + +Gert. Do you see how difficult it is to serve the King? (Olof +does not answer.) I won't make you unhappy, my poor boy. Here's +balm for your conscience. (He takes out a document.) + +Olof. What is it? + +Gert. A certificate of health. You see, it is necessary to be a +madman among sane people, and sane among mad men. + +Olof. How did you get it? + +Gert. Don't you think I deserve it? + +Olof. I can't tell. + +Gert. True enough: you don't yet dare. + +[Enter Servant.] + +Servant. Will you please go your way. They 're about to sweep. + +Gert. Perhaps the place has to be aired, too? + +Servant. Yes, indeed! + +Gert. Don't forget to open the windows. + +Servant. No, you may be sure, and it's needed, too, for we are +not accustomed to this kind of company. + +Gert. Look here, old man--I carry a greeting from your father. + +Servant. Oh, you do? + +Gert. Perhaps you never knew him? + +Servant. Why, certainly! + +Gert. Do you know what he said? + +Servant. No. + +Gert. Wet the broom, he said, or you'll get the dust all over +yourself. + +Servant. I don't understand. + +Gert. Well, that's your only excuse. + +[Exeunt Gert and Olof.] + +Servant. Rabble! + + +SCENE 2 + +(Olof's Study. There are windows in the background, through +which the sun is shining into the room. Trees are visible +outside. Christine is standing at one of the windows, watering +her flowers. While doing so she is prattling to some birds in a +cage. Olof is seated at a table, writing. With an impatient +mien he looks up and across the room to Christine as if he wished +her to keep quiet. This happens several times, until at last +Christine knocks down one of the flower pots, when Olof taps the +floor lightly with his foot.) + +Christine. Oh, my poor little flower! Look, Olof, four buds were +broken off. + +Olof. Yes, I see. + +Christine. No, you don't. You must come over here. + +Olof. My dear, I haven't time. + +Christine. You haven't looked at the starlings which I bought for +you this morning. Don't you think they sing sweetly? + +Olof. Rather. + +Christine. Rather? + +Olof. It's hard for me to work when they are screaming like that. + +Christine. They are not screaming, Olof, but you seem to be more +fond of a night bird that does scream. Tell me, what is the +meaning of the owl that appears on your signet ring? + +Olof. The owl is an ancient symbol of wisdom. + +Christine. I think that's stupid! Wise people don't love the +darkness. + +Olof. The wise man hates the darkness and the night, but his keen +eye turns night into day. + +Christine. Why are you always right, Olof? Can you tell me? + +Olof. Because I know it pleases you, my dear, to let me be in the +right. + +Christine. Now, you are right again.--What is that you are +writing? + +Olof. I am translating. + +Christine. Read a little of it to me. + +Olof. I don't think you could understand it. + +Christine. Why shouldn't I? Is it not in Swedish? + +Olof. Yes, but it is too abstract for you. + +Christine. Abstract? What does that mean? + +Olof. You wouldn't understand if I told you, but if you don't +understand what I read to you, then you understand what is meant +by "abstract." + +Christine (picking up a piece of half-finished embroidery). +Go on and read while I work at this. + +Olof. Listen carefully, then, and forgive me if you find it +tedious. + +Christine. I shall understand because I want to. + +Olof (reading). "Matter when considered separate from form is +something wholly without predictability, indeterminable and +indistinguishable. For nothing can originate out of pure +non-being, but only out of the non-being of reality, which is +synonymous with being as a possibility. Being in its possibility +is no more non-being than is reality. For that reason every +existence is a realized possibility. Thus matter is to Aristotle +a much more positive substratum than to Plato, who declares it to +be pure non-being. And thereby it becomes plain how Aristotle +could conceive of matter in its opposition to form as a positive +negativity." + +Christine (throwing aside her work). Stop! Why is it that I +cannot understand that? Have I not the same mental faculties as +you? I am ashamed, Olof, because you have such a poor creature of +a wife that she cannot understand what you say. No, I will stick +to my embroidery, I will clean and dust your study, I will at +least learn to read your wishes in your eyes. I may become your +slave, but never, never shall I be able to understand you. Oh, +Olof, I am not worthy of you! Why did you make me your wife? You +must have over-valued me in a moment of intoxication. Now you +will regret it, and we shall both be unhappy. + +Olof. Christine! Don't take it like that, dear! Come and sit here +by me. (He picks up the embroidery.) Will you believe me if I +tell you that I couldn't possibly do a thing like this? Never in +my life could I do it. Are you not then cleverer than I, and am I +not the lesser of us two? + +Christine. But why can't you do it? + +Olof. For the same reason that you couldn't understand me a +moment ago: I haven't learned how. And perhaps you will feel +happy once more if I tell you that you can learn to understand +this book--which, by the by, is not identical with me--while on +the other hand, I could never learn to do your work. + +Christine. Why couldn't you? + +Olof. Because I am not built that way and don't want to do it. + +Christine. But if you wanted to? + +Olof. Well, there, my dear, you have my weak point. I could never +want to do it. Believe me, you are stronger than I, for you have +power over your own will, but I have not. + +Christine. Do you think I could learn to understand that book of +yours? + +Olof. I am convinced of it. But you must not. + +Christine. Am I still to be kept in ignorance? + +Olof. No, no--understand me right! The moment you understood +what I understand, you would cease to think of me as-- + +Christine. A god-- + +Olof. Let it go at that! But believe me, you would lose what now +puts you above me--the power to control your own will--and then +you would be less than I, and I could not respect you. Do you +see? It stakes us happy to overvalue each other; let us keep that +illusion. + +Christine. Now I don't understand you at all, but I must trust +you, Olof. You are right! + +Olof. Please leave me alone, Christine--I beg you! + +Christine. Do I disturb you? + +Olof. There are some very serious thoughts that occupy me. You +know, I expect something decisive to happen today. The King has +abdicated because the people would not do what he desired. To-day +I shall either reach my goal or have to start the fight all over +again. + +Christine. May I not be happy to-day, Olof--on Midsummer Eve? + +Olof. Why should you be so very happy to-day? + +Christine. Why should I not--since I have been set free from +slavery and have become your wife? + +Olof. Can you forgive me that my happiness is a little more sober +because it has cost me--a mother? + +Christine. I know, and I feel it very deeply. But when your +mother learns of our marriage, she will forgive you and put her +curse on me. Whose burden will then be the heavier? However, it +doesn't matter, because it's borne for your sake. And this much +I know: that terrible struggles are awaiting you; that daring +thoughts are growing in your mind; and that I can never share +your struggle, never help you with advice, never defend you +against those that vilify you--but still I must look on, and +through it all I must go on living in my own little world, +employing myself with petty things which you do not appreciate, +but would miss if they were not attended to. Olof, I cannot +weep with you, so you must help me to make you smile with me. +Come down from those heights which I cannot attain. Leave your +battles on the hilltops and return some time to our home. As I +cannot ascend to you, you must descend to me for a moment. +Forgive me, Olof, if I talk childishly! I know that you are a man +sent by the Lord, and I have felt the blessing with which your +words are fraught. But you are more than that--you are a man, and +you are my husband--or at least ought to be. You won't fall from +your exalted place if you put aside your solemn speech now and +then and let the clouds pass from your forehead. You are not too +great, are you, to look at a flower or listen to a bird? I put +the flowers on your table, Olof, in order that they might rest +your eyes--and you ordered the maid to take them out because they +gave you a headache. I tried to cheer the lonely silence of your +work by bringing the birds--whose song you call screaming. I +asked you to come to dinner a while ago--you hadn't time. I +wanted to talk to you--you hadn't time. You despise this little +corner of reality--and yet that is what you have set aside for +me. You don't want to lift me up to you--but try at least not to +push me further down. I will take away everything that might +disturb your thoughts. You shall have peace from me--and from my +rubbish! (She throws the flowers out of the window, picks up the +birdcage, and starts to leave.) + +Olof. Christine, dear child, forgive me! You don't understand me! + +Christine. Always the same: "You don't understand me!" Oh, I know +now what it means. In that moment in the sacristy I matured so +completely that I reached my second childhood at once! + +Olof. I'll look at your birds and prattle with your flowers, dear +heart. + +Christine (putting aside the bird-cage). No, the time for prattle +is gone by--from now on we shall be serious. You need not fear my +boisterous happiness. It was only put on for your sake, and as it +doesn't suit your sombre calling, I'll--(She bursts into tears.) + +Olof (putting his arms around her and kissing her.) +Christine! Christine! You are right! Please pardon me! + +Christine. You gave me an unlucky gift, Olof, when you gave me +freedom, for I don't know what to do with it. I must have some +one to obey! + +Olof. And so you shall, but don't let us talk of it any more. Let +us eat now--in fact, I feel quite hungry. + +Christine (pleased). Do you really know how to be hungry? (At +that moment she looks out of the window and makes a gesture of +dismay.) Go on, Olof, and I'll be with you in a moment. I only +want to get things in a little better order in here. + +Olof (as he goes out). Don't let me wait so long for you as you +have had to wait for me. + +(Christine folds her hands as if praying and takes up a position +indicating that she is waiting far somebody about to enter from +the street. Pause.) + +[Enter Olof's Mother. She passes Christine without looking at her.] + +Mother. Is Master Olof at home? + +Christine (who has started to meet her in a friendly way, is +taken aback for a moment; then she answers in the same tone). No, +but if you care to be seated, he will be here soon. + +Mother. Thank you! (She seats herself. Pause.) Bring me a glass +of water. (Christine waits on her.) Now you can leave me. + +Christine. It is my housewifely duty to bear you company. + +Mother. I didn't know that the housekeeper of a priest could call +herself a housewife. + +Christine. I am the wife of Olof with the sanction of the Lord. +Don't you know that we are married? + +Mother. You are a harlot--that's what I know! + +Christine. That word I do not understand. + +Mother. You are the same kind of woman as she with whom Master +Olof was talking that evening in the beer-shop. + +Christine. The one that looked so unhappy? Yes, I don't feel very +happy. + +Mother. Of course not! Take yourself out of my sight! Your +presence shames