[In the following essay, Brantly examines Carl XII and considers its place in Strindberg's oeuvre.]

In the cycle of twelve historical plays written after Inferno (1897), Strindberg is constantly aware of the Conscious Will in history and seeks to interpret the logic of its tendencies.¹ A central wish of the Conscious Will in Strindberg's historical cycle appears to be the rise of democracy and the abolishment of absolutism. Strindberg stresses this theme even at the expense of historical accuracy.

Among Sweden's rulers, Charles XII represents for Strindberg the acme of the abuse of absolutism. In Strindberg's vocabulary, Charles XII was synonymous with a lust for power and domination, at the expense of the Swedish people. No doubt Strindberg felt that Sweden's greatest tyrant deserved special treatment, and in 1901, he added Carl XII to his cycle of historical dramas, within which the play has come to enjoy a singular status. As Walter Johnson writes, “Remarkable as all the eleven other plays are in their variety of structure and characterization, none of them is as decidedly different from all other historical dramas as Charles XII” (289). The nature of this singularity is certainly worth exploring. The dramatic treatment of Charles XII prompted Strindberg to indulge in a daring formal experiment.

In Öppna brev till Intima Teatern (1909; Open Letters to the Intimate Theater), Strindberg refers to Carl XII as a drama of character and catastrophe, a fairly traditional type of historical drama (SS 50:251). One should perhaps bear in mind that at the time Strindberg was defending himself from an anonymous review of the premiere of Carl XII, which claimed: “ett virrvarr af lösligt sammanflätade delvis barocka scener få utgöra ett surrogat för en förnuftig, dramatisk handling [Brs.]”² (“a confusion of loosely woven, partially baroque scenes must serve as a surrogate for reasonable dramatic action”). In order to deny the charge of disorganization, Strindberg—in his characterization of his own work—emphasized Carl XII's relation to more traditional forms of drama and de-emphasized the dramatic innovations of the piece. In any event, Strindberg was quite proud of the dramaturgy of Carl XII. In a letter to Lars Nilsson written before the premier of Carl XII—and the ensuing flood of criticism—Strindberg writes: “Sjelf sätter jag CXII högst, i tekniskt dramatiskt hänseende, af mina historiska [Strindbergs brev #4592]” (“Myself I value Charles XII most highly of my historical dramas, from a technical, dramatic point of view”).

After its premiere at the Dramatic Theater on February 1, 1902, the reactions of the earliest critics to Carl XII were primarily patriotic. Many took issue with Strindberg's treatment of Sweden's hero king and compared Strindberg's efforts unfavorably to Verner von Heidenstam's treatment of the same in Karolinerna (1897-98; The Charles Men). With regard to the artistic merits of Strindberg's play, however, the earliest critics were often disturbed by the “mystiska och symboliska interkaleringar [S.S-n]” (“mystical and symbolic interpolations”) in this purportedly historical drama. Strindberg's notorious flexibility with historical details caused most of his historical dramas to be counted as failures when they appeared. In the 1920s, however, Martin Lamm was able to appreciate the uniqueness of Carl XII: “Med sin abrupta dialog, sina fantastiska situationer, sin underliga blandning av historisk verklighet och symbolistik är dramat tvivelsutan ett av de originellaste försöken inom det historiska skådespelet i modern tid [294]” (“With its abrupt dialogue, its fantastic situations, its peculiar mixture of historical reality and symbolism, the drama is without a doubt one of the most original attempts within the historical drama in modern times”). In later years, once expressionism became an official concept in Germany during the 1910s and 1920s, the dramaturgy of Carl XII became easier to discuss. Walter Johnson wrote in 1963 that “Strindberg's approach to his tragedy about Charles XII was primarily expressionistic, only secondarily realistic” (157). Birgitta Steene wrote in 1973 that King Charles is “an expressionistic character in an otherwise Naturalist drama. The power of Charles XII lies, in fact, in this formal tension within the play” (132).

Carl XII does indeed manifest dynamic formal tension, but in sorting out the source of this, it seems necessary to set aside the term “expressionistic” for the present, in order to emphasize the metaphysical and supernatural dimensions of the play. Expressionist interpretations of Strindberg's post-Inferno plays quite often provide a means of secularizing and psychologizing the pervasive metaphysical themes.³ In this way, Strindberg's plays maintain their relevance to a modern audience, which has grown less interested in religious questions. Strindberg's belief in the Eternal One and a Conscious Will in history, however, differentiates him markedly from the later German Expressionists.

Carl XII is different from all of Strindberg's other historical plays precisely because it is the most metaphysical, the most Swedenborgian. As has been amply documented by Göran Stockenström, among others, Strindberg's acquaintance with Swedenborg's writings had a profound effect on his dramaturgy.⁴ Swedenborg worked out an elaborate system of correspondences in which elements of the physical world correspond to counterparts in the spiritual world, so that, as Swedenborg puts it, “One would swear that the physical world was purely symbolical of the spiritual world” (Ward 118). In traditional historical drama, the stage is set with artifacts designed to create an appropriate historical flavor. In Strindbergian drama, scenic elements become pointers to the world beyond, clues to the workings of the Conscious Will in history. This religiously inspired utilization of scenic elements lies at the root of Strindberg's so-called “dramatic expressionism” (Dahlström). In fact, many of the techniques used by Strindberg in Carl XII prefigure his later “expressionistic” chamber plays.

