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diff --git a/6694-h/6694-h.htm b/6694-h/6694-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..f9694e5 --- /dev/null +++ b/6694-h/6694-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,5139 @@ +<?xml version="1.0" encoding="utf-8"?> + +<!DOCTYPE html + PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd" > + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" lang="en"> + <head> + <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=UTF-8" /> + <title> + In Midsummer Days, by August Strindberg + </title> + <style type="text/css" xml:space="preserve"> + + body { margin:5%; background:#faebd0; text-align:justify} + P { text-indent: 1em; margin-top: .25em; margin-bottom: .25em; } + H1,H2,H3,H4,H5,H6 { text-align: center; margin-left: 15%; margin-right: 15%; } + hr { width: 50%; text-align: center;} + .foot { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; text-indent: -3em; font-size: 90%; } + blockquote {font-size: 97%; font-style: italic; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;} + .mynote {background-color: #DDE; color: #000; padding: .5em; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 95%;} + .toc { margin-left: 10%; margin-bottom: .75em;} + .toc2 { margin-left: 20%;} + div.fig { display:block; margin:0 auto; text-align:center; } + div.middle { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; } + .figleft {float: left; margin-left: 0%; margin-right: 1%;} + .figright {float: right; margin-right: 0%; margin-left: 1%;} + .pagenum {display:inline; font-size: 70%; font-style:normal; + margin: 0; padding: 0; position: absolute; right: 1%; + text-align: right;} + pre { font-style: italic; font-size: 90%; margin-left: 10%;} + +</style> + </head> + <body> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + +Project Gutenberg's In Midsummer Days and Other Tales, by August Strindberg + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: In Midsummer Days and Other Tales + +Author: August Strindberg + +Translator: Ellie Schleussner + +Release Date: March 20, 2009 [EBook #6694] +Last Updated: October 26, 2016 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK IN MIDSUMMER DAYS AND OTHER TALES *** + + + + +Produced by Nicole Apostola, and David Widger + + + + + + +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <h1> + IN MIDSUMMER DAYS + </h1> + <h2> + AND OTHER TALES. + </h2> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <h2> + By August Strindberg + </h2> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <h3> + Translated By Ellie Schleussner + </h3> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <h2> + Contents + </h2> + <table summary="" style="margin-right: auto; margin-left: auto"> + <tr> + <td> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0001"> IN MIDSUMMER DAYS </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0002"> THE BIG GRAVEL-SIFTER </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0003"> THE SLUGGARD </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0004"> THE PILOT’S TROUBLES </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0005"> PHOTOGRAPHER AND PHILOSOPHER </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0006"> HALF A SHEET OF FOOLSCAP </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0007"> CONQUERING HERO AND FOOL </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0008"> WHAT THE TREE-SWALLOW SANG IN THE + BUCKTHORN TREE </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0009"> THE MYSTERY OF THE TOBACCO SHED </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0010"> THE STORY OF THE ST. GOTTHARD </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0011"> THE STORY OF JUBAL WHO HAD NO “I” </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0012"> THE GOLDEN HELMETS IN THE ALLEBERG </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0013"> LITTLE BLUEWING FINDS THE GOLDPOWDER </a> + </p> + </td> + </tr> + </table> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> <a name="link2H_4_0001" id="link2H_4_0001"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <h2> + IN MIDSUMMER DAYS + </h2> + <p> + In Midsummer days when in the countries of the North the earth is a bride, + when the ground is full of gladness, when the brooks are still running, + the flowers in the meadows still untouched by the scythe, and all the + birds singing, a dove flew out of the wood and sat down before the cottage + in which the ninety-year-old granny lay in her bed. + </p> + <p> + The old woman had been bedridden for twenty years, but she could see + through her window everything that happened in the farmyard which was + managed by her two sons. But she saw the world and the people in her own + peculiar manner, for time and the weather had painted her window-panes + with all the colours of the rainbow; she need but turn her head a little + and things appeared successively red, yellow, green, blue, and violet. If + she happened to look out on a cold winter’s day when the trees were + covered with hoar-frost and the white foliage looked as if it were made of + silver, she had but to turn her head a little on the pillow, and all the + trees were green; it was summer-time, the ploughed fields were yellow, and + the sky looked blue even if a moment before it had been ever so grey. And + therefore the old granny imagined that she could work magic, and was never + bored. + </p> + <p> + But the magical window-panes possessed another quality; they bulged a + little and consequently they magnified or reduced every object which came + into their field of vision. Whenever, therefore, her grown-up son came + home in a bad temper and scolded everybody, granny had but to wish him to + be a good little boy again, and straightway she saw him quite small. Or, + when she watched her grandchildren playing in the yard, and thought of + their future—one, two, three—she changed her position ever so + slightly, and they became grown-up men and women, as tall as giants. + </p> + <p> + All during the summer the window stood open, for then the window-panes + could not show her anything so beautiful as the reality. And now, on + Midsummer Eve, the most beautiful time of all the year, she lay there and + looked at the meadows and towards the wood, where the dove was singing its + song. It sang most beautifully of the Lord Jesus, and the joy and + splendour of the Kingdom of Heaven, where all are welcome who are weary + and heavy laden. + </p> + <p> + The old woman listened to the song for a little while, and then she laid + that she was much obliged, but that Heaven could be no more beautiful than + the earth itself, and she wanted nothing better. + </p> + <p> + Thereupon the dove flew away over the meadow into the mountain glen, where + the farmer stood digging a well. He stood in a deep hole which he had dug, + three yards below the surface; it was just as if he were standing in his + grave. + </p> + <p> + The dove settled on a fir tree and sung of the joy of Heaven, quite + convinced that the man in the hole, who could see neither sky, nor sea, + nor meadow, must be longing for Heaven. + </p> + <p> + “No,” said the farmer, “I must first dig a well; otherwise my summer guest + will have no water, and the unhappy little mother will take her child and + go and live elsewhere.” + </p> + <p> + The dove flew down to the strand, when the farmer’s brother was busy + hauling in the fishing-nets; it sat among the rushes and began to sing. + </p> + <p> + “No,” said the farmer’s brother, “I must provide food for my family, + otherwise my children will cry with hunger. Later on! Later on, I tell + you! Let’s live first and die afterwards.” + </p> + <p> + *** + </p> + <p> + And the dove flew to the pretty cottage, where the unhappy little mother + had taken rooms for the summer. She sat on the verandah, working at a + sewing machine; her face was as white as a lily, and her red felt hat + looked like a huge poppy on her hair, which was as black as a mourning + veil. She was busy making a pinafore which her little girl was to wear on + Midsummer Eve, and the child sat at her feet on the floor, cutting up + little pieces of material which were not wanted. + </p> + <p> + “Why isn’t daddy coming home?” asked the little girl, looking up. + </p> + <p> + That was a very difficult question, so difficult that the young mother + could not answer it; and very possibly daddy could not have answered it + either, for he was far away in a foreign country with his grief, which was + twice as great as mammy’s. + </p> + <p> + The sewing machine was not in good order, but it stitched and stitched; it + made as many pricks as a human heart can bear before it breaks, but every + prick only served to pull the thread tighter—it was curious! + </p> + <p> + “I want to go to the village, mammy,” said the little girl. “I want to see + the sun, for it is so dark here.” + </p> + <p> + “You shall go and play in the sunshine this afternoon, darling.” + </p> + <p> + I must tell you that it was very dark between the high cliffs on this side + of the island; the cottage stood in a gloomy pine-grove, which completely + hid the view of the sea. + </p> + <p> + “And I want you to buy me a lot of toys, mammy.” + </p> + <p> + “Darling, we have so little money to buy toys with,” answered the mother, + bending her head still lower over their work. + </p> + <p> + And that was the truth; for their comfort had changed into penury. They + had no servant, and the mother had to do the whole house-work herself. + </p> + <p> + But when she saw the sad face of the little girl, she took her on her + knees. + </p> + <p> + “Put your little arms round mammy’s neck,” she said. + </p> + <p> + The little one obeyed. + </p> + <p> + “Now give mammy a kiss!” + </p> + <p> + The rosy little half-open mouth, which looked like the mouth of a little + bird, was pressed against her lips; and when the blue eyes, blue as the + flower of the flax, smiled into hers, her beautiful face reflected the + sweet innocence of the little one, and made her look like a happy child + herself, playing in the sunshine. + </p> + <p> + “No use my singing to them of the Kingdom of Heaven,” thought the dove, + “but if I can in any way serve them, I will.” + </p> + <p> + And then it flew away towards the sunny village, for it had work to do + there. + </p> + <p> + *** + </p> + <p> + It was afternoon now; the little mother took a basket on one arm and the + child’s little hand into hers, and they left the cottage. She had never + been to the village, but she knew that it was situated somewhere towards + sunset, on the other side of the island, and the farmer had told her that + she would have to get over six stiles and walk through six latticed gates + before she could get there. + </p> + <p> + And on they went. + </p> + <p> + Their way lay along a footpath, full of stones and old tree-roots, so that + she was obliged to carry the little girl, and that was very hard work. The + doctor had told her that the child must not strain her left foot, because + it was so weak that it might easily have grown deformed. + </p> + <p> + The young mother staggered along, under her beloved burden, and large + beads of perspiration stood like pearls on her forehead, for it was very + hot in the wood. + </p> + <p> + “I am so thirsty, mammy,” whispered the little, complaining voice. + </p> + <p> + “Have patience, darling, there will be plenty of water when we get there.” + </p> + <p> + And she kissed the little parched mouth, and the child smiled and forgot + all about her thirst. + </p> + <p> + But the scorching rays of the sun burned their skin and there was not a + breath of air in the wood. + </p> + <p> + “Try and walk a little, darling,” said the mother, putting the child down. + </p> + <p> + But the little foot gave way and the child could not walk a step. + </p> + <p> + “I am so tired, mammy,” she laid, sitting down and beginning to cry. + </p> + <p> + But the prettiest little flowers, which looked like rose-coloured bells + and smelt of sweet almonds, grew all over the spot where she was sitting. + She smiled when she saw them, for she had never seen anything half as + lovely, and her smile strengthened the heart of the mother so that she + could continue her walk with the child in her arms. + </p> + <p> + Now they had arrived at the first gate. They passed through it and + carefully re-fastened the latch. + </p> + <p> + All of a sudden they heard a noise like a loud neighing; a horse galloped + towards them, blocked the path and neighed again; its neighing was + answered on the right and the left and from all sides of the wood; the + ground trembled, the branches of the trees cracked, and the stones were + scattered in all directions by the approaching hoofs. In less than no time + the poor, frightened travellers were surrounded on all sides by a herd of + savage horses. + </p> + <p> + The child hid her face on her mother’s shoulder, and her little heart + ticked with fear like a watch. + </p> + <p> + “I am so frightened!” she whispered. + </p> + <p> + “Oh! Father in Heaven, help us!” prayed the mother. + </p> + <p> + At the same moment a blackbird, sitting on a fir tree, began to sing; the + horses scudded away as fast as they could, and there was once more silence + in the wood. + </p> + <p> + They came to the second gate, walked through and re-fastened the latch. + </p> + <p> + They were on fallow ground now, and the sun scorched them even worse than + it had done before. They saw before them rows and rows of dull clods of + earth, but in a steep place the clods suddenly began to move, and then + they knew that what they had taken for clods of earth were really the + backs of a flock of sheep. + </p> + <p> + Sheep are quite gentle and inoffensive, especially the little lambs, but + that is a good deal more than can be said of the ram, who is a savage + brute and often takes a delight in attacking those who have never done him + any harm. There he was already, jumping over a ditch right into the middle + of their path. He lowered his head and walked a few steps backwards. + </p> + <p> + “I am so frightened, mammy,” said the little girl, and her heart began to + beat fast. + </p> + <p> + “Oh! Merciful Father in Heaven, help us!” sighed the mother, with an + imploring look upwards. + </p> + <p> + And high up, in the blue vault of the sky, fluttering its wings like a + butterfly, a little lark began to sing. And as it sang the ram disappeared + among the grey clods. + </p> + <p> + They stood before the third gate. They were on a slope now; the ground was + swampy and before long they came to a crevice. The hillocks looked like + little graves, overgrown with vetch or white cotton-flowers and they had + to be careful to avoid sinking into the swamp. Black berries of a + poisonous kind grew in abundance everywhere; the little girl wanted to + gather them, and because her mother would not permit it, she began to cry, + for she did not understand what poisonous meant. + </p> + <p> + And as they walked on, they noticed a white sheet, which looked as if it + had been drawn in and out through the trees; the sun disappeared behind a + bank of clouds and a white darkness, which was very went towards them, + hoping to find some water in the place whence they came. + </p> + <p> + On their way they passed a white cottage, behind a green fence with a + white gate; the gate stood hospitably open. They entered and found + themselves in a garden where peonies and colombines grew. The mother + noticed that the curtains in the lower storey were all drawn before the + windows, and that all the curtains were white. But one of the attic + windows stood open and a white hand appeared above the pots of + touch-me-nots. It waved a little white handkerchief, as if it were waving + a last farewell to one who was going on a long journey. + </p> + <p> + They walked as far as the cottage; in the high grass lay a wreath of + myrtle and white roses. But it was too big for a bridal wreath. + </p> + <p> + They went through the front door and the mother called out if anybody were + in? As there was no reply they went into the parlour. On the floor, + surrounded by a whole forest of flowers, stood a black coffin with silver + feet and in the coffin lay a young girl with a bridal crown on her head. + </p> + <p> + The walls of the room were made of new pinewood and only varnished with + oil, so that all the knots were visible. And the knots in the knot-holes + looked for all the world like so many eyes. + </p> + <p> + “Oh! Just look at all the eyes, mammy,” exclaimed the little girl. + </p> + <p> + Yes, there were eyes of every description; big eyes, eloquent eyes, grave + eyes; little shining baby eyes, with a lurking smile in the corner; wicked + eyes, which showed too much white; frank and candid eyes, which looked one + straight into the heart; and, over there, a big, gentle mother’s eye, + which regarded the dead girl lovingly; and a transparent tear of resin + trembled on the lid, and sparkled in the setting sun like a green and red + diamond. + </p> + <p> + “Is she asleep?” asked the child, looking into the face of the dead girl. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, she is asleep.” + </p> + <p> + “Is she a bride, mammy?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, darling.” + </p> + <p> + The mother had recognised her. It was the girl who was to be a bride on + Midsummer day, when her sailor lover would return home; but the sailor had + written to say that he would not be home until the autumn, and his letter + had broken her heart; for she could not bear to wait until the autumn, + when the leaves would drop dead from the trees and the winter wind have a + rough game with them in the lanes and alleys. + </p> + <p> + She had heard the song of the dove and taken it to heart. + </p> + <p> + The young mother left the cottage; now she knew where she would go. She + put the heavy basket down outside the gate and took the child into her + arms; and so she walked across the meadow which separated her from the + shore. + </p> + <p> + The meadow was a perfect sea of flowers, waving and whispering round her + ankles, and the pollen water was calm and blue; and presently it was not + water through which they sailed, but the blue blossoms of the flax, which + she gathered in her outstretched hands. + </p> + <p> + And the flowers bent down and rose up again, whispering, lapping against + the sides of the boat like little waves. The flax-field before them + appeared to be infinite, but presently a white mist enveloped them, and + they heard the plashing of real waves, but above the mist they heard a + lark singing. + </p> + <p> + “How does the lark come to sing on the sea?” asked the child. + </p> + <p> + “The sea is so green that the lark takes it for a meadow,” answered the + mother. + </p> + <p> + The mist had dispersed again. The sky was blue and the lark was still + singing. + </p> + <p> + Then they saw, straight before them, in the middle of the sea, a green + island with a white, sandy beach, and people, dressed all in pure white, + walking hand in hand. The setting sun shone on the golden roof of a + colonnade, where white fires burnt in sacred sacrificial vessels; and the + green island was spanned by a rainbow, the colour of which was rose-red + and sedge-green. + </p> + <p> + “What is it, mammy?” + </p> + <p> + The mother could make no reply. + </p> + <p> + “Is it the Kingdom of Heaven of which the dove sang? What is the Kingdom + of Heaven, mammy?” + </p> + <p> + “A place, darling, where all people love one another,” answered the + mother, “where there is neither grief nor strife.” + </p> + <p> + “Then let us go there,” said the child. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, we will go,” said the tired, forsaken little mother. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0002" id="link2H_4_0002"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + THE BIG GRAVEL-SIFTER + </h2> + <p> + An eel-mother and her son were lying at the bottom of the sea, close to + the landing-stage, watching a young fisherman getting ready his line. + </p> + <p> + “Just look at him!” said the eel-mother, “there you have an example of the + malice and cunning of the world.... Watch him! He is holding a whip in his + hand; he throws out the whip-lash—there it is! attached to it is a + weight which makes it sink—there’s the weight! and below the weight + is the hook with the worm. Don’t take it in your mouth, whatever you do, + for if you do, you are caught. As a rule only the silly bass and red-eyes + take the bait. There! Now you know all about it.” + </p> + <p> + The forest of seaweed with its shells and snails began to rock; a plashing + and drumming could be heard and a huge red whale passed like a flash over + their heads; he had a tail-fin like a cork-screw, and that was what he + worked with. + </p> + <p> + “That’s a steamer,” said the eel-mother; “make room!” + </p> + <p> + She had hardly spoken these words when a furious uproar arose above. There + was a tramping and stamping as if the people overhead were intent on + building a bridge between the shore and the boat in two seconds. But it + was difficult to see anything on account of the oil and soot which were + making the water thick and muddy. + </p> + <p> + There was something very heavy on the bridge now, so heavy that it made it + creak, and men’s voices were shouting: + </p> + <p> + “Lift it up!—Ho, there!—Up!—Hold tight!—Up with + it!—Up!—Push it along!