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+Project Gutenberg's Master Olof: A Drama in Five Acts, by August Strindberg
+#4 in our series by August Strindberg
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+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. ***
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+Project Gutenberg's Master Olof: A Drama in Five Acts, by August Strindberg
+#4 in our series by August Strindberg
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+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]
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+Edition: 10
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+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. ***
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+This file should be named 8olof10.txt or 8olof10.zip
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