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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/7956-0.txt b/7956-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d488483 --- /dev/null +++ b/7956-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,10486 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Married, 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: Married + +Author: August Strindberg + + +Release Date: April, 2005 [EBook #7956] +This file was first posted on June 5, 2003 +Last Updated: October 26, 2016 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MARRIED *** + + + + +Produced by David Starner, Marc D’Hooghe, Charles Franks +and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team + + + + + + + + +MARRIED + +By August Strindberg + + + + +CONTENTS + + +ASRA + +LOVE AND BREAD + +COMPELLED TO + +COMPENSATION + +FRICTIONS + +UNNATURAL SELECTION + +AN ATTEMPT AT REFORM + +A NATURAL OBSTACLE + +A DOLL’S HOUSE + +PHOENIX + +ROMEO AND JULIA + +PROLIFICACY + +AUTUMN + +COMPULSORY MARRIAGE + +CORINNA + +UNMARRIED AND MARRIED + +A DUEL + +HIS SERVANT + +THE BREADWINNER + + + + + +BIBLIOGRAPHY + + +Strindberg’s works in English translation: Plays translated by Edwin +Bjorkman; _Master Olof_, American Scandinavian Foundation, 1915; _The +Dream Play, The Link, The Dance of Death_, New York, Charles +Scribner’s Sons, 1912; _Swanwhite, Simoon, Debit and Credit, Advent, +The Thunderstorm, After the Fire,_ the same, 1913; _There Are Crimes +and Crimes, Miss Julia, The Stronger, Creditors, Pariah_, the same, +1913; Bridal Crown, _The Spook Sonata, The First Warning, Gustavus +Vasa_, the same, 1916. Plays translated by Edith and Warner Oland, +Boston Luce & Co., Vol. I (1912), _The Father, Countess Julie, The +Stronger, The Outlaw_; Vol. II (1912), _Facing Death, Easter, Pariah, +Comrades_; Vol. III (1914), _Swanwhite, Advent, The Storm, Lucky Pehr_, +tr. by Velma Swanston Howard, Cincinnati, Stewart & Kidd Co., 1912. +_The Red Room_, tr. by Ellie Schleussner, New York, Putnam’s, 1913; +_Confession of a Fool_, tr. by S. Swift, London, F. Palmer, 1912; _The +German Lieutenant and Other Stories_, Chicago, A. C. McClurg & Co., +1915; _In Midsummer Days and Other Tales_, tr. by Ellie Schleussner, +London, H. Latimer, 1913; _Motherlove_, tr. by Francis J. Ziegler, +Philadelphia, Brown Bros., 2nd ed., 1916, _On the Seaboard_, tr. by +Elizabeth Clarke Westergren, Cincinnati, Stewart & Kidd Co., 1913; +_The Son of a Servant_, tr. by. Claud Field, introduction by Henry +Vacher-Burch, New York, Putnam’s, 1913; _The Growth of a Soul_, tr. by +Claud Field, London, W. Rider & Co., 1913; _The Inferno_, tr. by Claud +Field, New York, Putnam’s, 1913; _Legends, Autobiographical Sketches_, +London, A. Melrose, 1912; _Zones of the Spirit_, tr. by Claud Field, +introduction by Arthur Babillotte, London, G. Allen & Co. + + + + +INTRODUCTION + + +These stories originally appeared in two volumes, the first in 1884, +the second in 1886. The latter part of the present edition is thus +separated from the first part by a lapse of two years. + +Strindberg’s views were continually undergoing changes. Constancy was +never a trait of his. He himself tells us that opinions are but the +reflection of a man’s experiences, changing as his experiences change. +In the two years following the publication of the first volume, +Strindberg’s experiences were such as to exercise a decisive influence +on his views on the woman question and to transmute his early +predisposition to woman-hating from a passive tendency to a positive, +active force in his character and writing. + +Strindberg’s art in _Married_ is of the propagandist, of the fighter +for a cause. He has a lesson to convey and he makes frankly for his +goal without attempting to conceal his purpose under the gloss of +“pure” art. He chooses the story form in preference to the treatise as +a more powerful medium to drive home his ideas. That the result has +proved successful is due to the happy admixture in Strindberg of +thinker and artist. His artist’s sense never permitted him to distort +or misrepresent the truth for the sake of proving his theories. In +fact, he arrived at his theories not as a scholar through the study of +books, but as an artist through the experience of life. When life had +impressed upon him what seemed to him a truth, he then applied his +intellect to it to bolster up that truth. Hence it is that, however +opinionated Strindberg may at times seem, his writings carry that +conviction which we receive only when the author reproduces’ truths he +has obtained first-hand from life. One-sided he may occasionally be in +_Married_, especially in the later stories, but rarely unfaithful. His +manner is often to throw such a glaring searchlight upon one spot of +life that all the rest of it stays in darkness; but the places he does +show up are never unimportant or trivial. They are well worth seeing +with Strindberg’s brilliant illumination thrown upon them. + +August Strindberg has left a remarkably rich record of his life in +various works, especially in his autobiographical series of novels. He +was born in 1849 in Stockholm. His was a sad childhood passed in +extreme poverty. He succeeded in entering the University of Upsala in +1867, but was forced for a time on account of lack of means to +interrupt his studies. He tried his fortune as schoolmaster, actor, +and journalist and made an attempt to study medicine. All the while he +was active in a literary way, composing his first plays in 1869. In +1874 he obtained a position in the Royal Library, where he devoted +himself to scientific studies, learned Chinese in order to catalogue +the Chinese manuscripts, and wrote an erudite monograph which was read +at the Academy of Inscriptions in Paris. + +His first important literary productions were the drama _Master Olof_ +(1878) and the novel _The Red Room_ (1879). Disheartened by the +failure of _Master Olof_, he gave up literature for a long time. When +he returned to it, he displayed an amazing productivity. Work followed +work in quick succession--novels, short stories, dramas, histories, +historical studies, and essays. _The Swedish People_ is said to be the +most popular book in Sweden next to the Bible. The mere enumeration of +his writings would occupy more than two pages. His versatility led him +to make researches in physics and chemistry and natural science and to +write on those subjects. + +Through works like _The Red Room_, _Married_, and the dramas _The +Father_ and _Miss Julia_, Strindberg attached himself to the +naturalistic school of literature. Another period of literary +inactivity followed, during which he passed through a mental crisis +akin to insanity. When he returned to the writing of novels and dramas +he was no longer a naturalist, but a symbolist and mystic. Among the +plays he composed in this style are _To Damascus_, _The Dream Play_, +and _The Great Highway_. + +Strindberg married three times, divorced his first two wives, but +separated amicably from the third. He died in 1913. The vast +demonstration at his funeral, attended by the laboring classes as well +as by the “upper” classes, proved that, in spite of the antagonisms he +had aroused, Sweden unanimously awarded him the highest place in her +literature. + +THOMAS SELTZER. + + + + + +ASRA + + +He had just completed his thirteenth year when his mother died. He +felt that he had lost a real friend, for during the twelve months of +her illness he had come to know her personally, as it were, and +established a relationship between them which is rare between parents +and children. He was a clever boy and had developed early; he had read +a great many books besides his schoolbooks, for his father, a +professor of botany at the Academy of Science, possessed a very good +library. His mother, on the other hand, was not a well-educated woman; +she had merely been head housekeeper and children’s nurse in her +husband’s house. Numerous births and countless vigils (she had not +slept through a single night for the last sixteen years), had +exhausted her strength, and when she became bedridden, at the age of +thirty-nine, and was no longer able to look after her house, she made +the acquaintance of her second son; her eldest boy was at a military +school and only at home during the week ends. Now that her part as +mother of the family was played to the end and nothing remained of her +but a poor invalid, the old-fashioned relationship of strict discipline, +that barrier between parents and children, was superseded. +The thirteen-year-old son was almost constantly at her bedside, +reading to her whenever he was not at school or doing home lessons. +She had many questions to ask and he had a great deal to explain, and +therefore all those distinguishing marks erected by age and position +vanished, one after the other: if there was a superior at all, it was +the son. But the mother, too, had much to teach, for she had learnt +her lessons in the school of life; and so they were alternately +teacher and pupil. They discussed all subjects. With the tact of a +mother and the modesty of the other sex she told her son all he ought +to know of the mystery of life. He was still innocent, but he had +heard many things discussed by the boys at school which had shocked +and disgusted him. The mother explained to him all she could explain; +warned him of the greatest danger to a young man, and exacted a +promise from him never to visit a house of ill-fame, not even out of +curiosity, because, as she pointed out, in such a case no man could +ever trust himself. And she implored him to live a temperate life, and +turn to God in prayer whenever temptation assaulted him. + +His father was entirely devoted to science, which was a sealed book to +his wife. When the mother was already on the point of death, he made a +discovery which he hoped would make his name immortal in the scientific +world. He discovered, on a rubbish heap, outside the gates of Stockholm, +a new kind of goose-foot with curved hairs on the usually straight-haired +calyx. He was in communication with the Berlin Academy of Sciences, and +the latter was even now considering the advisability of including the new +variety in the “Flora Germanica”; he was daily expecting to hear whether +or not the Academy had decided to immortalise his name by calling the +plant Chenopodium Wennerstroemianium. At his wife’s death-bed he was +absentminded, almost unkind, for he had just received an answer in the +affirmative, and he fretted because neither he nor his wife could enjoy +the great news. She thought only of heaven and her children. He could not +help realising that to talk to her now of a calyx with curved hairs would +be the height of absurdity; but, he justified himself, it was not so +much a question of a calyx with straight or curved hairs, as of a +scientific discovery; and, more than that, it was a question of his +future and the future of his children, for their father’s distinction +meant bread for them. + +When his wife died on the following evening, he cried bitterly; he had +not shed a tear for many years. He was tortured by remorse, remembered +even the tiniest wrong he had ever done her, for he had been, on the +whole, an exemplary husband; his indifference, his absent-mindedness +of the previous day, filled him with shame and regret, and in a moment +of blankness he