me! + +Christine (on her knees). For the sake of your son, don't heap +abuse on me! + +Mother. With a mother's authority I command you to leave my son's +house, the threshold of which you have defiled. + +Christine. As a housewife I open my door to whom I may choose to +receive. I should have closed it to you, had I been able to guess +what language you would use. + +Mother. Big words, indeed! I command you to leave! + +Christine. With what right do you force yourself into this house +in order to drive me out of my own home? You have borne a son, +and raised him--that was your duty, your mission, and you may +thank your God for being permitted to fill that mission so well, +which is a good fortune not granted to everybody. Now you have +reached the edge of the grave. Why not resign yourself before the +end comes? Or have you raised your son so poorly that he is still +a child and needs your guidance? If you want gratitude, come and +look for it, but not in this way. Or do you think it is the +destiny of a child to sacrifice its own life merely to show you +gratitude? His mission is calling: "Go!" And you cry to him: +"Come to me, you ingrate!" Is he to go astray--is he to waste his +powers, that belong to his country, to mankind--merely for the +satisfaction of your private little selfishness? Or do you +imagine that the fact of having borne and raised him does even +entitle you to gratitude? Did not your life's mission and destiny +lie in that? Should you not thank the Lord for being given such a +high mission? Or did you do it only that you might spend the rest +of your life clamoring for gratitude? Don't you see that by using +that word "gratitude" you tear down all that you have built up +before? And what makes you presume that you have rights over me? +Is marriage to mean a mortgaging of my free will to anybody whom +nature has made the mother or father of my husband--who +unfortunately could not exist without either? You are not _my_ +mother. My troth was not pledged to you when I took Olof as my +husband. And I have sufficient respect for my husband not to +permit anybody to insult him, even if it be his own mother. +That's why I have spoken as I have! + +Mother. Alas, such are the fruits borne by the teachings of my +son! + +Christine. If you choose to revile your son, it had better be in +his presence. (She goes to the door and calls.) Olof! + +Mother. Such guile already! + +Christine. Already? It's nothing new, I think, although I didn't +know I had it until it was needed. + +[Enter Olof.] + +Olof. Mother! I am right glad to see you! + +Mother. Thanks, my son--and good-bye! + +Olof. Are you going? What does that mean? I wish to talk to you. + +Mother. No need! She has said all there is to say. You will not +have to show me the door. + +Olof. In God's name, mother, what are you saying? Christine, what +does this mean? + +Mother (about to leave). Good-bye, Olof! This is more than I can +ever forgive you! + +Olof (trying to hold her back). Stay and explain, at least! + +Mother. It was not worthy of you! To send her to tell me that you +owe me nothing and need me no more! Oh, that was cruel! [Exit.] + +Olof. What did you say, Christine? + +Christine. I don't remember, because there were so many things +which I had never dared to think, but which I must have dreamt +while father kept me still enslaved. + +Olof. I don't know you any more, Christine. + +Christine. No, I begin to feel a little lost myself. + +Olof. Were you unkind to mother? + +Christine. I suppose I was. Does it seem to you that I have grown +hard, Olof? + +Olof. Did you show her the door? + +Christine. Forgive me, Olof! I was not kind to her. + +Olof. For my sake you might have made your words a little milder. +Why didn't you call me at once? + +Christine. I wished to see if I had the strength to take care of +myself. Olof, would you sacrifice me to your mother, if she +demanded it? + +Olof. I cannot answer such a question offhand. + +Christine. I'll do it in your place. It pleases you to submit +willingly to your mother's will and wish because you are strong-- +and I, on the other hand, feel hurt by doing so, for I am weak. I +will never do it! + +Olof. Not if I ask you? + +Christine. That's more than you can ask. Or would you have me +hate her?--Tell me, Olof, what is meant by a "harlot"? + +Olof. You ask such strange questions. + +Christine. Will you please answer me? + +Olof. Will you forgive me if I don't? + +Christine. Always this unending silence! Do you not yet dare to +tell me all? Am I to be a child forever? Then you had better put +me in a nursery and talk baby-talk to me. + +Olof. It means an unfortunate woman. + +Christine. No, it means something more than that. + +Olof. Has anybody dared to use that word to you? + +Christine (after a pause). No. + +Olof. Now you are not telling the truth, Christine. + +Christine. I know I lie! Oh, since yesterday I have grown very +wicked! + +Olof. You are hiding something that happened yesterday! + +Christine. I am--I thought that I could keep it to myself, but it +has grown too much for me. + +Olof. Speak--I beg you! + +Christine. But you mustn't call me silly! A crowd of people +pursued me all the way to our door and called after me that +horrible word which I don't understand. People do not laugh at an +unfortunate woman-- + +Olof. Yes, dear, that's just what they do. + +Christine. I didn't understand their words, but their actions +were plain enough to make me wicked! + +Olof. And yet you were so kind to me! Forgive me if I have been +hard to you!--It is a name given by brute force to its own +victims. Sooner or later, you'll learn more about it, but never +dare to defend an "unfortunate woman"--for then they will throw +mud at you! (A messenger enters and hands him a letter.) At last! +(After a glance at the letter.) You read it to me, Christine! It +is from your lips I want to hear the glad tidings. + +Christine (reading). "Young man, you have conquered! I, your +enemy, desire to be the first to tell you so, and I address +myself to you without any sense of humiliation because, in +speaking for the new faith, you have wielded no weapons but those +of the spirit. Whether you be right, I cannot tell, but I think +you have deserved a piece of advice from an older man: stop here, +for your enemies are gone! Do not wage war on creatures made of +air, for that will lame your arm and you will die of dry rot. Do +not put your trust in princes--is another piece of advice given +you by a once powerful man who has now to step aside and leave to +the Lord to settle what is to become of his prostrated Church. +Johannes Brask." (Speaking.) You have conquered! + +Olof (joyfully). I thank Thee, Lord, for this hour. (Pause.) No, +it scares me, Christine! This fortune is too great. I am too +young to have reached the goal already. To have no more to do-- +oh, what a frightful thought! No further fighting--that would be +death! + +Christine. Oh, rest a moment, and be happy that it is over. + +Olof. Can there be an end to anything? An end to such a +beginning? No, no!--Oh, that I could begin it all anew! It wasn't +the victory I wanted, but the fight! + +Christine. Olof, do not tempt the Lord! I have a feeling that +much remains undone--very much, indeed! + +[Enter Courtier.] + +Courtier. Good-day to you, Secretary! And pleasant +news! [Exit Christine.] + +Olof. Be welcome! Some of it I have heard already. + +Courtier. Thanks for your splendid answering of that stupid +Galle. You went after him like a man. A little too fiercely, +perhaps--not quite so much fire, you know! And a little venom +doesn't hurt. + +Olof. You have news from the King? + +Courtier. Yes, and you shall have a brief summary of the +conditions agreed on: First, mutual support for the resistance +and punishment of all rebellions. + +Olof. Go on, if you please. + +Courtier. Second, the King shall have the right to take +possession of the palaces and fortified places of the bishops, as +well as to fix their incomes-- + +Olof. Third-- + +Courtier. Now comes the best of all--the principal point of the +whole undertaking: Third, the nobility shall have the right to +claim whatever of its properties and inheritances have fallen to +churches and cloisters since the revision by King Carl Knutsson +in 1454-- + +Olof. And fourth? + +Courtier. Provided the heir can get twelve men under oath to +attest his right of inheritance at the assizes. (He folds the +document from which he has been reading.) + +Olof. Have you finished? + +Courtier. Yes. Isn't that pretty good? + +Olof. Nothing more? + +Courtier. Oh, there are a few minor points of no special +importance. + +Olof. Let me hear them. + +Courtier (reading again). There is a fifth point about the right +of preachers to preach the word of God, but, of course, they have +had that all the time. + +Olof. Nothing more? + +Courtier. Yes, then comes the ordinance: a register is to be +established showing the amount of tithes collected by all +bishops, chapters, and canons, and the King shall have the right +to prescribe-- + +Olof. Oh, that's neither here nor there! + +Courtier. --how much of those may be retained, and how much shall +be surrendered to him for the use of the Crown; furthermore, all +Appointments to spiritual offices--and this ought to interest +you--to spiritual offices, minor as well as major, can hereafter +be made only with the sanction of the King, so that-- + +Olof. Will you please read me the point dealing with the faith-- + +Courtier. The faith--there is nothing about it. Oh, yes, +let me see--from this day the Gospel is to be read in all +schoolhouses. + +Olof. Is that all? + +Courtier. All? Oh, no, I remember! I have a special order from +the King to you--and a most sensible one--that, as the people +are stirred up over all these innovations, you must by no means +disturb the old forms; must not abolish masses, holy water, nor +any other usage, nor furthermore indulge in any reckless acts, +for hereafter the King will not close his eyes to your escapades +as he has had to do in the past, when he lacked power to do +otherwise. + +Olof. I see! And the new faith which he has permitted me to +preach so far? + +Courtier. It is to ripen slowly.