—Lift it up!” + </p> + <p> + Then something indescribable happened. First it sounded as if sixty piles + of wood were all being sawn at the same time; then a cleft opened in the + water which went down to the bottom of the sea, and there, wedged between + three stones, stood a black box, which sang and played and tinkled and + jingled, close to the eel-mother and her son, who hastily disappeared in + the lowest depths of the ocean. + </p> + <p> + Then a voice up above shouted:— + </p> + <p> + “Three fathoms deep! Impossible! Leave it alone. It isn’t worth while + hauling the old lumber up again; it would cost more to repair than it’s + worth.” + </p> + <p> + The voice belonged to the master of the mine, whose piano had fallen into + the sea. + </p> + <p> + Silence followed; the huge fish with a fin like a screw swam away, and the + silence deepened. + </p> + <p> + After sunset a breeze arose; the black box in the forest of seaweed rocked + and knocked against the stones, and at every knock it played, so that the + fishes came swimming from all directions to watch and to listen. + </p> + <p> + The eel-mother was the first to put in an appearance. And when she saw + herself reflected in the polished surface, she said: “It’s a wardrobe with + a plate-glass door.” + </p> + <p> + There was logic in her remark, and therefore all the others said: “It is a + wardrobe with a plate-glass door.” + </p> + <p> + Next a rock-fish arrived and smelt at the candlesticks, which had not yet + come off. Tiny bits of candle ends were still sticking in the sockets. + “That’s something to eat,” it said, “if only it weren’t for the whipcord!” + </p> + <p> + Then a great bass came and lay flat on the pedal; but immediately there + arose such a rumbling in the box that all the fishes hastily swam away. + </p> + <p> + They got no further on that day. + </p> + <p> + At night it blew half a gale, and the musical box went thump, thump, + thump, like a pavier’s beetle, until sunrise. When the eel-mother and all + the rest of them returned, they found that it had undergone a change. + </p> + <p> + The lid stood open like a shark’s mouth; they saw a row of teeth, bigger + than they had ever seen before, but every other tooth was black. The whole + machine was swollen at the sides like a seed-fish; the boards were bent, + and the pedal pointed upwards like a foot in the act of walking; the arms + of the candlesticks looked like clenched fists. It was a dreadful sight! + </p> + <p> + “It’s falling to pieces,” screamed the bass, and spread out a fin, ready + to turn. + </p> + <p> + And now the boards fell off, the box was open, and one could see what it + was like inside; and that was the prettiest sight of all. + </p> + <p> + “It’s a trap! Don’t go too near!” said the eel-mother. + </p> + <p> + “It’s a hand-loom!” said the stickleback, who builds a nest for itself and + understands the art of weaving. + </p> + <p> + “It’s a gravel-sifter,” said a red-eye, who lived below the lime-quarry. + </p> + <p> + It may have been a gravel-sifter. But there were a great many fallals and + odds and ends which were not in the least like the sifter which they use + for riddling sand. There were little manichords which resembled toes in + white woollen stockings, and when they moved it was just as if a foot with + two hundred skeleton toes were walking; and it walked and walked and yet + never left the spot. + </p> + <p> + It was a strange thing. But the game was up, for the skeleton no longer + touched the strings; it played on the water as if it were knocking at a + door with its fingers, asking whether it might come in. + </p> + <p> + The game was up. A school of sticklebacks came and swam right through the + box, and when they trailed their spikes over the strings, the strings + sounded again; but they played in a new way, for now they were tuned to + another pitch. + </p> + <p> + *** + </p> + <p> + On a rosy summer evening soon afterwards two children, a boy and a girl, + were sitting on the landing-bridge. They were not thinking of anything in + particular, unless it was a tiny piece of mischief, when all at once they + heard soft music from the bottom of the sea, which startled them. + </p> + <p> + “Do you hear it?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, what is it? It sounds like scales.” + </p> + <p> + “No, it’s the song of the gnats.” + </p> + <p> + “No, it’s a mermaid!” + </p> + <p> + “There are no mermaids. The schoolmaster said so.” + </p> + <p> + “The schoolmaster doesn’t know.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! do listen!” + </p> + <p> + They listened for a long time, and then they went away, home. + </p> + <p> + Presently two newly arrived summer guests sat down on the bridge; he + looked into her eyes, which reflected the golden sunset and the green + shores. Then they heard the sounds of music; it sounded as if somebody + were playing on musical glasses, but in a strange new key, only heard in + the dreams of those who dream of giving a new message to the world. But + they never thought of looking for any outside source, they believed that + it was the song which their own hearts were singing. + </p> + <p> + Next a couple of annual visitors came sauntering along; they knew the + trick and took a delight in saying in a loud voice: + </p> + <p> + “It is the submerged piano of the master of the mine.” + </p> + <p> + But whenever there were only new arrivals present, who did not know + anything about it, they were puzzled and enjoyed the music, until some of + the older ones came and enlightened them. And then they enjoyed it no + longer. + </p> + <p> + The musical box lay there all the summer. The sticklebacks taught their + art to the bass, who became much more expert. And the piano became a + regular fishing-ground for the summer guests, where they could always be + sure to catch bass; the pilots spread out their nets round about it, and + once a waiter fished there for red-eyes. But when his line with the old + bell weight had run out, and he tried to wind it up again, he heard a run + in X minor, and then the hook was caught. He pulled and pulled, and in the + end he brought up five fingers with wool at the fingertips, and the bones + cracked like the bones of a skeleton. Then he was frightened and flung his + catch back into the sea, although he knew quite well what it was. + </p> + <p> + In the dog days, when the water is warm and all the fish retire to the + greater depths to enjoy the coolness, the music ceased. But on a moonlit + night in August, the summer guests held a regatta. The master of the mine + and his wife were present. They sat in a white boat and were slowly rowed + about by their sons. And as their boat was gliding over the black water, + the surface of which was like silver and gold in the moonlight, they heard + a sound of music just below their boat. + </p> + <p> + “Ha ha!” laughed the master of the mine, “listen to our old piano! Ha ha!” + </p> + <p> + But he was silent when he saw that his wife hung her head, in the way + pelicans do in pictures; it looked as if she wanted to bite her own neck + and hide her face. + </p> + <p> + The old piano and its long history had awakened memories in her of the + first dining-room they furnished together, the first of their children + which had had music lessons, the boredom of the long evenings, only to be + chased away by the crashing volumes of sound which overcame the dulness of + everyday life, changed bad temper into cheerfulness, and lent new beauty + even to the old furniture .... But that is a story which belongs + elsewhere. + </p> + <p> + When it was autumn and the winter wind began to blow, the pilchards came + in their thousands and swam through the musical box. It was like a + farewell concert, and nothing else, and the seagulls and stormy petrels + came in crowds to listen to it. And in the night the musical box was + carried out to sea; that was the end of the matter. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0003" id="link2H_4_0003"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + THE SLUGGARD + </h2> + <p> + Conductor Crossberg was fond of lying in bed in the morning, firstly, + because he had to conduct the orchestra in the evening, and secondly, + because he drank more than one glass of beer before he went home and to + bed. He had tried once or twice to get up early, but had found no sense in + it. He had called on a friend, but had found him asleep; he had wanted to + pay money into the bank, but had found it still closed; he had gone to the + library to borrow music, but it was not yet open; he had wanted to use the + electric trams, but they had not yet started running. It was impossible to + get a cab at this hour of the morning; he could not even buy a pinch of + his favourite snuff; there was nothing at all for him to do. And so he had + eventually formed the habit of staying in bed until late; and after all, + he had no one to please but himself. + </p> + <p> + He loved the sun and flowers and children; but he could not live on the + sunny side of the street on account of his delicate instruments, which + were out of tune almost as soon as they were put into a sunny room. + </p> + <p> + Therefore, on the 1st of April, he took rooms which faced north. He was + quite sure that there was no mistake about this, for he carried a compass + on his watch-chain, and he could find the Great Bear in the evening sky. + </p> + <p> + So far, so good; but then the spring came, and it was so warm that it was + really pleasant to live in rooms with a northern aspect. His bedroom + joined the sitting-room; he always kept his bedroom in pitch-black + darkness by letting down the Venetian blinds; there were no Venetian + blinds in the sitting-room, because they were not wanted there. + </p> + <p> + And the early summer came and everything grew green. The conductor had + dined at the restaurant “Hazelmount,” and had drunk a bottle of Burgundy + with his dinner, and therefore he slept long and soundly, especially as + the theatre was closed on that day. + </p> + <p> + He slept well, but while he slept it grew so warm in the room that he woke + up two or three times, or, at any rate, he thought he did. Once he fancied + that his wall-paper was on fire, but that was probably the effect of the + Burgundy; another time he felt as if something hot had touched his face, + but that was certainly the Burgundy; and so he turned over and fell asleep + again. + </p> + <p> + At half-past nine he got up, dressed, and went into the sitting-room to + refresh himself with a glass of milk which always stood ready for him in + the morning. + </p> + <p> + It was anything but cool in the sitting-room this morning; it was almost + warm, too warm. And the cold milk was not cold; it was lukewarm, + unpleasantly lukewarm. + </p> + <p> + The conductor was not a hot-tempered man, but he liked order and method in + everything. Therefore he rang for old Louisa, and since he made his first + fifty remonstrances always in a very mild tone, he spoke kindly but firmly + to her, as she put her head through the door. + </p> + <p> + “Louisa,” he said, “you have given me lukewarm milk.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! no, sir,” replied Louisa, “it was quite cold, it must have got warm + in standing.” + </p> + <p> + “Then you must have had a fire in the room; it’s very warm here this + morning.” + </p> + <p> + No, Louisa had not had a fire; and she retired into the kitchen, very much + hurt. + </p> + <p> + He forgave her for the milk. But a look round the sitting-room made him + feel very depressed. I must tell you that he had built a little private + altar in a corner, near the piano, which consisted of a small table with + two silver candlesticks, a large photograph of a young woman, and a tall, + gold-edged champagne glass. This glass—it was the glass he had used + on his wedding-day, and he was a widower now—always contained a red + rose in memory of and as an offering to her who once had been the sunshine + of his life. Whether it was summer or winter, there was always a rose; and + in the winter time it lasted a whole week, that is to say if he trimmed + the stem occasionally and put a little salt into the water. Now, he had + put a fresh rose into the glass only last night, and to-day it was faded, + shrivelled up, dead, with its head drooping. This was a bad omen. He knew + what sensitive creatures flowers are, and had noticed that they thrive + with some people and not with others. He remembered how sometimes, in his + wife’s lifetime, her rose, which always stood on her little work-table, + had faded and died quite unexpectedly. And he had also noticed that this + always happened when <i>his sun</i> was hiding behind a cloud, which after + a while would dissolve in large drops to the accompaniment of a low + rumbling. Roses must have peace and kind words; they can’t bear harsh + voices. They love music, and sometimes he would play to the roses and they + opened their buds and smiled. + </p> + <p> + Now Louisa was a hard woman, and often muttered and growled to herself + when she turned out the room. There were days when she was in a very bad + temper, so that the milk curdled in the kitchen, and the whole dinner + tasted of discord, which the conductor noticed at once; for he was himself + like a delicate instrument, whose soul responded to moods and influences + which other people did not feel. + </p> + <p> + He concluded that Louisa had killed the rose; perhaps if she had scolded + the poor thing, or knocked the glass, or breathed on the flower angrily, a + treatment which it could not bear. Therefore he rang again; and when + Louisa put in her head, he said, not unkindly, but more firmly than + before: + </p> + <p> + “What have you done to my rose, Louisa?” + </p> + <p> + “Nothing, sir!” + </p> + <p> + “Nothing? Do you think the flower died without a very good reason? You can + see for yourself that there is no water in the glass! You must have poured + it away!” + </p> + <p> + As Louisa had done no such thing, she went into the kitchen and began to + cry, for it is disagreeable to be blamed when one is innocent. + </p> + <p> + Conductor Crossberg, who could not bear to see people crying, said no + more, but in the evening he bought a new rose, one which had only just + been cut, and, of course, was not wired, for his wife had always had an + objection to wired flowers. + </p> + <p> + And then he went to bed and fell asleep. And again he fancied in his sleep + that the wall-paper was on fire, and that his pillow was very hot; but he + went on sleeping. + </p> + <p> + On the following morning, when he came into the sitting-room, to say his + morning prayers before the little altar—alas! there lay his rose, + all the pink petals scattered by the side of the stem. He was just + stretching out his hand to touch the bell, when he saw the photograph of + his beloved, half rolled up, lying by the side of the champagne glass. + Louisa could not have done that! + </p> + <p> + “She, who was my all, my conscience and my muse,” he thought in his + childlike mind, “she is dissatisfied and angry with me; what have I done?” + </p> + <p> + Well, when he put this question to his conscience, he found, as usual, + more than one little fault, and he resolved to eradicate his faults, + gradually, of course. + </p> + <p> + Then he had the portrait framed and a glass shade put over the rose, + hoping that now things would be all right, but secretly fearing that they + would not. + </p> + <p> + After that he went on a week’s journey; he returned home late at night and + went straight to bed. He woke up once, imagining that the hanging lamp was + burning. + </p> + <p> + When he entered the sitting-room late on the following morning, it was + downright hot there, and everything looked frightfully shabby. The blinds + were faded; the cover on the piano had lost its bright colours; the bound + volumes of music looked as if they were deformed; the oil in the + hanging-lame had evaporated and hung in a trembling drop under the + ornament, where the flies used to dance; the water in the water-bottle was + warm. + </p> + <p> + But the saddest thing of all was that her portrait, too, was faded, as + faded as autumn leaves. He was very unhappy, and whenever he was very + unhappy he went to the piano, or took up his violin, as the case might + be.... + </p> + <p> + This time he sat down at the piano, with a vague notion of playing the + sonata in E minor, Grieg’s, of course, which had been her favourite, and + was the best and finest, in his opinion, after Beethoven’s sonata in D + minor; not because E comes after D, but because it was so. + </p> + <p> + But the piano was very refractory to-day. It was out of tune, and made all + sorts of difficulties, so that he began to believe that his eyes and + fingers were in a bad temper. But it was not their fault. The piano, quite + simply, was out of tune, although a very clever tuner had only just tuned + it. It was like a piano bewitched, enchanted. + </p> + <p> + He seized his violin; he had to tune it, of course. But when he wanted to + tighten the E string, the screw refused to work. It had dried up; and when + the conductor tried to use force, the string snapped with a sharp sound, + and rolled itself up like a dried eel-skin. + </p> + <p> + It was bewitched! + </p> + <p> + But the fact that her photograph had faded was really the worst blow, and + therefore he threw a veil over the altar. + </p> + <p> + In doing this, he threw a veil over all that was most beautiful in his + life; and he became depressed, began to mope, and stopped going out in the + evening. + </p> + <p> + It would be Midsummer soon. The nights were shorter than the days, but + since the Venetian blinds kept his bedroom dark, the conductor did not + notice it. + </p> + <p> + At last, one night—it was Midsummer night—he awoke, because + the clock in the sitting-room struck thirteen. There was something uncanny + about this, firstly, because thirteen is an unlucky number, and secondly, + because no well-behaved clock can strike thirteen. He did not fall asleep + again, but he lay in his bed, listening. There was a peculiar ticking + noise in the sitting-room, and then a loud bang, as if a piece of + furniture had cracked. Directly afterwards he heard stealthy footsteps, + and then the clock began to strike again; and it struck and struck, fifty + times—a hundred times. It really was uncanny! + </p> + <p> + And now a luminous tuft shot into his bedroom and threw a figure on the + wall, a strange figure, something like a fylfot, and it came from the + sitting-room. There was a light, then, in the sitting-room? But who had + lit it? And there was a tinkling of glasses, just as if guests were there; + champagne glasses of cut-crystal; but not a word was uttered. And now he + heard more sounds, sounds of canvas being furled, or clothes passed + through a mangle, or something of that sort. + </p> + <p> + The conductor felt compelled to get up and look, and he went, commending + his soul into the hands of the Almighty. + </p> + <p> + Well, first of all he saw Louisa’s print-dress disappearing through the + kitchen door; then he saw blinds, but blinds which had been pulled up; he + saw the dining-table covered with flowers, arranged in glasses; as many + flowers as there had been on his wedding-day when he had brought his bride + home. + </p> + <p> + And behold! The sun, the sun shone right into his face, shone on blue + fjords and distant woods; it was the sun which had illuminated the + sitting-room and played all the little tricks. He blessed the sun which + had been up so early in the morning and made a game of the sluggard. And + he blessed the memory of her whom he called the sun of his life. It was + not a new name, but he could not think of a better one, and as it was, it + was good enough. + </p> + <p> + And on his altar stood a rose, quite fresh, as fresh as <i>she</i> had + been before the never-ending work had tired her. Tired her! Yes, she had + not been one of the strong ones; and life with its blows and knocks had + been too brutal for her! He had not forgotten how, after a day’s cleaning + or ironing, she would throw herself on the sofa and say in a complaining + little voice, “I am so tired!” Poor little thing, this earth had not been + her home, she had only played once, on tour, as it were, and then had gone + far away. + </p> + <p> + “She lacked sunshine,” the doctor had said, for at that time they couldn’t + afford sun, because rooms on the sunny side are so expensive. + </p> + <p> + But now he had sun without having known it; he stood right in the + sunlight, but it was too late. Midsummer was past, and soon the sun would + disappear again, stay away for a year and then come back. Things are very + strange in this world! + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0004" id="link2H_4_0004"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + THE PILOT’S TROUBLES + </h2> + <p> + The pilot cutter lay outside, beyond the last beacon fire on the headland; + the winter sun had set long ago and the sea ran high; it was the real sea + with real huge breakers. Suddenly the first mate signalled: “Sailing ship + to windward.” + </p> + <p> + Far out at sea, a long way off the harbour, a brig was visible; she had + backed her sails and hoisted the pilot’s flag; she was asking to be taken + into port. + </p> + <p> + “Look out!” shouted the master-pilot, who was standing at the helm. “We’ll + have a job in this sea, but we must try and get hold of her in tacking, + and you, Victor, throw yourself into her rigging as soon as you get the + chance... bring the boat round! Now! Clear!” + </p> + <p> + The cutter turned and steered a course to the brig which lay outside, + pitching. + </p> + <p> + “Queer that she should have furled all her canvas. ... Can any one see a + light aboard? No! And no light on the masthead, either! Look out, Victor!” + Now the cutter was alongside; Victor stood waiting on the gunwale, and the + next time she rose on the crest of a big wave, he leapt into the rigging + of the brig, while the cutter sheered off, tacked, and made for the + harbour. + </p> + <p> + Victor sat in the rigging, half-way between deck and cross-trees, trying + to recover his breath before descending on deck. As soon as he came down + he went to the helm, which was quite the right thing for him to do. + Imagine how shocked he was when he found it deserted! He shouted “Ho + there!” but received no reply. + </p> + <p> + “They’re all inside, drinking,” he thought, peering through the cabin + windows. No, not a soul! He crossed over to the kitchen, examined the + quarterdeck,—not a living being anywhere. Then he realised that he + was on a deserted ship; he concluded that she had sprung a leak and was + sinking. + </p> + <p> + He tried to discover the whereabouts of the cutter, but she had + disappeared in the darkness. + </p> + <p> + It was quite impossible for him to make port. To set the sails, haul in + the brails and bowlines, and at the same time stand at the helm, was more + than any sailor could manage. + </p> + <p> + There was nothing to bee done, then, but let the vessel drift, although he + was aware of the fact that she was drifting out to sea. + </p> + <p> + It would not be true to say that he was pleased, but a pilot is prepared + for anything, and the thought that he might possibly meet a sailing ship + by and by, reassured him. But it was necessary to show a light and signal. + </p> + <p> + He made his way towards the kitchen, intending to look for matches and a + lantern. Although the sea was very rough, he noticed that the ship did not + move, a fact which astonished him very much. But when he came to the + mainmast, he was even more astonished to find himself walking on a + parqueted floor, partly covered by a strip of carpet of a small blue and + white checked pattern. He walked and walked, but still the carpet + stretched before him, and still he came no nearer to the kitchen. It was + certainly uncanny, but it was also amusing, for it was a new experience. + </p> + <p> + He was a long way off the end of the carpet yet, when he found himself at + the entrance to a passage with brilliantly illuminated shops on either + side. On his right stood a weighing machine and an automatic figure. + Without a moment’s hesitation he jumped on the little platform of the + weighing machine and slipped a penny in the slot. As he was quite sure + that he weighed eleven stone, he could not help smiling when the indicator + registered only one. Either the machine has gone wrong, he thought, or I + have been transported to some other planet, ten times larger, or ten times + smaller than the earth; he had been a pupil at the School of Navigation, + you see, and knew something of astronomy. + </p> + <p> + He jumped off and turned to the automatic figure, eager to find out what + it contained; his penny had hardly dropped when a little flap opened and a + large, white envelope, sealed with a big, red seal, fell out. He couldn’t + make out the letters on the seal, but that was neither here nor there, as + he did not know who his correspondent was. + </p> + <p> + He tore open the envelope and read... first of all the signature, just