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_ ACT III - SCENE II
(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.) _
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