--It will come! It will +come! + +Olof. Is there anything more? + +Courtier (rising). No. If you will only keep calm now, you may go +very far. Oh, yes--I came near forgetting the best part of all. +My dear Pastor, permit me to congratulate you! Here is your +appointment. Pastor of the city church, with an income of three +thousand, at your age--indeed, you could now settle down in peace +and enjoy life, even if you were never to get any further. +It is splendid to have reached one's goal while still so young. I +congratulate you! [Exit.] + +Olof (flinging the appointment on the floor). So this is all +that I have fought and suffered for! An appointment! A royal +appointment! I have been serving Belial instead of God! Woe be to +you, false King, who have sold your Lord and God! Alas for me, +who have sold my life and my labors to mammon! O God in Heaven, +forgive me! (He throws himself, weeping, on a bench.) + +[Enter Christine and Gert. Christine comes forward, while Gert +remains in the background.] + +Christine (picks up the appointment and reads it; then she runs +to Olof, her face beaming). Now, Olof, I can wish you joy with a +happy heart! (She starts to caress him, but he leaps to his feet +and pushes her away.) + +Olof. Leave me alone! You, too! + +Gert (coming forward). Well, Olof, the faith-- + +Olof. The lack of faith, you mean! + +Gert. The Pope is beaten, isn't he? Hadn't we better begin with +the Emperor soon? + +Olof. We began at the wrong end. + +Gert. At last! + +Olof. You were right, Gert! I am with you now! It's war, but it +must be open and honest. + +Gert. Until to-day you have been dreaming childish dreams. + +Olof. I know it. Now the flood is coming! Let it come! Alas for +them and for us! + +Christine. Olof, for Heaven's sake, stop! + +Olof. Leave me, child! Here you will be drowned, or you will drag +me down. + +Gert. What made you venture out in the storm, my child? + +[Exit Christine.] + +(The ringing of bells, the joyful shouting of crowds, and the +sounding of drums and trumpets become audible.) + +Olof (going to the window). What has set the people shouting? + +Gert. The King is providing them with a maypole and music outside +North Gate. + +Olof. And are they not aware that he will chasten them with +swords instead of rods? + +Gert. Aware? If they were! + +Olof. Poor children! They dance to his piping and follow his +drums to their death! Must all die, then, in order that one may +live? + +Gert. No, one shall die that all may live! + +(Olof makes a gesture dismay and repugnance.) + + +ACT IV + +(A Room in the House of Olof's Mother. At the right stands +a bedstead with four posts, in which the Mother is lying sick. +Christine is asleep on a chair. Lars Pedersson is renewing the +oil of the night-lamp and turning the hour glass.) + +Lars (speaking to himself). Midnight--Now comes the critical +time. (He goes to the bed and listens. At that moment Christine +moans in her sleep. He crosses the room and wakens her.) +Christine! (She wakes with a start.) Go to bed, child; I will +watch. + +Christine. No, I will wait. I must speak to her before she dies-- +I think Olof should be here soon. + +Lars. It is for his sake you are watching! + +Christine. Yes, and you mustn't say that I have slept. Do you +hear? + +Lars. Poor girl!--You're not happy! + +Christine. Who says one should be happy? + +Lars. Does Olof know that you are here? + +Christine. No, he would never permit it. He wants to keep me like +the carved image of some saint standing on a shelf. The smaller +and weaker he can make me, the greater is his pleasure in placing +his strength at my feet-- + +Mother (waking). Lars! (Christine holds back Lars and steps +forward.) Who is that? + +Christine. The nurse. + +Mother. Christine! + +Christine. Do you want anything? + +Mother. Nothing from you. + +Christine. Dame Christine! + +Mother. Don't make my last moments more bitter. Go away from +here! + +Lars (coming forward). What do you want, mother? + +Mother. Take away that woman! And bring the father confessor--I +shall soon die. + +Lars. Is not your own son worthy of receiving your last +confidences? + +Mother. No, he has done nothing to deserve them. Has Mårten come +yet? + +Lars. Mårten is a bad man. + +Mother. O Lord, how terrible Thy punishment! My children +standing between myself and Thee! Am I then to be denied the +consolations of religion in my last moments? You have taken my +life--do you want to destroy my soul, too--the soul of your +mother? (She falls into a faint.) + +Lars. Do you hear that, Christine! What are we to do? Shall we +let her die in the deception practised on her by a miserable +wretch like Mårten--and perhaps get her thanks for it--or shall +we turn her final prayer into a curse? No, let them come, rather! +Or what do you think, Christine? + +Christine. I dare not think at all. + +Lars (goes out for a moment, but returns quickly). Oh, it is +horrible! They have fallen asleep over their dice and their +tumblers. And by such as those my mother is to be prepared for +her death! + +Christine. But why not tell her the truth? + +Lars. She won't believe it, and it is cast back on us as a lie. + +Mother. My son, won't you listen to your mother's last request? + +Lars (going out). May God forgive me! + +Christine. Olof would never have done that! + +(Lars returns with Mårten and Nils, whereupon he leads Christine +out of the room.) + +Mårten (going up to the bed). She's sleeping. + +Nils (places a box on the floor, opens it, and begins to take out +aspersorium, censer, chrismatory, palms, and candles). That means +we can't go to work yet. + +Mårten. If we have waited all this time, we can afford to wait a +little longer--provided that damned priest doesn't show up. + +Nils. Master Olof, you mean?--Do you think that fellow out there +noticed anything? + +Mårten. What do I care? As soon as the old woman gives up the +coin, I am free. + +Nils. You 're a pretty thorough-paced rascal, you are! + +Mårten. Yes, but I am getting tired of it. I am beginning to long +for peace. Do you know what life is? + +Nils. No. + +Mårten. Pleasure! "The flesh was God!" Isn't that the way it's +written somewhere? + +Nils. "The Word became flesh," you mean? + +Mårten. Oh, yes--of course! + +Nils. You might have been it pretty big man, with your head! + +Mårten. Yes, indeed! That's what they feared, and that's why they +whipped the soul out of my body in the convent--for after all I +had a soul once! But now there's nothing but body left, and now +the body is going to have its turn. + +Nils. And I suppose they whipped all conscience out of you at the +same time? + +Mårten. Well, practically.--But now I want that recipe for spiced +Rochelle which you were talking of when we fell asleep out there. + +Nils. Did I say Rochelle? I meant claret. That is, it can be +either the one or the other. Well, you take a gallon of wine and +half a pound of cardamom that has been well cleaned-- + +Mårten. Hush--damn you! She is moving. Out with the book! + +Nils (keeps on reading in an undertone during the following +scene). + Aufer immensam, Deus aufer iram; + Et cruentatum cohibe flagellum + Nec scelus nostrum proferes ad aequam + Pendere lancem. + +Mother. Is that you, Mårten? + +Mårten. It's Brother Nils praying to the Holy Virgin. (Nils +lights the censer without interrupting his reading.) + +Mother. What a precious boon to hear the word of the Lord in the +sacred tongue! + +Mårten. No sweeter sacrifice is known to God than the prayers of +pious souls. + +Mother. Like the incense, my heart is set on fire with holy +devotion. + +Mårten (sprinkling her with holy watter). The stains of sin are +by your God washed off! + +Mother. Amen!--Mårten, I am passing away--The godlessness of the +King makes it impossible for me by earthly gifts to strengthen +the Holy Church in her power of saving souls. You are a pious +man--take my property and pray for me and for my children. Pray +that the Almighty may turn their hearts away from all lies, so +that some time we may meet again in heaven. + +Mårten (taking the bag of money she hands him). Goodwife, your +sacrifice is acceptable to the Lord, and for your sake my prayers +will be heard by God. + +Mother. I want to sleep awhile in order to be strong enough to +receive the last sacrament. + +Mårten. No one shall disturb your final moments--not even those +who were your children once. + +Mother. It seems cruel, Father Mårten, but it's the will of God. +(She falls asleep; Mårten and Nils withdraw from the bed.) + +Mårten (opening the bag and kissing the gold coins). What stores +of pleasure lie hidden beneath the hardness of this gold--Ah! + +Nils. Are we going now? + +Mårten. Oh, we might, as our errand here is done, but I think it +would be a pity to let the old woman die unsaved. + +Nils. Unsaved? + +Mårten. Yes! + +Nils. Do you believe in that? + +Mårten. It's hard to know what one is to believe nowadays. One +dies happily in this faith, and another in that. All assert that +they have found the truth. + +Nils. And if you were to die now, Mårten? + +Mårten. That's out of the question! + +Nils. But if? + +Mårten. Then I suppose I should go to heaven like the rest. But I +should prefer to settle a small account with Master Olof first. +You see, there is one pleasure that surpasses all the rest, and +that's the pleasure of revenge. + +Nils. What has he done to you? + +Mårten. He has dared to see through me; he has exposed me; he can +read what I am thinking--Oh! + +Nils. And that's why you hate him? + +Mårten. Isn't that enough? (Somebody is heard knocking on the +door leading to the street.) Somebody is coming! Read, damn you! + +(Nils begins to drone out the same verse as before. The sound of +a key being inserted in the lock is heard. The door is opened +from the outside.) + +[Enter Olof, looking greatly agitated.] + +Mother (waking up). Father Mårten! + +Olof (goes to the bed). Here is your son, mother! Why didn't you +let me know that you were sick? + +Mother. Farewell, Olof! I forgive you all the evil you have done +to me, if you will not disturb the few moments I need to prepare +myself for heaven. Father Mårten! Bring here the sacred ointment, +so that I may die in peace. + +Olof. So that's why you didn't call me! (He catches sight of the +money bag which Mårten has forgotten to hide, and snatches it +away from the monk.) Oh, souls are being bartered here! And this +was to be the price! Leave this room and this death-bed! Here is +my place, not yours! + +Mårten. You mean to prevent us from fulfilling our office? + +Olof. I am showing you the door! + +Mårten. As long as we are not suspended, we are doing our duty +here by the King's authority, and not by the Pope's. + +Olof. I shall cleanse the Church of the lord without regard to +the will of King or Pope. + +Mother. Will you plunge my soul into perdition, Olof? Will you +let me die with a curse? + +Olof. Calm yourself, mother! You are not going to die in a lie. +Seek your God in prayer, He is not so far away as you believe. + +Mårten. A man who won't save his own mother from the pangs of +purgatory must be the Devil's prophet indeed. + +Mother. Christ Jesu, help my soul! + +Olof. Will you leave this room, or must I use force? Take away +that rubbish! (He kicks the ritual accessories across the floor.) + +Mårten. I'll go if you'll let me have the money your mother has +given to the Church. + +Mother. So that's why you came, Olof? You wanted my gold! Let him +have it, Mårten. I'll let you have all of it, Olof, if you will +only leave me in peace! I'll give you more than that! I'll let +you have everything! + +Olof (driven to despair). In God's name, take the money and go! I +beg you! + +Mårten (grabbing the bag and going out with Nils). Where the +Devil is abroad, there our power ends, Dame Christine! (To Olof.) +As a heretic you are lost for all eternity! As a law-breaker you +will get your punishment right here! Beware of the King! [Exeunt.] + +Olof (kneeling beside his mother's bed). Mother, listen to me +before you die! (The Mother has lost consciousness.) Mother, +mother, if you are alive, speak to your son! Forgive me, but I +could not act except as I have done. I know you have been +suffering all your life for my sake. You have been praying to God +that I should keep His paths. The Lord has heard your prayer. Do +you want me now to render your whole life futile? Do you want me +now, by obeying you, to destroy that structure which has cost +you so much in toil and tears? Forgive me! + +Mother. Olof, my soul is no longer of this world--it's out of +another life I speak to you: turn back! Break that unclean bond +which ties your body only. Take back the faith you got from me, +and I will forgive you! + +Olof (weeping bitterly). Mother! Mother! + +Mother. Swear that you will do it! + +Olof (after long silence). No! + +Mother. The curse of God is upon you--I see Him--I see His angry +look--Help me, Holy Virgin! + +Olof. That is not the God of love! + +Mother. It is the God of retribution!