as + everybody else does. The letter began... but I’ll tell you that later on; + it’s sufficient for you to know now that he read it three times and then + put it into his breast-pocket with a very thoughtful mien; a very + thoughtful mien. + </p> + <p> + Then he penetrated into the heart of the passage, all the time keeping + carefully in the centre of the carpet. There were all sorts of shops, but + not a single human being, either before or behind the counters. When he + had walked a little way, he stopped before a big shop window, behind which + a great number of shells and snails were exhibited. As the door stood + open, he went in. The walls of the shop were lined with shelves from floor + to ceiling and filled with snails collected from all the oceans of the + world. Nobody was in the shop, but a ring of tobacco smoke hung in the + air, which looked as if somebody had only just blown it. Victor, who was a + bright lad, put his finger through it. “Hurrah!” he laughed, “now I’m + engaged to Miss Tobacco!” + </p> + <p> + A queer sound, like the ticking of a clock, fell on his ear, but there was + no clock anywhere, and presently he discovered that the sound came from a + bunch of keys. One of the keys had apparently just been put into the + cash-box, and the other keys swung to and fro with the regular movement of + a pendulum. This went on for quite a little while. Then there was silence + once more, and when it was as still as still could be, a low whistling + sound, like the wind blowing through the rigging of a ship, or steam + escaping through a narrow tube, could be heard. The sound was made by the + snails; but as they were of different sizes, each one of them whistled in + a different key; it sounded like a whole orchestra of whistlers. Victor, + who was born on a Thursday, and therefore understood the birds’ language, + pricked up his ears and tried to catch what they were whistling. It was + not long before he understood what they were saying. + </p> + <p> + “I have the prettiest name,” said one of them, “for I am called Strombus + pespelicanus!” + </p> + <p> + “I’m much the best looking,” said the purple-snail, whose name was Murex + and something else quaint. + </p> + <p> + “But I’ve the best voice,” said the tiger-shell; it is called tiger-shell + because it looks like a panther. + </p> + <p> + “Oh! tut, tut!” said the common garden-snail, “I’m more in demand than any + other snail in the world; you’ll find me all over the flower-beds in the + summer, and in the winter I lie in the wood-shed in a cabbage tub. They + call me uninteresting, but they can’t do without me.” + </p> + <p> + “What dreadful creatures they are,” thought Victor, “they think of nothing + but blowing their own trumpets”; and to while away the time he took up a + book which lay on the counter. As he had learned to use his eyes, he saw + at a glance that it opened at page 240 and that chapter 51 began at the + top of the left-hand side, and had for a motto a verse written by + Coleridge, the gist of which struck him like a flash of lightning. With + burning cheeks and bated breath he read... I’ll tell you what he read + later on, but I may admit at once that it had nothing whatever to do with + snails. + </p> + <p> + Victor liked the shop and sat down at a little distance from the cash-box, + the immediate vicinity of which is never without a certain risk. He began + to ponder over all the queer animals which went down to the sea as he did; + he was sure that they could not find it too warm at the bottom of the sea + and yet they perspired; and whenever they perspired chalk, it immediately + became a new house. They wriggled like worms, some to the right and some + to the left; it was clear that they had to wriggle in some direction and, + of course, they could not all turn to the same side. + </p> + <p> + All at once a voice came from the other side of the green curtain which + separated the shop from the back parlour. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, we know all that,” shouted the voice, “but what we don’t know is + this: the cockle of the ear belongs to the species of the Helix, and the + little bones near the drum are exactly like the animal in Limnaeus + stagnalis, and that’s printed in a book.” + </p> + <p> + Victor, who realised at once that the voice belonged to a thought-reader, + shouted back brutally, but without showing the least surprise:— + </p> + <p> + “We know all that, but why we should have a Helix in our ears is as + unknown to the book as to the dealer in snails—” + </p> + <p> + “I’m not a dealer in snails,” bellowed the voice behind the curtain. + </p> + <p> + “What are you, then?” Victor bellowed back. + </p> + <p> + “I’m... a troll!” + </p> + <p> + At the same moment the curtains were drawn aside a little, and a head + appeared in the opening of so terrifying an aspect, that anybody but + Victor would have taken to his heels. But he, who knew exactly how to + treat a troll, looked steadily at the glowing pipe-bowl; for that is + exactly what the troll looked like as he stood blowing rings through the + parted curtains. When the smoke rings had floated within his reach, he + caught them with his fingers and threw them back. + </p> + <p> + “I see you can play quoits,” snarled the troll. + </p> + <p> + “A little bit,” answered Victor. + </p> + <p> + “And you aren’t afraid?” + </p> + <p> + “A sailor must never be afraid of anything; if he is, the girls won’t like + him.” + </p> + <p> + And as he was tired of the snails, Victor seized the opportunity to beat a + retreat without appearing to run away. He left the shop, walking + backwards, for he knew that a man must never show his back to the enemy, + because his back is far more sensitive than ever his face could be. + </p> + <p> + And on he went on the blue and white carpet. The passage was not a + straight one, but wound and curved so that it was impossible to see the + end of it; and still there were new shops, and still no people and no shop + proprietors. But Victor, taught by his experience, understood that they + were all in the back parlours. + </p> + <p> + At last he came to a scent shop, which smelt of all the flowers of wood + and meadow; he thought of his sweetheart and decided to go in and buy her + a bottle of Eau-de-Cologne. + </p> + <p> + No sooner thought than done. The shop was very much like the snail shop, + but the scent of the flowers was so overpowering that it made his head + ache, and he had to sit down on a chair. A strong smell of almonds caused + a buzzing in his cars, but left a pleasant taste in his mouth, like + cherry-wine. Victor, never at a loss, felt in his pocket for his little + brass box, that had a tiny mirror on the inside of the lid, and put a + piece of chewing tobacco in his mouth; this cleared his brain and cured + his headache. Then he rapped on the counter and shouted:— + </p> + <p> + “Hallo! Any one there?” + </p> + <p> + There was no answer. “I’d better go into the back parlour,” he thought, + “and do my shopping there.” He took a little run, put his right hand on + the counter and cleared it at a bound. Then he pushed the curtains aside + and peeped into the room. A sight met his eyes which completely dazzled + him. An orange tree, laden with blossoms and fruit, stood on a long table + covered with a Persian rug, and its shining leaves looked like the leaves + of a camellia. There were rows of cut-crystal glasses filled with all the + most beautiful scented flowers of the whole world, such as jasmine, + tuberoses, violets, lilies of the valley, roses, and lavender. On one end + of the table, half hidden by the orange tree, he saw two delicate white + hands and a pair of slender wrists under turned-up sleeves, busy with a + small distilling apparatus, made of silver. He did not see the lady’s + face, and she, too, did not appear to see him. But when he noticed that + her dress was green and yellow, he knew at once that she was a sorceress, + for the caterpillar of the hawk-moth is green and yellow, and it, too, + knows how to bewitch the eye. The lower end of its body looks as if it + were its head and has a horn like a unicorn, so that it frightens away its + enemies with its mock face, while it feeds in peace with that part of its + body which looks like its hind quarter. + </p> + <p> + “I know that I’ll have a bit of a tussle with her,” thought Victor, “but + I’d better let her begin!” He was quite right, because if one wants to + make people talk, one has but to remain silent oneself. + </p> + <p> + “Are you the gentleman who is looking for a summer resort?” asked the + lady, coming towards him. + </p> + <p> + “That’s me!” said Victor, merely in order to say something, for he had + never thought of looking for a summer resort in the winter time. + </p> + <p> + The lady seemed embarrassed, but she was as beautiful as sin, and cast a + bewitching glance at the pilot. + </p> + <p> + “It’s no use trying to bewitch me, for I am engaged to a very nice girl,” + he said, staring between her second and third finger in the manner of a + witch, when she wants to charm the judge. + </p> + <p> + The lady was young and beautiful from the waist upwards, but below the + waist she seemed very old; it was just as if she had been patched together + of two pieces which didn’t match. + </p> + <p> + “Well, show me the summer resort,” said the pilot. + </p> + <p> + “If you please, sir,” replied the lady, opening a door in the background. + </p> + <p> + They went out and at once found themselves in a wood, consisting entirely + of oak trees. + </p> + <p> + “We’ll only just have to cross the wood, and we’ll be there,” said the + lady, beckoning to the pilot to go on, for she did not want to show him + her back. + </p> + <p> + “I shouldn’t wonder if there were a bull somewhere about,” said the pilot, + who had all his wits about him. + </p> + <p> + “Surely you aren’t afraid of a bull?” replied the lady. + </p> + <p> + “We’ll see,” answered the pilot. + </p> + <p> + They walked across stony hillocks, tree-roots, moors and fells, clearings + and deep recesses, but Victor could not help turning round every now and + then to see whether she was following him, for he could not hear her + footsteps. And even when he had turned round and had her right before his + eyes he had to look very hard, for her green and yellow dress made her + almost invisible. + </p> + <p> + At last they came to an open space, and when Victor had reached the centre + of the clearing, there was the bull; it was just as if it had stood there + all the time waiting for him. It was jet black, with a white star in the + middle of its forehead, and the corners of its eyes were blood-red. + </p> + <p> + Escape was impossible; there was nothing for it but to fight. Victor + glanced at the ground and behold! there lay a stout cudgel, newly cut. He + seized it and took up his position. + </p> + <p> + “You or I!” he shouted. “Come on! One—two—three!” The fight + began. The bull backed like a steam-boat, smoke came through its nostrils, + it moved its tail like a propeller, and then came on at full speed. + </p> + <p> + The cudgel flashed through the air and with a sound like a shot hit the + bull right between the eyes. Victor sprang aside, and the bull dashed past + him. Then everything seemed to change, and Victor, terrified, saw the + monster make for the border of the wood, from whence his sweetheart, in a + light summer dress, emerged to meet him. + </p> + <p> + “Climb up the tree, Anna,” he shouted. “The bull’s coming!” It was a cry + of anguish from the very bottom of his soul. + </p> + <p> + And he ran after the monster and hit it on the slenderest part of its + hind-legs in the hope of breaking its shin-bone. With superhuman strength + he felled the giant. Anna was saved, and the pilot held her in his arms. + </p> + <p> + “Where shall we go?” he asked. “Home, of course?” + </p> + <p> + It did not occur to him to ask her whence she had come, for reasons which + we shall learn hereafter. + </p> + <p> + They walked along the footpath, hand in hand, happy at their unexpected + meeting. When they had gone a little way, Victor suddenly stood still. + </p> + <p> + “Just wait a moment,” he said. “I must go and have a look at the bull; I’m + sorry for it, poor brute!” + </p> + <p> + The expression of Anna’s face changed, and the corners of her eyes grew + bloodshot. “All right! I’ll wait,” she said, with a savage and malicious + glance at the pilot. + </p> + <p> + Victor gazed at her sadly, for he knew that she had told him an untruth. + But he followed her. There was something extraordinary about her walk, and + all at once the whole of his left side grew as cold as ice. + </p> + <p> + When they had proceeded a little further, Victor stopped again. + </p> + <p> + “Give me your hand,” he said. “No, the left one.” He saw that she was not + wearing her engagement ring. + </p> + <p> + “Where’s your ring?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “I’ve lost it,” she replied. + </p> + <p> + “You are my Anna, and yet you are not,” he exclaimed. “A stranger has + taken possession of you.” + </p> + <p> + As he said these words, she looked at him with a side-long glance, and all + at once he realised that her eyes were not human, but the blood-shot eyes + of a bull; and then he understood. + </p> + <p> + “Begone, witch!” he cried, and breathed into her face. + </p> + <p> + If you could only have seen what happened now! The would-be Anna was + immediately transformed, her face grew green and yellow like gall, and she + burst with rage; at the next moment a black rabbit jumped over the + bilberry bushes and disappeared in the wood. + </p> + <p> + Victor stood alone in the perplexing, bewildering forest, but he was not + afraid. “I will go on,” he thought, “and if I should meet the devil + himself, I will not be afraid; I shall say the Lord’s Prayer, and that + will go a long way towards protecting me.” + </p> + <p> + He trudged on and presently he came to a cottage. He knocked; the door was + opened by an old woman; he inquired whether he could stay the night. He + could stay, if he liked, but the old dame had nothing to offer him but a + small attic, which was only so so. + </p> + <p> + Victor did not mind what it was like, as long as it was a place where he + could sleep. + </p> + <p> + When they were agreed about the price, he followed her upstairs to the + attic. A huge wasp’s nest hung right over the bed, and the old dame began + to make excuses for harbouring such guests. + </p> + <p> + “It doesn’t matter in the least,” interrupted the pilot, “wasps are like + human beings, quite inoffensive until you irritate them. Perhaps you keep + snakes, too?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, there are some, of course.” + </p> + <p> + “I thought so; they like the warmth of the bed, so we shall get on. Are + they adders or vipers? I don’t very much mind which, but on the whole I + prefer vipers.” + </p> + <p> + The old dame watched him breathlessly while he arranged his bed, and in + every way betrayed his firm resolution to spend the night in her cottage. + </p> + <p> + All at once an excited buzzing could be heard outside the closed window, + and a huge hornet bumped against the glass. + </p> + <p> + “Let the poor thing come in,” said the pilot, opening the window. + </p> + <p> + “No, no, not that one, kill it!” yelled the old dame. + </p> + <p> + “Why should I? Perhaps its young ones are in this room, and would starve. + Am I to lie here and listen to the screaming of hungry babies? No, thank + you! Come in, little wasp!” + </p> + <p> + “It will sting you!” shrieked the old dame. + </p> + <p> + “No, indeed it won’t. It only stings the wicked.” + </p> + <p> + The window was open now. A big hornet, as large as a pigeon’s egg, flew + in; buzzing like a bass string, it flew at once to the nest. And then it + was still. + </p> + <p> + The old dame left the attic, and the pilot got between the sheets. + </p> + <p> + When he came downstairs into the parlour on the following morning, the old + dame was not there. A black cat sat on the only chair and purred; cats + have been condemned to purr, because they are such lazy beasts, and they + must do something. + </p> + <p> + “Get up, pussy,” said the pilot, “and let me sit down.” + </p> + <p> + And he took the cat and put it on the hearth. But it was no ordinary cat, + for immediately sparks began to fly from its fur, and the chips caught + file. + </p> + <p> + “If you can light a fire, you can make me some coffee,” said the pilot. + </p> + <p> + But the cat is so constituted that it never wants to do what it is told, + and so it began at once to swear and spit until the fire was out. + </p> + <p> + In the meantime the pilot had heard somebody leaning a spade against the + wall of the cottage. He looked out of the window and saw the old dame + standing in a pit which she had dug in the garden. + </p> + <p> + “I see you are digging a grave for me, old woman,” he said. + </p> + <p> + The old dame came in. When she saw Victor safe and sound, she was beside + herself with amazement; she confessed that up to now nobody had ever left + the attic alive, and that therefore she had dug his grave in anticipation. + </p> + <p> + She was a little short-sighted, but it seemed to her that the pilot was + wearing a strange handkerchief round his neck. + </p> + <p> + “Ha ha! Have you ever seen such a handkerchief in all your life?” laughed + Victor, putting his hand up to his throat. + </p> + <p> + Wound round his neck was a snake which had tied itself in front into a + knot with two bright yellow spots; the spots were its ears, and its eyes + shone like diamonds. + </p> + <p> + “Show auntie your scarfpins, little pet,” said the pilot, gently + scratching its head, and the snake opened its mouth and disclosed two + sharp, pointed teeth right in the middle of it. + </p> + <p> + At the sight of them the old dame fell on her knees and said, “Now I see + that you have received my letter and understood its meaning. You are a + brave lad!” + </p> + <p> + “So the letter I got out of the automatic machine was from you,” said the + pilot, taking it from his breast pocket. “I shall have it framed when I + get home.” + </p> + <p> + Would you like to know what was written in the letter? Just these few + words in plain English, “Don’t be bluffed,” which might be translated, + “Fortune favours the Brave.” + </p> + <p> + *** + </p> + <p> + “Yes, but how was it that the pilot could walk from the ship down the + passage?” asked Annie-Mary, when her mama had finished the story. “And did + he come back, or had he dreamed the whole story?” + </p> + <p> + “I’ll tell you another time, little Miss Curiosity,” said her mama. + </p> + <p> + “And then there was a verse in the book—” + </p> + <p> + “What verse? Oh, I see... in the snail shop.... Well, I’m afraid I’ve + forgotten it. But you mustn’t ask too many details, for it’s only a fairy + tale, little girlie.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0005" id="link2H_4_0005"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + PHOTOGRAPHER AND PHILOSOPHER + </h2> + <p> + Once upon a time there was a photographer. He was a splendid photographer; + he did profiles and full-faces, three-quarter and full-length portraits; + he could develop and fix, tone and print them. He was the deuce of a + fellow! But he was always discontented, for he was a philosopher, a great + philosopher and a discoverer. His theory was that the world was upside + down. It was plainly proved by the plate in the developer. Everything that + was on the right side of the original, now appeared on the left; + everything that was dark, became light; light became shade; blue turned + into white, and silver buttons looked as dark as iron. The world was + upside down. + </p> + <p> + He had a partner, quite an ordinary man, full of petty characteristics. + For instance, he smoked cigars all day long; he never shut a door; he put + his knife into his mouth, instead of using his fork; he wore his hat in + the room; he cleaned his nails in the studio, and in the evening he drank + three glasses of beer. + </p> + <p> + He was full of faults! + </p> + <p> + The philosopher, on the other hand, was perfect, and therefore he nursed + resentment against his imperfect brother; he would have liked to dissolve + the partnership, but he could not, because their business held them + together; and because they were bound to remain in partnership, the + resentment of the philosopher turned into an unreasonable hatred. It was + dreadful! + </p> + <p> + When the spring came they decided to take a lodging in a summer resort, + and the partner was despatched to find one. He did find one. And one + Saturday they departed together on a steamer. + </p> + <p> + The philosopher sat all day long on deck and drank punch. He was a very + stout man and suffered from several things; his liver was out of order, + and there was something wrong with his feet, perhaps rheumatism, or some + similar disease. When they arrived, they crossed the bridge and went + ashore. + </p> + <p> + “Is this the place?” asked the philosopher. + </p> + <p> + “A very little walk will take us there,” answered the partner. + </p> + <p> + They went along a footpath, full of roots, and the path ended abruptly + before a stile. They had to climb over it. Then the road became stony, and + the philosopher complained of his feet, but he forgot all about his pains + when they came to another stile. After that, all trace of the road + disappeared; they walked on the bare rock through shrubs and bilberry + bushes. + </p> + <p> + Behind the third fence stood a bull, who chased the philosopher to the + fourth stile, where he arrived in a bath of perspiration, which opened all + the pores of his skin. When they had crossed the sixth stile, they could + see the house. The philosopher went in and immediately stepped on to the + verandah. + </p> + <p> + “Why are there so many trees?” he asked. “They interrupt the view.” + </p> + <p> + “But they shelter the house from the strong sea-breezes,” answered the + partner. + </p> + <p> + “And the place looks like a churchyard; why, the house stands in the + centre of a pine-wood.” + </p> + <p> + “A very healthy spot,” replied the partner. + </p> + <p> + Then they wanted to go and bathe. But there was no proper bathing-place, + in the philosophical sense of the word. There was nothing but the stony + ground and mud. + </p> + <p> + After they had bathed the philosopher felt thirsty, and wanted to drink a + glass of water at the spring. It was of a reddish-brown colour, and had a + peculiar, strong taste. It was no good. Nothing was any good. And meat was + unobtainable, there was nothing to be had but fish. + </p> + <p> + The philosopher grew gloomy and sat down under a pumpkin to deplore his + fate. But there was no help for it. He had to stay, and his partner + returned to town to look after the business during his friend’s absence. + </p> + <p> + Six weeks passed and then the partner returned to his philosopher. + </p> + <p> + He was met on the bridge by a slender youth with red cheeks and a sunburnt + neck. It was the philosopher, rejuvenated and full of high spirits. + </p> + <p> + He jumped over the six stiles and chased the bull. + </p> + <p> + When they were sitting on the verandah, the partner said to him:— + </p> + <p> + “You are looking very well, what sort of a time have you had?