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The Road to Damascus: A Trilogy, a play by August Strindberg |
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Part 1 - Act 1 - Scene 9. Convent |
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_ PART I ACT I SCENE IX. CONVENT [The refectory of an ancient convent, resembling a simple whitewashed Romanesque church. There are damp patches on the walls, looking like strange figures. A long table with bowls; at the end a desk for the Lector. At the back a door leading to the chapel. There are lighted candles on the tables. On the wall, left, a painting representing the Archangel Michael killing the Fiend.] [The STRANGER is sitting left, at a refectory table, dressed in the white clothing of a patient, with a bowl before him. At the table, right, are sitting: the brown-clad mourners of Scene I. The BEGGAR. A woman in mourning with two children. A woman who resembles the Lady, but who is not her and who is crocheting instead of eating. A Man very like the Doctor, another like the Madman. Others like the Father, Mother, Brother. Parents of the 'Prodigal Son,' etc. All are dressed in white, but over this are wearing costumes of coloured crepe. Their faces are waxen and corpse-like, their whole appearance queer, their gestures strange. On the rise of the curtain all are finishing a Paternoster, except the STRANGER.] STRANGER (rising and going to the ABBESS, who is standing at a serving table). Mother. May I speak to you? ABBESS (in a black-and-white Augustinian habit). Yes, my son. (They come forward.) STRANGER. First, where am I? ABBESS. In a convent called 'St. Saviour.' You were found on the hills above the ravine, with a cross you'd broken from a calvary and with which you were threatening someone in the clouds. Indeed, you thought you could see him. You were feverish and had lost your foothold. You were picked up, unhurt, beneath a cliff, but in delirium. You were brought to the hospital and put to bed. Since then you've spoken wildly, and complained of a pain in your hip, but no injury could be found. STRANGER. What did I speak of? ABBESS. You had the usual feverish dreams. You reproached yourself with all kinds of things, and thought you could see your victims, as you called them. STRANGER. And then? ABBESS. Your thoughts often turned to money matters. You wanted to pay for yourself in the hospital. I tried to calm you by telling you no payment would be asked: all was done out of charity.... STRANGER. I want no charity. ABBESS. It's more blessed to give than to receive; yet a noble nature can accept and be thankful. STRANGER. I want no charity. ABBESS. Hm! STRANGER. Tell me, why will none of those people sit at the same table with me? They're getting up... going.... ABBESS. They seem to fear you. STRANGER. Why? ABBESS. You look so.... STRANGER. I? But what of them? Are they real? ABBESS. If you mean true, they've a terrible reality. It may be they look strange to you, because you're still feverish. Or there may be another reason. STRANGER. I seem to know them, all of them! I see them as if in a mirror: they only make as if they were eating.... Is this some drama they're performing? Those look like my parents, rather like... (Pause.) Hitherto I've feared nothing, because life was useless to me.... Now I begin to be afraid. ABBESS. If you don't believe them real, I'll ask the Confessor to introduce you. (She signs to the CONFESSOR who approaches.) CONFESSOR (dressed in a black-and-white habit of Dominicans). Sister! ABBESS. Tell the patient who are at that table. CONFESSOR. That's soon done. STRANGER. Permit a question first. Haven't we met already? CONFESSOR. Yes. I sat by your bedside, when you were delirious. At your desire, I heard your confession. STRANGER. What? My confession? CONFESSOR. Yes. But I couldn't give you absolution; because it seemed that what you said was spoken in fever. STRANGER. Why? CONFESSOR. There was hardly a sin or vice you didn't take upon yourself--things so hateful you'd have had to undergo strict penitence before demanding absolution. Now you're yourself again I can ask whether there are grounds for your self-accusations. (The ABBESS leaves them.) STRANGER. Have you the right? CONFESSOR. No. In truth, no right. (Pause.) But you want to know in whose company you are! The very best. There, for instance, is a madman, Caesar, who lost his wits through reading the works of a certain writer whose notoriety is greater than his fame. There's a beggar, who won't admit he's a beggar, because he's learnt Latin and is free. There, a doctor, called the werewolf, whose history's well known. There, two parents, who grieved themselves to death over a son who raised his hand against theirs. He must be responsible for refusing to follow his father's bier and desecrating his mother's grave. There's his unhappy sister, whom he drove out into the snow, as he himself recounts, with the best intentions. Over there's a woman who's been abandoned with her two children, and there's another doing crochet work.... All are old acquaintances. Go and greet them! (The STRANGER has turned his back on the company: he now goes to the table, left, and sits down with his back to them. He raises his head, sees the picture of the Archangel Michael and lowers his eyes. The CONFESSOR stands behind the stranger. A Catholic Requiem can be heard from the chapel. The CONFESSOR speaks to the STRANGER in a low voice while the music goes on.)