--It is you who have +provoked His ire--and it is you who now cast me into the flames +of His wrath!--Cursed be the hour when I bore you! (She dies.) + +Olof. Mother! Mother! (He takes her hand.) She's dead! And she +has not forgiven me!--Oh, if your soul be still within this room, +behold your son: I will do your will, and what was sacred to you +shall be sacred to me! (He lights the tall wax candles left +behind by the friars and places them around the bed.) You shall +have the consecrated candles that are to light your road. (He +puts a palm leaf in her hand.) And with this palm of peace shall +come forgetfulness of that last struggle with what was earthly. +Oh, mother, if you see me now, then you must forgive me! (In the +meantime the sun has risen, and the red glow of its first rays +lights up the curtains; at the sight of it, Olof leaps to his +feet.) You make my candles fade, O morning sun! You have more +love than I! (He goes to the window and opens it.) + +Lars (entering softly and looking around surprised). Olof! + +Olof (putting his arms around him). Brother, all is over! +Lars (goes to the bed and kneels for a moment; then he rises +again). She is dead! (He prays silently.) You were here alone? + +Olof. It was you who let in the monks. + +Lars. And you who drove them out. + +Olof. That should have been your task. + +Lars. She forgave you? + +Olof. She died with a curse on her lips. (Pause.) + +Lars (pointing to the candles). Who arranged these ceremonies? +(Pause.) + +Olof (irritated and humiliated). I weakened for a moment. + +Lars. So you are human, after all? I thank you for it! + +Olof. Are you mocking my weakness? + +Lars. I am praising it. + +Olof. And I am cursing it!--God in heaven, am I not right? + +Lars. No, you are wrong. + +[Enter Christine while Lars is still speaking.] + +Christine. You are too much in the right! + +Olof. Christine, what are you doing here? + +Christine. It was so silent and lonesome at home. + +Olof. I asked you not to come here. + +Christine. I thought I might be of some use, but I see now-- +Another time I shall stay at home. + +Olof. You have been awake all night? + +Christine. That is nothing! I will go now if you tell me to! + +Olof. Go in there and rest a little while we talk. (Christine +begins absentmindedly to extinguish the candles.) + +Olof. What are you doing, dear? + +Christine. Why, it is full daylight. + +(Lars gives Olof a significant glance.) + +0lof. My mother is dead, Christine. + +Christine (as she goes to Olof to let him kiss her on the forehead, +the look on her face is compassionate but cold). I am sorry for +your loss. [Exit Christine.] + +(Pause. The brothers look for a moment in the direction where +she disappeared, then at each other.) + +Lars. I beg you, Olof, as your friend and brother, don't go on as +you have been doing. + +Olof. The old story! But he who has put his axe to the tree +cannot draw back until the tree is down. The King has betrayed +our cause. Now I will see what I can do for it. + +Lars. The King is wise. + +Olof. He is a miser, a traitor, and a protector of the nobility. +First he uses me to hunt his game, and then he wants to kick me +out. + +Lars. He sees farther than you do. If you were to go to three million +people, telling them: "Your faith is false; believe my words instead" +--do you think it possible that they would at once cast aside their +most intimate and most keenly experienced conviction, which until +then had been a support to them in sorrow as well as in joy? No, +the life of the soul would be in a bad condition, indeed, if all +the old things could be disposed of so quickly. + +Olof. But it is not so. The whole people is full of doubt. Among +the priests there is hardly one who knows what to believe--if he +cares to believe anything at all. Everything is ready for the +new, and it is only you who are to blame--you weaklings whose +consciences will not permit you to sow doubt where nothing but a +feeble faith remains. + +Lars. Look out, Olof! You wish to play the part of God. + +Olof. Well, that is what we must do, for I don't think that He +Himself intends to conic down to us any more. + +Lars. You are tearing down and tearing down, Olof, so that soon +there will be nothing left, and when people ask, "What do we get +instead?" you always answer, "Not this," "Not that," but never +once do you answer, "This." + +Olof. Presumptuous man! Do you think faith can be given by one to +another? Do you think that Luther has given us anything new? No! +He has merely torn away the screens that had been placed around +the light. The new that I want is doubt of the old, not because +it is old, but because it is decaying. (Lars points toward their +mother's body.) I know what you mean. She was too old, and I +thank God that she is dead. Now I am free--only now! God has +willed it! + +Lars. Either you have lost your senses, or you are a wicked man! + +Olof. Don't reproach me! I have as much respect for our mother's +memory as you have, but if she had not died now, I don't know how +far my sacrifices might have gone. Have you noticed in the +springtime, brother, how the fallen leaves of yesteryear cover +the ground as if to smother all the young; things that are coming +out? What do these do? They push aside the withered leaves, or +pass right through them, because they must get up! + +Lars. You are right to a certain extent.--Olof, you broke the +laws of the Church during a time of lawlessness and unrest. What +could be forgiven then must be punished now. Don't force the King +to appear worse than he is. Don't let your scorn for the law and +your wilfulness force him to punish a man to whom he acknowledges +himself indebted. + +Olof. Nothing is more wilful than his own rule, and he must learn +to tolerate the same thing in others. Tell me you have taken +service with the King--are you going to work against me? + +Lars. I am. + +Olof. Then we are enemies, and that is what I need, for the old +ones have disappeared. + +Lars. But the tie of blood, Olof-- + +Olof. I know it only in its source, which is the heart. + +Lars. Yet you wept for our mother. + +Olof. Weakness, or perhaps a touch of old devotion and gratitude, +but not because of the tie of blood. What is it, anyhow? + +Lars. You are tired out, Olof. + +Olof. Yes, I feel exhausted; I have been awake all night. + +Lars. You were so late in coming. + +Olof. I was out. + +Lars. Your doings seem to shun the daylight. + +Olof. The daylight shuns my doings. + +Lars. Beware of false apostles of freedom! + +Olof (struggling with sleepiness and fatigue). That's a self-contradictory +term. Oh, don't talk to me--I can't stand any more. I spoke so much +at our meeting--But you don't know about our society--Concordia res +parvae crescunt--We mean to continue the Reformation--Gert is a +farsighted man--I seem so small beside him--Good-night, Lars! +(He falls asleep on a chair.) + +Lars (stands looking at him with solicitude). Poor brother--may +God protect you! (Resounding blows on the street door are heard.) +What's that? (He goes to the window.) + +Gert (outside). For God's sake, open! + +Lars. Why, it isn't a matter of life and death, Father +Gert. [Exit.] + +Gert (outside). In God's name, let me in! + +[Enter Christine with a blanket.] + +Christine. Olof, why are they knocking like that? He's asleep! +(She wraps him up in the blanket.) Oh, that I were Sleep, so that +you might flee to me when tired out by your struggles! + +(The rattle of a heavy cart is heard; then the cart comes to a +stop outside the house.). + +0lof (waking up with a start). Is it five already? + +Christine. No, it is only three. + +Olof. Wasn't that a baker's cart I heard? + +Christine. I don't know, but I don't think it would make such a +noise. (She goes to the window.) Look, Olof! What can this he? + +Olof (going to the window). The headsman's cart!--No, it isn't +that. + +Christine. It is a hearse! + +[Enter Lars and Gert.] + +Lars. The plague! + +All. The plague! + +Gert. The plague is here! Christine, my child, leave this house! +The angel of death has put his mark upon the gate. + +Olof. Who sent the cart? + +Gert. The man who put the black cross on the door. No dead body +must be left a moment in the house. + +Olof. Then Mårten was the angel of death--and all is nothing but +a lie. + +Gert. Look out of the window, and you'll see that the cart is +loaded full. (Blows are heard at the street door again.) +You hear! They're waiting! + +Olof. Without proper burial? That shall never be! + +Lars. Without ceremonies, Olof! + +Gert. Come away with me, Christine, from this dreadful place! +I'll take you out of the city to some healthier spot. + +Christine. I will stay with Olof after this. If you, father, had +loved me a little less, you would not have done so much harm. + +Gert. Olof, you who have the power, command her to follow me + +Olof. I set her free from your tyranny once, you selfish man, and +she shall never return to it again. + +Gert. Christine, get out of this house, at least! + +Christine. Not a step until Olof orders me. + +Olof. I will no longer order you at all, Christine--remember +that! + +[Enter several Buriers.] + +Burier. I've come for a body. No time to spare! + +Olof. Begone from here! + +Burier. The King's order! + +Lars. Consider what you do, Olof! The law demands it! + +Gert. This is no time to hesitate! The crazy mob is aroused +against you. This house was the first one to be marked, and they +are crying: "God's punishment upon the heretic!" + +Olof (kneeling beside the bed). Mother, forgive! (Rising.) Do +your duty! + +(The Buriers come forward and begin to get their ropes ready.) + +Gert (aside to Olof). "God's punishment upon the King" is our +cry! + + +ACT V + +SCENE I + +(The Cemetery of the Convent of St. Clara. In the background +appears a partly demolished convent building, from which a gang +of workmen are carrying out timber and debris. At the left is a +mortuary chapel. Its windows are lighted from within, and +whenever the door is opened, a brilliantly illuminated crucifix +on the chancel wall, with a sarcophagus standing in front of it, +becomes visible. A number of the graves have been opened. The +moon is just rising from behind the ruined convent. Windrank is +seated outside the chapel door. Singing is heard from within the +chapel.) + +[Enter Nils.] + +Nils (goes up to Windrank). Good evening, Windrank. + +Windrank. Please don't talk to me. + +Nils. What's the matter now? + +Windrank. Didn't you hear what I told you? + +Nils. Has your scurvy ending as a skipper affected you so badly +that you think of turning monk? + +Windrank. 52, 53, 54, 55, 56, 57. + +Nils. You haven't lost your reason, have you? + +Windrank. 58, 59, 60--In the name of Jesu, get away from here! + +Nils. You had better have a little nightcap with me. + +Windrank. 64, 65--That's what I expected! Get you gone, tempter! +I'll never take a drink again--until the day after to-morrow. + +Nils. But it's a fine remedy against the plague, and with all +this cadaverous stuff about, you had better be careful. + +Windrank. 70--So you really think it's good for the plague? + +Nils. Excellent! + +Windrank. Only a drop, then! (He drinks from the bottle offered +him by Nils.) + +Nils. Only a drop! But tell me, are you suffering from vertigo +since you are counting to a hundred? + +Windrank. Hush! Hush! There's an epoch coming. + +Nils. An epoch? + +Windrank. Yes, the day after to-morrow. + +Nils. And that's why you keep counting like that? + +Windrank. No, it's only because I find it so hard to hold my +tongue. Now, for heaven's sake, keep quiet! Please go away, or +you'll get me into trouble!