realised all the pettishness and selfishness of his +science which, he had imagined, was benefiting mankind. But these +emotions were short-lived; if you open a door with a spring behind it, +it will close again immediately. On the following morning, after he +had drawn up an announcement of her death for the papers, he wrote a +letter of thanks to the Berlin Academy of Sciences. After that he +resumed his work. + +When he came home to dinner, he longed for his wife, so that he might +tell her of his success, for she had always been his truest friend, +the only human being who had never been jealous or envious. Now he +missed this loyal companion on whose approval he could count as a +matter of course; never once had she contradicted him, for since he +never told her more than the practical result of his researches, there +was no room for argument. For a moment the thought occurred to him +that he might make friends with his son; but they knew each other too +little; their relationship was that of officer and private soldier. +His superior rank did not permit him to make advances; moreover, he +regarded the boy with suspicion, because the latter possessed a keener +intellect and had read a number of new books which were unknown to +him; occasionally it even happened that the father, the professor, +plainly revealed his ignorance to his son, the school-boy. In such +cases the father was either compelled to dismiss the argument, with a +few contemptuous remarks to “these new follies,” or peremptorily order +the school-boy to attend to his lessons. Once or twice, in self-defence, +the son had produced one or other of his school-books; the professor +had lost his temper and wished the new school-books to hell. + +And so it came about that the father devoted himself to his +collections of dried plants and the son went his own way. + +They lived in a quiet street to the left of the Observatory, in a +small, one-storey house, built of bricks, and surrounded by a large +garden; the garden was once the property of the Horticultural Society, +and had come into the professor’s possession by inheritance. But since +he studied descriptive botany, and took no interest in the much more +interesting subjects of the physiology and morphology of plants, a +science which was as good as unknown in his youth, he was practically +a stranger to living nature. He allowed the garden with its many +splendours to become a wilderness, and finally let it to a gardener on +condition that he and his children should be allowed certain +privileges. The son used the garden as a park and enjoyed its beauty +as he found it, without taking the trouble to try and understand it +scientifically. + +One might compare the boy’s character to an ill-proportioned +compensation pendulum; it contained too much of the soft metal of the +mother, not enough of the hard metal of the father. Friction and +irregular oscillations were the natural consequences. Now he was full +of sentiment, now hard and sceptical. His mother’s death affected him +beyond words. He mourned her deeply, and she always lived in his memory +as the personification of all that was good and great and beautiful. + +He wasted the summer following her death in brooding and novel-reading. +Grief, and to no small extent idleness, had shaken his whole nervous +system and quickened his imagination. His tears had been like warm April +showers falling on fruit trees, wakening them to a precocious burgeoning: +but alas! only too often the blossoms are doomed to wither and perish in +a frosty May night, before the fruit has had time to set. + +He was fifteen years old and had therefore arrived at the age when +civilised man attains to manhood and is ripe to give life to a new +generation, but is prevented from doing so by his inability to +maintain a family. Consequently he was about to begin the ten years’ +martyrdom which a young man is called upon to endure in the struggle +against an overwhelming force of nature, before he is in a position to +fulfil her laws. + + * * * * * + +It is a warm afternoon about Whitsuntide. The appletrees are gorgeous +in their white splendour which nature has showered all over them with +a profuse hand. The breeze shakes the crowns and fills the air with +pollen; a part of it fulfils its destination and creates new life, a +part sinks to the ground and dies. What is a handful of pollen more or +less in the inexhaustible store-house of nature! The fertilised blossom +casts off its delicate petals which flutter to the ground and wither; +they decay in the rain and are ground to dust, to rise again through the +sap and re-appear as blossoms, and this time, perhaps, to become fruit. +But now the struggle begins: those which a kind fate has placed on the +sunny side, thrive and prosper; the seed bud swells, and if no frost +intervenes, the fruit, in due time, will set. But those which look +towards the North, the poor things which grow in the shadow of the +others and never see the sun, are predestined to fade and fall off; +the gardener rakes them together and carts them to the pig-sty. + +Behold the apple-tree now, its branches laden with half-ripe fruit, +little, round, golden apples with rosy cheeks. A fresh struggle +begins: if all remain alive, the branches will not be able to bear +their weight, the tree will perish. A gale shakes the branches. It +requires firm stems to hold on. Woe to the weaklings! they are +condemned to destruction. + +A fresh danger! The apple-weevil appears upon the scene. It, too, has +to maintain life and to fulfil a duty towards its progeny. The grub +eats its way through the fruit to the stem and the apple falls to the +ground. But the dainty beetle chooses the strongest and soundest for +its brood, otherwise too many of the strong ones would be allowed to +live, and competition would become over-keen. + +The hour of twilight, the gathering dusk, arouses the passionate +instincts of the beast-world. The night-crow crouches on the newly-dug +flower-bed to lure its mate. Which of the eager males shall carry the +prize? Let them decide the question! + +The cat, sleek and warm, fresh from her evening milk, steals away from +her corner by the hearth and picks her way carefully among daffodils +and lilies, afraid lest the dew make her coat damp and ragged before +her lover joins her. She sniffs at the young lavender and calls. Her +call is answered by the black tom-cat which appears, broad-backed like +a marten, on the neighbour’s fence; but the gardener’s tortoise-shell +approaches from the cow-shed and the fight begins. Handfuls of the +rich, black soil are flying about in all directions, and the +newly-planted radishes and spinach plants are roughly awakened from +their quiet sleep and dreams of the future. The stronger of the two +remains in possession of the field, and the female awaits complacently +the frenetic embraces of the victor. The vanquished flies to engage in +a new struggle in which, perhaps, victory will smile on him. + +Nature smiles, content, for she knows of no other sin than the sin +against her law; she is on the side of the strong for her desire is +for strong children, even though she should have to kill the “eternal +ego” of the insignificant individual. And there is no prudery, no +hesitation, no fear of consequences, for nature has plenty of food for +all her children--except mankind. + + * * * * * + +After supper he went for a walk in the garden while his father sat +down at his bed-room window to smoke a pipe and read the evening +paper. He strolled along the paths, revelling in the delicious odours +which a plant only exhales when it is in full bloom, and which is the +finest and strongest extract of etheric oils, containing in a +condensed form the full strength of the individual, destined to become +the representative of the species. He listened to the nuptial song of +the insects above the lime trees, which rings in our ears like a +funeral dirge: he heard the purring call of the night-crow; the ardent +mewing of the cat, which sounds as if death, and not life, were +wooing; the humming note of the dung-beetle, the fluttering of the +large moths, the thin peeping of the bats. + +He stopped before a bed of narcissus, gathered one of the while, +starry flowers, and inhaled its perfume until he felt the blood +hammering in his temples. He had never examined this flower minutely. +But during the last term they had read Ovid’s story of Narcissus. He +had not discovered a deeper meaning in the legend. What did it mean, +this story of a youth who, from unrequited love, turned his ardour +upon himself and was consumed by the flame when he fell in love with +his own likeness seen in a well? As he stood, examining the white, +cup-shaped petals, pale as the cheeks of an invalid with fine red +lines such as one may see in the faces of consumptives when a pitiless +cough forces the blood into the extremest and tiniest blood-vessels, +he thought of a school-fellow, a young aristocrat, who was a +midshipman now; he looked like that. + +When he had inhaled the scent of the flower for some time, the strong +odour of cloves disappeared and left but a disagreeable, soapy smell +which made him feel sick. + +He sauntered on to where the path turned to the right and finally lost +itself in an avenue planted on both sides with elm-trees whose branches +had grown together and formed an arch overhead. In the semi-darkness, +far down the perspective, he could see a large green swing, suspended +by ropes, slowly moving backwards and forwards. A girl stood on the +back board, gently swinging herself by bending her knees and throwing +her body forward, while she clung, with arms raised high above her head, +to the ropes at her side. He recognised the gardener’s daughter, a girl +who had been confirmed last Easter and had just begun to wear long +skirts. To-night, however, she was dressed in one of her old dresses +which barely reached to her ankles. + +The sight of the young man embarrassed her, for she remembered the +shortness of her skirt, but she nevertheless remained on the swing. He +advanced and looked at her. + +“Go away, Mr. Theodore,” said the girl, giving the swing a vigorous +push. + +“Why should I?” answered the youth, who felt the draught of her +fluttering skirts on his throbbing temples. + +“Because I want you to,” said the girl. + +“Let me come up, too, and I’ll swing you, Gussie,” pleaded Theodore, +springing on to the board. + +Now he was standing on the swing, facing her. And when they rose into +the air, he felt her skirts flapping against his legs, and when they +descended, he bent over her and looked into her eyes which were +brilliant with fear and enjoyment. Her thin cotton blouse fitted +tightly and showed every line of her young figure; her smiling lips +were half-open, displaying two rows of sound white teeth, which looked +as if they would like to bite or kiss him. + +Higher and higher rose the swing, until it struck the topmost branches +of the maple. The girl screamed and fell forward, into his arms; he +was pushed over, on to the seat. The trembling of the soft warm body +which nestled closely in his arms, sent an electric shock through his +whole nervous system; a black veil descended before his eyes and he +would have let her go if her left shoulder had not been tightly +pressed against his right arm. + +The speed of the swing slackened. She rose and sat on the