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! an excellent time!” said the philosopher. “The fences have taken off + my fat; the stones have massaged my feet; the mud-baths have cured me of + my rheumatism; the plain food has cured my liver, and the pine-trees my + lungs; and, could you believe it, the brown spring-water contained iron, + just what I wanted!” + </p> + <p> + “Well, you old philosopher,” said the partner, “don’t you understand that + from the negative you get a positive, where all the shade becomes light + again? If you would only take such a positive picture of me and try and + find out what faults I do <i>not</i> possess, you would not dislike me so + much. Only think: I don’t drink, and therefore I am able to manage the + business; I don’t steal; I never talk evil of you behind your back; I + never complain; I never make white appear black; I am never rude to the + customers; I rise early in the morning; I clean my nails so as to keep the + developer clean; I leave my hat on so that no hairs shall fall on the + plates; I smoke so as to purify the air of poisonous gases; I keep the + door ajar so as not to make a noise in the studio; I drink beer in the + evening so as to escape the temptation of drinking whisky; and I put the + knife into my mouth because I am afraid of pricking myself with the fork.” + </p> + <p> + “You really are a great philosopher,” said the photographer, “henceforth + we will be friends! Then we shall get on in life!” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0006" id="link2H_4_0006"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + HALF A SHEET OF FOOLSCAP + </h2> + <p> + The last furniture van had left; the tenant, a young man with a crape band + round his hat, walked for the last time through the empty rooms to make + sure that nothing had been left behind. No, nothing had been forgotten, + nothing at all. He went out into the front hall, firmly determined never + to think again of all that had happened to him in these rooms. And all at + once his eyes fell on half a sheet of foolscap, which somehow had got + wedged between the wall and the telephone; the paper was covered with + writing, evidently the writing of more persons than one. Some of the + entries were written quite legibly with pen and ink, while others were + scribbled with a lead-pencil; here and there even a red pencil had been + used. It was a record of everything that had happened to him in the short + period of two years; all these things, which he had made up his mind to + forget, were noted down. It was a slice of a human life on half a sheet of + foolscap. + </p> + <p> + He detached the paper; it was a piece of scribbling paper, yellow and + shining like the sun. He put it on the mantelpiece in the drawing-room and + glanced at it. Heading the list was a woman’s name: “Alice,” the most + beautiful name in the world, as it had seemed to him then, for it was the + name of his fiancée. Next to the name was a number, “15,11.” It looked + like the number of a hymn, on the hymn-board. Underneath was written + “Bank.” That was where his work lay, his sacred work to which he owed + bread, home, and wife—the foundations of life. But a pen had been + drawn through the word, for the Bank had failed, and although he had + eventually found another berth, it was not until after a short period of + anxiety and uneasiness. + </p> + <p> + The next entries were: “Flower-shop and livery-stable.” They related to + his betrothal, when he had plenty of money in his pockets. + </p> + <p> + Then came “furniture dealer and paper-hanger “—they were furnishing + their house. “Forwarding agents”—they were moving into it. The + “Box-office of the Opera-house, No. 50,50”—they were newly married, + and went to the opera on Sunday evenings; the most enjoyable hours of + their lives were spent there, for they had to sit quite still, while their + souls met in the beauty and harmony of the fairyland on the other side of + the curtain. + </p> + <p> + Then followed the name of a man, crossed out. He had been a friend of his + youth, a man who had risen high in the social scale, but who fell, spoilt + by success, fell irremediably, and had to leave the country. + </p> + <p> + So unstable was fortune! + </p> + <p> + Now, something new entered the lives of husband and wife. The next entry + was in a lady’s hand: “Nurse.” What nurse? Well, of course, the kindly + woman with the big cloak and the sympathetic face, who walked with a soft + footfall, and never went into the drawing-room, but walked straight down + the passage to the bedroom. + </p> + <p> + Underneath her name was written “Dr. L.” + </p> + <p> + And now, for the first time, a relative appeared on the list: “Mama.” That + was his mother-in-law, who had kept away discreetly, so as not to disturb + their newly found happiness, but was glad to come now, when she was + needed. + </p> + <p> + A great number of entries in red and blue pencil followed: “Servants’ + Registry Office”—the maid had left and a new one had to be engaged. + “The chemist’s”—hm! life was growing dark. “The dairy”—milk + had been ordered—sterilised milk! + </p> + <p> + “Butcher, grocer, etc.” The affairs of the house were being conducted by + telephone; it argued that the mistress was not at her post. No, she + wasn’t, for she was laid up. + </p> + <p> + He could not read what followed, for it grew dark before his eyes; he + might have been a drowning man trying to see through salt water. And yet, + there it was written, plainly enough: “undertaker—a large coffin and + a small one.” And the word “dust” was added in parenthesis. + </p> + <p> + It was the last word of the whole record. It ended with “dust”! and that + is exactly what happens in life. + </p> + <p> + He took the yellow paper, kissed it, folded it carefully, and put it in + his pocket. + </p> + <p> + In two minutes he had lived again through two years of his life. + </p> + <p> + But he was not bowed down as he left the house. On the contrary, he + carried his head high, like a happy and proud man, for he knew that the + best things life has to bestow had been given to him. And he pitied all + those from whom they are withheld. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0007" id="link2H_4_0007"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CONQUERING HERO AND FOOL + </h2> + <p> + It was on the evening of a spring day in 1880 (a day which will never be + forgotten in Sweden, because it is the day of commemoration of a national + event), when an old couple, simple country people, were standing on the + headland at the entrance to the harbour of Stockholm, looking at the dark + watercourse under the dim stars, and watching a man who was busy with a + dark, undefinable object on the landing bridge. They stood there for a + long, long time, now gazing at the dark watercourse, now looking at the + brilliant lights of the town. + </p> + <p> + At last a light appeared on the fjord, then another, then many lights. The + old man seized the woman’s hand and pressed it, and in silence, under the + stars, they thanked God for having safely brought home their son whom they + had mourned as dead for a whole year. + </p> + <p> + It is true, he had not been the leader of the expedition, but he had been + one of the crew. And now he was to dine with the long, receive an order, + and, in addition to a sum of money from the nation, which Parliament had + voted for the purpose, an appointment which would mean bread and butter + for the rest of his life. + </p> + <p> + The lights grew in size as they approached; a small steamer was towing a + big dark craft, which, seen close by, looked as plain and simple as most + great things do. + </p> + <p> + And now the man on the bridge, who had been very busy about the dark + object, struck a match. + </p> + <p> + “Whatever is it?” said the old man, much puzzled. “It looks like huge wax + candles.” + </p> + <p> + They went nearer to examine it more closely. + </p> + <p> + “It looks like a frame for drying fishes,” said the old woman, who had + been born on the coast. + </p> + <p> + Ratsh! It-sh! Si-si-si-si! it said, and the old people were instantly + surrounded by fire and flames. + </p> + <p> + Great fiery globes rose up to the skies and, bursting, lit up the night + with a shower of stars; an astronomer, observing the heavens with a + telescope, might have come to the conclusion that new stars had been born. + And he would not have been altogether wrong, for in the year 1880 new + thoughts were kindled in new hearts, and new light and new discoveries + vouchsafed to mankind. Doubtless, there were weeds, too, growing up + together with the splendid wheat; but weeds have their uses, also; shade + and moisture depend on their presence, and they will be separated from the + wheat at harvest time. But there must be weeds, they are as inseparable + from wheat as chaff is from corn. + </p> + <p> + What had puzzled the old couple, however, was a rocket frame, and when all + the smoke had cleared away—for there is no fire without smoke—not + a trace of all the magnificence was left. + </p> + <p> + “It would have been jolly to have been in town with them to-night,” said + the old woman. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, no!” replied the man. “We should have been in the way, poor people + like we ought never to push themselves to the front. And there’s plenty of + time to-morrow for seeing the boy, after he has left his sweetheart, who + is dearer to him than we are.” + </p> + <p> + It was a very sensible speech for the old man to make; but who in the + world is to have sense, if old people have not? + </p> + <p> + And then they continued their way to the town. + </p> + <p> + *** + </p> + <p> + Now, let us see what happened to the son. + </p> + <p> + He was the leadsman, that is to say, it was his business to sound the + depths of the sea; he had plumbed the profound abysses of the ocean, + calculated the elevation of the land and the apparent motion of the sky; + he knew the exact time by looking at the sun, and he could tell from the + stars how far they had travelled. He was a man of importance; he believed + that he held heaven and earth in his hand, measured time and regulated the + clock of eternity. And after he had been the king’s guest and received an + order to wear on his breast, he fancied that he was made of finer stuff + than most men; he was not exactly haughty when he met his poor parents and + his sweetheart, but, although they said nothing, they felt that he thought + himself their superior. Possibly he was a little stiff, he was built that + way. + </p> + <p> + Well, the official ceremonies were over, but the students also had decided + to pay homage to the heroes, who had returned home after a prolonged + absence. And they went to the capital in full force. + </p> + <p> + Students are queer people, who read books and study under Dr. Know-all; + consequently they imagine that they know more than other people. They are + also young, and therefore they are thoughtless and cruel. + </p> + <p> + The respectful and sensible speeches which the old professors had been + making all the afternoon in honour of the explorers had come to an end, + and the procession of the students had started. + </p> + <p> + The leadsman and his sweetheart were sitting on a balcony in the company + of the other great men. The ringing of the church bells and the booming of + the guns mingled with the sound of the bugles and the rolling of the + drums; flags were waving and fluttering in the breeze. And then the + procession marched by. + </p> + <p> + It was headed by a ship, with sailors and everything else belonging to it; + next walruses came and polar bears, and all the rest of it; then students + in disguise, representing the heroes; the Great Man himself was + represented in his fur coat and goggles. It wasn’t quite respectful, of + course; it wasn’t a very great honour to be impersonated in this way; but + there it was! It was well meant, no doubt. And gradually every member of + the expedition passed by, one after the other, all represented by the + students. + </p> + <p> + Last of all came the leadsman. It was true, nobody could ever have dreamt + of calling him handsome, but there is no need for a man to be handsome, as + long as he is an able leadsman, or anything else able. The students had + chosen a hideous old grumbler to impersonate him. That alone would not + have mattered; but nature had made one of his arms shorter than the other, + and his representative had made a feature of this defect. And that was too + bad; for a defect is something for which one ought not to be blamed. + </p> + <p> + But when the fool who played the leadsman approached the balcony, he said + a few words with a provincial accent, intended to cast ridicule on the + leadsman, who was born in one of the provinces. It was a silly thing to + do, for every man speaks the dialect which his mother has taught him; and + it is nothing at all to be ashamed of. + </p> + <p> + Everybody laughed, more from politeness than anything else, for the + entertainment was gratuitous, but the girl was hurt, for she hated to see + her future husband laughed at. The leadsman frowned and grew silent. He no + longer enjoyed the festivities. But he carefully hid his real feelings, + for otherwise he would have been laughed at for a fool unable to + appreciate a joke. But still worse things happened, for his impersonator + danced and cut all sorts of ridiculous antics, in the endeavour to act the + leadsman’s name in dumb charade; first his surname, which he had inherited + from his father, and then his Christian name, which his mother had chosen + for him at his baptism. These names were sacred to him, and although there + may have been a little boastful sound about them, he had always scorned to + change them. + </p> + <p> + He wanted to rise from his chair and leave, but his sweetheart caught hold + of his hand, and he stayed where he was. + </p> + <p> + When, the procession was over and everybody who had been sitting on the + balcony had risen, the great man laid a friendly hand on the girl’s + shoulder, and said, with his kindly smile:— + </p> + <p> + “They have a strange way here of celebrating their heroes, one mustn’t + mind it!” + </p> + <p> + In the evening there was a garden party and the leadsman was present, but + his pleasure was gone; he had been laughed at, and he had grown small in + his own estimation, smaller than the fool, who had made quite a hit as a + jester. Therefore he was despondent, felt uneasy at the thought of the + future and doubtful of his own capability. And wherever he went he met the + fool who was caricaturing him. He saw his faults enlarged, especially his + pride and his boastfulness; all his secret thoughts and weaknesses were + made public. + </p> + <p> + For three painful hours he examined the account book of his conscience; + what no man had dared to tell him before, the fool had told him. Perfect + knowledge of oneself is a splendid thing, Socrates calls it the highest of + all goods. Towards the end of the evening the leadsman had conquered + himself, admitted his faults, and resolved to turn over a new leaf. + </p> + <p> + As he was passing a group of people he heard a voice behind a hedge + saying:— + </p> + <p> + “It’s extraordinary, how the leadsman has improved. He’s really quite a + delightful fellow!” + </p> + <p> + These words did him good; but what pleased him more than anything else + were a few whispered words from his sweetheart. + </p> + <p> + “You are so nice to-night,” she said, “that you look quite handsome.” + </p> + <p> + He handsome? It must have been a miracle then, and miracles don’t happen + nowadays. Yet he had to believe in a miracle, for he knew himself to be a + very plain man. + </p> + <p> + Finally the Great Man touched his glass with his knife, and immediately + there was silence, for every body wanted to hear what he had to say. + </p> + <p> + “When a Roman conqueror was granted a triumphal procession,” he began, “a + slave always stood behind him in the chariot and incessantly called out, + ‘Remember that you are but a man!’ while senate and people paid him + homage. And at the side of the triumphal car, which was drawn by four + horses, walked a fool, whose business it was to dim the splendour of his + triumph by shouting insults, and casting suspicion on the hero’s character + by singing libellous songs. This was a good old custom, for there is + nothing so fatal to a man than to believe that he is a god, and there is + nothing the gods dislike so much as the pride of men. My dear young + friends! The success which we, who have just returned home, have achieved, + has perhaps been overrated, our triumph went to our heads, and therefore + it was good for us to watch your antics to-day! I don’t envy the jester + his part—far from it; but I thank you for the somewhat strange + homage which you have done us. It has taught me that I have still a good + deal to learn, and whenever my head is in danger of being turned by + flattery, it will remind me that I am nothing but an ordinary man!” + </p> + <p> + “Hear! Hear!” exclaimed the leadsman, and the festivities continued, + undisturbed even by the fool, who had felt a little ashamed of himself and + had quietly withdrawn from the scene. + </p> + <p> + So much for the Great Man and the leadsman. Now let us see what happened + to the fool. + </p> + <p> + As he was standing close to the table during the Great Man’s speech, he + received a glance from the leadsman, which, like a small fiery arrow, was + capable of setting a fortress aflame. And as he went out into the night, + he felt beside himself, like a man who is clothed in sheets of fire. He + was not a nice man. True, fools and jailers are human beings, like the + rest of us, but they are not the very nicest specimen. Like everybody else + he had many faults and weaknesses, but he knew how to cloak them. Now + something extraordinary happened. Through having mimicked the leadsman all + day long, and also, perhaps, owing to all the drink he had consumed, he + had become so much the part which he had played that he was unable to + shake it off; and since he had brought into prominence the faults and + weaknesses of the leadsman, he had, as it were, acquired them, and that + flash from the leadsman’s eye had rammed them down to the very bottom of + his soul, just as a ramrod pushes the powder into the barrel of a gun. He + was charged with the leadsman, so to speak, and therefore, as he stepped + out into the street he at once began to shout and boast. But this time + luck was against him. A policeman ordered him to be quiet. The fool said + something funny, imitating the leadsman’s provincial accent. But the + policeman, who happened to be a native of the same province, was annoyed + and wanted to arrest the fool. Now it is just as difficult for a fool to + take a thing seriously as it is for a policeman to understand a joke; + therefore the fool resisted and created such a disturbance that the + policeman struck him with his truncheon. + </p> + <p> + He received a sound beating, and then the policeman let him go. + </p> + <p> + You would think that he had had enough trouble now—far from it! + </p> + <p> + The chastisement which he had received had only embittered him, and he + went on the warpath, like a red Indian, to see on whom he might avenge his + wrongs. + </p> + <p> + Accident, or some other power, guided his footsteps to a locality mainly + frequented by peasants and labourers. He entered a brewery and found a + number of millers and farmer’s labourers sitting round a table, drinking + the health of the explorers. When they saw the fool they took him for the + leadsman, and were highly delighted when he condescended to take a glass + in their company. + </p> + <p> + Now the demon of pride entered into the soul of the fool. He boasted of + his great achievements; he told them that it was he who had led the + expedition, for would they not have foundered if he had not sounded the + depth of the sea? Would they ever have returned home if he had not read + the stars? + </p> + <p> + Smack! an egg hit him between the eyebrows. + </p> + <p> + “Leadsman, you’re a braggart!” said the miller. “We’ve known that for a + long time; we knew it when you wrote to the paper saying the Great Man was + another Humboldt!” + </p> + <p> + Now another of the leadsman’s weaknesses gained the upper hand. + </p> + <p> + “The Great Man is a humbug!” he exclaimed, which was not true. + </p> + <p> + This was too much for the assembly. They rose from their seats like one + man, seized the fool, and with a leather strap bound him to a sack of + flour. They covered him with flour until he was white from top to toe, and + blackened his face with the wick from one of the lanterns. The millers’ + apprentice sewed him to the sack; they lifted him, sack and lantern, on to + the cart, and amid shouting and laughter proceeded to the market-place. + </p> + <p> + There he was exhibited to the passers-by, and everybody laughed at him. + </p> + <p> + When they let him go at last, he went and sat on some stone stairs and + cried. The big fellow sobbed like a little child; one might almost have + felt sorry for him. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0008" id="link2H_4_0008"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + WHAT THE TREE-SWALLOW SANG IN THE BUCKTHORN TREE + </h2> + <p> + If you are standing at the harbour where all the steamers call, and look + out towards the sea, you will see a mountain on your left, covered with + green trees, and behind the trees a large house built in the shape of a + spider. For in the centre there is a round building from which radiate + eight wings, that look very much like the eight legs on the round body of + a spider. The people who enter the house do not leave it again at will, + and some of them stay there for the rest of their life, for the house is a + prison. + </p> + <p> + In the days of King Oscar I, the mountain was not green. On the contrary, + it was grey and cold, for neither moss nor heart’s-ease would grow there, + although these plants generally thrive on the bare rock. There was nothing + but grey stone and grey people, who looked as if they had been turned into + stone, and who quarried stone, broke stone, and carried stone. And among + these people there was one who looked stonier than all the others. + </p> + <p> + He was still a youth when, in the reign of King Oscar I., he was shut up + in this prison because he had killed a man. + </p> + <p> + He was a prisoner for life, and sewn on his grey prison garb was a large + black “L.” + </p> + <p> + He was always on the mountain, in winter days and summer time, breaking + stones. In the winter he had only the empty and deserted harbour to look + at; the semicircular bridge with its poles had the appearance of a yawning + row of teeth, and he could see the wood-shed, the riding-school, and the + two gigantic, denuded lime trees. Sometimes an ice-yacht would sail past + the islet; sometimes a few boys would pass on skates; otherwise it was + quiet and forsaken. + </p> + <p> + In the summer time it was much jollier. For then the harbour was full of + smart boats, newly painted and decorated with flags. And the lime trees, + in the shade of which he had sat when he was a child, waiting for his + father, who was an engineer on one of the finest boats, were green. + </p> + <p> + It was many years now since he had heard the rustling of the breeze in the + trees, for nothing grew on his cliff, and the only thing in the world he + longed for was to hear once again the whispering of the wind in the + branches of the lime trees at Knightsholm. + </p> + <p> + Sometimes, on a summer’s day, a steamer would pass the islet; then he + heard the plashing of the waves, or, perhaps, snatches of music; and he + saw bright faces which grew dark as soon as their eyes fell on the grey + stone men on the mountain. + </p> + <p> + And then he cursed heaven and earth, his fate and the cruelty of men. He + cursed, year in, year out. And he and his companions tormented and cursed + each other day and night; for crime isolates, but misfortune draws men + together. + </p> + <p> + In the beginning his fate was unnecessarily cruel, for the keepers + ill-treated the prisoners, mercilessly and at their pleasure. + </p> + <p> + But one day there was a change; the food was better, the treatment was + less harsh, and every prisoner was given a cell of his own to sleep in. + The king himself had loosened the chains of the prisoners a little; but + since hopelessness had petrified the hearts of these unfortunate men, they + were unable to feel anything like gratitude, and so they continued to + curse; and now they came to the conclusion that it was more pleasant to + sleep together in one room, for then they could talk all night. And they + continued to complain of the food, the clothes, and the treatment, just as + before. + </p> + <p> + One fine day all the bells of the town were ringing, and those of + Knightsholm rang louder than any of the others. King Oscar was dead, and + the prisoners had a holiday. Since they could talk to one another now, + they talked of murdering the guards and escaping from prison; and they + also talked of the dead king, and they spoke evil of him. + </p> + <p> + “If he had been a just man, he would have set us free,” said one of the + prisoners. + </p> + <p> + “Or else he would have imprisoned all the criminals who are at large.” + </p> + <p> + “Then he himself would have had to be Governor of the Prison, for the + whole nation are criminals.” + </p> + <p> + It is the way of prisoners to regard all men as criminals, and to maintain + that they themselves were only caught because they were unlucky. + </p> + <p> + But it was a hot summer’s day, and the stone man walked along the shore, + listening to the tolling of the bells for Oscar the king. He raised the + stones and looked for tadpoles and sticklebacks, but could find none; not + a fish was visible in the water, and consequently there was not a sign of + a sea-gull or a tern. Then he felt that a curse rested on the mountain, a + curse so strong that it kept even the fishes and the birds away. He fell + to considering the life he was leading. He had lost his name, both + Christian and surname, and was no more now than No. 65, a name written in + figures, instead of in letters. He was no longer obliged to pay taxes. He + had forgotten his age. He had ceased to be a man, ceased to be a living + being, but neither was he dead. He was nothing but something grey moving + on the mountain and being terribly scorched by the sun. It burned on his + prison garb and on his head with the close-cropped hair, which in days + long passed had been curly, and was combed with a tooth-comb every + Saturday by his mother’s gentle hand. He was not allowed to wear a cap + to-day, because it would have facilitated an attempt at escape. And as the + sun scorched his head, he remembered the story of the prophet Jonah, to + whom the Lord gave a gourd so that he might sit in its shade. + </p> + <p> + “A nice gift, that!” he sneered, for he did not believe in anything good; + in fact, he did not believe in anything at all. + </p> + <p> + All at once he saw a huge birch branch tossed about in the surf. It was + quite green and fresh and had a white stem; possibly it had fallen off a + pleasure-boat. He dragged it ashore, shook the water off and carried it to + a gully where he put it up, wedged firmly between three stones. Then he + sat down and listened to the wind rustling through its leaves, which smelt + of the finest resin. + </p> + <p> + When he had sat for a little while in the shade of the birch he fell + asleep. + </p> + <p> + And he dreamed a dream. + </p> + <p> + The whole mountain was a green wood with lovely trees and odorous flowers. + Birds were singing, bees and humble-bees buzzing, and butterflies + fluttering from flower to flower. But all by itself and a little aside + stood a tree which he did not know; it was more beautiful than all the + rest; it had several stems, like a shrub, and the branches looked like + lacework. And on one of its branches, half hidden by its foliage, sat a + little black-and-white bird which looked like a swallow, but wasn’t one. + </p> + <p> + In his dream he could interpret the language of the birds, and therefore + he understood to some extent what the bird was singing. And it sang: + </p> + <p> + Mud, mud, mud, mud here! We’ll throw, throw, throw here! In mud, mud, mud + you died, From mud, mud, mud you’ll rise. + </p> + <p> + It sang of mud, death, and resurrection; that much he could make out. + </p> + <p> + But that was not all. He was standing alone on the cliff in the scorching + heat of the sun. All his fellows-in-misfortune had forsaken him and + threatened his life, because he had refused to be a party to their setting + the prison on fire. They followed him in a crowd, threw stones at him and + chased him up the mountain as far as he could go. + </p> + <p> + And finally he was stopped by a stone wall. + </p> + <p> + There was no possibility of climbing over it, and in his despair he + resolved to kill himself by dashing his head against the stones. He rushed + down the mountain, and behold! a gate was opened at the same moment—a + green garden gate... and... he woke up. + </p> + <p> + When he thought of his life and realised that the green wood was nothing + but the branch of a birch tree, he grew very discontented in his heart. + </p> + <p> + “If at least it had been a lime tree,” he grumbled. And as he listened he + found that it was the birch which had sung so loudly; it sounded as if + some one were sifting sand or gravel, and again he thought of the lime + trees, which make the soft velvety sounds that touch the heart. + </p> + <p> + On the following day his birch was faded and gave little shade. + </p> + <p> + On the day after that the foliage was as dry as paper and rattled like + teeth. And finally there was nothing left but a huge birch rod, which + reminded him of his childhood. + </p> + <p> + He remembered the gourd of the prophet Jonah, and he cursed when the sun + scorched his head. + </p> + <p> + *** + </p> + <p> + A new king had come to the throne, and he brought fresh life into the + government of the country. The town was to have a new watercourse, and + therefore all the prisoners were commanded to dredge. + </p> + <p> + It was for the first time after many years that he was allowed to leave + his cliff. He was in the boat, swimming on the water, and saw much in his + native town that was new to him; he saw the railway and the locomotive. + And they began dredging just below the railway station. + </p> + <p> + And gradually they brought up all the corruption which lay buried at the + bottom of the sea. Drowned cats, old shoes, decomposed fat from the candle + factory, the refuse from the dye works called “The Blue Hand,” tanners’ + bark from the tannery, and all the human misery which the laundresses had + batted off the clothes for the last hundred years. And there was such a + terrible smell of sulphur and ammonia that only a prisoner could be + expected to bear it. + </p> + <p> + When the boat was full, the prisoners wondered what was going to be done + with their cargo of dirt? The riddle was solved when the overseer steered + for their own cliff. + </p> + <p> + All the mud was unloaded there and thrown on the mountain, and soon the + air was filled with the foulest of smells. They waded ankle-deep in filth, + and their clothes, hands, and faces were covered with it. + </p> + <p> + “This is like the infernal regions!” said the prisoners. + </p> + <p> + They dredged and unloaded on the cliff for several years, and ultimately + the cliff disappeared altogether. + </p> + <p> + And the white snow fell winter after winter on all the corruption and + threw a pure white cover over it. + </p> + <p> + And when the spring came once again and all the snow had melted, the evil + smell had disappeared, and the mud looked like mould. There was no more + dredging after this spring, and our stone man was sent to work at the + forge and never came near the cliff. Only once, in the autumn, he went + there secretly, and then he saw something wonderful. + </p> + <p> + The ground was covered with green plants. Ugly sappy plants, it was true, + mostly bur-marigolds, that look like a nettle with brown flowers, which is + ugly because flowers should be white, yellow, blue or red. And there were + true nettles with green blossoms, and burs, sorrel, thistles, and + notch-weed; all the ugliest, burning, stinging, evil-smelling plants, + which nobody likes, and which grow on dust-heaps, waste land, and mud. + </p> + <p> + “We cleaned the bottom of the sea, and now we have all the dirt here; this + is all the thanks we get!” said the prisoner. + </p> + <p> + Then he was transferred to another cliff, where a fort was to be built, + and again he worked in stone; stone, stone, stone! + </p> + <p> + Then he lost one of his eyes, and sometimes he was flogged. And he + remained a very long time there, so long that the new king died and was + followed by his successor. On coronation day one of the prisoners was to + be released. And it was to be the one who had behaved best during all the + time and had arrived at a clear understanding that he had sinned. And that + was he! But the other prisoners considered that it would be a wrong + towards them, for in their circles a man who repents is considered a fool, + “because he has done what he couldn’t help doing.” + </p> + <p> + And so the years passed. Our stone man had grown very old, and because he + was now unable to do hard work, he was sent back to his cliff and set to + sew sacks. + </p> + <p> + One day the chaplain on his round paused before the stone man, who sat and + sewed. + </p> + <p> + “Well,” said the clergyman, “and are you never to leave this cliff?” + </p> + <p> + “How would that be possible?” replied the stone man. + </p> + <p> + “You will go as soon as you come to see that you did wrong.” + </p> + <p> + “If ever I find a human being who does not only do right, but more than is + right, I will believe that I did wrong! But I don’t believe that there is + such a being.” + </p> + <p> + “To do more than that which is right is to have compassion. May it please + God that you will soon come to know it!” + </p> + <p> + One day the stone man was sent to repair the road on the cliff, which he + had not seen for, perhaps, twenty years. + </p> + <p> + It was again a warm summer’s day, and from the passing steamers, bright + and beautiful as butterflies, came the sounds of music and gay laughter. + </p> + <p> + When he arrived at the headland he found that the cliff had disappeared + under a lovely green wood, whose millions of leaves glittered and sparkled + in the breeze like small waves. There were tall, white birch trees and + trembling aspens, and ash trees grew on the shore. + </p> + <p> + Everything was just as it had been in his dream. At the foot of the trees + tall grasses nodded, butterflies played in the sunshine, and humble-bees + buzzed from flower to flower. The birds were singing, but he could not + understand what they said, and therefore he knew that it was not a dream. + </p> + <p> + The cursed mountain had been transformed into a mountain of bliss, and he + could not help thinking of the prophet and the gourd. + </p> + <p> + “This is mercy and compassion,” whispered a voice in his heart, or perhaps + it was a warning. + </p> + <p> + And when a steamer passed, the faces of the passengers did not grow + gloomy, but brightened at the sight of the beautiful scenery; he even + fancied that he saw some one wave a handkerchief, as people on a steamer + do when they pass a summer resort. + </p> + <p> + He walked along a path beneath waving trees. It is true, there was not one + lime tree; but he did not dare to wish for one, for fear the birches might + turn into rods. He had learnt that much. + </p> + <p> + As he walked through a leafy avenue, he saw in the distance a white wall + with a green gate. And somebody was playing on an instrument which was not + an organ, for the movement was much jollier and livelier. Above the wall + the pretty roof of a villa was visible, and a yellow and blue flag + fluttered in the wind. + </p> + <p> + And he saw a gaily coloured ball rise and fall on the other side of the + wall; he heard the chattering of children’s voices, and the clinking of + plates and glasses told him that a table was being laid. + </p> + <p> + He went and looked through the gate. The syringa was in full flower, and + the table stood under the flowering shrubs; children were running about, + the piano was being played and somebody sang a song. + </p> + <p> + “This is Paradise,” said the voice within him. + </p> + <p> + The old man stood a long time and watched, so long that in the end he + broke down, overcome by fatigue, hunger, and thirst, and all the misery of + life. + </p> + <p> + Then the gate was opened and a little girl in a white dress came out. She + carried a silver tray in her hand, and on the tray stood a glass filled + with wine, the reddest wine which the old man had ever seen. And the child + went up to the old man and said: + </p> + <p> + “Come now, daddy, you must drink this!” + </p> + <p> + The old man took the glass and drank. It was the rich man’s wine, which + had grown a long way off in the sunny South; and it tasted like the + sweetness of a good life when it is at its very best. + </p> + <p> + “This is compassion,” said his own old broken voice. “But you, child, in + your ignorance, you wouldn’t have brought me this wine if you had known + who I am. Do you know what I am?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, you are a prisoner, I know that,” replied the little girl. + </p> + <p> + When the old stone man went back, he was no longer a man of stone, for + something in him had begun to quicken. + </p> + <p> + And as he passed a steep incline, he saw a tree with many trunks, which + looked like a shrub. It was more beautiful than the others; it was a + buckthorn tree, but the old man did not know it. A restless little bird, + black and white like a swallow, fluttered from branch to branch. The + peasants call it tree-swallow, but its name is something else. And it sat + in the foliage and sang a sweet sad song: + </p> + <p> + In mud, in mud, in mud you died, From mud, from mud, from mud you rose. + </p> + <p> + It was exactly as it had been in his dream. And now the old man understood + what the tree-swallow meant. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0009" id="link2H_4_0009"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + THE MYSTERY OF THE TOBACCO SHED + </h2> + <p> + Listen to the story of a young opera-singer who was so beautiful that the + people in the street turned round to stare at her when she passed. And she + was not only very beautiful, but she had a better voice than most singers. + </p> + <p> + The conductor of the orchestra, who was also a composer, came and laid his + heart and all his possessions at her feet. She took his possessions, but + left his heart lying in the dust. + </p> + <p> + Now she was famous, more famous than any other singer; she drove through + the streets in her elegant victoria, and nodded to her portrait, which + greeted her from all the stationers’ and booksellers’ shop windows. + </p> + <p> + And as her fame grew, her picture appeared on post-cards, soap and cigar + boxes. Finally her portrait was hung up in the foyer of the theatre, + amongst all the dead immortals; and as a result her head began to swell. + </p> + <p> + One day she was standing on a pier, the sea was very rough and there was a + strong current. The conductor, of course, stood by her side, and a great + many young men were present, paying her court. The beauty was playing with + a rose; all the cavaliers coveted the flower, but she said that it should + become the property of him who knew how to earn it, and she flung it far + out into the sea. The cavaliers looked at it with longing glances, but the + conductor jumped off the pier without a moment’s hesitation, swam like a + sea-gull on the crests of the waves and soon held the flower between his + lips. + </p> + <p> + The cavaliers cheered, and the swimmer could read the promise of love in + his lady’s eyes. But when he struck out for the shore, he found that he + could not move from the spot. He had been caught in the current. The + singer on the pier did not realise his danger, but merely thought he was + fooling, and therefore she laughed. But the conductor, who saw death + staring him in the face, misunderstood her laughter; a bitter pang shot + through his heart, and then his love for her was dead. + </p> + <p> + However, he came ashore at last, with bleeding hands, for he had cut them + at the pier in many places. + </p> + <p> + “I will marry you,” said the beauty. + </p> + <p> + “No, thank you,” replied the conductor; turned, and walked away. + </p> + <p> + This was an offence for which she swore that she would be revenged. + </p> + <p> + Only the people connected with the theatre, who understand these things, + know how it happened that the conductor lost his post. He had been firmly + established, and it took two years to get rid of him. + </p> + <p> + But he was got rid of; she watched the downfall of her benefactor and + triumphed, and her head swelled still more, in fact it swelled so much + that everybody noticed it. The public, who realised that the heart + underneath the beautiful form was wicked, ceased to be touched by her + singing, and no longer believed in her smiles and tears. + </p> + <p> + She soon became aware of it, and it embittered her. But she continued + ruling at the theatre, suppressed all young talents, and used her + influence with the press to ruin their careers. + </p> + <p> + She lost the love and respect of her audiences, but she did not mind that + as long as she remained in power; and as she was wealthy, influential, and + contented, she throve and prospered. + </p> + <p> + Now, when people are prosperous, they do not lose flesh; on the contrary, + they are inclined to grow stout; and she really began to grow corpulent. + It came so gradually that she had no idea of it until it was too late. + Bang! The downhill journey is ever a fast journey, and in her case it was + accomplished with startling rapidity. She tried every remedy—in + vain! She kept the best table in the whole town, but she starved herself, + and the more she starved, the stouter she grew. + </p> + <p> + One more year, and she was no longer a great star, and her pay was + reduced. Two more years and she was half forgotten, and her place was + filled by others. After the third year she was not re-engaged, and she + went and rented an attic. + </p> + <p> + “She is suffering from an unnatural corpulency,” said the stage-manager to + the prompter. + </p> + <p> + “It’s not corpulency at all,” replied the prompter, “she’s just puffed up + with pride.” + </p> + <p> + *** + </p> + <p> + Now she lived in the attic and looked out on a large plantation. In the + middle of this plantation stood a tobacco shed, which pleased her, because + it had no windows behind which curious people could sit and stare at her. + Sparrows had built their nests under the eaves, but the shed was no longer + used for drying or storing tobacco, which was not, now, grown on the + plantation. + </p> + <p> + There she lived during the summer, looking at the shed and wondering what + purpose it could possibly serve, for the doors were locked with large + padlocks, padlocks, and nobody ever went in or out. + </p> + <p> + She knew that it contained secrets, and what these secrets were, she was + to learn sooner than she expected. + </p> + <p> + A few little shreds of her great reputation, to which she clung + desperately, and which helped her to bear her life, were still left: the + memory of her best parts, Carmen and Aida, for which no successor had yet + been found; the public still remembered her impersonation of these parts, + which had been beyond praise. + </p> + <p> + Very well, August came; the street lamps were again lighted in the + evenings, and the theatres were reopened. + </p> + <p> + The singer sat at her window and looked at the tobacco shed, which had + been painted a bright red, and, moreover, had just received a new + red-tiled roof. + </p> + <p> + A man walked across the potato field; he carried a large rusty key, with + which he opened the shed and went in. + </p> + <p> + Then two other men arrived; two men whom she thought she had seen before; + and they, too, disappeared in the shed. + </p> + <p> + It began to be interesting. + </p> + <p> + After a while the three men reappeared, carrying large, strange objects, + which looked like the bottom of a bed or a big screen. + </p> + <p> + When they had passed the gate, they turned the screens round and leaned + them against the wall; one of them represented a badly painted tiled + stove, another the door of a country cottage, perhaps a forester’s + cottage. Others a wood, a window, and a library. + </p> + <p> + She understood. It was the scenery of a play. And after a while she + recognised the rose tree from Faust. + </p> + <p> + The shed was used by the theatre for storing scenes and stage properties; + she herself had more than once stood by the side of the rose tree, singing + “Gentle flowers in the dew.” + </p> + <p> + The thought that they were going to play Faust wrung her heart, but she + had one little comfort: she had never sung the principal part in it, for + the principal part is Margaret’s. + </p> + <p> + “I don’t mind Faust; but I shall die if they play Carmen or Aida.” + </p> + <p> + And she sat and watched the change in the repertoire. She knew a fortnight + before the papers what was going to be played next. It was amusing in a + way. She knew when the Freischütz was going to be played, for she saw the + wolves’ den being brought out; she knew when they were going to put on the + Flying Dutchman, for the ship and the sea came out of the shed; and + Tannhäuser, and Lohengrin, and many others. + </p> + <p> + But the inevitable day dawned—for the inevitable must happen. The + men had again gone into the shed (she remembered that the name of one of + them was Lindquist, and that it was his business to look after the + pulleys), and presently reappeared with a Spanish market-place. The scene + was not standing straight up, so that she could not see at once what it + was, but one of the men turned it slowly over, and when he stood