--71, 72, 73. + +Nils. Who's inside? + +Windrank. 74, 75. + +Nils. Is it a funeral? + +Windrank. 76, 77.--Go to hell, won't you! + +Nils. Just another tiny drop, and the counting will be easier. + +Windrank. Just a little one--I will! (He drinks. Singing is heard +outside.) + +Nils. Here come the nuns of St. Clara to celebrate the memory of +their saint for the last time. + +Windrank. That's fine mummery in days like these when everybody +is getting educated. + +Nils. They have obtained the King's permission. You see, the +plague broke out in the parish of St. Clara, and some believe it +was because of the godless destruction of St. Clara's convent. + +Windrank. And now they mean to drive away the plague with +singing--as if that bugaboo were a hater of music. But, of +course, it wouldn't be a wonder if he did flee from their +hoarse screeching. + +Nils. Will you please tell me who has dared to invade this last +sanctuary--for it's here the bones of the Saint are to be +deposited before the place is torn down entirely. + +Windrank. Then there'll be a fight, I fear. + +[The singing has drawn nearer. A procession enters, made up of +Dominican friars and Franciscan nuns, headed by Mårten. They +come to a halt and continue singing, while the workmen are making +a great deal of noise in the background.] + +Procession. + Cur super vermes luteos furorem + Sunnis, O magni fabricator orbis! + Quid sumus quam fex, putris, umbra, pulvis + Glebaque terrae! + +Mårten (to the Abbess). You can see, my sister, how the abode of +the Lord has been despoiled. + +Abbess. The Lord who has delivered us into the hands of the +Egyptians will also set its free in due time. + +Mårten (to the workmen). Cease working, and do not disturb our +pious task! + +Overseer. Our orders are to work day and night until this den has +been torn down. + +Abbess. Alas, that unbelief has spread so far down among the +people! + +Mårten. We are celebrating this feast with the permission of the +King. + +Overseer. Well, I don't mind! + +Mårten. And therefore I command you to cease your noise. I'll +appeal directly to your workmen, whom you have forced into this +shameless undertaking.--I'll ask them if they have any respect +whatever left for holy-- + +Overseer. You had better not, for I am in command here. +Furthermore, I can tell you that they are glad enough to have a +chance of tearing down these hornets' nests for which they +themselves have had to pay--and then, too, they are pretty +thankful to earn something during a time of famine. (He goes +toward the background.) + +Mårten. Let us forget the wickedness and tumult of this world. +Let us enter the sacred place and pray for them. + +Abbess. Lord, Lord, the cities of Thy sanctuary are laid waste! +Zion is laid waste, and Jerusalem is lying desolate! + +Windrank. 100.--Nobody can get in here! + +The Conspirators (within the chapel). We swear! + +Mårten. Who has dared to invade the chapel? + +Windrank. It's no more a chapel since it has become a royal +storehouse. + +Abbess. That's why the godless one gave us his permission! + +[The door of the chapel is thrown open and the conspirators +appear; among them Olof, Lars Andersson, Gert, the German, the +Dane, the Man from Smaland, and others.] + +Olof (much excited). What kind of buffoonery is this? + +Mårten. Make way for the handmaidens of St. Clara! + +Olof. Do you think your idols can keep away the plague that God +has sent you as a punishment? Do you think the Lord will find +those pieces of bone you carry in the box there so pleasant that +He forgives all your dreadful sins? Take away that abomination! +(He takes the reliquary from the Abbess and throws it into one of +the open graves.) From dust you have come, and to dust you shall +return, even if your name was Sancta Clara da Spoleto and you ate +only three ounces of bread a day and slept among the swine at +night! (The nuns scream.) + +Mårten. If you fear not what is holy, fear at least your temporal +ruler. Look here! He has still so much respect left for divine +things that he dreads the wrath of the saint. (He shows a +document to Olof.) + +Olof. Do you know what the Lord did with the king of the +Assyrians when he permitted the worship of idols? He smote him +and all his people. Thus the righteous is made to suffer with the +unrighteous. In the name of the one omnipotent God, I declare +this worship of Baal abolished, even if all the kings of the +earth give their permit. The Pope wanted to sell my soul to +Satan, but I tore the contract to pieces--you remember? Should I +then fear a King who wants to sell his people to the Baalim? (He +tears the document to pieces.) + +Mårten (to his followers). You are my witnesses that he has +defamed the King. + +Olof (to his followers). And you are my witnesses before God that +I have led the people of a godless King away from him! + +Mårten. Listen, ye faithful! It is because of this heretic that +God has smitten us with the plague--it is the punishment of God, +and it fell first of all on his mother. + +Olof. Listen, ye faithless papists! It was the punishment of the +Lord on me because I had served Sennacherib against Judah. I will +atone my crime by leading Judah against the kings of the +Assyrians and the Egyptians. + +(The moon has risen in the meantime. It is very red, and a fiery +glare pervades the place. The crowd is frightened.) + +Olof (mounting one of the graves). Heaven is weeping blood over +your sins and your idolatry. Punishment shall be meted out, for +those in authority have fallen into wrongdoing. Can't you see +that the very graves are yawning for prey-- + +(Gert seizes Olof by the arm, whispers to him, and leads him down +from the mound. The crowd is panic-stricken.) + +Abbess. Give us back our reliquary, so that we may abandon this +home of desolation. + +Mårten. It is better to let the bones of the Saint remain in this +consecrated soil than to have them touched by the vile hands of +heretics! + +Olof. You are afraid of the plague, cowards that you are! Is your +faith in the sacred bones no stronger? + +(Gert whispers to Olof again. The procession has in the meantime +scattered, so that only a part of it remains on the stage.) + +Olof (to Mårten). Now you should be satisfied, you hypocrite! Go +and tell him whom you serve that a box of silver is about to be +buried here, and he'll dig it out of the earth with his own +nails. Tell him that the moon, which is usually made of silver, +has turned into gold, merely to make your master raise his eyes +toward heaven for once. Tell him that you, by your blasphemous +buffooneries, have succeeded in provoking an honest man's wrath-- + +[Exeunt Mårten and the members of the procession.] + +Gert. Enough, Olof! (To all the conspirators except Olof and +Lars.) Leave us, please! + +[Exeunt the conspirators, exchanging whispers.] + +Gert (to Olof and Lars). It's too late to back down now! + +Olof. What do you want, Gert--speak! + +Gert (showing them a bound volume). Before you two, servants of +God, a people steps forth to make its confession. Do you +acknowledge your oath? + +Olof and Lars. We have sworn! + +Gert. This book is the result of my silent labors. On every page +you will find a cry of distress, a sigh from thousands who have +been blind enough to think it God's will that they should suffer +the tyranny of one man--who have thought it their duty not even +to hope for liberation. (Olof takes the volume and begins to +read.) You shall hear complaints all the way from the primeval +forests of Norrland down to the Sound. Out of the wreckage from +the churches the King is building new castles for the nobility +and new prisons for the people. You shall read how the King is +bartering away law and justice by letting murderers escape their +punishment if they seek refuge at the salt-works. You shall read +how he is taxing vice by letting harlots pay for the right to ply +their traffic. Yea, the very fishes of the rivers, the water of +the sea itself, have been usurped by him. But the end is in +sight. The eyes of the people have been opened. There is seething +and fermenting everywhere. Soon the tyranny will be crushed, and +the people shall be free! + +Olof. Who wrote the songs in this book? + +Gert. The people! These are songs of the people--so they sing who +feel the yoke pressing. I have visited city and country, asking +them: "Are you happy?" These are the answers! I have held +assizes. Here are the verdicts entered. Do you believe that a +million wills may conquer one? Do you believe that God has +bestowed this land with all its human souls and all its property +upon a single man, for him to deal with as it suits his pleasure? +Or do you not rather believe that he should do the will of all?-- +You do not answer? You are awed, I see, by the thought that it +may come to an end! Listen to my confession! Tomorrow the +oppressor dies, and you shall all be free! + +Olof and Lars. What are you saying? + +Gert. You didn't understand what I was talking about at our +meetings. + +Olof. You have deceived us! + +Gert. Not at all! You are perfectly free. Two voices less mean +nothing. Everything is prepared. + +Lars. Have you considered the consequences? + +Gert. Fool! Is it not for the sake of the consequences that I +have done all this? + +Olof. Supposing Gert be right--what do you say, Lars? + +Lars. I wasn't born to lead. + +Olof. All are born to lead, but all are not willing to sacrifice +the flesh. + +Gert. Only he who has the courage to face scorn and ridicule can +lead. For hatred is as nothing compared with the laughter that +kills. + +Olof. And if it should miscarry? + +Gert. Dare to face that, too! You don't know that Thomas Münster +has established a new spiritual kingdom at Muhlhausen. You don't +know that all Europe is in revolt. Who was Dacke, if not a +defender of the oppressed? What have the Dalecarlians meant by +all their rebellions, if not to defend their freedom against him +who broke his plighted faith? He does such things and goes +unpunished, but when they want to defend themselves, then he +raises the cry of revolt and treason. + +Olof. So this is the point to which you wanted to lead me, Gert? + +Gert. Have you not been led here by the current? You will, but do +not dare! To-morrow, in the church, the mine will go off, and +that will be a signal for the people to rise and choose a ruler +after their own heart. + +Olof (turning over the leaves of the book). If it be the will of +all, then nobody can stop it. Gert, let me take this book to the +King and show him what is the will of his people, and he will +grant them their rights. + +Gert. Oh, you child! For a moment he may be scared, and perhaps +restore a silver pitcher to some church. Then he'll point toward +heaven and say: "It is not by my own will that I sit here and do +you wrong, but by the will of God!" + +Olof. Then the will of God be done! + +Gert. But how? + +Olof. He must die that all may live. Murderer, ingrate, traitor-- +those will be my names, perchance. I am sacrificing everything, +even my honor, my conscience, and my faith--could I possibly give +more for those pitiable ones who are crying for salvation? Let us +go ere I repent! + +Gert. Even if you did, it would already be too late. Don't you +know that Mårten is a spy, and perhaps sentence has already been +pronounced against the rebel! + +Olof. Well, I won't