seat facing +him. And thus they remained with downcast eyes, not daring to look one +another in the face. + +When the swing stopped, the girl slipped off the seat and ran away as +if she were answering a call. Theodore was left alone. He felt the +blood surging in his veins. It seemed to him that his strength was +redoubled. But he could not grasp what had happened. He vaguely +conceived himself as an electrophor whose positive electricity, in +discharging, had combined with the negative. It had happened during a +quite ordinary, to all appearances chaste, contact with a young woman. +He had never felt the same emotion in wrestling, for instance, with +his school-fellows in the play-ground. He had come into contact with +the opposite polarity of the female sex and now he knew what it meant +to be a man. For he was a man, not a precocious boy, kicking over the +traces; he was a strong, hardy, healthy youth. + +As he strolled along, up and down the garden paths, new thoughts +formed in his brain. Life looked at him with graver eyes, he felt +conscious of a sense of duty. But he was only fifteen years old. He +was not yet confirmed and many years would have to elapse before he +would be considered an independent member of the community, before he +would be able to earn a living for himself, let alone maintain a wife +and family. He took life seriously, the thought of light adventures +never occurred to him. Women were to him something sacred, his +opposite pole, the supplement and completion of himself. He was mature +now, bodily and mentally, fit to enter the arena of life and fight his +way. What prevented him from doing so? His education, which had taught +him nothing useful; his social position, which stood between him and a +trade he might have learned. The Church, which had not yet received +his vow of loyalty to her priests; the State, which was still waiting +for his oath of allegiance to Bernadotte and Nassau; the School, which +had not yet trained him sufficiently to consider him ripe for the +University; the secret alliance of the upper against the lower +classes. A whole mountain of follies lay on him and his young +strength. Now that he knew himself to be a man, the whole system of +education seemed to him an institution for the mutilation of body and +soul. They must both be mutilated before he could be allowed to enter +the harem of the world, where manhood is considered a danger; he could +find no other excuse for it. And thus he sank back into his former +state of immaturity. He compared himself to a celery plant, tied up +and put under a flower-pot so as to make it as white and soft as +possible, unable to put forth green leaves in the sunshine, flower, +and bear seed. + +Wrapped in these thoughts he remained in the garden until the clock on +the nearest church tower struck ten. Then he turned towards the house, +for it was bed-time. But the front door was locked. The house-maid, a +petticoat thrown over her nightgown, let him in. A glimpse of her bare +shoulders roused him from his sentimental reveries; he tried to put +his arm round her and kiss her, for at the moment he was conscious of +nothing but her sex. But the maid had already disappeared, shutting +the door with a bang. Overwhelmed with shame he opened his window, +cooled his head in a basin of cold water and lighted his lamp. + +When he had got into bed, he took up a volume of Arndt’s _Spiritual +Voices of the Morning_, a book which had belonged to his mother; he +read a chapter of it every evening to be on the safe side, for in the +morning his time was short. The book reminded him of the promise of +chastity given to his mother on her death-bed, and he felt a twinge of +conscience. A fly which had singed its wings on his lamp, and was now +buzzing round the little table by his bedside, turned his thoughts +into another channel; he closed the book and lit a cigarette. He heard +his father take off his boots in the room below, knock out his pipe +against the stove, pour out a glass of water and get ready to go to +bed. He thought how lonely he must be since he had become a widower. +In days gone by he had often heard the subdued voices of his parents +through the thin partition, in intimate conversation on matters on +which they always agreed; but now no voice was audible, nothing but +the dead sounds which a man makes in waiting upon himself, sounds +which one must put side by side, like the figures in a rebus, before +one can understand their meaning. + +He finished his cigarette, blew out the lamp and said the Lord’s Prayer +in an undertone, but he got no farther than the fifth petition. Then he +fell asleep. + +He awoke from a dream in the middle of the night. He had dreamt that +he held the gardener’s daughter in his arms. He could not remember the +circumstances, for he was quite dazed, and fell asleep again directly. + +On the following morning he was depressed and had a headache. He +brooded over the future which loomed before him threateningly and +filled him with dread. He realised with a pang how quickly the summer +was passing, for the end of the summer meant the degradation of +school-life. Every thought of his own would be stifled by the thoughts +of others; there was no advantage in being able to think independently; +it required a fixed number of years before one could reach one’s goal. +It was like a journey on a good’s train; the engine was bound to remain +for a certain time in the stations, and when the pressure of the steam +became too strong, from want of consumption of energy, a waste-pipe had +to be opened. The Board had drawn up the time-table and the train was +not permitted to arrive at the stations before its appointed time. That +was the principal thing which mattered. + +The father noticed the boy’s pallor, but he put it down to grief over +his mother’s death. + +Autumn came and with it the return to school. Theodore, by dint of +much novel-reading during the summer, and coming in this way, as it +were, in constant contact with grown-up people and their problems and +struggles, had come to look upon himself as a grown-up member of +society. Now the masters treated him with familiarity, the boys took +liberties which compelled him to repay them in kind. And this +educational institution, which was to ennoble him and make him fit to +take his place in the community, what did it teach him? How did it +ennoble him? The compendiums, one and all, were written under the +control of the upper classes, for the sole purpose of forcing the +lower classes to look up to their betters. The schoolmasters +frequently reproached their pupils with ingratitude and impressed on +them their utter inability to realise, even faintly, the advantage +they enjoyed in receiving an education which so many of their poorer +fellow-creatures would always lack. No, indeed, the boys were not +sophisticated enough to see through the gigantic fraud and its +advantages. + +But did they ever find true joy, real pleasure in the subjects of +their studies for their own sakes? Never! Therefore the teachers had +to appeal incessantly to the lower passions of their pupils, to +ambition, self-interest, material advantages. + +What a miserable make-believe school was! Not one of the boys believed +that he would reap any benefit from repeating the names and dates of +hated kings in their proper sequence, from learning dead languages, +proving axioms, defining “a matter of course,” and counting the anthers +of plants and the joints on the hindlegs of insects, to knowing the end +no more about them than their Latin names. How many long hours were +wasted in the vain attempt to divide an angle into three equal sections, +a thing which can be done so easily in a minute in an _unscientific_ +(that is to say practical) way by using a graduator. + +How they scorned everything practical! His sisters, who were taught +French from Ollendorf’s grammar, were able to speak the language after +two years’ study; but the college boys could not say a single sentence +after six. Ollendorf was a name which they pronounced with pity and +contempt. It was the essence of all that was stupid. + +But when his sister asked for an explanation and enquired whether the +purpose of spoken language was not the expression of human thought, +the young sophist replied with a phrase picked up from one of the +masters who in his turn had borrowed it from Talleyrand. Language was +invented to hide one’s thoughts. This, of course, was beyond the +horizon of a young girl (how well men know how to hide their +shortcomings), but henceforth she believed her brother to be +tremendously learned, and stopped arguing with him. + +And was there not even a worse stumbling-block in aesthetics, delusive +and deceptive, casting a veil of borrowed splendour and sham beauty +over everything? They sang of “The Knights’ Vigil of Light.” What +knights’ vigil? With patents of nobility and students’ certificates; +false testimonials, as they might have told themselves. Of light? That +was to say of the upper classes who had the greatest interest in +keeping the lower classes in darkness, a task in which they were ably +assisted by church and school. “And onward, onward, on the path of +light!” + +Things were always called by the wrong name. And if it so happened +that a light-bearer arose from the lower classes, everybody was ready +and prepared to extinguish his torch. Oh! youthful, healthy host of +fighters! How healthy they were, all these young men, enervated by +idleness, unsatisfied desires and ambitions, who scorned every man who +had not the means to pay for a University education! What splendid +liars they were, the poets of the upper classes! Were they the +deceivers or the deceived? + +What was the usual subject of the young men’s conversation? Their +studies? Never! Once in a way, perhaps, they would talk of certificates. +No, their conversation was of things obscene; of appointments with +women; of billiards and drink; of certain diseases which they had heard +discussed by their elder brothers. They lounged about in the afternoon +and “held the reviews,” and the best informed of them knew the name of +the officer and could tell the others where his mistress lived. + +Once two members of the “Knights’ Vigil of Light,” had dined in the +company of two women on the terrace of a high-class restaurant in the +Zoological Gardens. For this offence they were expelled from school. +They were punished for their naïveté, not because their conduct was +considered vicious, for a year after they passed their examinations +and went to the University, gaining in this way a whole year; and when +they had completed their studies at Upsala, they were attached to the +Embassy in one of the capitals of Europe, to represent the United +Kingdoms of Sweden and Norway. + +In these surroundings Theodore spent the best part of his youth. He +had seen through the fraud, but was compelled to acquiesce! Again and +again he asked himself the question: What can I do? There was no answer. +And so he became an accessory and learned to hold his tongue. + +His confirmation appeared to him to be very much on a level with his +school experience. A young minister, an ardent pietist, was to teach +him in four months Luther’s Catechism, regardless of the fact that he was +well versed in theology, exegesis and dogmatics, besides having read the +New Testament in Greek. Nevertheless the