The figure of Charles XII uniquely combined Strindberg's historical, political, and metaphysical interests. Politically, Strindberg found Charles XII abhorrent, and, consequently, the Conscious Will in history surely had to disapprove of such a tyrant. This judgement of Charles XII was confirmed by no less an authority than Emanuel Swedenborg himself, who held the monarch to be the most obstinate, egocentric, power-hungry man on earth. Swedenborg knew Charles XII personally, not only in actual life, but also in the spirit world. In Swedenborg's Spiritual Diary (Diarium Spirituale, 1843) which is a chronicle of his experiences (1747-55) as a guest in the spirit world, he gives an extensive characterization of Charles XII before and after his death.

With the support of Swedenborg's Spiritual Diary, Strindberg did not have to guess at what the powers thought of Charles XII. That relative certainty encouraged Strindberg to emphasize the metaphysical aspects of Charles XII's reign. Some of Strindberg's notes about Carl XII indicate that he toyed with the idea of incorporating nonrealistic moments into the play in the form of visions and dreams. For example, in one sketch, Strindberg considered a fifth act comprised of “Swedenborgs syner”⁵ (“Swedenborg's visions”). Elsewhere, Strindberg considers “Skräck-synerna om natten vid Fredrikshall” and “Konungens onda drömmar [Ms. 2:6/12]” (“Horrible visions at night at Fredrikshall”; “The king's evil dreams”). According to Göran Stockenström, Strindberg meant for a parade of eerie figures to pass before Charles XII in a life review on stage (“Charles XII as Dream Play” 223).⁶ Such a scene would have constituted a complete departure from a real and reasonable world. Instead of openly indulging in supernatural dream sequences, Strindberg chose to experiment with ambiguity in Carl XII.

The formal tension of Carl XII lies in the author's hesitation between giving a natural or a supernatural explanation of events. The resulting effect is not unlike the fantastic, as described by Tzvetan Todorov.⁷ Strictly speaking, nowhere does Strindberg leave the realm of plausibility in his historical play. All events can be explained away naturally, and most have some support in the history books. Yet, at work behind this facade of reality is the “mysticism of history.” Although the mystical explanation of events is strongly suggested, it is never insisted upon. The public must decide for itself.

In Carl XII, the boundary between the worlds of the dead and the living has become blurred, and the dead and living mix freely. The cause of this ambiguity is Charles XII himself, a dead man who refuses to accept his own death. Emanuel Swedenborg tells us in his Spiritual Diary and elsewhere that the newly dead often do not recognize that they no longer belong the world of the living. They may encounter old friends and, more importantly, old enemies in this stage of limbo. The dead undergo a process of vastation, or unmasking, orchestrated by the spirits that confront them. Strindberg referred to this first stage after death as “Sheol” and “Kama Loka.” Barbro Ståhle Sjönell has documented the frequency with which this concept appeared in Strindberg's post-Inferno literary thinking (35-45). Evert Sprinchorn has illustrated that Strindberg appreciated the dramatic potential of Swedenborgian vastation and used it in many of his chamber plays. In Strindberg's play, Charles XII is a very reluctant spirit who clings to his worldly ambitions and resists the agents of his vastation. The result is disastrous, for as the supreme monarch of Sweden, Charles has dragged the entire country into limbo with him.

Carl XII is a play in five tableaux. As is so often the case in Strindberg's plays, the first tableau is one of exposition. The events leading up to the drama are alluded to, and the stage is set for the unfolding of subsequent events. Charles XII appears in the first tableau, but he does not speak audibly. We learn of him through the discourse of the people whose lives he has affected: the soldier who has returned from Siberia, the representatives of the four estates, the soon-to-be-executed captain of the Snapp-Opp, and the court dwarf.

The stage is set very carefully. The opening scene of Carl XII takes place in a ghost town on the coast of Skåne. On the stage, the audience sees the burnt ruins of a church and surrounding dwellings, including the crumbling, sooty structure of an abandoned house. Outside the house is a leafless appletree with one lone apple clinging to its branches. This tree has been interpreted as a symbol for Sweden, whose monarch, despite having drained away its vitality, clings to his dessicated country in defiance (Johnson 171). Almost as soon as the play begins, the returned soldier, who is simply called “Mannen” (“the Man”), begins, by means of his discourse, to recreate the town as it was 15 years earlier: “Här stod min stuga, här var mitt hem, här satt min hustru och mina två barn! Vid denna spis kokades min gröt, vid detta fönster lekte mina barn, på denna tröskel satt min hustru och väntade … [Strindberg, SS 35:117]” (“Here stood my house, here was my home, here sat my wife and two children. On this stove, my porridge was cooked; by this window my children played; on this threshold my wife sat and waited”). The Man conjures up these deceased figures from the past, and through his discourse he enables the past and the present to occupy the same space simultaneously, with the more pleasant image of the past showing the ruin of the present in sharp relief. The topos of revealing ruins will be expanded later by Strindberg into a Chamber Play, Brända tomten (1907; The Burned House). In Carl XII, the conjuring up of the past over the ruins of the present creates a spacial and temporal ambiguity. Among these phantom buildings walk ghosts, figures from the past invading the present. The little town of the first tableau is located in a region where life and death intersect (cf. “Charles XII as Dream Play” 231). Moreover, this little town is referred to as representative of Sweden: as the Man says, “Så här ser väl hela riket ut [Strindberg, SS 35:117]!” (“The whole kingdom surely looks like this!”).

