Three Dramas, Bjørnstjerne Bjørnson [best e reader for academics txt] 📗

Probably our reverend friend is unaccustomed to find himself in the presence of royalty.

The Priest. It is the first time that--that I have had the honour of speaking to your Majesty--I did not feel self-possessed enough, for the moment, to--

The King. But you were self-possessed enough when you said it! What did you mean by saying it was "the judgment of heaven"?--I am asking you what you meant by it.

The Priest. I really don't quite know--it slipped out--

The King. That is a lie! Some one said: "First of all her death, and then this." And you said: "It is the judgment of heaven."

The Mayor. That is quite right, your Majesty.

The King. First of all _her_ death? That meant the death of my betrothed, didn't it?

Bang and The Priest. Yes, your Majesty.

The King. "And then _this_" meant my friend--my dear friend! (With emotion.) Why did heaven condemn these two to death? (A pause.)

The General. It is most regrettable that we should, quite involuntarily, have disturbed your Majesty at a moment when your Majesty's feelings are, naturally, so overcome--

The King (interrupting him). I asked you why heaven condemned these two to death. (To the VICAR.) You are a clergyman; cudgel your brains!

The Priest. Well, your Majesty, I was thinking that--I meant that--that heaven had in a miraculous way checked your Majesty--

The General. "Ventured to check" would be more suitable, I think.

The Priest.--from continuing in a course which many people thought so unfortunate--I mean, so fatal to the nation, and the church; had checked your Majesty--

The General (in an undertone). Ventured to check.

The Priest.--by taking away from your Majesty the two persons who--the two persons who--in the first place the one who--

The King. The one who--?

The Priest. Who was--

The King. Who was--? A harlot that wanted to sit on the throne?

The Priest. Those are your Majesty's word, not mine. (Wipes his forehead.)

The King. Confess that they express what you meant!

The Priest. I confess that I have heard--that people say--that--

The King. Pray to heaven that for a single day your thoughts may be as pure as hers were every day. (Bursts into tears. Then says impetuously.) How long have you been a clergyman?

The Priest. Fifteen years, your Majesty.

The King. Then you were already ordained at the time when I was leading a dissolute life. Why did you never say anything to me then?

The Priest. My most gracious King--

The King. God is the only "most gracious King"! Do not speak blasphemy!

The Priest. It was not my duty to--

The General. Our friend is not a court chaplain. He has merely a parish in the town here--

The Mayor. And his work lies chiefly among the factory hands.

The King. And so it is not your duty to speak the truth to me--but to attack my dear dead friends by prating about heaven's judgment and repeating vile lies? Is that your duty?

The Mayor. I only had the honour to know one of the--the deceased. Your Majesty honoured him with your friendship; the greatest honour a subject can enjoy. I should like to say that one would rarely find a nobler heart, a loftier mind, or more modest fidelity, than his.

The General. I should like, if I may make so bold, to make use of the opportunity chance has afforded me of associating myself with my sovereign's sorrow, a sorrow for which his whole people must feel the deepest respect, but especially those who, in consequence of their high position, are more particularly called upon to be the pillars of the monarchy; to use this opportunity, I say--and to do so, I know, as the representative of many thousands of your Majesty's subjects--to voice the sympathy, the unfeigned grief, that will be poured forth at the news of this new loss which has wrung your Majesty's heart--a loss which will reawaken consternation in the country and make it more than ever necessary to take the severest possible measures against a party to which nothing is sacred, neither the King's person nor the highest dignities of office nor the inviolability of the home--a party whose very existence depends on sedition and ought no longer to be tolerated, but ought, as the enemy of the throne and of society, to be visited with all the terrors of the law, until--

The King. What about compassion, my friend?

The General. Compassion?

The King. Not for the republicans--but for me!

The General. It is just the compassion which the whole nation will feel for your Majesty that compels me, in spite of everything, to invoke the intervention of justice at this particular crisis! Terror--

The King.--must be our weapon?

The General. Yes! Can any one imagine a more priceless proof of the care that a people have for their King, than for the gravely anxious tones of their voice to be heard, at this solemn moment, crying: Down with the enemies of the throne!

The King (turning away). No, _I_ haven't thews and sinews for that lie!

The Mayor. I must say I altogether agree with the General. The feeling of affection, gratitude, esteem--

The General.--the legacy of devotion that your Majesty's ancestors of blessed memory--

The King (to the Priest). You, sir--what does my ancestors being "of blessed memory" mean?

The Priest (after a moment's thought). It is a respectful manner of alluding to them, your Majesty.