strict pietism, which demanded +absolute truth in thought and action, could not fail to make a great +impression on him. + +When the catechumens were assembled for the first time, Theodore found +himself quite unexpectedly surrounded by a totally different class of +boys to whom he had been used at school. When he entered the +assembly-room he was met by the stare of something like a hundred +inimical eyes. There were tobacco binders, chimney sweeps, apprentices +of all trades. They were on bad terms and freely abused one another, +but this enmity between the different trades was only superficial; +however much they quarrelled, they yet held together. He seemed to +breathe a strangely stifling atmosphere; the hatred with which they +greeted him was not unmixed with contempt, the reverse of a certain +respect or envy. He looked in vain for a friend, for a companion, +like-minded, dressed as he was. There was not a single one. The parish +was poor, the rich people sent their children to the German church which +was then the fashion. It was in the company of the children of the +people, the lower classes, that he was to approach the altar, as their +equal. He asked himself what it was that separated him from these boys? +Were they not, bodily, endowed with the same gifts as he? No doubt, for +every one of them earned his living, and some of them helped to keep +their parents. Were they less gifted, mentally? He did not think so, for +their remarks gave evidence of keen powers of observation; he would have +laughed at many of their witty remarks if he had not been conscious of +his superior caste. There was no definite line of demarcation between +him and the fools who were his school-fellows. But there was a line here +Was it the shabby clothes, the plain faces, the coarse hands, which +formed the barrier? Partly, he thought. Their plainness, especially, +repulsed him. But were they worse than others because they were plain? + +He was carrying a foil, as he had a fencing lesson later on. He put it +in a corner of the room, hoping that it would escape attention. But it +had been seen already. Nobody knew what kind of a thing it really was, +but everybody recognised it as a weapon of some sort. Some of the +boldest busied themselves about the corner, so as to have a look at +it. They fingered the covering of the handle, scratched the guard with +their nails, bent the blade, handled the small leather ball. They were +like hares sniffing at a gun which had been lost in the wood. They did +not understand its use, but they knew it for something inimical, +something with a hidden meaning. Presently a belt-maker’s apprentice, +whose brother was in the Life Guards, joined the inquisitive throng +and at once decided the question: “Can’t you see that it is a sword, +you fools?” he shouted, with a look at Theodore. It was a respectful +look, but a look which also hinted at a secret understanding between +them, which, correctly interpreted, meant: You and I understand these +things! But a young rope-maker, who had once been a trumpeter in a +military band, considered this giving of a verdict without consulting +him a personal slight and declared that he “would be hanged if it +wasn’t a rapier!” The consequence was a fight which transformed the +place into a bear-garden, dense with dust and re-echoing with screams +and yells. + +The door opened and the minister stood on the threshold. He was a pale +young man, very thin, with watery blue eyes and a face disfigured by a +rash. He shouted at the boys. The wild beasts ceased fighting. He +began talking of the precious blood of Christ and the power of the +Evil One over the human heart. After a little while he succeeded in +inducing the hundred boys to sit down on the forms and chairs. But now +he was quite out of breath and the atmosphere was thick with dust. He +glanced at the window and said in a faint voice: “Open the sash!” This +request re-awakened the only half-subdued passions. Twenty-five boys +made a rush for the window and tried to seize the window cord. + +“Go to your places at once!” screamed the minister, stretching out his +hand for his cane. + +There was a momentary silence during which the minister tried to think +of a way of having the sash raised without a fight. + +“You,” he said at last to a timid little fellow, “go and open the +window!” + +The small boy went to the window and tried to disentangle the window +cord. The others looked on in breathless silence, when suddenly a big +lad, in sailor’s clothes, who had just come home on the brig _Carl +Johan_, lost patience. + +“The devil take me if I don’t show you what a lad can do,” he shouted, +throwing off his coat and jumping on the window sill; there was a +flash from his cutlass and the rope was cut. + +“Cable’s cut!” he laughed, as the minister with a hysterical cry, +literally drove him to his seat. + +“The rope was so entangled that there was nothing for it but to cut +it,” he assured him, as he sat down. + +The minister was furious. He had come from a small town in the +provinces and had never conceived the possibility of so much sin, so +much wickedness and immorality. He had never come into contact with +lads so far advanced on the road to damnation. And he talked at great +length of the precious blood of Christ. + +Not one of them understood what he said, for they did not realise that +they had fallen, since they had never bee different. The boys received +his words with coldness and indifference. + +The minister rambled on and spoke of Christ’s precious wounds, but not +one of them took his words to heart, for not one of them was conscious +of having wounded Christ. He changed the subject and spoke of the +devil, but that was a topic so familiar to them that it made no +impression. At last he hit on the right thing. He began to talk of +their confirmation which was to take place in the coming spring. He +reminded them of their parents, anxious that their children should +play a part in the life of the community; when he went on to speak of +employers who refused to employ lads who had not been confirmed, his +listeners became deeply interested at once, and every one of them +understood the great importance of the coming ceremony. Now he was +sincere, and the young minds grasped what he was talking about; the +noisiest among them became quiet. + +The registration began. What a number of marriage certificates were +missing! How could the children come to Christ when their parents had +not been legally married? How could they approach the altar when their +fathers had been in prison? Oh! what sinners they were! + +Theodore was deeply moved by the exhibition of so much shame and +disgrace. He longed to tear his thoughts away from the subject, but +was unable to do so. Now it was his turn to hand in his certificates +and the minister read out: son: Theodore, born on such and such a +date; parents: professor and knight ... a faint smile flickered like a +feeble sunbeam over his face, he gave him a friendly nod and asked: +“And how is your dear father?” But when he saw that the mother was +dead (a fact of which he was perfectly well aware) his face clouded +over. “She was a child of God,” he said, as if he were talking to +himself, in a gushing, sympathetic, whining voice, but the remark +conveyed at the same time a certain reproach against the “dear father,” + who was only a professor and knight. After that Theodore could go. + +When he left the assembly-room he felt that he had gone through an +almost impossible experience. Were all those lads really depraved +because they used oaths and coarse language, as his companions, his +father, his uncle, and all the upper classes did at times? What did +the minister mean when he talked of immorality? They were more savage +than the spoilt children of the wealthy, but that was because they +were more fully alive. It was unfair to blame them for missing +marriage certificates. True, his father had never committed a theft, +but there was no necessity for a man to steal if he had an income of +six thousand crowns and could please himself. The act would be absurd +or abnormal in such a case. + +Theodore went back to school realising what it meant “to have received +an education”; here nobody was badgered for small faults. As little +notice as possible was taken of one’s own or one’s parent’s weaknesses, +one was among equals and understood one another. + +After school one “held the reviews,” sneaked into a cafe and drank a +liqueur, and finally went to the fencing-room. He looked at the young +officers who treated him as their equal, observed all those young +bloods with their supple limbs, pleasant manners and smiling faces, +every one of them certain that a good dinner was awaiting him at home, +and became conscious of the existence of two worlds: an upper and an +under-world. He remembered the gloomy assembly-room and the wretched +assembly he had just left with a pang; all their wounds and hidden +defects were mercilessly exposed and examined through a +magnifying-glass, so that the lower classes might acquire that true +humility failing which the upper classes cannot enjoy their amiable +weaknesses in peace. And for the first time something jarring had come +into this life. + +However much Theodore was tossed about between his natural yearning +for the only half-realised temptations of the world, and his newly +formed desire to turn his back on this world and his mind heavenwards, +he did not break the promise given to his mother. The religious +teaching which he and the other catechumens received from the minister +in the church, did not fail to impress him deeply. He was often gloomy +and wrapped in thought and felt that life was not what it ought to be. +He had a dim notion that once upon a time a terrible crime had been +committed, which it was now everybody’s business to hide by practising +countless deceptions; he compared himself to a fly caught in a spider’s +web: the more it struggled to regain its freedom, the more it entangled +itself, until at last it died miserably, strangled by the cruel threads. + +One evening--the minister scorned no trick likely to produce an effect +on his hard-headed pupils--they were having a lesson in the choir. It +was in January. Two gas jets lighted up the choir, illuminating and +distorting the marble figures on the altar. The whole of the large +church with its two barrel-vaults, which crossed one another, lay in +semi-darkness. In the background the shining organ pipes faintly +reflected the gas flames; above it the angels blowing their trumpets +to summon the sleepers before the judgment seat of their maker, looked +merely like sinister, threatening human figures above life size; the +cloisters were lost in complete darkness. + +The minister had explained the seventh commandment. He had spoken of +immorality between married and unmarried people. He could not explain +to his pupils what immorality between husband and wife meant, although +he was a married man himself; but on the subject of immorality in all +its other aspects he was well-informed. He went on to the subject of +self-abuse. As he pronounced the word a rustling sound passed through +the rows of young men; they stared at him, with white cheeks and +hollow eyes, as if a phantom had appeared in their midst. As long as +he kept to the tortures of hell fire, they remained fairly indifferent, +but when he took