Charles XII's landing on the coast of Skåne is a historical fact, but for Strindberg this reference to an actual past event and place is infused with metaphysical significance. When we first hear of Charles XII, he is at sea. In one of his visions in the Spritual Diary, Swedenborg beholds a great sea roaring with enormous waves: “It was said that this was representative of the phantasies of those who desire to be great in the world, and who wish to change all things into new, and thus acquire glory for themselves [1: #277].” Of Charles XII specifically, Swedenborg writes: “Nor did he aspire to the greatest name in his kingdom only, but in the universal globe, which also he wished to govern [4: #4748].” According to Swedenborg, Charles XII wanted to rule the world. Thus, Charles's historical arrival in Sweden upon stormy seas can also be viewed as a divine judgement on his ambition.

Charles's actual coming ashore is not seen by the audience; it is described by the Man and the Coast Guard. Just at the point at which Charles XII is apparently stepping onto Swedish soil, the stage directions state without explanation or elaboration: “Ett skot höres i fjärran [Strindberg, SS 35:122]” (“A shot is heard in the distance”). Perhaps this is the shot that will reach its mark in the final tableau.⁸ Indeed, in the second tableau, Gyllenborg makes the ominous observation that a button is already missing from Charles's uniform. This detail is striking since legend has it that Charles is shot by a silver uniform button. In addition, the missing button suggests that Charles is already dead, since a button is the traditional fee paid to Charon, the ferryman to the underworld.⁹

The coming ashore of Charles XII represents a change of status. The image of the shore has often been used in literature to suggest the region where the world of the living touches the world of the dead. The shore of the Styx, for example, serves this function. A similar opposition of land/sea, life/death is used by Strindberg in Dödsdansen (1900; The Dance of Death), completed in the same year as Carl XII (Törnqvist 4). In Carl XII, as the Coast Guard and the Man are watching the ships at sea, the Man makes a comment about the world of the living that implies the close proximity of its neighboring realm as well: “Tror du inte, att om man tände en fyr här, just här, både briganten och brigantinen skulle avlängsnas ur de levandes värld och riket därmed räddas [Strindberg, SS 35:120]?” (“Don't you think that if one lit a fire here, just here, both the brigand and the brigantine would be removed from the world of the living and the realm thereby be saved?”). There are two particularly significant aspects to this line. Firstly, the salvation of Sweden depends upon Charles XII entering the realm of the dead, and, secondly, fire is the means or the portal through which this transition should occur (cf. Stockenström, “Charles XII as Dream Play” 232).

In Ovid's Metamorphosis, fire is the highest element since it soars upward and constitutes a transition to the heavenly bodies. Furthermore, fire is capable of converting lower elements into high elements. This is indeed what takes place in the final scene of Ett drömspel (1901; A Dream Play) as all the characters throw the symbols of their earthly ties onto the bonfire.¹⁰ In Carl XII, fire becomes a significant scenic element that functions as a portal to the next world. There are fires blazing onstage in three of the tableaux, and Charles shows a tendency to stare fixedly into these flames. Charles stares at the portal that will lead him from his worldly obsessions into the realm of the dead, but he makes no move to cross the threshold until the final scene. Also in this initial tableau, the Dwarf plays the saraband for the first time. Throughout the play, the tune accompanies Charles XII's dance with death, another favorite Strindbergian motif in his post-Inferno plays.

Thus, in the first tableau, through scenic elements and discourse, it is suggested that Charles XII is already dead, but like many Swedenborgian spirits he does not realize it, or at least refuses to acknowledge it. In the ensuing tableaux, Charles will undergo his vastation. He will be visited by a series of spirits who will confront and tempt him and try to make him acknowledge his circumstances. This will not be an easy task, since, as Swedenborg tells us, one of Charles XII's character traits was a stubbornness that did not allow him to admit error, “though he should suffer either the cruellest death or the most atrocious hell” (4:#4741).

