[In the following essay, Törnqvist breaks down Carl XII into its dramatic elements.]

The double status of drama as verbal text and visual presentation gives rise to a number of fundamental questions, the consequences of which we only now begin to discover. Keeping in mind that a (Strindbergian) drama may be experienced either by a reader or a spectator, the significance of this circumstance will in the following be discussed with regard to the stage and acting directions, viewed in relation to the dialogue.

Consider, for example, the consequence of the fact that

• (1) the drama text is experienced verbally (by means of linguistic signs), whereas the performance text (seen as an abstraction of the play produced) is experienced audiovisually;
• (2) the stage/acting directions are “objective” (authorial), whereas the dialogue is “subjective” (figural);
• (3) the reader (also) in this area receives information that partly differs from that received by the spectator;
• (4) the three possible relationships between stage/acting directions and dialogue (identity, supplement, discrepancy) are different for readers and spectators;
• (5) the (possible symbolic meaning of the stage/acting directions is decoded differently by readers and spectators;
• (6) stage directions/scenery is first experienced in succession by reader/spectator (i.e., as process), then in retrospect (i.e., as system), so that we may distinguish between first-time readers/spectators (R1, S1) and re-readers/re-viewers (R2, S2).

• In addition to this, we may consider the significance of the fact that

• (7) some recipients (natives) partake of the original texts, whereas others (foreigners) partake of translations;
• (8) some recipients (natives) are more familiar with the area where the action takes place than are others (foreigners);
• (9) some recipients (natives) are familiar with the historical events described, whereas others (foreigners) are not.

The first eight points obviously apply to all plays experienced by both readers and spectators; only the last point—and to some extent the one preceding it—may be said to have special relevance for the subspecies “historical drama.”

By relating the nine points to one paradigmatic example, the opening of Carl XII, I hope to be able to indicate the problems involved and the need for distinctions in this area of drama research—irrespective of which subspecies is examined.

The opening of the play reads:

Det är en blåsig morgon i december 1715, på skånska kusten. En stuga, förfallen och övergiven under pesten 1710, står med grunden nerbäddad i flygsanden. Fönsterna äro utslagna, takpannorna avrivna, dörren avlyftad. Spisen och skorstenen synas sotiga genom den nerramlade framsidan. Utanför stugan står ett avlövat, utblåst äppelträd med ett enda kvarsittande äpple, som skakas av vinden. Därinvid är en skräphög med vissna kardborrar. Till höger om stugan synas brända tometer av en kyrka och flera boningshus. Utanför ligger havet mörkt; i horisonten synes en ljusgrå strimma av dagningen.

EN MAN klädd i trasor går och letar i ruinerna.

EN KUSTBEVAKARE kommer in.

[Strindberg, SS 35:115]

(It is a windy morning on the Scanian coast in December 1715. At the center is a cottage, beyond repair; deserted in the plague of 1710; its foundation imbedded in the drifting sand. The windows are broken; the roofing tiles ripped off; the door is gone. The sooty stove and the chimney can be seen through the collapsed front of the house. Outside the cottage is a leafless wind-ravaged apple tree with one lone apple, which is being shaken in the wind. Next to the tree is a scrap pile with withered burdocks on it. To the right of the cottage can be seen the burned remains of a church and several houses. Beyond, the sea lies dark; on the horizon can be seen a pale gray ray of dawn.

A MAN dressed in rags is walking about searching among the ruins.

A COASTGUARD comes in.

[Johnson, Charles XII 107])

Here the reader is informed about the time (“December 1715”) and place (“on the Scanian coast”)—and even about an event affecting it in the past (“deserted in the plague of 1710”). The spectator with a theatre program is informed vaguely about the season (“a leafless … apple tree”) and about the place, since the program would no doubt list—as does the play text: “Act I: On the coast of Scania.” The spectator without a theatre program is merely informed vaguely about the season.

By the term “spoken scenery” (Wortkulisse) is usually meant scenery that is not visualized on the stage but merely evoked in the dialogue. The bare Elizabethan stage often caused dramatists of that period to resort to this device. Thus, instead of visualizing a castle, Shakespeare in Macbeth merely has Duncan “report” to the audience what he sees:

This castle hath a pleasant seat; the air
Nimbly and sweetly recommends itself
Unto our gentle senses.