up a book and read to them accounts of youths who had +died at the age of twenty-five of consumption of the spine, they +collapsed in their seats, and felt as if the floor were giving way +beneath them! He told them the story of a young boy who was committed +to an asylum at the age of twelve, and died at the age of fourteen, +having found peace in the faith of his Redeemer. They saw before their +shrinking eyes a hundred corpses, washed and shrouded. “There is but one +remedy against this evil,” went on the minister, “the precious wounds of +Christ.” But how this remedy was to be used against sexual precocity, he +did not tell them. He admonished them not to go to dances, to shun +theatres and gaming-houses, and above all things, to avoid women; that +is to say to act in exact contradiction to their inclinations. That this +vice contradicts and utterly confounds he pronouncement of the community +that a man is not mature until he is twenty-one, was passed over in +silence. Whether it could be prevented by early marriages (supposing a +means of providing food for all instead of banquets for a few could be +found) remained an open question. The final issue was that one should +throw oneself into the arms of Christ, that is to say, go to church, and +leave the care of temporal things to the upper classes. + +After this admonishment the minister requested the first five on the +first form to stay behind. He wished to speak to them in private. The +first five looked as if they had been sentenced to death. Their chests +contracted; they breathed with difficulty, and a careful observer might +have noticed that their hair had risen an inch at the roots and lay over +their skulls in damp strands like the hair of a corpse. Their eyes stared +from their blanched sockets like two round glass bullets set in leather, +motionless, not knowing whether to face the question with a bold front, +or hide behind an impudent lie. + +After the prayer the hymn of Christ’s wounds was sung; to-night it +sounded like the singing of consumptives; every now and then it died +away altogether, or was interrupted by a dry cough, like the cough of +a man who is dying of thirst. Then they began to file out. One of the +five attempted to steal away, but the minister called him back. + +It was a terrible moment. Theodore who sat on the first form was one +of the five. He felt sick at heart. Not because he was guilty of the +offence indicated, but because in his heart he considered it an insult +to a man thus to have to lay bare the most secret places of his soul. + +The other four sat down, as far from each other as they could. The +belt-maker’s apprentice, who was one of them, tried to make a joke, +but the words refused to come. They saw themselves confronted by the +police-court, the prison, the hospital and, in the background, the +asylum. They did not know what was going to happen, but they felt +instinctively that a species of scourging awaited them. Their only +comfort in their distressing situation was the fact that _he_, Mr. +Theodore, was one of them. It was not clear to them why that fact +should be a comfort, but they knew intuitively that no evil would +happen to the son of a professor. + +“Come along, Wennerstroem,” said the minister, after he had lighted +the gas in the vestry. + +Wennerstroem went and the door closed behind him. The four remained +seated on their forms, vainly trying to discover a comfortable +position for their limbs. + +After a while Wennerstroem returned, with red eyes, trembling with +excitement; he immediately went down the corridor and out into the +night. + +When he stood in the churchyard which lay silent under a heavy cover +of snow, he recapitulated all that had happened in the vestry. The +minister had asked him whether he had sinned? No, he had not. Did he +have dreams? Yes! He was told that dreams were equally sinful, because +they proved that the heart was wicked, and God looked at the heart. +“He trieth the heart and reins, and on the last day he will judge +every one of us for every sinful thought, and dreams are thoughts. +Christ has said: Give me your heart, my son! Go to Him! Pray, pray, +pray! Whatsoever is chaste, whatsoever is pure, whatsoever is +lovely--that is He. The alpha and the omega, life and happiness. +Chasten the flesh and be strong in prayer. Go in the name of the Lord +and sin no more!” + +He felt indignant, but he was also crushed. In vain did he struggle to +throw off his depression, he had not been taught sufficient common-sense +at school to use it as a weapon against this Jesuitical sophistry. It +was true, his knowledge of psychology enabled him to modify the statement +that dreams are thoughts; dreams are fancies, he mused, creations of the +imagination; but God has no regard for words! Logic taught him that there +was something unnatural in his premature desires. He could not marry at +the age of sixteen, since he was unable to support a wife; but why he was +unable to support a wife, although he felt himself to be a man, was a +problem which he could not solve. However anxious he might be to get +married, the laws of society which are made by the upper classes and +protected by bayonets, would prevent him. Consequently nature must have +been sinned against in some way, for a man was mature long before he was +able to earn a living. It must be degeneracy. His imagination must be +degenerate; it was for him to purify it by prayer and sacrifice. + +When he arrived home, he found his father and sisters at supper. He +was ashamed to sit down with them, for he felt degraded. His father +asked him, as usual, whether the date of the confirmation had been +fixed. Theodore did not know. He touched no food, pretending that he +was not well; the truth was that he did not dare to eat any supper. He +went into his bedroom and read an essay by Schartau which the minister +had lent him. The subject was the vanity of reason. And here, just +here, where all his hopes of arriving at a clear understanding were +centred, the light failed. Reason which he had dared to hope would +some day guide him out of the darkness into the light, reason, too, +was sin; the greatest of all sins, for it questioned God’s very +existence, tried to understand what was not meant to be understood. +Why _it_ was not meant to be understood, was not explained; probably +it was because if _it_ had been understood the fraud would have been +discovered. + +He rebelled no longer, but surrendered himself. Before going to bed he +read two _Morning Voices_ from Arndt, recited the Creed, the Lord’s +Prayer and the Blessing. He felt very hungry; a fact which he realised +with a certain spiteful pleasure, for it seemed to him that his enemy +was suffering. + +With these thoughts he fell asleep. He awoke in the middle of the +night. He had dreamt of a champagne supper in the company of a girl. +And the whole terrible evening arose fresh in his memory. + +He leapt out of bed with a bound, threw his sheets and blankets on the +floor and lay down to sleep on the bare mattress, covering himself +with nothing but a thin coverlet. He was cold and hungry, but he must +subdue the devil. Again he repeated the Lord’s Prayer, with additions +of his own. By and by his thoughts grew confused, the strained +expression of his features relaxed, a smile softened the expression of +his mouth; lovely figures appeared before him, serene and smiling, he +heard subdued voices, half-stifled laughter, a few bars from a waltz, +saw sparkling glasses and frank and merry faces with candid eyes, +which met his own unabashed; suddenly a curtain was parted in the +middle; a charming little face peeped through the red silk draperies, +with smiling lips and dancing eyes; the slender throat is bare, the +beautiful sloping shoulders look as if they had been modelled by a +caressing hand; she holds out her arms and he draws her to his +thumping heart. + +The clock was striking three. Again he had been worsted in the fight. + +Determined to win, he picked up the mattress and threw it out of the +bed. Then he knelt on the cold floor and fervently prayed to God for +strength, for he felt that he was indeed wrestling with the devil. +When he had finished his prayer he lay down on the bare frame, and +with a feeling of satisfaction felt the ropes and belting cutting into +his arms and shins. + +He awoke in the morning in a high fever. + +He was laid up for six weeks. When he arose from his bed of sickness, +he felt better than he had ever felt before. The rest, the good food +and the medicine had increased his strength, and the struggle was now +twice as hard. But he continued to struggle. + +His confirmation took place in the spring. The moving scene in which +the lower classes promise on oath never to interfere with these things +which the upper classes consider their privilege, made a lasting +impression on him. It didn’t trouble him that the minister offered him +wine bought from the wine-merchant Högstedt at sixty-five öre the +pint, and wafers from Lettstroem, the baker, at one crown a pound, as +the flesh and blood of the great agitator Jesus of Nazareth, who was +done to death nineteen hundred years ago. He didn’t think about it, +for one didn’t think in those days, one had emotions. + +A year after his confirmation he passed his final examination. The +smart little college cap was a source of great pleasure to him; +without being actually conscious of it, he felt that he, as a member +of the upper classes, had received a charter. They were not a little +proud of their knowledge, too, these young men, for the masters had +pronounced them “mature.” The conceited youths! If at least they had +mastered all the nonsense of which they boasted! If anybody had +listened to their conversation at the banquet given in their honour, +it would have been a revelation to him. They declared openly that they +had not acquired five per cent. of the knowledge which ought to have +been in their possession; they assured everybody who had ears to +listen that it was a miracle that they had passed; the uninitiated +would not have believed a word of it. And some of the young masters, +now that the barrier between pupil and teacher was removed, and +simulation was no longer necessary, swore solemnly, with half-intoxicated +gestures, that there was not a single master in the whole school who +would not have been plucked. A sober person could not help drawing the +conclusion that the examination was like a line which could be drawn at +will between upper and lower classes; and then he saw in the miracle +nothing but a gigantic fraud. + +It was one of the masters who, sipping a glass of punch, maintained +that only an idiot could imagine that a human brain could remember at +the same time: the three thousand dates mentioned in history; the +names of the five thousand towns situated in all parts of the world; +the names of six hundred plants and seven hundred animals; the bones +in the human body, the stones which form the crust of the earth, all +theological disputes, one thousand French words, one thousand English, +one thousand German, one thousand Latin, one thousand Greek, half a +million rules and exceptions to the rules: five hundred mathematical, +physical, geometrical, chemical formulas. He was willing to prove that +in order to be capable of such a feat the brain would have to be as +large as the cupola of the Observatory at