We will continue the reading.... 'But if thou wilt not hearken unto the voice of the Lord thy God all these curses shall overtake thee. Cursed shalt thou be in the city, and cursed shalt thou be in the field; cursed shalt thou be when thou comest in, and cursed when thou goest out.' OMNES (in a low voice). Cursed! CONFESSOR. 'The Lord shall send upon thee vexation and rebuke in all that thou settest thy hand for to do, until thou be destroyed, and until thou perish quickly, because of the wickedness of thy doings, whereby thou hast forsaken me.' OMNES (loudly). Cursed! CONFESSOR. 'The Lord shall cause thee to be smitten before thine enemies: thou shalt go out one way against them, and flee seven ways before them, and shalt be moved into all the kingdoms of the earth. And thy carcase shall be meat unto all fowls of the air, and unto the beasts of the earth, and no man shall fray them away. The Lord will smite thee with the botch of Egypt, the scab and the itch, with madness and blindness, that thou shalt grope at noonday, as the blind gropeth in darkness. Thou shalt not prosper in thy ways, and thou shalt be only oppressed and spoiled evermore, and no man shall save thee. Thou shalt betroth a wife, and another man shall lie with her: thou shalt build an house, and thou shalt not dwell therein: thou shalt plant a vineyard, and shalt not gather the grapes thereof. Thy sons and thy daughters shall be given unto another people, and thine eyes fail with longing for them; and there shall be no might in thy hand. And thou shalt find no ease on earth, neither shall the sole of thy foot have rest: the Lord shall give thee a trembling heart, and failing of eyes and sorrow of mind. And thy life shall hang in doubt before thee; and thou shalt fear day and night. In the morning thou shalt say, would God it were even! And at even thou shalt say, would God it were morning! And because thou servedst not the Lord thy God when thou livedst in security, thou shalt serve him in hunger, in thirst, in nakedness and in want; and He shall put a yoke of iron upon thy neck, until He have destroyed thee!' OMNES. Amen! (The CONFESSOR has read the above loudly and rapidly, without turning to the STRANGER. All those present, except the LADY, who is working, have been listening and have joined in the curse, though they have feigned not to notice the STRANGER, who has remained with his back to them, sunk in himself. The STRANGER now rises as if to go. The CONFESSOR goes towards him.) STRANGER. What was that? CONFESSOR. The Book of Deuteronomy. STRANGER. Of course. But I seem to remember blessings in it, too. CONFESSOR. Yes, for those who keep His commandments. STRANGER. Hm.... I can't deny that, for a moment, I felt shaken. Are they temptations to be resisted, or warnings to be obeyed? (Pause.) Anyhow I'm certain now that I have fever. I must go to a real doctor. CONFESSOR. See he _is_ the right one! STRANGER. Of course! CONFESSOR. Who can heal 'delightful scruples of conscience'! ABBESS. Should you need charity again, you now know where to find it. STRANGER. No. I do not. ABBESS (in a low voice). Then I'll tell you. In a 'rose' room, near a certain running stream. STRANGER. That's the truth! In a 'rose' room. Wait; how long have I been here? ABBESS. Three months to-day. STRANGER. Three months! Have I been sleeping? Or where have I been? (Looking out of the window.) It's autumn. The trees are bare; the clouds look cold. Now it's coming back to me! Can you hear a mill grinding? The sound of a horn? The rushing of a river? A wood whispering--and a woman weeping? You're right. Only there can charity be found. Farewell. (Exit.) CONFESSOR (to the Abbess). The fool! The fool! [Curtain.] _ |
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