[I.vi. 1-3]

But spoken scenery can also be taken in a wider sense to mean those parts of the dialogue referring to the visualized scenery, as in the following speech from Carl XII:

KUSTBEVAKAREN:
Tala högre, vinden bär undan dina ord!

[Strindberg SS 35:116]

(COASTGUARD:
Talk louder! The wind's blowing your words away!)

[Johnson, Charles XII 107]

Although the stage directions have not informed us that it is windy, the words of the Coastguard indicate that it is. Indicate—because this figural piece of information, as we have earlier noted, cannot claim as high a degree of objectivity (reliability) as an authorial one. Similarly, the Coastguard's assurance that “the plague killed all the people” may be an exaggeration or even a lie as far as the spectator goes. But to the reader it seems a reliable statement, since it is supported by the authorial comment: “a cottage … deserted in the plague of 1710.” The plague example pinpoints the difference between the two types of recipients: not only is the reader informed more objectively than the spectator but he is also informed at an earlier point.

Compare, for contrast, the opening of Erik XIV:

KARIN:
[till MAX]
Kom inte så nära! Kungen sitter oppe i fönstret där och spejar.

[Strindberg, SS 31:281]

(KARIN:
[to MAX]
Don't come any closer! The king's at the window up there spying on us.)

[Johnson, The Vasa Trilogy 263]

Since the king has not been mentioned in the initial stage directions, the reader here knows no more than the spectator. Both may wonder: is Karin a reliable observer?

If the reader is more informed than the spectator in some respects (as in the case of the plague of 1710), the spectator, on the other hand, receives more information than the reader in others. While the reader, for example, is never told about the color of the cottage, the spectator of a production of Carl XII will inevitably receive this type of information.

Let us now consider the three possible relationships between stage/acting directions and dialogue, referred to as “identity,” “supplement,” and “discrepancy.” Of these the first (identity) is rare, since it would be completely redundant. The second (supplement) is the most common type. While the third (discrepancy) is again rare and, as far as drama texts go, seems to have been introduced by the absurdists.

To the reader the three alternatives might be construed as follows:

… a cottage … deserted in the plague of 1710. …

• (a) * COASTGUARD: This cottage was deserted in the plague of 1710. [Identity]
• (b) * COASTGUARD: This cottage, which used to be so cozy, was deserted in the plague. [Supplement]
• (c) * COASTGUARD: This cottage was deserted in the plague four years ago.

• [Discrepancy]

However, to the (knowledgeable) reader of Carl XII, the reference to the plague of 1710 in a sense exemplifies discrepancy, since the plague indeed infested Stockholm in 1710, but not Scania until the spring of 1711 (Holm and Lindström 112). Is it a misprint? Has Strindberg been ignorant? Careless? Or does he deliberately refer to a date that would be generally connected with the arrival of the plague in Sweden in the minds of the recipients?

To the spectator the three alternatives might be construed as follows.

* a red, dilapidated cottage

• (d) * COASTGUARD: This is a red, dilapidated cottage [Identity]
• (e) * COASTGUARD: This cottage was deserted in the plague of 1710. [Supplement]
• (f) * COASTGUARD: This is a cozy little cottage.

• [Discrepancy]

Note that if the present tense in (f) is replaced by past tense (was), the statement becomes supplementary.

While the cottage to the reader, as we have noted, is colorless (or has whatever color he chooses to give it), the spectator will be governed by the choice of director and scene designer. The staged cottage may, for example, be

• (a) red—this color may seem highly authentic, yet it is not, since red would suggest mid-Sweden rather than Scania;
• (b) black—this color is symbolically relevant but is not ethnically authentic;
• (c) gray—this color seems both authentic and symbolically relevant: it harmonizes with the “pale gray ray of down” and with the general grayness of the opening.

With the last example we have entered the territory of symbolism and imagery. When concerned with stage representation, we must here be aware of a very trivial circumstance: the visibility of the stage properties. Assuming, for example, that the burdocks mentioned in the stage directions have symbolic relevance, can they be seen by the spectator? And what about the rottenness of the apple?