Upsala. Humboldt, he went on +to say, finally forgot his tables, and the professor of astronomy at +Lund had been unable to divide two whole numbers of six figures each. +The newly-fledged under-graduates imagined that they knew six +languages, and yet they knew no more than five thousand words at most +of the twenty thousand which composed their mother tongue. And hadn’t +he seen how they cheated? Oh! he knew all their tricks! He had seen +the dates written on their finger nails; he had watched them +consulting books under cover of their desks, he had heard them +whispering to one another! But, he concluded, what is one to do? +Unless one closes an eye to these things, the supply of students is +bound to come to an end. During the summer Theodore remained at home, +spending much of his time in the garden. He brooded over the problem +of his future; what profession was he to choose? He had gained so much +insight into the methods of the huge Jesuitical community which, under +the name of the upper classes, constituted society, that he felt +dissatisfied with the world and decided to enter the Church to save +himself from despair. And yet the world beckoned to him. It lay before +him, fair and bright, and his young, fermenting blood yearned for +life. He spent himself in the struggle and his idleness added to his +torments. + +Theodore’s increasing melancholy and waning health began to alarm his +father. He had no doubt about the cause, but he could not bring +himself to talk to his son on such a delicate subject. + +One Sunday afternoon the Professor’s brother who was an officer in the +Pioneers, called. They were sitting in the garden, sipping their coffee. + +“Have you noticed the change in Theodore?” asked the Professor. + +“Yes, his time has come,” answered the Captain. + +“I believe it has come long ago.” + +“I wish you’d talk to him, I can’t do it.” + +“If I were a bachelor, I should play the part of the uncle,” said the +Captain; “as it is, I’ll ask Gustav to do it. The boy must see something +of life, or he’ll go wrong. Hot stuff these Wennerstroems, what?” + +“Yes,” said the Professor, “I was a man at fifteen, but I had a +school-friend who was never confirmed because he was a father at +thirteen.” + +“Look at Gustav! Isn’t he a fine fellow? I’m hanged if he isn’t as +broad across the back as an old captain! He’s a handful!” + +“Yes,” answered the Professor, “he costs me a lot, but after all, I’d +rather pay than see the boy running any risks. I wish you’d ask Gustav +to take Theodore about with him a little, just to rouse him.” + +“Oh! with pleasure!” answered the Captain. + +And so the matter was settled. + +One evening in July, when the summer is in its prime and all the +blossoms which the spring has fertilised ripen into fruit, Theodore +was sitting in his bed-room, waiting. He had pinned a text against his +wall. “Come to Jesus,” it said, and it was intended as a hint to the +lieutenant not to argue with him when he occasionally came home from +barracks for a few minutes. Gustav was of a lively disposition, “a +handful,” as his uncle had said. He wasted no time in brooding. He had +promised to call for Theodore at seven o’clock; they were going to +make arrangements for the celebration of the professor’s birthday. +Theodore’s secret plan was to convert his brother, and Gustav’s +equally secret intention was to make his younger brother take a more +reasonable view of life. + +Punctually at seven o’clock, a cab stopped before the house, (the +lieutenant invariably arrived in a cab) and immediately after Theodore +heard the ringing of his spurs and the rattling of his sword on the +stairs. + +“Good evening, you old mole,” said the elder brother with a laugh. He +was the picture of health and youth. His highly-polished Hessian boots +revealed a pair of fine legs, his tunic outlined the loins of a +cart-horse; the golden bandolier of his cartridge box made his chest +appear broader and his sword-belt showed off a pair of enormous thighs. + +He glanced at the text and grinned, but said nothing. + +“Come along, old man, let’s be off to Bellevue! We’ll call on the +gardener there and make arrangements for the old man’s birthday. Put +on your hat, and come, old chap!” + +Theodore tried to think of an excuse, but the brother took him by the +arm, put a hat on his head, back to front, pushed a cigarette between +his lips and opened the door. Theodore felt like a fish out of water, +but he went with his brother. + +“To Bellevue!” said the lieutenant to the cab-driver, “and mind you +make your thoroughbreds fly!” + +Theodore could not help being amused. It would never have occurred to +him to address an elderly married man, like the cabman, with so much +familiarity. + +On the way the lieutenant talked of everything under the sun and stared +at every pretty girl they passed. + +They met a funeral procession on its return from the cemetery. + +“Did you notice that devilish pretty girl in the last coach?” asked +Gustav. + +Theodore had not seen her and did not want to see her. + +They passed an omnibus full of girls of the barmaid type. The +lieutenant stood up, unconcernedly, in the public thoroughfare, and +kissed his hands to them. He really behaved like a madman. + +The business at Bellevue was soon settled. On their return the +cab-driver drove them, without waiting for an order, to “The Equerry,” + a restaurant where Gustav was evidently well-known. + +“Let’s go and have something to eat,” said the lieutenant, pushing his +brother out of the cab. + +Theodore was fascinated. He was no abstainer and saw nothing wrong in +entering a public-house, although it never occurred to him to do so. +He followed, though not without a slight feeling of uneasiness. + +They were received in the hall by two girls. “Good evening, little +doves,” said the lieutenant, and kissed them both on the lips. “Let me +introduce you to my learned brother; he’s very young and innocent, not +at all like me; what do you say, Jossa?” + +The girls looked shyly at Theodore, who did not know which way to turn. +His brother’s language appeared to him unutterably impudent. + +On their way upstairs they met a dark-haired little girl, who had +evidently been crying; she looked quiet and modest and made a good +impression on Theodore. + +The lieutenant did not kiss her, but he pulled out his handkerchief +and dried her eyes. Then he ordered an extravagant supper. + +They were in a bright and pretty room, hung with mirrors and +containing a piano, a perfect room for banquetting. The lieutenant +opened the piano with his sword, and before Theodore knew where he +was, he was sitting on the music-stool, and his hands were resting on +the keyboard. + +“Play us a waltz,” commanded the lieutenant, and Theodore played a +waltz. The lieutenant took off his sword and danced with Jossa; +Theodore heard his spurs knocking against the legs of the chairs and +tables. Then he threw himself on the sofa and shouted: + +“Come here, ye slaves, and fan me!” + +Theodore began to play softly and presently he was absorbed in the +music of Gounod’s _Faust_. He did not dare to turn round. + +“Go and kiss him,” whispered the brother. + +But the girls felt shy. They were almost afraid of him and his +melancholy music. + +The boldest of them, however, went up to the piano. + +“You are playing from the Freischütz, aren’t you?” she asked. + +“No,” said Theodore, politely, “I’m playing Gounod’s _Faust_.” + +“Your brother looks frightfully respectable,” said the little dark +one, whose name was Rieke; “he’s different to you, you old villain.” + +“Oh! well, he’s going into the Church,” whispered the lieutenant. + +These words made a great impression on the girls, and henceforth they +only kissed the lieutenant when Theodore’s back was turned, and looked +at Theodore shyly and apprehensively, like fowls at a chained mastiff. + +Supper appeared, a great number of courses. There were eighteen dishes, +not counting the hot ones. + +Gustav poured out the liqueurs. + +“Your health, you old hypocrite!” he laughed. + +Theodore swallowed the liqueur. A delicious warmth ran through his +limbs, a thin, warm veil fell over his eyes, he felt ravenous like a +starving beast. What a banquet it was! The fresh salmon with its +peculiar flavour, and the dill with its narcotic aroma; the radishes +which seem to scrape the throat and call for beer; the small +beef-steaks and sweet Portuguese onions, which made him think of +dancing girls; the fried lobster which smelt of the sea; the chicken +stuffed with parsley which reminded him of the gardener, and the first +gerkins with their poisonous flavour of verdigris which made such a +jolly, crackling sound between his crunching teeth. The porter flowed +through his veins like hot streams of lava; they drank champagne after +the strawberries; a waitress brought the foaming drink which bubbled +in the glasses like a fountain. They poured out a glass for her. And +then they talked of all sorts of things. + +Theodore sat there like a tree in which the sap is rising. He had +eaten a good supper and felt as if a whole volcano was seething in his +inside. New thoughts, new emotions, new ideas, new points of view +fluttered round his brow like butterflies. He went to the piano and +played, he himself knew not what. The ivory keys under his hands were +like a heap of bones from which his spirit drew life and melody. + +He did not know how long he had been playing, but when he turned, +round he saw his brother entering the room. He looked like a god, +radiating life and strength. Behind him came Rieke with a bowl of +punch, and immediately after all the girls came upstairs. The +lieutenant drank to each one of them separately; Theodore found that +everything was as it should be and finally became so bold that he +kissed Rieke on the shoulder. But she looked annoyed and drew away +from him, and he felt ashamed. + +When Theodore found himself alone in his room, he had a feeling as if +the whole world were turned upside down. He tore the text from the +wall, not because he no longer believed in Jesus, but because its +being pinned against the wall struck him as a species of bragging. He +was amazed to find that religion sat on him as loosely as a Sunday +suit, and he asked himself whether it was not unseemly to go about +during the whole week in Sunday clothes. After all he was but an +ordinary, commonplace person with whom he was well content, and he +came to the conclusion that he had a better chance of living in peace +with himself if he lived a simple, unpretentious, unassuming life. + +He slept soundly during the night, undisturbed by dreams. + +When he arose on the following morning, his pale cheeks looked fuller +and there was a new gladness in his heart. He went out for a walk and +suddenly found himself in the country. The thought struck him that he +might go to the restaurant and look up the girls. He went into the +large room; there he found Rieke and Jossa alone, in morning dresses, +snubbing gooseberries. Before he knew what he was doing, he was sitting +at the table beside them with a pair of scissors in his hand, helping +them. They talked of Theodore’s brother and the pleasant evening they +had spent together. Not a single loose remark was made. They were just +like a happy family; surely he had fallen in good hands, he was among +friends. + +When they had finished with the gooseberries, he ordered