The second tableau of Carl XII takes place in the king's audience room in Lund. Visually, there is nothing unusual presented to the audience, yet quickly, through discourse, the spacial and temporal tensions of the previous scene are reestablished. We learn that Lund burned some years ago, which connects Lund with the burned town on the coast. There is a reprise of the saraband, “infernalisk musik” (“infernal music”), which Gyllenborg says sounds like “gråtande barn.—Vet du, att det dött sextio tusen små barn i sista barnpesten [Strindberg, SS 35:133]?” (“crying children.—Do you know that 60,000 small children died in the last children's plague?”). The saraband emanates from the realm of the dead. Furthermore, Horn remarks, “Folk ser ut som spöken här i stan [SS 35:134]” (“People look like ghosts here in town”). The king himself, of course, is described as “En död man, vars hydda gär omkring och spökar [SS 35:133]” (“A dead man, whose shape walks about and haunts”). In his letter to the Intimate Theater, Strindberg himself described Charles XII as “en gengångare, ett spöke [SS 50:251]” (“one who walks again, a ghost”).¹¹

The king enters the stage to begin receiving audiences or, rather, the agents of his vastation. He is described as having a face that is “sjukligt askgrått [Strindberg, SS 35:137]” (“sickly ashen gray”). In this description, one finds not only the suggestion that the king is a corpse, but also an allusion to the fire imagery. The king's first audience is with Arvid Horn, who, when asked what he thinks of Görtz, falls into a sort of trance and begins to give, point for point, Swedenborg's assessment of Charles XII in his Spiritual Diary.¹² Ostensibly speaking about Görtz, Horn is unaware that he is unmasking the king. During the speech, the king suffers acute physical discomfort. When he is finished, Horn “liksom vaknande ur en dröm och inseende hela det infernaliska i situationen, blir stum av fasa [Strindberg SS 35:141].” (“as though waking from a dream and grasping the whole infernal situation, becomes mute with horror”). Strindberg's own notes sum up this scene as follows: “Görtz karakteristik liknar på ett hår konungen, att denne fasar [Ms. 2:6,19]” (“The characterization of Görtz resembles the king to a hair, so that he is horrified”).

Horn and Gyllenborg are dismissed, and Görtz enters for an audience. The previous scene established the parallels between Charles XII and Görtz. Appropriately, the man whom the king commissions with the task that will only prolong his own and Sweden's limbo is a man who “ser dött ut i profil [Strindberg SS [35:144]” (“looks dead in profile”). Görtz is half-living and half-dead, like the figure of Hel who presides over the underworld in Nordic mythology. Swedenborg wrote that Charles XII, after his death, “sought hells which should obey him, and in heaven such things as might also assist him in his purpose of reducing all of subjection and of making himself the supreme God—whom he had believed not to exist” [4:#4746]. Before Görtz's entrance, Horn had just made the point that “om Görtz [read Charles XII] doge i dag, skulle han i morgon resa dödsriket mot the himmelska makterna [Strindberg, SS 35:139]” (“if Görtz died tomorrow, he would raise up the realm of the dead against the heavenly powers”). Görtz is a spirit from hell, with whom Charles XII conspires to bring himself greater glory. Swedenborg is a spirit from heaven, of whom Charles later makes use to further his own causes [cf. Stockenström, “Charles XII as Dream Play” 232].

The king's audience room is equipped, of course, with a fire, that ominous portal to the other world. The mystifying figure of the Professor stirs up the flames twice during the second tableau.¹³ The first time, he warns that the fire might get out of control. The second time, the Professor pokes about in the fire while accompanied by the strains of the saraband just before the appearance of the Man in the king's chamber. While Charles is trying to rest, the Man appears to him like a spirit called forth from the flames, although a quite reasonable explanation is given as to how he could sneak into the king's chamber. After the audience, the Man disappears just as easily without being detected by guards. There is indeed something peculiar about the character. In this scene, the Man identifies himself as number 58 Svält, or Starvation, from Taube's dragoons. In the first tableau, however, the Man called himself number 73, from the Southern Scania regiment. The Man represents the spector of all of the soldiers who have fought and died for Charles XII.

The king suspects he is being visited by a spirit, but he shows none of the surprise that might be expected from someone who believes he is being confronted by a ghost. He shows no surprise, because he is beset by spirits constantly, both visible and invisible. His reaction to the vision is to rub his eyes, a gesture that he repeats elsewhere in the play [cf. Stockenström, “Charles XII as Dream Play” 230-31]. For example, the king rubs his eyes after he informs Feif, “Jag är icke ensam, Feif, jag är aldrig ensam [Strindberg SS 35:144]” (“I am not alone, Feif, I am never alone”). Among Strindberg's papers is the following notation about Charles XII: “Han var mörkrädd, rädd att sofva ensam om nätterna, sannolikt ej för synliga fiender (men osynliga) [Ms. 2:6,3]” (“He was afraid of the dark, afraid to sleep alone at night, most probably not because of visible enemies (but invisible)”) Swedenborg reveals in his diary that Charles XII had spoken with chastising spirits for years before his death (4:#4763).

Yet, when the Man has vanished, the king convinces himself that he has been dreaming, since he can find no record of a #58 Svält from Taube's dragoons. He is therefore able to deny this supernatural experience. Charles then says of his people, “De äro onda på mig för att jag inte är död! … Och den här uppståndelsen har korsat många planer [Strindberg, SS 35:161]!” (“They are angry at me because I am not dead … And this resurrection has dashed many plans!”). Charles is still stubborn in his resolve not to acknowledge his death, and, in order to make plans for his resurrection, he sends again for Görtz.