It does not say in the stage directions whether the tree is dead or not, whether the apple is rotten or not. What we get is,

MANNEN:
… Så här ser väl hela riket ut! … En ruin, en skräphög—och ett ruttet äpple i toppen …
KUSTBEVAKAREN:
Som borde skakas ner!

[Strindberg, SS 35:117]

(MAN:
… I suppose the whole country looks like this! … A ruin, a scrap heap … with a rotten apple on top …
COASTGUARD:
That ought to be shaken down!)

[Johnson, Charles XII 108]

A director can here choose between visualizing (a) * a rotten apple (identity) or (b) * a fresh apple (discrepancy). The fact that the apple does not fall when the tree is shaken may indicate that it is not as rotten as the men claim it is. The apple clearly signifies the king; the Swedish original significantly speaks of “ett enda kvarsittande äpple,” i.e., the king remains sitting (on the throne); the verb “sitta” (sit) is part of a positional cluster in the play: we see the king standing, walking, lying (on bed/in the trench), kneeling, and so forth. It should be clear that the way in which the apple is visualized is an oblique statement on whether Charles XII is or is not a rotten king. Fortunately, the apple is too small to give any clear indication to the spectator concerning its “health.” The point is precisely that, just as in the case of the reader, the spectator must be puzzled rather than informed about the apple (the king).

Commenting on the apple tree, Walter Johnson writes:

The single rotten apple on top that hangs stubbornly on but that his people feel ought to be shaken down represents Charles himself. The wind that cannot dislodge the rotten apple represents in turn the ineffective spoken protests and complaints of a people kept from the plucking of the apple directly because of the crippling effects of absolutism.

[Johnson, Charles XII 97]

In his 1963 study of the historical plays, Johnson elaborates:

The ruined Sweden that looks like a wasteland is symbolized, of course, by the wind-ravaged apple tree in Act I; the lone apple that clings stubbornly to its top and that should be shaken down represents Charles XII himself. But the tree itself is not dead in the cold gray December beside the dark sea; the tree itself may sprout new leaves and bear sound fruit when light and warmth return. The pale gray ray of dawn on the eastern horizon represents no doubt the hope of a long-suffering people that a brighter day will dawn when the crippling effects of absolutism need no longer deter them from getting rid of the rotten fruit. In concrete human terms, the hope is given form in Horn and Gyllenborg, the men who are waiting only for the apple to fall.

[Johnson, Strindberg and the Historical Drama 171]

Although this interpretation—including the implication that the Man and the Coastguard are preparative substitutes for Horn and Gyllenborg—certainly makes sense, it is obvious that Johnson does not make any distinctions between authorial and figural comments, between objective and subjective information. To him, as to the two characters, the apple is rotten. But as we have seen, the point is precisely that we cannot be certain of this, neither in the beginning of the play nor at the end of it (where, in fact, the Man seems to reverse his initial opinion of the king by referring to him as “a devil of a fellow all the same”).

When we experience the opening of the play as R1/S1, the information provided by the scenery is limited compared to when we experience it in retrospect, having partaken of the whole play, or when we re-experience it as R2/S2. Consider especially the following stage/acting directions in the final act:

Vid Fredrikstens fästning i Norge. Längst upp i fonden synes en del av fästningen. Taket liknar en stor, svart sarkofag. … Till höger i förgrunden sekreteraren Feifs bord—belyst av en stor lykta.

…

Nu synes Konungen uppe i löpgraven, vinkande med sin gula handske nedåt.

…

En fyrboll upplyser scenen och slocknar med en knall.

…

Det blir mörkt på scenen. Men nu synes en stor lykta uppe i löpgraven.

[Strindberg, SS 35:210-23]

(Before Fredriksten Fortress in Norway. Towards the top of the background can be seen a part of the fortress. The roof resembles a large black sarcophagus. … To the right in the foreground is Secretary FEIF's table—lighted by a large lantern.

…

The KING can be seen up in the trench signaling downwards with his yellow glove.

…

A flare lights up the stage and expires with a report.

…

The stage becomes dark. Finally a large lantern can be seen up in the trench.