coffee and +invited the girls to share it with him. Later on the proprietress came +and read the paper to them. He felt at home. + +He repeated his visit. One afternoon he went upstairs, to look for +Rieke. She was sewing a seam. Theodore asked her whether he was in her +way. “Not at all,” she replied, “on the contrary.” They talked of his +brother who was away at camp, and would be away for another two +months. Presently he ordered some punch and their intimacy grew. + +On another occasion Theodore met her in the Park. She was gathering +flowers. They both sat down in the grass. She was wearing a light +summer dress, the material of which was so thin that it plainly +revealed her slight girlish figure. He put his arms round her waist +and kissed her. She returned his kisses and he drew her to him in a +passionate embrace; but she tore herself away and told him gravely +that if he did not behave himself she would never meet him again. + +They went on meeting one another for two months. Theodore had fallen +in love with her. He had long and serious conversations with her on +the most sacred duties of life, on love, on religion, on everything, +and between-whiles he spoke to her of his passion. But she invariably +confounded him with his own arguments. Then he felt ashamed of having +harboured base thoughts of so innocent a girl, and finally his passion +was transformed into admiration for this poor little thing, who had +managed to keep herself unspotted in the midst of temptation. + +He had given up the idea of going into the Church; he determined to +take the doctor’s degree and--who knows--perhaps marry Rieke. He read +poetry to her while she did needlework. She let him kiss her as much +as he liked, she allowed him to fondle and caress her; but that was +the limit. + +At last his brother returned from camp. He immediately ordered a +banquet at “The Equerry”; Theodore was invited. But he was made to +play all the time. He was in the middle of a waltz, to which nobody +danced, when he happened to look round; he was alone. He rose and went +into the corridor, passed a long row of doors, and at last came to a +bed-room. There he saw a sight which made him turn round, seize his +hat and disappear into the darkness. + +It was dawn when he reached his own bed-room, alone, annihilated, +robbed of his faith in life, in love, and, of course, in women, for to +him there was but one woman in the world, and that was Rieke from “The +Equerry.” On the fifteenth of September he went to Upsala to study +theology. + + * * * * * + +The years passed. His sound common-sense was slowly extinguished by +all the nonsense with which he had to fill his brain daily and hourly. +But at night he was powerless to resist. Nature burst her bonds and +took by force what rebellious man denied her. He lost his health; all +his skull bones were visible in his haggard face, his complexion was +sallow and his skin looked damp and clammy; ugly pimples appeared +between the scanty locks of his beard. His eyes were without lustre, +his hands so emaciated that the joints seemed to poke through the +skin. He looked like the illustration to an essay on human vice, and +yet he lived a perfectly pure life. + +One day the professor of Christian Ethics, a married man with very +strict ideas on morality, called on him and asked him pointblank +whether he had anything on his conscience; if so, he advised him to +make a clean breast of it. Theodore answered that he had nothing to +confess, but that he was unhappy. Thereupon the professor exhorted him +to watch and pray and be strong. + +His brother had written him a long letter, begging him not to take a +certain stupid matter too much to heart. He told him that it was absurd +to take a girl seriously. His philosophy, and he had always found it +answering admirably, was to pay debts incurred and go; to play while +one was young, for the gravity of life made itself felt quite soon enough. +Marriage was nothing but a civil institution for the protection of the +children. There was plenty of time for it. + +Theodore replied at some length in a letter imbued with true Christian +sentiment, which the lieutenant left unanswered. + +After passing his first examination in the spring, Theodore was +obliged to spend a summer at Sköfde, in order to undergo the cold +water cure. In the autumn he returned to Upsala. His newly-regained +strength was merely so much fresh fuel to the fire. + +Matters grew worse and worse. His hair had grown so thin that the +scalp was plainly visible. He walked with dragging footsteps and +whenever his fellow students met him in the street, they cut him as if +he were possessed of all the vices. He noticed it and shunned them in +his turn. He only left his rooms in the evening. He did not dare to go +to bed at night. The iron which he had taken to excess, had ruined his +digestion, and in the following summer the doctors sent him to +Karlsbad. + +On his return to Upsala, in the autumn, a rumour got abroad, an ugly +rumour, which hung over the town like a black cloud. It was as if a +drain had been left open and men were suddenly reminded that the town, +that splendid creation of civilisation, was built over a sea of +corruption, which might at any moment burst its bonds and poison the +inhabitants. It was said that Theodore Wennerstroem, in a paroxysm of +passion had assaulted one of his friends, and the rumour did not lie. + +His father went to Upsala and had an interview with the Dean of the +Theological Faculty. The professor of pathology was present. What was +to be done? The doctor remained silent. They pressed him for his +opinion. + +“Since you ask me,” he said, “I must give you an answer; but you know +as well as I do that there is but one remedy.” + +“And that is?” asked the theologian. + +“Need you ask?” replied the doctor. + +“Yes,” said the theologian, who was a married man. “Surely, nature +does not require immorality from a man?” + +The father said that he quite understood the case, but that he was +afraid of making recommendations to his son, on account of the risks +the latter would run. + +“If he can’t take care of himself he must be a fool,” said the doctor. + +The Dean requested them to continue such an agitating conversation in +a more suitable place.... He himself had nothing more to add. + +This ended the matter. + +Since Theodore was a member of the upper classes the scandal was +hushed up. A few years later he passed his final, and was sent by the +doctor to Spa. The amount of quinine which he had taken had affected +his knees and he walked with two sticks. At Spa he looked so ill that +he was a conspicuous figure even in a crowd of invalids. + +But an unmarried woman of thirty-five, a German, took compassion on +the unhappy man. She spent many hours with him in a lonely summer +arbour in the park, discussing the problems of life. She was a member +of a big evangelical society, whose object was the raising of the +moral standard. She showed him prospectuses for newspapers and +magazines, the principal mission of which was the suppression of +prostitution. + +“Look at me,” she said, “I am thirty-five years old and enjoy +excellent health! What fools’ talk it is to say that immorality is a +necessary evil. I have watched and fought a good fight for Christ’s +sake.” + +The young clergyman silently compared her well-developed figure, her +large hips, with his own wasted body. + +“What a difference there is between human beings in this world,” was +his unspoken comment. + +In the autumn the Rev. Theodore Wennerstroem and Sophia Leidschütz, +spinster, were engaged to be married. + +“Saved!” sighed the father, when the news reached him in his house at +Stockholm. + +“I wonder how it will end,” thought the brother in his barracks. “I’m +afraid that my poor Theodore is ‘one of those Asra who die when they +love.’” + +Theodore Wennerstroem was married. Nine months after the wedding his +wife presented him with a boy who suffered from rickets--another +thirteen months and Theodore Wennerstroem had breathed his last. + +The doctor who filled up the certificate of death, looked at the fine +healthy woman, who stood weeping by the small coffin which contained +the skeleton of her young husband of not much over twenty years. + +“The plus was too great, the minus too small,” he thought, “and +therefore the plus devoured the minus.” + +But the father, who received the news of his son’s death on a Sunday, +sat down to read a sermon. When he had finished, he fell into a brown +study. + +“There must be something very wrong with a world where virtue is +rewarded with death,” he thought. + +And the virtuous widow, _née_ Leidschütz, had two more husbands and +eight children, wrote pamphlets on overpopulation and immorality. But +her brother-in-law called her a cursed woman who killed her husbands. + +The anything but virtuous lieutenant married and was father of six +children. He got promotion and lived happily to the end of his life. + + + + +LOVE AND BREAD + + +The assistant had not thought of studying the price of wheat before he +called on the major to ask him for the hand of his daughter; but the +major had studied it. + +“I love her,” said the assistant. + +“What’s your salary?” said the old man. + +“Well, twelve hundred crowns, at present; but we love one another....” + +“That has nothing to do with me; twelve hundred crowns is not enough.” + +“And then I make a little in addition to my salary, and Louisa knows +that my heart....” + +“Don’t talk nonsense! How much in addition to your salary?” + +He seized paper and pencil. + +“And my feelings....” + +“How much in addition to your salary?” + +And he drew hieroglyphics on the blotting paper. + +“Oh! We’ll get on well enough, if only....” + +“Are you going to answer my question or not? How much in addition to +your salary? Figures! figures, my boy! Facts!” + +“I do translations at ten crowns a sheet; I give French lessons, I am +promised proof-correcting....” + +“Promises aren’t facts! Figures, my boy! Figures! Look here, now, I’ll +put it down. What are you translating?” + +“What am I translating? I can’t tell you straight off.” + +“You can’t tell me straight off? You are engaged on a translation, you +say; can’t you tell me what it is? Don’t talk such rubbish!” + +“I am translating Guizot’s _History of Civilisation_, twenty-five +sheets.” + +“At ten crowns a sheet makes two hundred and fifty crowns. And then?” + +“And then? How can I tell beforehand?” + +“Indeed, can’t you tell beforehand? But you ought to know. You seem to +imagine that being married simply means living together and amusing +yourselves! No, my dear boy, there will be children, and children +require feeding and clothing.” + +“There needn’t be babies directly, if one loves _as we love_ one +another.” + +“How the dickens do you love one another?” + +“_As we love_ one another.” He put his hand on his waistcoat. + +“And won’t there be any children if people love as you love? You must +be mad! But you are a decent, respectable member of society, and +therefore I’ll give my consent; but make good use of the time, my boy, +and increase your income, for hard times are coming. The price of +wheat is rising.” + +The assistant grew red in the face when he heard the last words, but +his joy at the old man’s consent was so great that he seized his hand +and kissed it. Heaven knew how happy he was! When he walked for the +first