In the third tableau, our attention is turned from Charles's struggles with the spirits, to the state of the country surrounding him. We are able to see the Lund that was described in the second tableau. Once again, the ruins of burned houses loom in the background. Having made his pact with Görtz, the king is sequestered in Görtz's house in an effort to close out the ghosts that walk the streets of Lund. As Swedenborg says of those who have led a wicked life, “They are much more frightened & terrified at the judgment of truth than others … nor do they know where to conceal themselves” (1:#149). The Dwarf again plays his saraband, which comes from “Sorgenland och Smärtarike” (The Land of Sorrow and the Realm of Pain”) and which he used to play for Charles, “då han var bedrövad intill döden [Strindberg, SS 35:167]” (“when he was troubled unto death”).

The ambiguity between the living and the dead is maintained. When the women in mourning approach Görtz's door, the Man asks his comrade, who is named Misnöjd (“Malcontent”), to describe them, “Du skall förtälja, ty jag har varit i dödsriket och känner icke mer de levande [Strindberg, SS 35:168]” (“You shall narrate, for I have been in the realm of the dead and know no longer the living”). The women in mourning are the “widows” of “those who are buried alive,” that is to say, the wives of the men whom the king has left unransomed in Russia. One of the supplicants at the door appears to be the dead wife of the Man:

MANNEN:
Jag tror min själs salighet det är Karoline!
MISSNOJD:
Men hon är ju död!
MANNEN:
Fan vet

[Strindberg, SS 35:175]!

(THE Man:
I'll be blessed, I believe it is Karoline!
MALCONTENT:
But she is dead!
THE Man:
The devil knows!)

In this play, expressions like “I'll be blessed,” “The devil knows,” “Damn it” appear fairly frequently, but they are never uttered casually. The Man's suspicion—that Karoline, the daughter of the executed ship's captain, is his dead wife—is voiced four times and rings like a refrain as various people are turned away from the king's door. Charles refuses to be exposed to the litany of his wrongdoing, which would advance his vastation.

But another death is proclaimed in this tableau: the death of Louis XIV is announced: “Suveräniteten är död [Strindberg, SS 35:175]!” (“Absolutism is dead!”).¹⁴ This is perhaps the most celebrated anachronism of the play, since Louis XIV had died three years earlier. Strindberg felt the need to manipulate this point of history to emphasize that Charles XII is struggling not only with his personal death, but the death of supreme monarchy.¹⁵ The Conscious Will in history at that time clearly meant to abolish absolutism on earth.

The fourth tableau returns our attention to the vastation of the king. The tableau is set in a garden where the king has isolated himself. In one respect, the garden, complete with a statue of Venus, ought to remind the audience of the Garden of Eden and the Fall of Mankind—in Strindberg's view the ultimate source of all human suffering (cf. Stockenström “Charles XII as Dream Play”). The Professor, who drew the audience's attention to the spiritual element of fire in the second tableau, is present in this scene in a different capacity. At the beginning of the tableau the Professor busies himself with flowerpots, identifies himself as a medical doctor, and discusses with Hultman Charles XII's relationships with women. This time, the Professor draws the audience's attention to the physical, earthly side of mankind's existence. In the second tableau, before the fire, Charles XII's spiritual sins were exposed: egocentricity, cruelty, and his will to dominate. In the fourth tableau, Charles XII is confronted by earthly cares, and in the process, he displays a more positive side to his character than we have hitherto been able to glimpse.

The king's encounters with women, Ulrika Eleonora, Katarina Leczinska, and Emerentia Polhem, underscore the struggle between the sexes that has continued since the Fall. We may admire Charles XII for avoiding Emerentia's romantic snares, and we may feel pity for the man whose sister seems to long for his demise. Charles displays his political savvy to Katharina, in explaining why her husband, Stanislaus, was deposed from the throne of Poland. In this context, it is interesting to take note of the only praise Strindberg ever gave Charles XII. In a letter to his young daughter Kerstin, he wrote, “Und der König war ein frommer Mann, der nie Weiber, Wein und Gesang liebte” (Strindbergs brev 12:#3465).¹⁶ From Strindberg's point of view, Charles's immunity to women was one of his most admirable qualities.

Also in this scene, Charles enlists the services of Emanuel Swedenborg. It is curious that in this Swedenborgian play, Swedenborg's usual penetrating vision seems to be obscured. To begin with, Swedenborg is blinded by his love for Emerentia until he is disabused by Charles. Moreover, Swedenborg is taken in by the seductive powers of Charles XII, a circumstance indicative of Strindberg's attention to historical detail. When Swedenborg was in the service of Charles XII, he had not yet begun to have visions and was one of the many who fell under the sway of Charles's compelling personality. The characterization of Charles XII in the Spiritual Diary was written years after Charles's death. So, since Swedenborg himself is bewitched by Charles XII in the play, Strindberg has Arvid Horn become the mouthpiece for much of the Swedenborgian commentary. Perhaps Strindberg made Horn in league with the spirits because of his clever negotiations with Ulrika Eleonora after Charles's death, negotiations that prevented Sweden from ever having another absolute monarch. In contributing to the abolition of absolute monarchy, Horn was acting, according to Strindberg, in concert with the Conscious Will in history.