it up on + its side she could see the back, which is always very ugly. And one after + the other, slowly, as if they warded to prolong the torture, huge, black + letters appeared: CARMEN. It was Carmen! + </p> + <p> + “I shall die,” said the singer. + </p> + <p> + But she did not die, not even when they played Aida. But her name was + blotted out from the memory of the public, her picture disappeared from + the stationers’ windows, and from the post-cards; finally her portrait was + removed from the foyer of the theatre by an unknown hand. + </p> + <p> + She could not understand how men could forget so quickly. It was quite + inexplicable! But she mourned for herself as if she were mourning a friend + who had died; and wasn’t it true, that the singer, the famous singer, was + dead? + </p> + <p> + One evening she was strolling through a deserted street. At one end of the + street was a rubbish shoot. Without knowing why, she stood still, and then + she had an object lesson on the futility of all earthly things. For on the + rubbish heap lay a post-card, and on the post-card was her picture in the + part of Carmen. + </p> + <p> + She walked away quickly, suppressing her tears. She came to a little side + street, and stopped before a stationer’s shop. It had been her custom to + look at the shop windows to see whether her portrait was exhibited. But it + was not exhibited here; instead of that her eyes fell on a text and she + read it, unconsciously: + </p> + <p> + “The face of the Lord is against them that do evil, to cut off the + remembrance of them from the earth.” + </p> + <p> + Them that do evil! That was the reason why her memory was blotted out. + That was the explanation of the forgetfulness of men. + </p> + <p> + “But is it not possible to undo the wrong I have done?” she moaned. “Have + I not been sufficiently punished?” + </p> + <p> + And she wandered in the direction of the wood, where she was not likely to + meet anybody. And as she was walking along, crushed, humiliated, her heart + full of despair, she met another lonely being, who stopped her as she was + going to pass him. His eyes begged permission to speak to her. + </p> + <p> + It was the conductor. But his eyes did not reproach her, nor did they pity + her, they only expressed admiration, admiration and tenderness. + </p> + <p> + “How beautiful and slender you have grown, Hannah,” he said. + </p> + <p> + She looked at herself, and she could not help admitting that he was right. + Grief had burnt all her superfluous fat and she was more beautiful than + she had ever been. + </p> + <p> + “And you look as young as ever! Younger!” + </p> + <p> + It was the first kind word which she had heard for many a day; and since + it had been spoken by him whom she had wronged, she realised what a + splendid character he had, and said so. + </p> + <p> + “I hope you haven’t lost your voice?” asked the conductor, who could not + bear flattery. + </p> + <p> + “I don’t know,” she sobbed. + </p> + <p> + “Come to me to-morrow... yes, come to the Opera-house, and then we shall + see. I am conducting there....” + </p> + <p> + The singer went, not once or twice, but many times, and regained her + former position. + </p> + <p> + The public had forgiven and forgotten all the evil she had done. And she + became greater and more famous than she had been before. + </p> + <p> + Isn’t that an edifying story? + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0010" id="link2H_4_0010"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + THE STORY OF THE ST. GOTTHARD + </h2> + <p> + It was Saturday night in Göschenen, in the canton of Uri, that part of + Switzerland which William Tell and Walter Fürst have made famous. The + pretty green village on the northern side of the St. Gotthard is situated + on a little stream which drives a mill-wheel and contains trout. Quiet, + kindly people live there, who speak the German language and have home + rule, and the “sacred wood” protects their homes from avalanche and + landslip. + </p> + <p> + On the Saturday night I am speaking of, all the folks were gathering round + the village pump, underneath the great walnut tree, at the hour when the + church bells were ringing the Angelus. The postmaster, the magistrate, and + the colonel were there, all in their shirt-sleeves and carrying scythes. + They had been mowing all day long, and had come to the pump to wash their + scythes, for in the little village work was sacred and every man was his + own servant. Then the young men came trooping through the village street, + carrying scythes too, and the maids with their milk-pails; finally the + cows, a gigantic breed, every cow as big as a bull. The country is rich + and fertile, but it bears neither wine nor olives, neither the mulberry + tree nor the luxurious maize. Nothing but green grass and golden corn, the + walnut tree and the luscious beet-root grow there. + </p> + <p> + At the foot of the steep wall of the St. Gotthard, close to the pump, + stood the inn, “The Golden Horse.” All the tired men, regardless of rank + or position, were sitting at a long table in the garden, not one of them + was missing: the magistrate, the postmaster, the colonel and the farmers’ + labourers; the straw-hat manufacturer and his workmen, the little village + shoemaker, and the schoolmaster, they were all there. + </p> + <p> + They talked of cattle breeding and harvest time; they sang songs, + reminiscent in their simplicity of cowbells and the shepherd’s flute. They + sang of the spring and its pure joys, of its promise and its hope. And + they drank the golden beer. + </p> + <p> + After a while the young men rose to play, to wrestle and to jump, for on + the following day was the annual festival of the Rifle Club, and there + would be trials of strength, and competitions; it was important therefore + that their limbs should be supple. + </p> + <p> + And at an early hour that night the whole village was in bed, for no man + must be late on the morning of the festival, and no one must be sleepy or + dull. The honour of the village was involved. + </p> + <p> + *** + </p> + <p> + It was Sunday morning; the sun was shining brightly and the church bells + were ringing. Men and women from the neighbouring villages, in their best + Sunday clothes, were gathering on the village green, and all of them + looked happy and very wide awake. Nearly every man carried a gun instead + of the scythe; and matrons and maids looked at the men with scrutinising + and encouraging eyes, for it was for the defence of their country and + their homes that they had learned to handle a gun; and to-night the best + shot would have the honour of opening the dance with the prettiest girl of + the village. + </p> + <p> + A large waggon, drawn by four horses, gaily decorated with flowers and + ribbons, drew up; the whole waggon had been transformed into a summer + arbour; one could not see the people inside, but one could hear their + songs. They sang of Switzerland and the Swiss people, the most beautiful + country and the bravest people in the world. + </p> + <p> + Behind the waggon walked the children’s procession. They went by twos, + hand in hand, like good friends or little brides and bridegrooms. + </p> + <p> + And with the pealing of bells the procession slowly wound up the mountain + to the church. + </p> + <p> + After divine service the festivities began, and very soon shots were fired + on the rifle-range, which was built against the rocky wall of the St. + Gotthard. + </p> + <p> + The postmaster’s son was the best shot in the village, and nobody doubted + that he would win the prize. He hit the bull’s-eye four times out of six. + </p> + <p> + From the summit of the mountain came a hallooing and a crashing; stones + and gravel rolled down the precipice, and the fir trees in the sacred wood + rocked as if a gale were blowing. On the top of a cliff, his rifle slung + across his shoulders, frantically waving his hat, appeared the wild + chamois hunter Andrea of Airolo, an Italian village on the other side of + the mountain. + </p> + <p> + “Don’t go into the wood!” screamed the riflemen. + </p> + <p> + Andrea did not understand. + </p> + <p> + “Don’t go into the sacred wood,” shouted the magistrate, “or the mountain + will fall on us!” + </p> + <p> + “Let it fall, then,” shouted Andrea, running down the cliff with + incredible rapidity. + </p> + <p> + “Here I am!” + </p> + <p> + “You’re too late!” exclaimed the magistrate. + </p> + <p> + “I have never been too late yet!” replied Andrea; went to the + shooting-range, raised his rifle six times to his cheek, and each time hit + the bull’s-eye. + </p> + <p> + Now, he really was the best shot, but the club had its regulations, and, + moreover, the dark-skinned men from the other side of the mountain, where + the wine grew and the silk was spun, were not very popular. An old feud + raged between them and the men of Göschenen, and the newcomer was + disqualified. + </p> + <p> + But Andrea approached the prettiest girl in the grounds, who happened to + be the magistrate’s own daughter, and politely asked her to open the dance + with him. + </p> + <p> + Pretty Gertrude blushed, for she was fond of Andrea, but she was obliged + to refuse his request. + </p> + <p> + Andrea frowned, bowed and whispered words into her ear, which covered her + face with crimson. + </p> + <p> + “You shall be my wife,” he said, “even if I have to wait ten years for + you. I have walked eight hours across the mountain to meet you; that is + why I am so late; next time I shall be in good time, even if I should have + to walk right through the mountain itself.” + </p> + <p> + The festivities were over. All the riflemen were sitting in “The Golden + Horse,” Andrea in the midst of them. Rudi, the son of the postmaster, sat + at the head of the table, because he was the prize-winner according to the + regulations, even if Andrea was the best shot in reality. + </p> + <p> + Rudi was in a teasing mood. + </p> + <p> + “Well, Andrea,” he said, “we all know you for a mighty hunter; but, you + know, it’s easier to shoot a chamois than to carry it home.” + </p> + <p> + “If I shoot a chamois I carry it home,” replied Andrea. + </p> + <p> + “Maybe you do! But everybody here has had a shot at Barbarossa’s ring, + although nobody has won it yet!” answered Rudi. + </p> + <p> + “What is that about Barbarossa’s ring?” asked a stranger who had never + been in Göschenen. + </p> + <p> + “That’s Barbarossa’s ring, over there,” said Rudi. + </p> + <p> + He pointed to the side of the mountain, where a large copper ring hung on + a hook, and went on: + </p> + <p> + “This is the road by which King Frederick Barbarossa used to travel to + Italy; he travelled over it six times, and was crowned both in Milan and + in Rome. And as this made him German-Roman emperor, he caused this ring to + be hung up on the mountain, in remembrance of his having wedded Germany to + Italy. And if this ring, so goes the saying, can be lifted off its hook, + then the marriage, which was not a happy one, will be annulled.” + </p> + <p> + “Then I will annul it,” said Andrea. “I will break the bonds as my fathers + broke the bonds which bound my poor country to the tyrants of Schwyz, Uri, + and Unterwalden.” + </p> + <p> + “Are you not a Swiss, yourself?” asked the magistrate severely. + </p> + <p> + “No, I am an Italian of the Swiss Confederation.” + </p> + <p> + He slipped an iron bullet into his gun, took aim and shot. + </p> + <p> + The ring was lifted from below and jerked off the hook. Barbarossa’s ring + lay at their feet. + </p> + <p> + “Long live Italy!” shouted Andrea. throwing his hat into the air. + </p> + <p> + Nobody said a word. + </p> + <p> + Andrea picked up the ring, handed it to the magistrate and said: + </p> + <p> + “Keep this ring in memory of me and this day, on which you did me a + wrong.” + </p> + <p> + He seized Gertrude’s hand and kissed it; climbed up the mountain and + disappeared; was seen again and vanished in a cloud. After a while he + reappeared, high above them; but this time it was merely his gigantic + shadow thrown on a cloud. And there he stood, shaking a threatening fist + at the village. + </p> + <p> + “That was Satan himself,” said the colonel. + </p> + <p> + “No, it was an Italian,” said the postmaster. + </p> + <p> + “Since it is late in the evening,” said the magistrate, “I’ll tell you an + official secret, which will be read in all the papers to-morrow.” + </p> + <p> + “Hear! hear!” + </p> + <p> + “We have received information that when it became known that the Emperor + of France was made a prisoner at Sedan, the Italians drove the French + troops out of Rome, and that Victor Emanuel is at this moment on his way + to the capital.” + </p> + <p> + “This is great news. It puts an end to Germany’s dreams of promenades to + Rome. Andrea must have known about it when he boasted so much.” + </p> + <p> + “He must have known more,” said the magistrate. + </p> + <p> + “What? What?” + </p> + <p> + “Wait, and you’ll see.” + </p> + <p> + And they saw. + </p> + <p> + *** + </p> + <p> + One day strangers came and carefully examined the mountain through their + field-glasses. It looked as if they were gazing at the place where + Barbarossa’s ring had hung, for that was the spot at which they directed + their glasses. And then they consulted the compass, as if they did not + know which was the North and which was the South. + </p> + <p> + There was a big dinner at “The Golden Horse,” at which the magistrate was + present. At dessert they talked of millions and millions of money. + </p> + <p> + A short time after “The Golden Horse” was pulled down; next came the + church, which was taken down piece by piece and built up again on another + spot; half the village was razed to the ground; barracks were built, the + course of the stream deflected, the mill-wheel taken away, the factory + closed, the cattle sold. + </p> + <p> + And then three thousand Italian-speaking labourers with dark hair and + olive skins arrived on the scene. + </p> + <p> + The beautiful old songs of Switzerland and the pure joys of spring were + heard no more. + </p> + <p> + Instead of that, the sound of hammering could be heard day and night. A + jumper was driven into the mountain at the exact spot where Barbarossa’s + ring had hung; and then the blasting began. + </p> + <p> + It would not have been so very difficult (as everybody knew) to make a + hole through the mountain, but it was intended to make two holes, one on + each side, and the two holes were to meet in the middle; nobody believed + that this was possible, for the tunnel was to be nearly nine miles long. + Nearly nine miles! + </p> + <p> + And what would happen if they did not meet? Well, they would have to begin + again at the beginning. + </p> + <p> + But the engineer-in-chief had assured them that they would meet. + </p> + <p> + Andrea, on the Italian side, had faith in the engineer-in-chief, and since + he was himself a very capable fellow, as we know, he applied for work + under him and soon was made a foreman. + </p> + <p> + Andrea liked his work. He no longer saw daylight, the green fields and + snow-clad Alps. But he fancied that he was cutting a way for himself + through the mountain to Gertrude, the way which he had boasted he would + come. + </p> + <p> + For eight years he stood in darkness, living the life of a dog, stripped + to the waist, for he was working in a temperature of a hundred degrees. + Now the way was blocked by a spring, and he had to work standing in the + water; now by a deposit of loam, and he stood almost knee-deep in the + mire; the atmosphere was nearly always foul, and many of his + fellow-labourers succumbed to it; but new ones were ever ready to take + their place. Finally Andrea, too, succumbed, and was taken into the + hospital. He was tortured by the idea that the two tunnels would never + meet. Supposing they never met! + </p> + <p> + There were also men from the other side in the hospital; and at times, + when they were not delirious, they would ask one another the all-absorbing + question: “Would they meet?” + </p> + <p> + The people from the South had never before been so anxious to meet the + people from the North as they were now, deep down in the heart of the + mountain. They knew that if they met, their feud of over a thousand years’ + standing would be over, and they would fall into each other’s arms, + reconciled. + </p> + <p> + Andrea recovered and returned to work; he was in the strike of 1875, threw + a stone, and underwent a term of imprisonment. + </p> + <p> + In the year 1877 his native village, Airolo, was destroyed by fire. + </p> + <p> + “Now I have burnt my boats behind me,” he said, “there is no going back—I + must go on.” + </p> + <p> + The 19th of July 1879 was a day of mourning. The engineer-in-chief had + gone into the mountain to measure and to calculate; and, all absorbed in + his work, he had had a stroke and died. Died with his race only half run! + He ought to have been buried where he fell, in a more gigantic stone + pyramid than any of the Egyptian Pharaohs had built for tees, and his + name, Favre, should have been carved into the stone. + </p> + <p> + However, time passed, Andrea gained money, experience, and strength. He + never went to Göschenen, but once a year he went to the “sacred wood” to + contemplate the devastation, as he said. + </p> + <p> + He never saw Gertrude, never sent her a letter; there was no need for it, + he was always with her is his thoughts, and he felt that her will was his. + </p> + <p> + In the seventh year the magistrate died, in poverty. + </p> + <p> + “What a lucky thing that he died a poor man,” thought Andrea; and there + are not many sons-in-law who would think like that. + </p> + <p> + In the eighth year something extraordinary happened; Andrea, foremost man + on the Italian side of the tunnel, was hard at work, beating on his + jumper. There was scarcely any air; he felt suffocated, and suffered from + a disagreeable buzzing in his ears. Suddenly he heard a ticking, which + sounded like the ticking of a wood-worm, whom people call “the + death-watch.” + </p> + <p> + “Has my last hour come?” he said, thinking aloud. + </p> + <p> + “Your last hour!” replied a voice; he did not know whether it was within + or without him, but he felt afraid. + </p> + <p> + On the next day he again heard the ticking, but more distinctly, so that + he came to the conclusion that it must be his watch. + </p> + <p> + But on the third day, which was a holiday, he heard nothing; and now he + believed that it must have been something supernatural; he was afraid and + went to mass, and in his heart he deplored the futility of life. He would + never see the great day, never win the prize offered to the man who would + first walk through the dividing wall, never win Gertrude. + </p> + <p> + On the Monday, however, he was again the foremost of the men in the + tunnel, but he felt despondent, for he no longer believed that they would + meet the Germans in the mountain. + </p> + <p> + He beat and hammered, but without enthusiasm, slowly, as his weakened + heart was beating after the tunnel-sickness. All of a sudden he heard + something like a shot and a tremendous crashing noise inside the mountain + on the other side. + </p> + <p> + And now a light burst on him; they had met. + </p> + <p> + He fell on his knees and thanked God. And then he arose and began to work. + He worked during breakfast, during dinner, during recreation time, and + during supper. When his right arm was lame with exertion, he worked with + the left one. He thought of the engineer-in-chief, who had been struck + down before the wall of rock; he sang the song of the three men in the + fiery furnace, for it seemed to him that the air around him was red-hot, + while the perspiration dropped from his forehead, and his feet stood in + the mire. + </p> + <p> + On the stroke of seven, on the 28th of January, he fell forward on his + jumper, which pierced the wall right through. Loud cheering from the other + side roused him, and he understood; he realised that they had met, that + his troubles were over, and that he was the winner of ten thousand lire. + </p> + <p> + After a sigh of thanksgiving to the All-Merciful God, he pressed his lips + to the bore-hole and whispered the name, of Gertrude; and then he called + for three times three cheers for the Germans. + </p> + <p> + At eleven o’clock at night, there were shouts of “attention!” on the + Italian side, and with a thunderous crash, a noise like the booming of + cannon at a siege, the wall fell down. Germans and Italians embraced one + another and wept, and all fell on their knees and sang the “Te Deum + laudamus.” + </p> + <p> + It was a great moment; it was in 1880, the year in which Stanley’s work in + Africa was done, and Nordensköld had accomplished his task. + </p> + <p> + When they had sung the “Te Deum” a German workman stepped forward and + handed to the Italians a beautifully got-up parchment. It was a record and + an appreciation of the services of the engineer-in-chief, Louis Favre. + </p> + <p> + He was to be the first man to pass through the tunnel, and Andrea was + appointed to carry the memorial and his name by the little workmen’s train + to Airolo. + </p> + <p> + And Andrea accomplished his mission faithfully, sitting before the + locomotive on a barrow. + </p> + <p> + Yes, it was a great day, and the night was no less great. + </p> + <p> + They drank wine in Airolo, Italian wine, and let off fireworks. They made + speeches on Louis Favre, Stanley, and Nordensköld; they made a speech on + the St. Gotthard, which, for thousands of years had been a barrier between + Germany and Italy, between the North and the South. A barrier it had been, + and at the same time a uniter, honestly dividing its waters between the + German Rhine, the French Rhone, the North Sea and the Mediterranean.... + </p> + <p> + “And the Adriatic,” interrupted a man from Tessin. “Don’t forget the + Ticino, which is a tributary to the largest river of Italy, the mighty + Po....” + </p> + <p> + “Bravo! That’s better still! Three cheers for the St. Gotthard, the great + Germany, the free Italy, and the new France!” + </p> + <p> + It was a great night, following a great day. + </p> + <p> + *** + </p> + <p> + On the following morning Andrea called at the Engineering Offices. He wore + his Italian shooting-dress; an eagle’s feather ornamented his hat, and a + gun and a knapsack were slung across his shoulder. His face and his hands + were white. + </p> + <p> + “So you have done with the tunnel,” said the cashier, or the “moneyman,” + as they called him. “Well, nobody can blame you for it, for what remains + to be done is mason’s work. To your account, then!” + </p> + <p> + The moneyman opened a book, wrote something on a piece of paper, and + handed Andrea ten thousand lire in gold. + </p> + <p> + Andrea signed his name, put the gold into his knapsack and went. + </p> + <p> + He jumped into a workman’s train, and in ten minutes he had arrived at the + fallen barrier. There were fires burning in the mountain, the workmen + cheered when they saw him and waved their caps. It was splendid! + </p> + <p> + Ten more minutes and he was at the Swiss side. When he saw the daylight + shining through the entrance to the tunnel, the train stopped and he got + out. + </p> + <p> + He walked towards the green light, and came to the village and the green + world, bathed in sunlight; the village had been rebuilt and looked + prettier than before. And when the workmen saw him they saluted their + first man. + </p> + <p> + He went straight up to a little house, and there, under a walnut tree, by + the side of the bee-hives, stood Gertrude, calm, and a hundred times more + beautiful and gentle. It looked as if she had stood there for eight years, + waiting for him. + </p> + <p> + “Now I have come,” he said, “as I intended to come! Will you follow me to + my country?” + </p> + <p> + “I will follow you wherever you go!” + </p> + <p> + “I gave you a ring long ago; have you still got it?” + </p> + <p> + “I have it still!” + </p> + <p> + “Then let us go at once! No, don’t turn back! Don’t take anything with + you!” + </p> + <p> + And they went away, hand in hand, but not through the tunnel. + </p> + <p> + “On to the mountain!” said Andrea, turning in the direction of the old + pass; “through darkness I came to you, but in light I will live with you + and for you!” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0011" id="link2H_4_0011"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + THE STORY OF JUBAL WHO HAD NO “I” + </h2> + <p> + Once upon a time there was a king whose name was John Lackland, and it is + not difficult to imagine the reason why. + </p> + <p> + But another time there lived a great singer who was called “Jubal, who had + no I,” and I am now going to tell you the reason. + </p> + <p> + The name which he had inherited from his father, a soldier, was Peal, and + undeniably there was music in the name. But nature had also given him a + strong will, which stiffened his back like an iron bar, and that is a + splendid gift, quite invaluable in the struggle for an existence. When he + was still a baby, only just able to stammer a few words, he would never + refer to his own little person as “he,” as other babies do, but from the + very first he spoke of himself as “I.” You have no “I,” said his parents. + When he grew older, he expressed every little want or desire by “I will.” + But then his father said to him, “You have no will,” and “Your will grows + in the wood.” + </p> + <p> + It was very foolish of the soldier, but he knew no better; he had learned + to will only what he was ordered to do. + </p> + <p> + Young Peal thought it strange that he should be supposed to have no will + when he had such a very strong one, but he let it pass. + </p> + <p> + When he had grown into a fine, strong youth, his father said to him one + day, “What trade will you learn?” + </p> + <p> + The boy did not know; he had ceased to will anything, because he was + forbidden to do so. It is true, he had a leaning towards music, but he did + not dare to say so, for he was convinced that his parents would not allow + him to become a musician. Therefore, being an obedient son, he replied, “I + don’t will anything.” + </p> + <p> + “Then you shall be a tapster,” said the father. + </p> + <p> + Whether it was because the father knew a tapster, or because wine had a + peculiar attraction for him, is a matter of indifference. It is quite + enough to know that young Peal was sent to the wine vaults, and he might + have fared a good deal worse. + </p> + <p> + There was a lovely smell of sealing-wax and French wine in the cellars, + and they were large and had vaulted roofs, like churches. When he sat at + the casks and tapped the red wine, his heart was filled with gladness, and + he sang, in an undertone at first, all sorts of tunes which he had picked + up. + </p> + <p> + His master, to whom wine spelt life, loved song and gaiety, and never + dreamed of stopping his singing; it sounded so well in the vaults, and, + moreover, it attracted customers, which was a splendid thing from the + master’s point of view. + </p> + <p> + One day a commercial traveller dropped in; he had started life as an + opera-singer, and when he heard Peal, he was so delighted with him that he + invited him to dinner. + </p> + <p> + They played nine-pins, ate crabs with dill, drank punch, and, above + everything, sang songs. Between two songs, and after they had sworn + eternal friendship, the commercial traveller said: + </p> + <p> + “Why don’t you go on the stage?” + </p> + <p> + “I?” answered Peal, “how could I do that?” + </p> + <p> + “All you have to do is to say ‘I will.’” + </p> + <p> + This was a new doctrine, for since his third year young Peal had not used + the words “I” and “will.” He had trained himself to neither wish nor will, + and he begged his friend not to lead him into temptation. + </p> + <p> + But the commercial traveller came again; he came many times, and once he + was accompanied by a famous singer; and one evening Peal, after much + applause from a professor of singing, took his fate into his own hands. + </p> + <p> + He said good-bye to his master, and over a glass of wine heartily thanked + his friend, the commercial traveller, for having given him self-confidence + and will,—“will, that iron bar, which keeps a man’s back erect and + prevents him from grovelling on all fours.” And he swore a solemn oath + never to forget his friend, who had taught him to have faith in himself. + </p> + <p> + Then he went to say good-bye to his parents. + </p> + <p> + “I will be a singer,” he said in a loud voice, which echoed through the + room. + </p> + <p> + The father glanced at the horse-whip, and the mother cried; but it was no + use. + </p> + <p> + “Don’t lose yourself, my darling boy,” were the mother’s last words. + </p> + <p> + *** + </p> + <p> + Young Peal managed to raise enough money to enable him to go abroad. There + he learned singing according to all the rules of the art, and in a few + years’ time he was a very great singer indeed. He earned much money and + travelled with his own impresario. + </p> + <p> + Peal was prospering now and found no difficulty in saying “I will,” or + even “I command.” His “I” grew to gigantic proportions, and he suffered no + other “I’s” near him. He denied himself nothing, and did not put his light + under a bushel. But now, as he was about to return to his own country, his + impresario told him that no man could be a great singer and at the same + time be called Peal; he advised him to adopt a more elegant name, a + foreign name by preference, for that was the fashion. + </p> + <p> + The great man fought an inward struggle, for it is not a very nice thing + to change one’s name; it looks as if one were ashamed of one’s father and + mother, and is apt to create a bad impression. + </p> + <p> + But hearing that it was the fashion, he let it pass. + </p> + <p> + He opened his Bible to look for a name, for the Bible is the very best + book for the purpose. + </p> + <p> + And when he came to Jubal, “who was the son of Lamech, and the father of + all such as handle the harp and organ,” he considered that he could not do + better. The impresario, who was an Englishman, suggested that he should + call himself Mr. Jubal, and Peal agreed. Henceforth he was Mr. Jubal. + </p> + <p> + It was all quite harmless, of course, since it was the fashion, but it was + nevertheless a strange thing with the new name Peal had changed his + nature. His past was blotted out. Mr. Jubal looked upon himself as an + Englishman born and bred, spoke with a foreign accent, grew side-whiskers + and wore very high collars; a checked suit grew round him as the bark + grows round a tree, apparently without any effort on his part. He carried + himself stiffly, and when he met a friend in the street he acknowledged + his friendly bow with the flicker of an eyelid. He never turned round if + anybody called after him, and he always stood right in the middle of a + street car. + </p> + <p> + He hardly knew himself. + </p> + <p> + He was now at home again, in his own country, and engaged to sing at the + Opera-house. He played kings and prophets, heroes and demons, and he was + so good an actor that whenever he rehearsed a part, he instantly became + the part he impersonated. + </p> + <p> + One day he was strolling along the street. He was playing some sort of a + demon, but he was also Mr. Jubal. Suddenly he heard a voice calling after + him, “Peal!” He did not turn round, for no Englishman would do such a + thing, and, moreover, his name was no longer Peal. + </p> + <p> + But the voice called again, “Peal!” and his friend, the commercial + traveller, stood before him, looking at him searchingly, and yet with an + expression of shy kindliness. + </p> + <p> + “Dear old Peal, it <i>is</i> you!” he said. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Jubal felt that a demon was taking possession of him; he opened his + mouth so wide that he showed all his teeth, and bellowed a curt “No!” + </p> + <p> + Then his friend felt quite convinced that it was he and went away. He was + an enlightened man, who knew men, the world and himself inside out, and + therefore he was neither sorry nor astonished. + </p> + <p> + But Mr. Jubal thought he was; he heard a voice within him saying, “Before + the cock crow thou shalt deny me thrice,” and he did what St. Peter had + done, he went away and wept bitterly. That is to say, he wept in + imagination, but the demon in his heart laughed. + </p> + <p> + Henceforth he was always laughing; he laughed at good and evil, sorrow and + disgrace, at everything and everybody. + </p> + <p> + His father and mother knew, from the papers, who Mr. Jubal really was, but + they never went to the Opera-house, for they fancied it had something to + do with hoops and horses, and they objected to seeing their son in such + surroundings. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Jubal was now the greatest living singer; he had lost a lot of his + “I,” but he still had his will. + </p> + <p> + Then his day came. There was a little ballet-dancer who could bewitch men, + and she bewitched Jubal. She bewitched him to such an extent that he asked + her whether he might be hers. (He meant, of course, whether she would be + his, but the other is a more polite way of expressing it.) + </p> + <p> + “You shall be mine,” said the sorceress, “if I may take you.” + </p> + <p> + “You may do anything you like,” replied Jubal. + </p> + <p> + The girl took him at his word and they married. First of all he taught her + to sing and play, and then he gave her everything she asked for. But since + was a sorceress, she always wanted the things which he most objected to + giving to her, and so, gradually, she wrested his will from him and made + him her slave. + </p> + <p> + One fine day Mrs. Jubal had become a great singer, so great that when the + audience called “Jubal!” it was not Mr. but Mrs. Jubal who took the call. + </p> + <p> + Jubal, of course, longed to regain his former position, but he scorned to + do it at his wife’s expense. + </p> + <p> + The world began to forget him. + </p> + <p> + The brilliant circle of friends who had surrounded Mr. Jubal in his + bachelor chambers now surrounded his wife, for it was she who was “Jubal.” + </p> + <p> + Nobody wanted to talk to him or drink with him, and when he attempted to + join in the conversation, nobody listened to his remarks; it was just as + if he were not present, and his wife was treated as if she were an + unmarried woman. + </p> + <p> + Then Mr. Jubal grew very lonely, and in his loneliness he began to + frequent the cafes. + </p> + <p> + One evening he was at a restaurant, trying to find somebody to talk to, + and ready to talk to anybody willing to listen to him. All at once he + caught sight of his old friend the commercial traveller, sitting at a + table by himself, evidently very bored. “Thank goodness,” he thought, + “here’s somebody to spend an hour with—it’s old Lundberg.” + </p> + <p> + He went to Mr. Lundberg’s table and said “good evening.” But no sooner had + he done so than his friend’s face changed in so extraordinary a manner + that Jubal wondered whether he had made a mistake. + </p> + <p> + “Aren’t you Lundberg?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “Yes!” + </p> + <p> + “Don’t you know me? I’m Jubal!” + </p> + <p> + “No!” + </p> + <p> + “Don’t you know your old friend Peal?” + </p> + <p> + “Peal died a long time ago.” + </p> + <p> + Then Jubal understood that he was, from a certain point of view, dead, and + he went away. + </p> + <p> + On the following day he left the stage for ever and opened a school for + singing, with the title of a professor. + </p> + <p> + Then he went to foreign countries, and remained abroad for many years. + </p> + <p> + Sadness, for he mourned for himself as for a dead friend, and sorrow were + fast making an old man of him. But he was glad that it should be so, for, + he thought, if I’m old, it won’t last much longer. But as he did not age + quite as fast as he would have liked, he bought himself a wig with long + white curls. He felt better after that, for it disguised him completely, + so completely that he did not know himself. + </p> + <p> + With long strides, his hands crossed on his back, he walked up and down + the pavements, lost in a brown study; he seemed to be looking for some + one, or expecting some one. If his eyes met the glance of other eyes, he + did not respond to the question in them; if anybody tried to make his + acquaintance, he would never talk of anything but things and objects. And + he never said “I” or “I find,” but always “it seems.” He had lost himself, + as he did one day just as he was going to shave. He was sitting before his + looking-glass, his chin covered with a lather of soap; he raised the hand + which held the razor and looked into the glass; then he beheld the room + behind his back, but he could not see his face, and all at once he + realised how matters stood. Now he was filled with a passionate yearning + to find himself again. He had given the best part of himself to his wife, + for she had his will, and so he decided to go and see her. + </p> + <p> + When he was back in his native country and walked through the streets in + his white wig, not a soul recognised him. But a musician who had been in + Italy, meeting him in town one day, said in a loud voice, “There goes a + maestro!” + </p> + <p> + Immediately Jubal imagined that he was a great composer. He bought some + music paper and started to write a score; that is to say, he wrote a + number of long and short notes on the lines, some for the violins, of + course, others for the wood-wind, and the remainder for the brass + instruments. He sent his work to the Conservatoire. But nobody could play + the music, because it was not music, but only notes. + </p> + <p> + A little later on he was met by an artist who had been in Paris. “There + goes a model!” said the artist. Jubal heard it, and at once believed that + he was a model, for he believed everything that was said of him, because + he did not know who or what he was. + </p> + <p> + Presently he remembered his wife, and he resolved to go and see her. He + did go, but she had married again, and she and her second husband, who was + a baron, had gone abroad. + </p> + <p> + At last he grew tired of his quest, and, like all tired men, he felt a + great yearning for his mother. He knew that she was a widow and lived in a + cottage in the mountains, so one day he went to see her. + </p> + <p> + “Don’t you know me?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “What is your name?” asked the mother. + </p> + <p> + “My name is your son’s name. Don’t you know it?” + </p> + <p> + “My son’s name was Peal, but yours is Jubal, and I don’t know Jubal.” + </p> + <p> + “You disown me?” + </p> + <p> + “As you disowned yourself and your mother.” + </p> + <p> + “Why did you rob me of my will when I was a little child?” + </p> + <p> + “You gave your will to a woman.” + </p> + <p> + “I had to, because it was the only way of winning her. But why did you + tell me I had no will?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, your father told you that, my boy, and he knew no better; you must + forgive him, for he is dead now. Children, you see, are not supposed to + have a will of their own, but grown-up people are.” + </p> + <p> + “How well you explain it all, mother! Children are not supposed to have a + will, but grown-up people are.” + </p> + <p> + “Now, listen to me, Gustav,” said his mother, “Gustav Peal....” + </p> + <p> + These were his two real names, and when he heard them from her lips, he + became himself again. All the parts he had played—kings and demons, + the maestro and the model—cut and ran, and he was but the son of his + mother. + </p> + <p> + He put his head on her knees and said, “Now, let me die here, for at last + I am at home.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0012" id="link2H_4_0012"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + THE GOLDEN HELMETS IN THE ALLEBERG + </h2> + <p> + Anders was the son of poor people, and in his youth he had wandered + through many kingdoms, with a bale of cloth and a yard-measure on his + back. But as he grew older he came to the conclusion that it would be + better to wear the king’s uniform and carry a rifle on his shoulder, and + therefore he went and enlisted in the Västgotadal regiment. And one day it + happened that he was sent to Stockholm on sentry duty. + </p> + <p> + Friend Cask, as he was now called, was on leave one day, and he made up + his mind to spend it at the “Fort.” But when he came to the gate he found + that he had not a sixpence, and consequently he had to remain outside. + </p> + <p> + For a long time he stood staring at the railings, and then he thought, + “I’ll just walk round; perhaps I’ll come across a stile; if the worst + comes to the worst, I’ll climb over.” + </p> + <p> + The sun was setting; he walked along the shore, at the foot of the + mountain, and the railings were high above him; he could hear the sound of + music and singing. Cask went round and round, but found no stile, and at + last the railings disappeared in a forest of nut trees. When he was tired + he sat down on a hillock and began to crack nuts. + </p> + <p> + Suddenly a squirrel appeared before him and put up its tail. + </p> + <p> + “Leave my nuts alone!” it said. + </p> + <p> + “I will, if you’ll take me to a stile,” said Cask. + </p> + <p> + “Part of the way, then,” said the squirrel. It hopped along and the + soldier followed, until all at once it had vanished. + </p> + <p> + Then a hedgehog came rustling along. + </p> + <p> + “Come with me and I’ll show you the stile,” it said. + </p> + <p> + “Go with you? not if I know it.” + </p> + <p> + But in spite of his remark the hedgehog followed him. + </p> + <p> + Next an adder joined them. It was very genteel; it lisped and could twist + itself into a knot. + </p> + <p> + “Follow me,” it said, “<i>I</i> will show you the stile.” + </p> + <p> + “I follow,” said Cask. + </p> + <p> + “But you mutht be genteel; you muthtn’t t stread as me. I like nithe + people.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, a soldier isn’t exactly genteel,” said Cask, “but I’m not so + terribly uncouth.” + </p> + <p> + “Tread on it,” said the hedgehog, “else it will bite you, ever so + genteely.” + </p> + <p> + The adder reared its neck and rustled away. + </p> + <p> + “Stop!” shouted the hedgehog, attacking the snake. “I am not as genteel as + you are, but I show my bristles openly, I do!” + </p> + <p> + And then it killed the snake and disappeared. + </p> + <p> + Now the soldier was alone in the wood and very sorry he felt that he had + rejected the society of the prickly hedgehog. + </p> + <p> + It had grown dark, but the crescent of the moon shone between the birch + leaves, and it was quite still. + </p> + <p> + The soldier fancied that he could see a big yellow hand moving backwards + and forwards. He went close up to it, and then he saw that it was a yellow + leaf, which seemed to gesticulate with its fingers, although nobody could + possibly understand what it wanted to say. + </p> + <p> + As he stood there, watching it, he heard an asp trembling: + </p> + <p> + “Huh! I’m so cold,” said the asp, “for my feet are wet, and I <i>am</i> so + frightened.” + </p> + <p> + “What are you frightened of?” asked the soldier. + </p> + <p> + “Well, of the dwarf who is sitting in the mountain.” + </p> + <p> + Now the soldier realised what the maple leaf meant, and there was no doubt + about it, he saw a dwarf sitting in the mountain, cooking porridge. + </p> + <p> + “Who are you?” asked the dwarf. + </p> + <p> + “I belong to the Västgotadal regiment; where do you come from?” + </p> + <p> + “I,” said the dwarf, “I am in the Alleberg.” + </p> + <p> + “The Alleberg is in the Västgota country,” answered the soldier. + </p> + <p> + “We have removed it to this place,” replied the dwarf. + </p> + <p> + “You lie!” exclaimed the soldier, seized the pot by its handle and threw + the porridge into the fire. + </p> + <p> + “Now we’ll have a look at the mouse-hole,” he said, and went right into + the mountain. + </p> + <p> + There he found a giant sitting by a huge fire, making an iron bar red-hot. + </p> + <p> + “Good day, good day,” said the soldier, stretching out his hand. + </p> + <p> + “Good day to you,” said the giant, giving him the red-hot iron bar. + </p> + <p> + Cask took the iron and pressed it so hard that it hissed. + </p> + <p> + “You have got very warm hands, I must say,” he said. “What’s your name?” + </p> + <p> + “I’m the giant Swede,” said the troll. + </p> + <p> + “That was a Swedish hand-shake of yours, anyhow, and now I realise that I + am in the Alleberg. Are the golden helmets still asleep?” + </p> + <p> + “Will you be quiet!” exclaimed the giant, threatening him with the red-hot + bar. + </p> + <p> + “You shall see them, because you belong to the Västgotadal regiment, but + first of all you must solve my riddle,” he continued. + </p> + <p> + “If you want to fight one of your own countrymen, well and good. But first + of all, put that fiery thing away!” + </p> + <p> + “Very well, Cask, you shall recite the history of Sweden while I smoke my + pipe. Then I will show you the golden helmets. The whole history of + Sweden, please.” + </p> + <p> + “I can easily do that, although I was not one of the top dogs at the + military school. Let me try and recall it to memory.” + </p> + <p> + “There is one condition: you must not mention the name of a single king; + for if you do, those inside will get angry; and when they get angry, then, + you know....” + </p> + <p> + “It will be awfully difficult. But light your pipe and I’ll begin. Here’s + a match!” + </p> + <p> + The soldier scratched his head and began: + </p> + <p> + “One—two—three! In the year 1161, or thereabouts, Sweden first + came into existence; a kingdom, a king, and an archbishop—is that + enough?” + </p> + <p> + “No,” said Swede, “not at all. Begin again.” + </p> + <p> + “Very well, then! In the year 1359 the Swedish people became a nation, for + then the Parliament of the four estates first met, and it continued to + meet, with interruptions, until 1866.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, but you’re a soldier,” said Swede, “surely you’ll have a few words + to say about wars.” + </p> + <p> + “There are only two wars of any importance, and they ended, the first with + the peace of Brömsebro in 1645, when we got Herjedalen, Jämtland, and + Gottland, and the second with the peace of Röskilde in 1658, when we got + Schonen, Halland, Blekinge, and Bohuslän. And that is all there is of the + history of Sweden.” + </p> + <p> + “But you forget the constitutions?