The King. A respectful lie, you mean. (A pause. ANNA comes out of the room on the left and throws herself at the KING'S feet, embracing his knees in despairing sorrow.) Ah, here comes a breath of truth!--And you come to me, my child, because you know that we two can mourn together. But I do not weep, as you do; because I know that for a long time he had been secretly praying for death. He has got his wish now. So you must not weep so bitterly. You must wish what he wished, you know. Ah, what grief there is in her eyes! (Sobs.)

(The GENERAL signs to the others that they should all withdraw quietly, without turning round. They gradually do so; but the KING looks up and perceives what they are doing.)

The General. Out of respect for your Majesty's grief, we were going to--

The King. Silence! With my hand on the head of this poor creature, who used to trust so unassumingly and devotedly to his goodness of heart, I wish to say something in memory of my friend. (ANNA clings to him, weeping. The others come respectfully nearer, and wait.) Gran was the richest man in the country. Why was it that he had no fear of the people? Why was it that he believed that its salvation lay in the overthrow of the present state of affairs?

Bang. Mr. Gran, with all his great qualities, was a visionary.

The King. He had not inherited all of his vast fortune; he had amassed a great part of it himself.

Bang. As a man of business, Mr. Gran was beyond all praise.

The King. And yet a visionary? The two things are absolutely contradictory.--You once called me "the padlock on your cash-box."

Bang. I allowed myself, with all respect, to make that jest--which, nevertheless, was nothing but the serious truth!

The King. Why did he, who has met his death, consider that the security for _his_ cash-box came from those _below_ him, as long as he did what was right, and not from those above him? Because he understood the times. No question of selfishness stood in the way of his doing that.--That is my funeral oration over him!--(To ANNA.) Get up, my dear! Did you understand what I was saying? Do not weep so! (She clings to him, sobbing.)

The Priest. He was a very great man! When your Majesty speaks so, I fully recognise it. But your Majesty may be certain that, though we may not have been so fortunate as to see so far ahead and so clearly--though our mental horizon may be narrow--we are none the less loyal to your Majesty for that, nor less devoted! It is our duty as subjects to say so, although your Majesty in your heaviness of heart seems to forget it-seems to forget that we, too, look for everything from your Majesty's favour, wisdom and justice. (Perspires freely.)

The King. It is very strange! My dear friend never said anything like that to me. (A pause.) He had the most prosperous business in the country. When I came to him and asked him to abandon it, he did so at once. And in the end he died for me. That is the sort of man he was. (To ANNA.) Go in to him, my dear! You are the very picture of dumb loyalty. Although I do not deserve to have such as you to watch by my side, still, for the sake of him who is dead, I shall have you to do so when I too--. (Breaks off.) Yes, yes, go in there now! I shall come. Do you understand? I shall come. (ANNA moves towards the other room.) There, that's it! (He repeats his words to her every time she looks back as she goes.) Yes, directly!--That's it!--In a very little while! Go now!

Bang. Excuse me, your Majesty, but it is terribly hot in here, and the affection of my heart which troubles me is attacking me painfully. Will your Majesty be pleased to allow me to withdraw?

The Mayor. With all respect, I should like to be allowed to make the same request. Your Majesty is obviously very much upset, and I am sure we are all unwilling that our presence--which, indeed, was unintentional and unsought by us--should augment a distress of mind which is so natural in one of your Majesty's noble disposition, and so inevitable considering the deep sense of gratitude your Majesty must feel towards a friend who--

The King (interrupting him). Hush, hush! Let us have a little respect for the truth in the presence of the dead! Do not misunderstand me--I do not mean to say that any of you would lie wilfully; but the atmosphere that surrounds a king is infected. And, as regards that--just a word or two. I have only a short time. But as a farewell message from me--

The Priest. A farewell message?

The King.--give my greeting to what is called Christianity in this country. Greet it from me! I have been thinking a great deal about Christian folk lately.

The Priest. I am glad to hear it!

The King. Your tone jars on me! Greet those who call themselves Christians--. Oh! come, come--don't crane your necks and bend your backs like that, as if the most precious words of wisdom were about to drop from my lips! (To himself.) Is it any use my saying anything serious to them? (Aloud.) I suppose you are Christians?

The General. Why, of course! Faith is invaluable--

The King.--in preserving discipline? (To the Mayor.) How about you?

The Mayor. I was taught by my parents, of blessed memory--

The King. Oh, so they are "of blessed memory" too, are they? Well, what did they teach you?

The Mayor. To fear God, honour the King--

The King.--and love the brotherhood! You are a public official, Mr. Mayor. That is what a Christian is, nowadays. (To BANG.) And you?

Bang. Of late I have been able to go so little