In one respect, the garden in the fourth tableau also represents the king's Garden of Gethsemene, where he finally contemplates the inevitability of his own death and exclaims, “Å min Gud! Gånge denna kalken ifrån mig [Strindberg, SS 35:186]!” (“Oh my God, let this cup pass from me!”). During the course of the scene, the king begins to realize that his life continues to hold Sweden in its infernal limbo. Worn down by his battles with the spirits, Charles finally expresses a wish to die. At the end of the scene, Görtz arrives with his bad tidings and announces “Landet i lågor [SS 35:206]!” (“The country in flames!”). Purging flames have begun racing through Sweden, flames which will usher Charles XII into the realm of the dead. By hastening off to Norway, Charles XII is rushing to meet death. In a letter to the Intimate Theater, Strindberg calls Charles's campaign in Norway “ett hederligt självmord [SS 50:253]” (“an honorable suicide”). When the king departs, his sanctum is invaded by “ruskiga figurer” (“horrid figures”) that “smyga in tysta, spöklika, nyfikna, och fingrar på allt [SS 35:209] (“creep in quietly, ghostlike, curious, and touch everything”). There no longer exists a sanctuary where the king can shut himself off from his own mortality.

One may begin to perceive that there is a clear structure to Carl XII. Tableaux 1, 3, and 5 present external views of the king, in which he is discussed and evaluated by onlookers. In Tableaux 1, Charles enters into his state of limbo. In Tableau 3, he hides from the truth that knocks upon his door. In Tableau 5, he exits from his limbo. In Tableaux 2 and 4, Charles's internal struggles become apparent. After confronting the series of spirits participating in his vastation, Charles makes a decision. In Tableau 2, enlisting the service of Görtz, a spirit from hell, he plans on his resurrection. In Tableau 4, Charles successfully confronts worldly cares, and, enlisting the service of Swedenborg, a spirit from heaven, he runs off to meet death.

In the fifth tableau, all of Charles XII's forces are directed against Fredriksten fortress in Norway, the roof of which is said to resemble a large black sarcophagus. In other words, the king is still fighting against death, though perhaps more out of habit than real resistance. He is surrounded on all sides by fire. The stage directions call for three campfires on stage, one of which is by the king's blue and yellow campbed. The bed is also surrounded by burning torches. This campbed is a scenic element that is present in Tableaux 2, 4, and 5, or all of the scenes in which the king speaks. Its colors make it a rather obvious symbol for Sweden, or—more specifically—for the power of the monarchy with which Sweden has invested Charles XII. This bed of power, then, he uses as his support and as a refuge in which he attempts to escape the consequences of his actions. When he goes forth to meet death, however, he cannot bring his rank with him, the democracy of death being another element reminiscent of the Medieval dance of death motif.

The fortress is catapulting balls of fire at the camp. All are waiting for the shot fired in the first tableau to reach its mark. The king sits on his campbed and stares into the fire watching his life slip away: “Ett stort rikt liv drar förbi … [SS 35:211]” (“A great rich life passes by …”). Horn, the drama's Swedenborgian oracle, gives a speech about “Denna man, som nu ligger där, väntande på sin griftefärd, ty han är död [SS 35:214]” (“That man, who now lies there waiting for his own funeral procession, for he is dead”). The king receives a dispatch describing various political intrigues, which he rolls disgustedly into a ball saying, “Hela livet är som denna boll, en väv av lögner, misstag, missförstånd [SS 35:217]!” (“All of life is like this ball, a web of lies, mistakes, misunderstanding”). The Web of Life is a symbol that appears often in Strindberg's works. The theme is best described in a speech from Brända tomten:

När man är ung ser man väven sättas opp: föräldrar, släkt, kamrater, umgänge, tjänare är ränningen: längre fram i livet ser man inslaget; och nu går ödets skyttel fram och tillbaks med tråden; den brister ibland, men knyts tillsammans, och så fortsätter det; bommen slår, garnet tvingas ihop till krumelurer och så ligger väven där. På ålderdomen när ögat blir seende, upptäcker man att all krumelurerna bilda ett mönster, ett namnchiffer, ett ornament, en hieroglyf, som man nu först kan tyda: det är livet! Världsväverskan har vävt det!

[Strindberg, SS 45:96]

(When one's young, one sees the web set up: parents, relatives, friends, acquaintances, servants are the warp; later on in life one sees the weft; and the shuttle of fate carries the thread back and forth; and sometimes it breaks but is tied together again, and then it goes on; the beam falls, the yarn's forced into twists and turns, and the web's done. In old age when one's eyes can really see, one discovers that all the twists and turns form a pattern, a cipher, an ornament, a hieroglyphic, which one can now interpret for the first time: That is life! The world weaveress has woven it!)

Charles casts the crumpled paper, which represents the web of his earthly life, into the fire. In doing so, Charles resembles the characters of Ett drömspel who cast their earthly ties onto the bonfire in the final scene. The saraband is played as background music to this dance with death.