repent--and why should I repent of an act +that implies the carrying out of God's own judgment? Forward, +then, in the name of the Lord. [Exeunt.] + +[Enter Harlot, who kneels at a grave which she has strewn with +flowers.] + +Harlot. Hast Thou punished me enough now, O Lord, to pardon me? + +[Enter Christine quickly.] + +Christine. Have you seen Master Olof, goodwife? + +Harlot. Are you his friend or his enemy? + +Christine. Do you mean to insult me? + +Harlot. Pardon me! I haven't seen him since the last time I +prayed. + +Christine. You look so sorrowful! Oh, I know you now! It was you +to whom Olof was talking that night in Greatchurch. + +Harlot. You mustn't let it be seen that you are talking to me. +You don't know who I am, do you? + +Christine. Oh, yes, I know. + +Harlot. You know--so they have told you? + +Christine. Olof told me. + +Harlot. O my God! And don't you despise me? + +Christine. You are an unfortunate, down-trodden woman, Olof told +me. Why should I despise misfortune? + +Harlot. Then you cannot be happy yourself? + +Christine. No, we have shared the same fate. + +Harlot. I am not the only one, then! Tell me, who was the +worthless man to whom you gave your love? + +Christine. Worthless? + +Harlot. Oh, pardon--to one who loves, no one seems worthless! To +whom did you give your love? + +Christine. You know Master Olof, don't you? + +Harlot. Oh, tell me that it is not true! Don't rob me of my faith +in him, too! It is the only thing I have left since God took my +child! + +Christine. You have had a child? Then you have been happy once. + +Harlot. I thank God, who did not permit my son to find out the +unworthiness of his mother. + +Christine. Have you been guilty of any crime, that you speak so? + +Harlot. I have just buried it. + +Christine. Your child? How can you! And I pray God every day to +grant me a little one--so that I may at least have one creature +to love! + +Harlot. Oh, poor child, pray to God that He preserve you from it! + +Christine. I don't understand you, goodwife! + +Harlot. Don't call me that! You know who I am, don't you? + +Christine. Well, don't they offer prayers in the churches for +those who have hopes? + +Harlot. Not for such as we! + +Christine. Such as we? + +Harlot. They pray for the others and curse us. + +Christine. What do you mean by "the others"? I don't understand +you at all. + +Harlot. Do you know the wife of Master Olof? + +Christine. Why, that is I! + +Harlot. You? Oh, why didn't I guess at once? Can you forgive me a +moment's doubt? How could vice look like you and him? Alas! You +must leave me. You are a child, still ignorant of wickedness. You +must not be talking to me longer. God bless you! Good-bye! (She +starts to leave.) + +Christine. Don't leave me! Whoever you be, for God's sake, stay! +They have broken into our house, and my husband is not to be +found. Take me away from here--home to yourself--anywhere. You +must be a good woman--you cannot be wicked-- + +Harlot (interrupting her). If I tell you that the brutality of +the crowd wouldn't hurt you half so much as my company, then +perhaps you will forgive me for leaving-- + +Christine. Who are you? + +Harlot. I am an outcast on whom has been fulfilled that curse +which God hurled at woman after the fall of our first parents. +Ask me no more, for if I told you more, your contempt would goad +me to a self-defence that would be still more contemptible.--Here +comes somebody who perhaps will be generous enough to escort you, +if you promise to let him have your honor and virtue and eternal +peace for his trouble--for that is probably the least he will +accept for his protection at such a late hour as this! Please +forgive me--it is not at you that I am railing. + +[Enter Windrank, intoxicated.] + +Windrank. Why the devil can't a fellow be left alone, even here +among the corpses? See here, my good ladies, please don't ask me +anything, for now I can't guarantee that I won't answer. The day +after to-morrow I'll tell you all about it, for then it'll be too +late. Perhaps you're some of those nuns that have been made +homeless? Well, although women are nothing but women, I don't +think I have any right to be impolite, for all that the sun set +long ago. Of course, there is an old law saying that nobody can +be arrested after sunset, but though the law is a bugbear, I +think it's too polite to insist on anything when it's a question +of ladies. Hush, hush, tongue! Why, the old thing is going like a +spinning-wheel, but that comes from that infernal gin! Why should +I be dragged into this kind of thing? Of course, I'll get well +paid and be a man of means, but don't believe that I am doing it +for the sake of the money! It's done now, but I don't want to--I +don't want to! I want to sleep in peace nights and have no ghosts +to trouble me. Suppose I goo and tell? No, then they'll arrest +me. Suppose somebody else would go and tell? Perhaps one of you +nuns might be so kind as to do it? + +Christine (who has been conferring with the, Harlot). If you have +anything on your conscience that troubles you, please tell us. + +Windrank. Am I to tell? That's just what I want to get out of, +but this is horrible, and I can't stand it any longer. I am +forced to do it. Why should I be the one? I don't want to. + +Christine. My dear man, you mean to commit-- + +Windrank. A murder. Who told you? Well, thank God that you +know! By all means, go ahead and tell about it--at once--or I'll +have no peace--no peace in all eternity! + +Christine (recovering from the first shock). Why should you +murder him? + +Windrank. Oh, there are such a lot of reasons. Just look at the +way he is tearing down your nunneries. + +Christine. The King? + +Windrank. Yes, of course! The father and liberator of his +country! Of course, he's an oppressor, but that's no reason why +he should be murdered. + +Christine. When is it going to happen? + +Windrank. Why, to-morrow--in Greatchurch--right in church! [At a +signal from Christine, the Harlot leaves.] + +Christine. How could they pick you for such a deed? + +Windrank. Well, you see, I gave a connection or two among the +church attendants, and then I am poor, of course. What the devil +does it matter who puts the match to the powder, if only some +shrewd fellow is pointing the gun? And then we have several other +little schemes in reserve, although I'm to fire the first shot. +But why don't you run off and tell about it? + +Christine. It has already been done. + +Windrank. Well, God be thanked and praised! Goodbye, there goes +all my money! + +Christine. Tell me who you are, you conspirators. + +Windrank. No, that I won't tell! + +[Enter Nils. He crosses the stage followed by a troop of soldiers +and a crowd of people.] + +Christine. Do you see that they are already looking for you? + +Windrank. I wash my hands of it. + +Nils (goes up to Windrank without noticing Christine). Have you +seen Olof Pedersson? + +Windrank. Why? + +Nils. Because he is wanted. + +Windrank. No, I haven't seen him. Are there others wanted? + +Nils. Yes, many. + +Windrank. No, I haven't seen any of them. + +Nils. Well, it will soon be your turn. [Exit.] + +Christine. Are they looking for the conspirators? + +Windrank. What a question! Now I'm going to clear out. Good-bye! + +Christine. Tell me before you go-- + +Windrank. Haven't time! + +Christine. Is Master Olof one of them? + +Windrank. Of course! (Christine sinks down unconscious on one of +the graves. Windrank is suddenly sobered and genuinely moved.) +Good Lord in heaven, it must be his wife! (He goes to Christine.) +I think I've killed her! Oh, Hans, Hans, all you can do now is to +get a rope for yourself! What business did you have to get mixed +up with the high and mighty?--Come here, somebody, and help a +poor woman! + +[Enter Olof, led by soldiers carrying torches as he catches sight +of Christine, he tears himself loose and throws himself on his +knees beside her.] + +Olof. Christine! + +Christine. Olof! You're alive! Come away from here and let us go +home! + +Olof (overwhelmed). It's too late! + + +SCENE 2 + +(Within Greatchurch. Olof and Gert, dressed as penitents, stand in +the pillory near the entrance. The organ is playing and the bells +are ringing. The service is just ended, and the people are +leaving the church. The Sexton and his wife are standing by +themselves in a corner near the footlights.) + +Sexton. Lars the Chancellor, he was pardoned, but not Master +Olof. + +Wife. The Chancellor has always been a man of peace and has never +stirred up any trouble, so I can't understand how he could want +to have anything to do with such dreadful things. + +Sexton. The Chancellor has always had a queer streak, although he +has never said much, and though he was pardoned, it cost him +everything he had. I can't help being sorry for Master Olof; +I have always had a liking for him, even though he has been a +fire-brand. + +Wife. Well, what's the use of making a young fellow like that +pastor? + +Sexton. Of course, he's rather young, and that has been his main +fault, but I'm sure time will cure it. + +Wife. What nonsense you are talking, seeing that he's going to +die to-day. + +Sexton. Well, Lord, Lord, if I hadn't clean forgotten about it! +But then it doesn't seem quite right to me, either. + +Wife. Do you know if he has repented? + +Sexton. I doubt very much, for I am sure his neck is just as +stiff as ever. + +Wife. But I suppose he'll thaw out a little now, when he sees his +class of children whom they wouldn't let him prepare for +confirmation. + +Sexton. Well, I must say that the King can be pretty mean when he +turns that side to. Now he is making the pastor do church penance +the very same day his children are being confirmed. It's almost +as bad as when he made the dean drink with the headsman, or when +he sent those two prelates riding through the city with crowns of +birch bark on their heads. + +Wife. And his own brother Lars has been sent to shrive him. + +Sexton. See, here come the children! How sad they're looking-- +well, I don't wonder. I think I'll have to go in and have a cry +myself-- + +(Enter the children about to be confirmed, boys and girls. They +begin to march past Olof, carrying bunches of flowers in their +hands. They look sad and keep their eyes on the ground. A number +of older people accompany the children. A few curious persons +point out Olof and are rebuked by others. Last of all the +children in the procession comes Vilhelm, one of the scholars +with whom Olof was seen playing in the First Act. He stops +timidly in front of him, kneels, and drops his bunch of flowers +at the feet of Olof, who does not notice it because he has pulled +down the hood of his penitential robe so that it hides his face. +Some of the people mutter disapprovingly, while others show signs +of pleasure. Mårten comes forward to take away the flowers, but +is pushed back by the crowd. Soldiers clear a path for Lars +Pedersson, who appears in canonicals. The crowd disappears +gradually, leaving Lars, Olof, and Gert alone on the stage. The +playing of the organ ceases, but the bells continue to toll.) + +Lars. Olof, the King has refused to listen to the petition for +pardon submitted by the City Corporation. Are you prepared to +die? + +Olof. I am not able to think so far. + +Lars. I have been ordered to prepare you. + +Olof. That will have to be done in haste, for my blood is still +running quickly through my veins. + +Lars. Have you repented? + +Olof. No! + +Lars. Do you want to pass into eternity with an unforgiving mind? + +Olof. Oh, put