situation.

"I am Violence; I am Rapacity," he says. "It is I who am levying
contribution on Visby. I am not a human being; I am merely steel
and iron. My pleasure is in suffering and evil. Let them go on and
torture one another. To-day it is I who am lord of Visby."

"Look," he says to the beholder, "can you see that it is I who am
master? As far as your eye can reach, there is nothing here but
people who are torturing one another. Groaning the conquered come
and leave their gold. They hate and threaten, but they obey. And
the desires of the victors grow wilder the more gold they can
extort. What are Denmark's king and his soldiers but my servants,
at least for this one day? To-morrow they will go to church, or sit
in peaceful mirth in their inns, or also perhaps be good fathers in
their own homes, but to-day they serve me; to-day they are evil-doers
and ravishers."

The longer one listens to him, the better one understands what the
picture is; nothing but an illustration of the old story of how
people can torture one another. There is not one redeeming feature,
only cruel violence and defiant hate and hopeless suffering.

Those three beer vats were to be filled that Visby should not be
plundered and burned. Why do they not come, those Hanseaters, with
glowing enthusiasm? Why do the women not hasten with their jewels;
the revellers with their cups, the priest with his relics, eager,
burning with enthusiasm for the sacrifice? "For thee, for thee, our
beloved town! It is needless to send soldiers for us when it
concerns thee! Oh, Visby, our mother, our honor! Take back what