Charles permits himself a final inquiry of Swedenborg: “Sådant är livet; hurudan är döden?” (“Such is life; how is death?”), to which Swedenborg answers, “Naturen gör inga språng [Strindberg, SS 35:218]” (“Nature makes no leaps”). At last, the king goes to meet the shot that all have been waiting for, with the parting line “Nu går jag till stormningen [SS 35:219]!” (“Off to the assault.”) Charles is always the aggressor, even in death. When the shot is fired, the dead man belongs at last to the realm of the dead; the fires are immediately quenched; and Sweden is released from its limbo between the living and the dead. The stage is in darkness, but in the darkness a light can be seen.

The final lines of the play present the audience with a choice:

SWEDENBORG:
… Men var kom den kulan ifrån?
FEIF:
(pekar uppåt fästningen) Där uppifrån!
SWEDENBORG:
(pekar uppåt himlen) Där uppifrån!

[Strindberg, SS 35:223]

(SWEDENBORG:
… But where did the bullet come from?
FEIF:
(points toward the fortress) From up there!
SWEDENBORG:
(points toward heaven) From up there!)

The audience may choose a natural or supernatural explanation: the bullet came from the fortress or it came from the Eternal One. Strindberg lets his own preference be known when he allows Swedenborg to add, “Och kom den inte därifrån, så borde den ha kommit därifrån [Strindberg, SS 35:223]” (“And if it didn't come from up there, it should have come from up there”). Strindberg felt that the Conscious Will in history had intervened directly in the case of Charles XII's mysterious demise. The audience, however, is still left with a choice.

Nowhere else in Strindberg's historical dramas do the spirits take as active an interest in human history as they do in Carl XII. The dramatist's careful balancing act between the natural and the supernatural is ingenious. One can see Strindberg's brilliant associative imagination at work, finding symbolic and metaphysical import in the given facts of history. However, the metaphysical dimension of Carl XII, which provides the play with a potentially powerful dramatic tension, was seen as a serious flaw by the earliest critics. Carl XII became a formal experiment that Strindberg did not repeat in his subsequent historical plays.

Notes

1. For Strindberg, history was a story written by the Eternal One, a position that he expanded in his 1903 essay, “Världhistoriens mystik” (SS, 54:330-401). All quotations of Strindberg's works have been taken from Landquist's edition of Samlade skrifter, abbreviated in this essay as SS. I am responsible for all Swedish translations, but I admit to drawing heavily upon Walter Johnson's translations for inspiration.

2. Compare Strindberg's comment in Öppna brev till Intima Teatern: “En ganska kunning man upplyste mig häromdagen om att min Carl XXI icke var något drama, utan bara scener. Därpå skall jag nu svara skriftligen [SS 50:251]” (“a rather knowledgeable man informed me the other day that my Charles XII was not a drama, but rather scenes. To this, I shall now respond in writing”).

3. The term “expressionism” is commonplace in treatments of Strindberg's post-Inferno dramas. The major work in this line is Carl Dahlström's. Walter Sokel, an authority on German expressionism, gives Strindberg credit for creating in To Damascus “the first fully Expressionist drama every written” (34).

4. See, for example, Stockenström's Ismael i öknen and Sprinchorn. Stockenström's most recent essay, “Charles XII as Dream Play,” appeared after this paper was written and accepted for publication. Throughout my text I have indicated certain parallel points, arrived at independently, between Stockenström's essay and my own. In the endnotes, I have addressed some issues upon which we differ.

5. Manuscript (2:6/12) in the so-called “Green Sack.” Further references to manuscripts in this collection will be abbreviated “Ms.”

6. Stockenström's essay places its emphasis on the nonrealistic “dream-play” aspects of Charles XII. In my essay, I seek to explore the ambiguity between a realistic and a supernatural explanation of events in the play.

7. Todorov describes the fantastic as follows:

   In a world which is indeed our world, the one we know, a world without devils, sylphides, or vampires, there occurs an event which cannot be explained by the laws of this same familiar world. The person who experiences the event must opt for one of two possible solutions: either he is the victim of an illusion of the senses, of a product of the imagination—and laws of the world then remain what they are; or else the event has indeed taken place, it is an integral part of reality—but then this reality is controlled by laws unknown to us … The fantastic occupies the duration of this uncertainty. Once we choose one answer or the other, we leave the fantastic for a neighboring genre, the uncanny or the marvelous. The fantastic is the hesitation experienced by a person who knows only the laws of nature, confronting an apparently supernatural event.

   [25].

8. I first heard this suggested by Debora Regula in a paper read in a graduate seminar on August Strindberg's drama, given by Göran Stockenström at the University of Minnesota, Fall 1982. Further, Regula pointed out that the shot that fells Charles XII in the last act is never heard.

9. See, for example, Carl Michael Bellman's “Vila vid denna källa,” in which we hear of Fredman, “Kloto re'n ur syrtuten avklippt en knapp vid Karons bud [Svensk dikt 156]” (“Kloto has already clipped a button from his coat at Charon's request”).