aside the formulas, if you want me to listen to +you. I can't think that I am going to die now--there 's far too +much of life and strength left in me. + +Lars. I must tell you that I don't think so either, and that it +is for a new life in this world I am trying to prepare you. + +Olof. Then I may live? + +Lars. If you will admit that you were mistaken in the past, and +if you will take back what you have said about the King. + +Olof. How could I? That would be to die indeed! + +Lars. This was what I had to tell you. Now you must decide for +yourself. + +Olof. One doesn't parley about one's convictions. + +Lars. Even a mistake may turn into conviction. I shall +leave you to think the matter over. [Exit.] + +Gert. Our harvest wasn't ready. It takes a lot of snow +to make the fall crops ripen--nay, centuries must pass before you +will even see the first shoots. All the conspirators are under +arrest, they say, and te deums are sung on that account. But they +are mistaken; conspirators are abroad everywhere--in the royal +apartments, in the churches, and in the market-places--but they +dare not do what we have dared. And yet they'll reach that point +some time. Good-bye, Olof! You must live a little longer, for you +are young. I shall die with the utmost pleasure. The name of +every new martyr becomes the rallying-cry for a new host. Don't +believe that a human soul was ever set on fire by a lie. Don't +ever distrust those feelings that shake you to your inmost soul +when you have seen some one suffer spiritual or physical +oppression. If the whole world tell you that you are wrong, +believe your own heart just the same--if you are brave enough to +do so. The day when you deny your self--then you are dead, and +eternal perdition will seem a mercy to one who, has been guilty +of the sin against the Holy Ghost. + +Olof. You speak of my release as though it were a certainty. + +Gert. The Corporation has offered 500 ducats for your ransom, and +if it cost only 2000 to get Birgitta declared a saint, then 500 +should suffice to get you declared guiltless. The King doesn't +dare to take your life! + +[Enter the Lord High Constable, followed by the Headsman and +soldiers.] + +Constable. Take away Gert the Printer. + +Gert (to Olof, as he is being led away). Good-bye, Olof! Take +care of my daughter, and don't ever forget the great Whitsunday! + +Constable. Master Olof, you are a young man who has been led +astray. The King will pardon you for the sake of your youth, but +as a safeguard he demands a retraction wherein you take back +whatever you have ventured beyond and against his orders. + +Olof. Then the King is still in need of me? + +Constable. There are many more who need you, but don't rely on +his mercy until you have fulfilled his condition. Here is the +King's warrant. In a moment your fetters may be shed, if so be +your will, but it will be just as easy to tear up this sheet of +paper. + +Olof. One who contents himself with 500 ducats is not likely to +care very much for a retraction-- + +Constable. That is a lie! The headsman is waiting for you. But +pray listen to a few words from an old man. I, too, have been +young, and moved by strong passions. They belong to youth; but +those passions are meant to be killed. I did as you do. I went +around telling the truth, and all I got in return was ingratitude, +or, at the best, a smile of derision. I, too, wanted to build +a little heaven here on earth--(speaking with marked emphasis) +of course, on other foundations than yours--but soon I came +to my senses, and the chimeras were sent packing. I have no +desire to make you out a man wishing to gain notoriety by getting +himself talked about--I don't believe anything of the kind. You +are moved by good intentions, but they are such as must cause +harm. Your blood is hot, and it blinds you because you exercise +no self-control. You preach freedom, and you are plunging +thousands into the slavery of license. Retrace your steps, young +man, and make atonement for your errors! Restore what you have +torn down, and your fellow-men will bless you! + +Olof (agitated to a point of desperation). It is the truth you +speak; I hear it, but who taught you to speak like that? + +Constable. Experience--that which you lack! + +Olof. Can I have lived and fought for a lie? Must I now declare +my whole youth and the best part of my manhood lost, useless, +wasted? Oh, let me rather die together with my mistake! + +Constable. You should have broken loose from your dreams earlier. +But calm yourself! Your life is still ahead of you. The past has +been a school--hard, to be sure, but all the more wholesome. +Hitherto you have given your life to whims and follies. Now you +have some inkling of what reality demands of you. Outside that +door your creditors are waiting with their claims. Here are their +bills. The clergy of the young Church demand that you live to +finish what you have begun so splendidly. The City Corporation +demands its secretary for the Council. The congregation demands +its shepherd. The children of the confirmation class demand their +teacher. Those are your legal creditors. But there is one more +waiting outside, to whom perhaps you owe more than all the rest, +and who yet demands nothing at all--your young wife. You have +torn her from her father's side and set her adrift in the storm. +You have broken down her childhood faith and filled her mind with +restlessness. Your reckless deeds have goaded the brutal mob into +driving her out of her own home. Yet she does not even demand +your love: all she asks of you is permission to spend a life of +suffering by your side.--Now you can see that we, too, give a +little consideration to other people, although you call us +selfish.--Let me open this door, which will lead you back into +the world. Discipline your heart before it hardens, and thank God +for granting you more time to work for mankind. + +Olof (breaking into tears). I am lost! + +(Constable gives a sign to the Headsman, who removes the fetters +and the garb of penitence from Olof; then the Constable opens the +door to the sacristy, and delegates from the lords, the clergy, +and the city guilds enter.) + +Constable. Olof Pedersson, formerly pastor of the city church at +Stockholm, do you hereby repent of your misdeeds and retract what +you have said beyond and against the King's order? Do you declare +your willingness to keep your oath to the sovereign of this +realm, and to serve him faithfully? + +(Olof remains silent. Lars Pedersson and Christine approach him, +while many of those present make pleading gestures.) + +Olof (in a cold and determined voice). Yes! + +Constable. In the name of the King, I set you free! + +(Olof and Christine embrace. A number of persons come forward to +press his hand and utter words of congratulation.) + +Olof (in the same cold voice). Before I leave this room, let me +be alone a moment with my God. I need it! Once upon a time I +struck the first blow right here, and here-- + +Lars. Right here you have won your greatest victory this very +day! + +(All leave the room except Olof, who falls on his knees.) + +[Enter Vilhelm cautiously. He looks very much surprised at seeing +Olof alone and free.] + +Vilhelm. I come to bid you farewell, Master Olof, before you pass +on to another life. + +Olof (rising). You have not deserted me, Vilhelm! Help me, then, +to mourn those happy moments of my youth that are now nothing but +a memory! + +Vilhelm. Before you die I want to thank you for all that you have +done for us. It was I who gave you those flowers, which you +haven't noticed.--They have been trampled on, I see. I wanted to +bring you a reminder of the days when we were playing under the +lindens in the convent close at Strängnäs. I thought it might do +you good to hear that we have never thanked God, as you said we +would, because you didn't return to us. We have never forgotten +you, for it was you who relieved us of those cruel penances, and +it was you who flung open the heavy convent doors and gave us +back our freedom and the blue sky and the happiness of living. +Why you must die, we do not know, but _you_ could never do +anything wrong. And if you die because you have rendered help to +some of those that were oppressed, as they tell us, then you +should not be sorry, although it hurts very, very much. Once you +told us how Hus was burned because he had dared to tell the truth +to those in power. You told us how he went to the stake and +joyfully commended himself into the hands of God, and how he +prophesied about the swan that should come singing new songs in +praise of awakened freedom. That's the way I have thought that +you would meet your death--with your head thrown back, and your +eyes toward the sky, and the people crying: "So dies a witness!" + +(Olof leans against the pillory, his face showing how the words +of Vilhelm strike home to him.) + +Gert (his voice heard from a distant part of the church.) +Renegade! + +(Olof sinks down overwhelmed at the foot of the pillory.) + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Master Olof: A Drama in Five Acts. +by August Strindberg + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MASTER OLOF: A DRAMA IN FIVE ACTS. *** + +This file should be named 8olof10.txt or 8olof10.zip +Corrected EDITIONS of our eBooks get a new NUMBER, 8olof11.txt +VERSIONS based on separate sources get new LETTER, 8olof10a.txt + +Produced by Nicole Apostola + +Project Gutenberg eBooks are often created from several printed +editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the US +unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we usually do not +keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition. + +We are now trying to release all our eBooks one year in advance +of the official release dates, leaving time for better editing. +Please be encouraged to tell us about any error or corrections, +even years after the official publication date. + +Please note neither this listing nor its contents are final til +midnight of the last day of the month of any such announcement. +The official release date of all Project Gutenberg eBooks is at +Midnight, Central Time, of the last day of the stated month. A +preliminary version may often be posted for suggestion, comment +and editing by those who wish to do so. + +Most people start at our Web sites at: +http://gutenberg.net or +http://promo.net/pg + +These Web sites include award-winning information about Project +Gutenberg, including how to donate, how to help produce our new +eBooks, and how to subscribe to our email newsletter (free!). + + +Those of you who want to download any eBook before announcement +can get to them as follows, and just download by date. This is +also a good way to get them instantly upon announcement, as the +indexes our cataloguers produce obviously take a while after an +announcement goes out in the Project Gutenberg Newsletter. + +http://www.ibiblio.org/gutenberg/etext03 or +ftp://ftp.ibiblio.org/pub/docs/books/gutenberg/etext03 + +Or /etext02, 01, 00, 99, 98, 97, 96, 95, 94, 93, 92, 92, 91 or 90 + +Just search by the first five letters of the filename you want, +as it appears in our Newsletters. + + +Information about Project Gutenberg (one page) + +We produce about two million dollars for each hour we work. The +time it takes us, a rather conservative estimate, is fifty hours +to get any eBook selected, entered, proofread, edited, copyright +searched and analyzed, the copyright letters written, etc. Our +projected audience is one hundred million