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, we had an autocracy from 1680 to 1718 then there followed a period + of freedom until 1789, and this was followed again by an autocracy. Then + came Adlersparre’s revolution in 1809, and he got Hans Järke to draw up + the constitution which is still surviving. That is all you need know. + Haven’t you finished your pipe yet?” + </p> + <p> + “There!” said the giant. “It wasn’t so bad on the whole! And now you shall + see the golden helmets.” + </p> + <p> + The troll arose with difficulty and went into the inferior of the + mountain; the soldier followed at his heels. + </p> + <p> + “Tread softly!” said the giant, pointing to a light with a golden helmet + who was leaning against a door, made of rock, apparently fast asleep. But + before the words had been out of his mouth, Cask stumbled and the iron on + the heel of his shoe struck a stone so forcibly that it emitted sparks. + The golden helmet awoke at once, just as if he had been a sleeping sentry, + and called: + </p> + <p> + “Is it time?” + </p> + <p> + “Not yet!” answered the giant. + </p> + <p> + The knight with the golden helmet sat down again and instantly fell + asleep. + </p> + <p> + The giant opened a mountain wall and the soldier looked into a huge hall. + A table, that seemed to have no end, ran through the centre of the hall, + and in the twilight the soldier could see a brilliant gathering of knights + with golden helmets sitting in arm-chairs, the backs of which were + decorated with golden crowns. At the head of the table sat a man who + seemed head and shoulders taller than the rest; his beard reached to his + waist, like the beard of Moses or Joshua, and he held a hammer all his + hand. + </p> + <p> + All of them seemed fast asleep, although it was neither the sleep which + restores strength, nor the sleep which is called eternal sleep. + </p> + <p> + “Now, pay attention,” said the giant, “to-day is the great commemoration + day.” + </p> + <p> + He pressed a finger on a lark garnet in the mountain rock, and a thousand + flames shot up. + </p> + <p> + The golden helmets awoke. + </p> + <p> + “Who goes there?” asked the man with the prophet’s beard. + </p> + <p> + “Swede,” answered the giant. + </p> + <p> + “A good name!” replied Gustav Eriksson Wasa, for it was he. “How much time + has passed away?” + </p> + <p> + “In years, after the birth of Christ, one thousand nine hundred and + three.” + </p> + <p> + “Time flies. But have you made arty progress? Are you still a country and + a nation?” + </p> + <p> + “We are. But since Gustavus I, the country has grown. Jämtland, + Herjedalen, and Gottland have been added.” + </p> + <p> + “Who conquered them?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, it was in the time of Queen Christina; but her guardians really + conquered them.” + </p> + <p> + “And then?” + </p> + <p> + “Then we got Schonen, Halland, Blekinge, and Bohuslän.” + </p> + <p> + “The deuce you did! Who won them?” + </p> + <p> + “Charles X.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, and then?” + </p> + <p> + “Nothing else.” + </p> + <p> + “Is that all?” + </p> + <p> + Somebody knocked on the table. + </p> + <p> + “Erich the saint wishes to speak,” said Gustav Wasa. + </p> + <p> + “My name is Erich Jedvardson, and I never was a saint. May I be allowed to + ask Swede what became of my Finland?” + </p> + <p> + “Finland belongs to Russia, by its own wish, after the peace of + Fredrikshamn in 1809, when the Finnish nation sore allegiance to the + Czar.” + </p> + <p> + Gustavus II., Adolfus, asked permission to speak. + </p> + <p> + “Where are the Baltic provinces?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “Reclaimed by their rightful owner,” answered Swede. + </p> + <p> + “And the emperor? Is there still an emperor?” + </p> + <p> + “There are two; one in Berlin. and one in Vienna.” + </p> + <p> + “Two of the House of Habsburg?” + </p> + <p> + “No, one of the House of Habsburg and the other of the House of + Hohenzollern.” + </p> + <p> + “Incredible! And the Catholics in North Germany—are they converted?” + </p> + <p> + “No, the Catholics form the majority in the German Parliament, and the + emperor at Berlin is trying to put pressure on the College of Cardinals, + with a view to influencing the choice of the next Pope.” + </p> + <p> + “There is still a Pope, then?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! yes, although one of them has just died.” + </p> + <p> + “And what does the Hohenzollern want in Rome?” + </p> + <p> + “No one knows; some say that it is his ambition to become Roman-German + emperor of the Evangelical Confession.” + </p> + <p> + “A syncretistic emperor dreamt of by John George of Saxony! I don’t want + to hear anymore. The ways of Providence are strange, and we mortals, what + are we? Dust and ashes!” + </p> + <p> + Charles XII. asked permission to speak. + </p> + <p> + “Can Swede tell me what has become of Poland?” + </p> + <p> + “Poland is no more. It has been split up.” + </p> + <p> + “Split up? And Russia?” + </p> + <p> + “Russia recently celebrated the foundation of Petersburg, and the Lord + Mavor of Stockholm walked in the procession.” + </p> + <p> + “As a prisoner?” + </p> + <p> + “No, as a guest. All nations are on friendly terms now, and not very long + ago a French army, commanded by a German field-marshall, invaded China.” + </p> + <p> + “Delicious! Are people now the friends of their enemies?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, they are all penetrated by a Christian spirit, and there is a + permanent Committee for the Preservation of Peace established at the + Hague.” + </p> + <p> + “A what?” + </p> + <p> + “A permanent Committee for the Preservation of Peace.” + </p> + <p> + “Then my time is over! God’s will be done!” + </p> + <p> + The king closed his visor and remained silent. + </p> + <p> + Charles, XI. claimed attention. + </p> + <p> + “Well, Swede, what about the finances of the old country?” + </p> + <p> + “It’s difficult to answer your question, for I’m afraid they know nothing + of keeping accounts. But one or two things are certain: that quite half + kingdom has been pledged to the foreigner for about three hundred + millions.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! Lord!” + </p> + <p> + “And the municipal debts amount to about two hundred millions.” + </p> + <p> + “Two hundred!” + </p> + <p> + “And in the years 1881 to 1885 one hundred and forty-six thousand Swedes + emigrated.” + </p> + <p> + “Enough! I don’t want to hear any more!” + </p> + <p> + Gustav Wasa knocked on the table with his hammer. + </p> + <p> + “As far as I can understand the matter, the country is in a bad way. + Sluggards you are, lazy, envious, irresponsible sluggards; too idle to + bestir yourselves, but quick enough to prevent anybody else from doing + anything. But tell me, Swede, what about my church and my priests?” + </p> + <p> + “The priests of the church are farmers and dairy-keepers. The bishops have + an income of thirty thousand crowns, and collect money, exactly as they + did before the Recess of Vesteraes; moreover, nearly all of them are + heretics, or free-thinkers, as they call themselves. Men are beginning to + expect some sort of a Reformation.” + </p> + <p> + “Indeed?... And what is the meaning of this music and singing up here?” + </p> + <p> + “This is the ‘Fort.’ That is, a mountain, where they have a collection of + all the national keepsakes, just as if the nation were anticipating its + end and making its last will and testament, gathering together all the + mementoes of the past. It shows reverence for the ancestors, but nothing + else.” + </p> + <p> + “What we have heard on this commemoration day seems to prove that the + deeds of our forefathers have been engulfed in the ocean of time. One + thing swims on the surface, another sinks to the bottom. Here we are + sitting like the shadows of our former selves, and to you, who are alive, + we must remain shadows.... Put out the lights!” + </p> + <p> + The giant Swede extinguished the lights and went out; the soldier followed + close behind him and climbed into something which looked like a cage. + </p> + <p> + “If you say a word to anybody of what you have seen and heard,” said the + giant, “you will be sorry for it.” + </p> + <p> + “I can quite believe that,” answered Cask, “but shall always remember it. + That they should have squandered the old country in drink and pledge to + the foreigner! It’s too bad—if it’s true.” + </p> + <p> + “Click” went the turbine; and the lift with soldier shot upwards to the + “Fort.” And there stood, in the sunset, and the country looked just as it + had looked when the chimes in the belfry Häsjoer chimed, and Gustav Wasa + entered Stockholm, surrounded by his generals. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0013" id="link2H_4_0013"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + LITTLE BLUEWING FINDS THE GOLDPOWDER + </h2> + <p> + The rich man had visited the poor island and fallen in love with it. He + could not have said why, but he was charmed; probably the island resembled + some memory of his childhood, or, perhaps, a beautiful dream. + </p> + <p> + He bought the island, built a villa, and planted all sorts of lovely + trees, shrubs, and flowers. And all around was the sea; he had his own + landing-stage, with a flag-staff and white boats; oak trees, as tall as a + church, shaded his house, and cool breezes gently swept the green meadows. + He had a wife, children, servants, cattle; he had everything, except one + thing: it was but a trifle, but it was more important than anything else + in the world, and yet he had forgotten it until the very last: he had no + spring water. Wells were sunk and rocks were blasted, but all he got was + brown, brackish water; it was filtered until it looked as clear as + crystal, but it remained brackish. And that was where the shoe pinched. + </p> + <p> + Then there came to the island a man endowed with great gifts; he had been + lucky in all his enterprises, and was one of the most famous men in the + world. Everybody remembered how he struck the mountain with his diamond + staff and produced water from the rock, like Moses. Now he was to bore or + the island and see whether the mountain would yield water, as other + mountains had done. They spent a hundred, a thousand, several thousand + crowns, but found none but brackish water. There was no blessing on their + undertaking. And it was brought home to the rich man that money will not + buy everything, not even, when the worst comes to the worst, a drink of + fresh water. Thereupon he grew despondent and life seemed to hold no more + happiness in store for him. + </p> + <p> + The schoolmaster searched the old books, and then sent for a venerable old + man, who came and brought his divining rod; but it was no use. + </p> + <p> + But the clergyman was a great deal wiser. He assembled all the school + children one day, and offered a prize to the one who could bring him a + plant called “goldpowder,” in Latin Chrysosplenium, which will only grow + near a spring. + </p> + <p> + “It has a flower,” he said, “like the bird’s-eye and leaves like the + saxifrage, and it looks as if it had gold dust on its top leaves. Remember + that!” + </p> + <p> + “A flower like the bird’s-eye and leaves like the saxifrage,” repeated the + children; and they ran into the wood and the fields to look for the + goldpowder. + </p> + <p> + Not one of the children found it; a little boy, it is true, came home with + some milk-weed, which have a tiny bit of gold dust on the points of its + leaves; but the milk-weed is poisonous, and it was not at all what was + wanted. And finally the children grew tired of looking for it and gave it + up. + </p> + <p> + But there lived on the island a little girl, too small yet to go to + school. Her father had served in the dragoons, and owned a little farm, + but he was rather poor than rich. His only treasure was his little + daughter, whom everybody in the village called “Little Bluewing,” because + she always wore a ski blue dress with wide sleeves, which fluttered like + wings when she moved. There is, by the bye, a little blue butterfly whom + the people call bluewing; you can see it in the summer sitting on the tall + blades of the grass, and its wings resemble a flax blossom; a fluttering + flax blossom with antenna instead of filaments. + </p> + <p> + Little Bluewing, the dragoon’s little bluewing, that is, was not like + other children; she always talked very sensibly, but she often said queer + things, and everybody was puzzled to know where she got them from. All + living things loved her, even the animals; fowls and calves ran up to her + when they saw her, and she even dared to stroke the bull. She frequently + went out by herself and stayed away a long time, but when anybody asked + her where she had been, she could not tell. But she had had the most + wonderful adventures; she had seen strange things; she had met venerable + old men and women, who ha told her no end of wonderful stories. The + dragoon let her do as she liked, for he knew that a guardian spirit was + watching over her. + </p> + <p> + *** + </p> + <p> + One morning Little Bluewing went out for a walk. She ran through fields + and meadows, singing songs which nobody had ever heard, and which came + into her heart from nowhere. The morning sun shone brightly and seemed so + young, as if it had only just been born; the air was fresh and sweet, and + the evaporating dew cooled her little face. + </p> + <p> + When she came to the wood, she met an old man in a green dress. + </p> + <p> + “Good morning, Little Bluewing,” said the old man, “I am the gardener at + Sunnyglade; come and look at my flowers.” + </p> + <p> + “Too much honour for me,” answered Little Bluewing. + </p> + <p> + “Not at all, for you have never ill-used flowers.” + </p> + <p> + They walked together to the strand and crossed a little bridge, which led + to an islet. + </p> + <p> + On the islet was a wonderful garden. Every flower, large and small, grew + there, and everything was in order, just as if the garden had been a book. + </p> + <p> + The old man lived in a house which was built of growing ever-green + trees-pines, fir trees, and junipers; the floor consisted of growing + ever-green shrubs. Moss and lichen grew in the crevices and held them + together. The roof was made entirely of creepers, Virginia creeper, + Caprifolium, and ivy, and it was so thick that not a drop of rain could + come through. A number of bee-hives stood before the door, but butterflies + lived in them instead of bees; just think of the lovely sight when they + swarmed! + </p> + <p> + “I don’t like torturing bees,” explained the old man. “And, moreover, I + consider them not at all pretty; they look like hairy coffee-beans and + sting like adders.” + </p> + <p> + And then they went into the garden. + </p> + <p> + “Now, you may read in the book of nature and learn the secrets and + sensibilities of the plants. But you must not ask questions, only listen + to what I say and answer me.... Now, look here, little one, on this grey + stone something is growing which looks like grey paper. This is the first + thing which grows when the rock becomes damp. It grows mouldy, you see, + and the mould is called lichen. Here are two kinds: one looks like the + horns of a reindeer, it is called reindeer-moss, and the reindeer feeds on + it; and the other is called Iceland-moss, and looks like... now, what does + it look like?” + </p> + <p> + “It looks like lungs, anyhow it says so in the natural history book.” + </p> + <p> + “Quite right; looked at through a magnifying glass, it has exactly that + appearance, and that is how people came to think of using it as a remedy + for all sorts of diseases of the chest. Later, when the lichen has + gathered enough vegetable soil, the mosses appear; they have quite simple + flowers and grow seed. They are not unlike ice-flowers, but they are also + like heather and fir trees and all sorts of other things, for all plants + are related. The wall-moss here looks like a fir tree, but it has seed + cases, like a poppy, only rather more simple. Once moss has begun to grow + an a spot, heather is not very long in coming. And if you examine heather + through a strong magnifying-glass, it is like milk-wort, Epilobium in + Latin or a rhododendron, or like an elm tree, which is nothing more nor + less than a huge nettle. + </p> + <p> + “Now, we have a perfect covering for the rocks, and in this mould + everything will grow. Man has domesticated a number of plants, but nature + herself has directed him which to take and how to use their is so + extraordinary as the colour and ornaments which the flowers have acquired + to tell the bees where the honey is. You have often seen an ear of rye, + which shows a baker’s implements like a signboard. And if you look at the + flax, the most useful of all the plants, you will have to admit that it is + the plant itself which has taught man to spin. Look right into the heart + of the flower and you will find the filaments wound round the style like + flax round a spindle. And to make her meaning even more plain, nature has + planted a parasite, the bind-weed by its side, which winds itself round + and round the plant up and down, to and fro, like a weaver’s shuttle. And + isn’t it wonderful that not a man, but a butterfly, first thought of + spinning the flax? People call it ‘flax-spinner,’ for with its own silk + and the leaves of the plant it weaves little sheets and blankets for its + young ones. And so cunning it is that when flax began to be cultivated, it + completely adapted itself to the new conditions, so that the young ones + should be hatched before the flax was harvested. And now, look at the + medicinal herbs! Look at the large poppy, for instance, fiery red it is, + like fever and insanity! But in the heart of the blossom is a black cross, + just like the cross on the chemist’s label which he puts on his poisons. + In the middle of the cross is a Roman vase with little grooves. When these + grooves are pricked the drug runs out, the powerful drug, which will call + either death, or death’s gentle brother, sleep. Yes, now you can form an + idea of the generosity and wisdom of nature. + </p> + <p> + “And now, let’s see about the goldpowder.” + </p> + <p> + He paused to see whether Little Bluewing was at all curious. But she was + not. + </p> + <p> + “And now, let’s see about the goldpowder,” he repeated. + </p> + <p> + Another pause! No, Little Bluewing could hold her tongue, although she was + as not much more than a baby. + </p> + <p> + “And now, let’s see about the goldpowder,” he said for the third time, + “which has flowers like the bird’s-eye and leaves like the saxifrage. + That’s its distinctive mark, and tells you where water can be found. The + bird’s-eye collects dew and water in its leaves, and is in itself a tiny, + clear rivulet; but the saxifrage can break mountain rocks. There is no + spring without a mountain, be the mountain never so distant. This is what + the goldpowder tells all those who can understand its message. It grows + here, on this island, and you shall know the spot, because your heart is + pure. The rich man shall receive water for his parched soul from your tiny + hand, and through you all the island shall be blessed. Go in peace, my + child, and when you come to the wood where the nuts grow, you will find a + silver-linden on your right; at its foot lies a copper coloured slow-worm, + which is not dangerous. It show you the way to the goldpowder. But before + you go, you must give the old man a kiss, that is to say, if you want to.” + </p> + <p> + Little Bluewing held up her lips and kissed the old man, and immediately + his face changed and he looked fifty years younger. + </p> + <p> + “I have kissed a child, I have grown young again,” said the gardener. “You + owe me no thanks. Farewell!” + </p> + <p> + Little Bluewing went to the wood where the nuts grew. The silver-linden + was rustling in the breeze, and the humble-bees hummed and buzzed round + its blossoms. The slow-worm was really there, although its copper looked a + bit rusty. + </p> + <p> + “Hallo! There is Little Bluewing, who is to have the goldpowder,” said the + copper snake. “Well, you shall have it on three conditions: no to talk, + not to be led astray, not to be inquisitive. Now go straight ahead and you + will find the goldpowder.” + </p> + <p> + Little Bluewing went straight ahead. On her way she met a woman. + </p> + <p> + “Good morning, child,” said the woman. “Have you been to see the gardener + at Sunnyglade?” + </p> + <p> + “Good morning, woman,” said Little Bluewing without stopping. + </p> + <p> + “Well, you aren’t a gossip,” said the woman. + </p> + <p> + Next she met a gipsy. + </p> + <p> + “Where are you going to?” asked the gipsy. + </p> + <p> + “Straight ahead,” answered Little Bluewing. + </p> + <p> + “Then you won’t be led astray,” said the gipsy. + </p> + <p> + Then she met a milkman. But she could not understand why the horse was + inside the cart and the milkman harnessed to the shafts. + </p> + <p> + “Now I shall shy and run away,” said the milkman, and gave such a start + that the horse fell out of the cart into the ditch.... “Now I shall water + the rye,” he went on, and took the lid off one of his milk cans. + </p> + <p> + Little Bluewing thought it strange, but continued her way without giving + him as much as a look. + </p> + <p> + “And you aren’t curious, either,” said the milkman. + </p> + <p> + And now Little Bluewing was standing at the foot of the mountain; the + sunbeams fell through the hazel bushes on the green leaves of a luxurious + plant which shone like gold. + </p> + <p> + It was the goldpowder. Little Bluewing noticed how it followed the vein of + the spring down the mountain side into the rich man’s meadow. + </p> + <p> + She belt down and gathered three flowers, put them carefully into her + pinafore and took them home to her father. + </p> + <p> + The dragoon put on sword, helmet, and uniform, and went with his little + daughter to the clergyman. And all three went to the rich man. + </p> + <p> + “Little Bluewzng has found the goldpowder!” said the clergyman, as soon as + he entered the drawing-room. “And now the whole village will be rich + before long, because it is sure to become a summer resort.” + </p> + <p> + And it became a summer resort before long; steamers and shop people + arrived; an inn and a post-office were built; a doctor settled on the + island, and a chemist. Gold poured into the village all during the summer, + and that is the story of the goldpowder, which can transform poverty into + wealth. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of In Midsummer Days and Other Tales, by +August Strindberg + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK IN MIDSUMMER DAYS AND OTHER TALES *** + +***** This file should be named 6694-h.htm or 6694-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/6/6/9/6694/ + +Produced by Nicole Apostola, and David Widger + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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