[Johnson, Charles XII 158-66]

We now realize that the little dilapidated cottage in the beginning, signifying Sweden, contrasts with the mighty fortress at the end, representing Denmark-Norway. Moreover, the hierarchy of the tree at the beginning has its counterpart in the hierarchy of the trench system at the end: the first trench, where we find the king, is not only closest to the enemy but also highest up; officers of higher and lower rank are walking below it; furthest down/away from the enemy we find representatives of the common people. In the beginning the king passes quickly by the church ruin; at the end we see him kneeling (praying).¹ The untranslatable word “löpgraven” (grav ‘tomb’) repeated three times, relates to the comparison of the enemy fortress to a black sarcophagus. The last we see of the king is his “signaling ^[vinkande^] downwards with his yellow glove” To the enemy this almost suicidal gesture makes him an easy target. To the spectator the mobile yellow glove is replaced first by the flare of light (the fatal shot), then by Feif's “large lantern” next to the dying or dead king. The (rotten?) apple in the beginning has been, as it were, transformed into resplendent light—in accordance with the Man's revaluation of the king.²

Since we are dealing with a historical drama, another question especially related to this subgenre is of importance. Traditionally, it is formulated as follows: does the playwright stick to historical reality? To those who cherish the idea that he should do so as much as his dramaturgy allows him, it may be consoling to learn that “Stavstorp was one of the Scanian coastal villages destroyed by the invading Danes in 1709” (Johnson, Charles XII 172) and that Charles went ashore at four o'clock in the morning of December 13. It was then still dark, and raining (Fryxell 257). Strindberg is obviously well attuned to the historical data in his initial stage directions.

However, the question seems more relevant if it is reformulated: is the recipient aware of the extent to which the playwright adheres to historical reality? If he is not aware of it, he may run the risk of over-interpreting passages that merely reflect historical accuracy—though the opposite danger seems to me the greater one, at least in Strindberg's case: that the knowledgeable recipient rests content with a “nothing but” interpretation.

With a dwindling knowledge about national history, there is little doubt that the historical background information usually presented in translations of historical plays, Strindberg's included, is needed also in editions of original texts—as the Holm/Lindström school edition of Carl XII bears witness.

Our paradigmatic example has demonstrated that there is a close interaction between the stage directions/the visualized scenery on the one hand and the dialogue on the other. Both for the reader and for the spectator—but especially for the latter—the dialogue not only influences our way of experiencing the scenery, but the choice of scenery also influences the way in which we experience the dialogue. There is, in short, reciprocity between the verbal and visual elements. As we have seen, the stage directions evoke one kind of scenery for the reader and a somewhat different kind for he spectator. Finally, there is the obligatory difference between first-time experiencers and re-experiencers.

When dealing with the hybrid genre called drama—and with its subspecies historical drama—we should bear these circumstances, as well as the consequences flowing from them, in mind.

Notes

1. As Göran Stockenström points out, the King's kneeling at the end contrasts with his turning “his back to the kneeling representatives of the Swedish people” in the beginning. See Stockenström “Charles XII as Dream Play” 243.

2. The “flare” and the “lantern” are the culminating examples of the fire motif, which, as Stockenström has demonstrated, permeates the play.

Works Cited

Fryxell, Anders. Berättelser ur svenska historien, i urval av Axel Strindberg. Vol. 4. Stockholm: Gidlunds, 1983.

Holm, Ingvar, and Göran Lindström, eds. August Strindberg: Carl XII. Lund: Uniskol, 1964.

Johnson, Walter. August Strindberg: Queen Christina, Charles XII, Gustav III. Seattle: U of Washington P, 1955.

———. August Strindberg: The Vasa Trilogy. Seattle: U of Washington P, 1959.

———. Strindberg and the Historical Drama. Seattle: U of Washington P, 1963.

Stockenström, Göran. “Charles XII as Dream Play.” In Strindberg's Dramaturgy. Ed. Göran Stockenström, Minneapolis: U of Minnesota P, 1988. 223-44.

Strindberg, August. [55] Samlade skrifter. Ed. by John Landquist. Vols. 31 and 35. Stockholm: Bonniers, 1915, 1916. 55 vols. 1912-20.