readers. If the value +per text is nominally estimated at one dollar then we produce $2 +million dollars per hour in 2002 as we release over 100 new text +files per month: 1240 more eBooks in 2001 for a total of 4000+ +We are already on our way to trying for 2000 more eBooks in 2002 +If they reach just 1-2% of the world's population then the total +will reach over half a trillion eBooks given away by year's end. + +The Goal of Project Gutenberg is to Give Away 1 Trillion eBooks! +This is ten thousand titles each to one hundred million readers, +which is only about 4% of the present number of computer users. + +Here is the briefest record of our progress (* means estimated): + +eBooks Year Month + + 1 1971 July + 10 1991 January + 100 1994 January + 1000 1997 August + 1500 1998 October + 2000 1999 December + 2500 2000 December + 3000 2001 November + 4000 2001 October/November + 6000 2002 December* + 9000 2003 November* +10000 2004 January* + + +The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation has been created +to secure a future for Project Gutenberg into the next millennium. + +We need your donations more than ever! + +As of February, 2002, contributions are being solicited from people +and organizations in: Alabama, Alaska, Arkansas, Connecticut, +Delaware, District of Columbia, Florida, Georgia, Hawaii, Illinois, +Indiana, Iowa, Kansas, Kentucky, Louisiana, Maine, Massachusetts, +Michigan, Mississippi, Missouri, Montana, Nebraska, Nevada, New +Hampshire, New Jersey, New Mexico, New York, North Carolina, Ohio, +Oklahoma, Oregon, Pennsylvania, Rhode Island, South Carolina, South +Dakota, Tennessee, Texas, Utah, Vermont, Virginia, Washington, West +Virginia, Wisconsin, and Wyoming. + +We have filed in all 50 states now, but these are the only ones +that have responded. + +As the requirements for other states are met, additions to this list +will be made and fund raising will begin in the additional states. +Please feel free to ask to check the status of your state. + +In answer to various questions we have received on this: + +We are constantly working on finishing the paperwork to legally +request donations in all 50 states. If your state is not listed and +you would like to know if we have added it since the list you have, +just ask. + +While we cannot solicit donations from people in states where we are +not yet registered, we know of no prohibition against accepting +donations from donors in these states who approach us with an offer to +donate. + +International donations are accepted, but we don't know ANYTHING about +how to make them tax-deductible, or even if they CAN be made +deductible, and don't have the staff to handle it even if there are +ways. + +Donations by check or money order may be sent to: + +Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation +PMB 113 +1739 University Ave. +Oxford, MS 38655-4109 + +Contact us if you want to arrange for a wire transfer or payment +method other than by check or money order. + +The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation has been approved by +the US Internal Revenue Service as a 501(c)(3) organization with EIN +[Employee Identification Number] 64-622154. Donations are +tax-deductible to the maximum extent permitted by law. As fund-raising +requirements for other states are met, additions to this list will be +made and fund-raising will begin in the additional states. + +We need your donations more than ever! + +You can get up to date donation information online at: + +http://www.gutenberg.net/donation.html + + +*** + +If you can't reach Project Gutenberg, +you can always email directly to: + +Michael S. Hart <hart@pobox.com> + +Prof. Hart will answer or forward your message. + +We would prefer to send you information by email. + + +**The Legal Small Print** + + +(Three Pages) + +***START**THE SMALL PRINT!**FOR PUBLIC DOMAIN EBOOKS**START*** +Why is this "Small Print!" statement here? You know: lawyers. +They tell us you might sue us if there is something wrong with +your copy of this eBook, even if you got it for free from +someone other than us, and even if what's wrong is not our +fault. So, among other things, this "Small Print!" statement +disclaims most of our liability to you. It also tells you how +you may distribute copies of this eBook if you want to. + +*BEFORE!* YOU USE OR READ THIS EBOOK +By using or reading any part of this PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm +eBook, you indicate that you understand, agree to and accept +this "Small Print!" statement. If you do not, you can receive +a refund of the money (if any) you paid for this eBook by +sending a request within 30 days of receiving it to the person +you got it from. If you received this eBook on a physical +medium (such as a disk), you must return it with your request. + +ABOUT PROJECT GUTENBERG-TM EBOOKS +This PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm eBook, like most PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm eBooks, +is a "public domain" work distributed by Professor Michael S. Hart +through the Project Gutenberg Association (the "Project"). +Among other things, this means that no one owns a United States copyright +on or for this work, so the Project (and you!) can copy and +distribute it in the United States without permission and +without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, set forth +below, apply if you wish to copy and distribute this eBook +under the "PROJECT GUTENBERG" trademark. + +Please do not use the "PROJECT GUTENBERG" trademark to market +any commercial products without permission. + +To create these eBooks, the Project expends considerable +efforts to identify, transcribe and proofread public domain +works. Despite these efforts, the Project's eBooks and any +medium they may be on may contain "Defects". Among other +things, Defects may take the form of incomplete, inaccurate or +corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other +intellectual property infringement, a defective or damaged +disk or other eBook medium, a computer virus, or computer +codes that damage or cannot be read by your equipment. + +LIMITED WARRANTY; DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES +But for the "Right of Replacement or Refund" described below, +[1] Michael Hart and the Foundation (and any other party you may +receive this eBook from as a PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm eBook) disclaims +all liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including +legal fees, and [2] YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE OR +UNDER STRICT LIABILITY, OR FOR BREACH OF WARRANTY OR CONTRACT, +INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE +OR INCIDENTAL DAMAGES, EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE +POSSIBILITY OF SUCH DAMAGES. + +If you discover a Defect in this eBook within 90 days of +receiving it, you can receive a refund of the money (if any) +you paid for it by sending an explanatory note within that +time to the person you received it from. If you received it +on a physical medium, you must return it with your note, and +such person may choose to alternatively give you a replacement +copy. If you received it electronically, such person may +choose to alternatively give you a second opportunity to +receive it electronically. + +THIS EBOOK IS OTHERWISE PROVIDED TO YOU "AS-IS". NO OTHER +WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, ARE MADE TO YOU AS +TO THE EBOOK OR ANY MEDIUM IT MAY BE ON, INCLUDING BUT NOT +LIMITED TO WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTABILITY OR FITNESS FOR A +PARTICULAR PURPOSE. + +Some states do not allow disclaimers of implied warranties or +the exclusion or limitation of consequential damages, so the +above disclaimers and exclusions may not apply to you, and you +may have other legal rights. + +INDEMNITY +You will indemnify and hold Michael Hart, the Foundation, +and its trustees and agents, and any volunteers associated +with the production and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm +texts harmless, from all liability, cost and expense, including +legal fees, that arise directly or indirectly from any of the +following that you do or cause: [1] distribution of this eBook, +[2] alteration, modification, or addition to the eBook, +or [3] any Defect. + +DISTRIBUTION UNDER "PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm" +You may distribute copies of this eBook electronically, or by +disk, book or any other medium if you either delete this +"Small Print!" and all other references to Project Gutenberg, +or: + +[1] Only give exact copies of it. Among other things, this + requires that you do not remove, alter or modify the + eBook or this "small print!" statement. You may however, + if you wish, distribute this eBook in machine readable + binary, compressed, mark-up, or proprietary form, + including any form resulting from conversion by word + processing or hypertext software, but only so long as + *EITHER*: + + [*] The eBook, when displayed, is clearly readable, and + does *not* contain characters other than those + intended by the author of the work, although tilde + (~), asterisk (*) and underline (_) characters may + be used to convey punctuation intended by the + author, and additional characters may be used to + indicate hypertext links; OR + + [*] The eBook may be readily converted by the reader at + no expense into plain ASCII, EBCDIC or equivalent + form by the program that displays the eBook (as is + the case, for instance, with most word processors); + OR + + [*] You provide, or agree to also provide on request at + no additional cost, fee or expense, a copy of the + eBook in its original plain ASCII form (or in EBCDIC + or other equivalent proprietary form). + +[2] Honor the eBook refund and replacement provisions of this + "Small Print!" statement. + +[3] Pay a trademark license fee to the Foundation of 20% of the + gross profits you derive calculated using the method you + already use to calculate your applicable taxes. If you + don't derive profits, no royalty is due. Royalties are + payable to "Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation" + the 60 days following each date you prepare (or were + legally required to prepare) your annual (or equivalent + periodic) tax return. Please contact us beforehand to + let us know your plans and to work out the details. + +WHAT IF YOU *WANT* TO SEND MONEY EVEN IF YOU DON'T HAVE TO? +Project Gutenberg is dedicated to increasing the number of +public domain and licensed works that can be freely distributed +in machine readable form. + +The Project gratefully accepts contributions of money, time, +public domain materials, or royalty free copyright licenses. +Money should be paid to the: +"Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation." + +If you are interested in contributing scanning equipment or +software or other items, please contact Michael Hart at: +hart@pobox.com + +[Portions of this eBook's header and trailer may be reprinted only +when distributed free of all fees. Copyright (C) 2001, 2002 by +Michael S. Hart. Project Gutenberg is a TradeMark and may not be +used in any sales of Project Gutenberg eBooks or other materials be +they hardware or software or any other related product without +express permission.] + +*END THE SMALL PRINT! FOR PUBLIC DOMAIN EBOOKS*Ver.02/11/02*END* + diff --git a/old/8olof10.zip b/old/8olof10.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..4641d47 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/8olof10.zip |