10. See Delblanc for Strindberg's use of the four elements in Ett drömspel.

11. Despite all of the differences that have been seen between Strindberg's portrait of Charles XII and Verner von Heidenstam's in Karolinerna, the suggestion that Charles was a ghost was made first by Heidenstam. Heidenstam has Mazeppa say, “De svenskes unge furste stupade i segertumlet vid Narven, men hans skugga rider alltjämt vidare framför tropparna [119-20]” (“The young prince of the Swedes fell in the tumult of victory at Narva, but his shade rides ever before his troups.”). One can even find in Karolinerna a juxtaposition of the worlds of the living and the dead in the case of the Black Battalion, a battalion of the ghosts of fallen soldiers that is said to follow the surviving troups.

12. This has been pointed out by Göran Stockenström in “Kring tillkomsten av Karl XII.” The pertinent paragraphs in Swedenborg's diary are #4748 and #4741.

13. Stockenström claims that the Professor's “sole function in the play is to make the audience repeatedly aware of the symbolic meaning of the fire” (“Charles XII as Dream Play” 231). In the fourth tableau, however, the Professor serves another function, which I explain in my treatment of that scene.

14. Birgitta Steene has pointed out to me that the Swedish “Suveräniteten är död!” contains a triple-entendre. “Suveräniteten” can refer to His Supreme Highness Louis XIV, the office of the supreme monarch, or His Supreme Highness Charles XII.

15. In his letter to the Intimate Theatre, Strindberg writes of this: “Därpå sker något världshistoriskt, allegoriserat av flaggenshissande på halv stång: Ludvig XIV är död. Detta betyder ju Enväldets fall—och Carl XII:s stundande slut. Att denna akt uteslöts på Dramatiska teatern var ett stort misstag, som förtunnade min pjäs … [SS 50:252]” (“Thereupon, something world-historical happens, allegorized by the flying of the flag at half-mast: Louis XIV is dead. This means, of course, the fall of Absolutism—and Charles XII's approaching end. That this was excluded at the Dramatic Theatre was a great mistake, which weakened my play”).

16. Stockenström cites this line in “Kring tillkomsten av Karl XII” 21.

Works Cited

Brs. “Karl XII på Dramatiska teatern.” Vårt Land 14 February 1902.

Dahlström, Carl. Strindberg's Dramatic Expressionism. Ann Arbor: U of Michigan, 1930.

Delblanc, Sven. Stormhatten. Tre Strindbergsstudier. Stockholm: Alba, 1979.

Heidenstam, Verner von. Karolinerna. Ed. Kate Bang and Fredrik Böök. Vol. 7 of Samlade verk. Stockholm: Bonniers, 1944. 28 vols. 1943-44.

Johnson, Walter, Strindberg and the Historical Drama. Seattle. U of Washington P, 1963.

Lamm, Martin. Strindbergs dramer. Vol. 2. Stockholm: Bonnier, 1926.

S. S-n. “August Strindbergs Karl XII på Dramatiska teatern.” Helsingborgs dagblad 24 February 1902.

Sokel, Walter. The Writer in Extremis. Stanford: Stanford U P, 1968.

Sprinchorn, Evert. “Hell and Purgatory in Strindberg.” Scandinavian Studies 50.4 (1978): 371-80.

Steene, Birgitta. The Greatest Fire. Carbondale: Southern Illinois U P, 1973.

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

———. Ismael i öknen. Strindberg som mystiker. Diss. Uppsala U, 1972. Acta Universitatis Upsaliensis: Historia litterarum 5.

———. “Kring tillkomsten av Karl XII.” Meddelanden från Strindbergssällskapet 45(1970): 20-43.

Strindberg, August. August Strindbergs brev. Ed. Torsten Eklund. Vols. 12 and 14. Stockholm: Bonnier, 1970 and 1974. 15 vols. 1948-76.

———. [Ms.] Manuscripts in the so-called “Green Sack.” Kungliga Biblioteket. Stockholm. 2:6/3,8,12,13,19.

———. Samlade skrifter. Ed. John Landquist. Vols. 35, 45, 50, 54. Stockholm: Bonnier, 1916, 1917, 1919, 1919. 55 vols. 1912-20.

Ståhle Sjönell, Barbro. Strindbergs Taklagsöl—ett prosaexperiment. Stockholm: Almqvist & Wiksell International, 1986.

Svensk Dikt. Ed. Lars Gustafsson. Stockholm: Wahlström & Widstrand, 1980.

Swedenborg, Emanuel. The Spiritual Diary. Trans. George Bush and John H. Smithson. Vols. 1 and 4. London: James Speirs, 1883, 1889. 5 vols. 1883-1902.

Todorov, Tzvetan. The Fantastic: A Structural Approach to a Literary Genre. Trans. Richard Howard. Cleveland: Case Western Reserve U P, 1973.

Törnqvist, Egil. “Första turen i Dödsdansen.” Svensk litteraturtidskrift 41.3 (1978): 3-20.

Ward, John. The Social and Religious Plays of Strindberg. London: Athlone P, 1980.