time down the street with his future bride on his arm, they both +radiated light; it seemed to them that the passers-by stood still and +lined the road in honour of their triumphal march; and they walked +along with proud eyes, squared shoulders and elastic steps. + +In the evening he called at her house; they sat down in the centre of +the room and read proofs; she helped him. “He’s a good sort,” chuckled +the old man. When they had finished, he took her in his arms and said: +“Now we have earned three crowns,” and then he kissed her. On the +following evening they went to the theatre and he took her home in a +cab, and that cost twelve crowns. + +Sometimes, when he ought to have given a lesson in the evening, he (is +there anything a man will not do for love’s sake?) cancelled his lesson +and took her out for a walk instead. + +But the wedding-day approached. They were very busy. They had to +choose the furniture. They began with the most important purchases. +Louisa had not intended to be present when he bought the bedroom +furniture, but when it came to the point she went with him. They +bought two beds, which were, of course, to stand side by side. The +furniture had to be walnut, every single piece real walnut. And they +must have spring mattresses covered with red and white striped tick, +and bolsters filled with down; and two eiderdown quilts, exactly +alike. Louisa chose blue, because she was very fair. + +They went to the best stores. They could not do without a red +hanging-lamp and a Venus made of plaster of Paris. Then they bought a +dinner-service; and six dozen differently shaped glasses with cut +edges; and knives and forks, grooved and engraved with their initials. +And then the kitchen utensils! Mama had to accompany them to see to +those. + +And what a lot he had to do besides! There were bills to accept, +journeys to the banks and interviews with tradespeople and artisans; +a flat had to be found and curtains had to be put up. He saw to +everything. Of course he had to neglect his work; but once he was +married, he would soon make up for it. + +They were only going to take two rooms to begin with, for they were +going to be frightfully economical. And as they were only going to +have two rooms, they could afford to furnish them well. He rented two +rooms and a kitchen on the first floor in Government Street, for six +hundred crowns. When Louisa remarked that they might just as well have +taken three rooms and a kitchen on the fourth floor for five hundred +crowns, he was a little embarrassed; but what did it matter if only +they loved one another? Yes, of course, Louisa agreed, but couldn’t +they have loved one another just as well in four rooms at a lower +rent, as in three at a higher? Yes, he admitted that he had been +foolish, but what _did_ it matter so long as they loved one another? + +The rooms were furnished. The bed-room looked like a little temple. +The two beds stood side by side, like two carriages. The rays of the +sun fell on the blue eiderdown quilt, the white, white sheets and the +little pillow-slips which an elderly maiden aunt had embroidered with +their monogram; the latter consisted of two huge letters, formed of +flowers, joined together in one single embrace, and kissing here and +there, wherever they touched, at the corners. The bride had her own +little alcove, which was screened off by a Japanese screen. The +drawing-room, which was also dining-room, study and morning-room, +contained her piano, (which had cost twelve hundred crowns) his +writing-table with twelve pigeon-holes, (every single piece of it real +walnut) a pier-glass, armchairs; a sideboard and a dining-table. “It +looks as if nice people lived here,” they said, and they could not +understand why people wanted a separate dining-room, which always looked +so cheerless with its cane chairs. + +The wedding took place on a Saturday. Sunday dawned, the first day of +their married life. Oh! what a life it was! Wasn’t it lovely to be +married! Wasn’t marriage a splendid institution! One was allowed one’s +own way in everything, and parents and relations came and congratulated +one into the bargain. + +At nine o’clock in the morning their bedroom was still dark. He +wouldn’t open the shutters to let in daylight, but re-lighted the red +lamp which threw its bewitching light on the blue eiderdown, the white +sheets, a little crumpled now, and the Venus made of plaster of Paris, +who stood there rosy-red and without shame. And the red light also +fell on his little wife who nestled in her pillows with a look of +contrition, and yet so refreshed as if she had never slept so well in +all her life. There was no traffic in the street to-day for it was +Sunday, and the church-bells were calling people to the morning +service with exulting, eager voices, as if they wanted all the world +to come to church and praise Him who had created men and women. + +He whispered to his little bride to shut her eyes so that he might get +up and order breakfast. She buried her head in the pillows, while he +slipped on his dressing-gown and went behind the screen to dress. + +A broad radiant path of sunlight lay on the sitting-room floor; he did +not know whether it was spring or summer, autumn or winter; he only +knew that it was Sunday! + +His bachelor life was receding into the background like something ugly +and dark; the sight of his little home stirred his heart with a faint +recollection of the home of his childhood, and at the same time held +out a glorious promise for the future. + +How strong he felt! The future appeared to him like a mountain coming +to meet him. He would breathe on it and the mountain would fall down +at his feet like sand; he would fly away, far above gables and +chimneys, holding his little wife in his arm. + +He collected his clothes which were scattered all over the room; he +found his white neck-tie hanging on a picture frame; it looked like a +big white butterfly. + +He went into the kitchen. How the new copper vessels sparkled, the new +tin kettles shone! And all this belonged to him and to her! He called +the maid who came out of her room in her petticoat. But he did not +notice it, nor did he notice that her shoulders were bare. For him +there was but one woman in all the world. He spoke to the girl as a +father would to his daughter. He told her to go to the restaurant and +order breakfast, at once, a first-rate breakfast. Porter and Burgundy! +The manager knew his taste. She was to give him his regards. + +He went out of the kitchen and knocked at the bed-room door. + +“May I come in?” + +There was a little startled scream. + +“Oh, no, darling, wait a bit!” + +He laid the breakfast table himself. When the breakfast was brought +from the restaurant, he served it on her new breakfast set. He folded +the dinner napkins according to all the rules of art. He wiped the +wine-glasses, and finally took her bridal-bouquet and put it in a vase +before her place. + +When she emerged from her bed-room in her embroidered morning gown and +stepped into the brilliant sunlight, she felt just a tiny bit faint; +he helped her into the armchair, made her drink a little liqueur out +of a liqueur glass and eat a caviare sandwich. + +What fun it all was! One could please oneself when one was married. +What would Mama have said if she had seen her daughter drinking +liqueurs at this hour of the morning! + +He waited on her as if she were still his fiancee. What a breakfast +they were having on the first morning after their wedding! And nobody +had a right to say a word. Everything was perfectly right and proper, +one could enjoy oneself with the very best of consciences, and that +was the most delightful part of it all. It was not for the first time +that he was eating such a breakfast, but what a difference between +then and now! He had been restless and dissatisfied then; he could not +bear to think of it, now. And as he drank a glass of genuine Swedish +porter after the oysters, he felt the deepest contempt for all +bachelors. + +“How stupid of people not to get married! Such selfishness! They ought +to be taxed like dogs.” + +“I’m sorry for those poor men who haven’t the means to get married,” + replied his demure little wife kindly, “for I am sure, if they had the +means they would all get married.” + +A little pang shot through the assistant’s heart; for a moment he felt +afraid, lest he had been a little too venturesome. All his happiness +rested on the solution of a financial problem, and if, if.... Pooh! A +glass of Burgundy! Now he would work! They should see! + +“Game? With cranberries and cucumbers!” The young wife was a little +startled, but it was really delicious. + +“Lewis, darling,” she put a trembling little hand on his arm, “can we +afford it?” + +Fortunately she said “we.” + +“Pooh! It doesn’t matter for once! Later on we can dine on potatoes +and herrings.” + +“Can you eat potatoes and herrings?” + +“I should think so!” + +“When you have been drinking more than is good for you, and expect a +beefsteak after the herring?” + +“Nonsense! Nothing of the kind! Your health, sweetheart! The game is +excellent! So are these artichokes!” + +“No, but you are mad, darling! Artichokes at this time of the year! +What a bill you will have to pay!” + +“Bill! Aren’t they good? Don’t you think that it is glorious to be +alive? Oh! It’s splendid, splendid!” + +At six o’clock in the afternoon a carriage drove up to the front door. +The young wife would have been angry if it had not been so pleasant to +loll luxuriously on the soft cushions, while they were being slowly +driven to the Deer Park. + +“It’s just like lying on a couch,” whispered Lewis. + +She playfully hit his fingers with her sunshade. Mutual acquaintances +bowed to them from the footpath. Friends waved their hands to him as +if they were saying: + +“Hallo! you rascal, you have come into a fortune!” + +How small the passers-by looked, how smooth the street was, how pleasant +their ride on springs and cushions! + +Life should always be like that. + +It went on for a whole month. Balls, visits, dinners, theatres. +Sometimes, of course, they remained at home. And at home it was more +pleasant than anywhere else. How lovely, for instance, to carry off +one’s wife from her parents’ house, after supper, without saying as +much as “by your leave,” put her into a closed carriage, slam the +door, nod to her people and say: “Now we’re off home, to our own four +walls! And there we’ll do exactly what we like!” + +And then to have a little supper at home and sit over it, talking and +gossiping until the small hours of the morning. + +Lewis was always very sensible at home, at least in theory. One day +his wife put him to the test by giving him salt salmon, potatoes +boiled in milk and oatmeal soup for dinner. Oh! how he enjoyed it! He +was sick of elaborate menus. + +On the following Friday, when she again suggested salt salmon for +dinner, Lewis came home, carrying two ptarmigans! He called to her +from the threshold: + +“Just imagine, Lou, a most extraordinary thing happened! A most +extraordinary thing!” + +“Well, what is it?” + +“You’ll hardly believe me when I tell you that I bought a brace of +ptarmigans, bought them myself at the market for--guess!” + +His little wife seemed more annoyed than curious. + +“Just think! One crown the two!” + +“I have bought ptarmigans at eightpence the brace; but--” she added in +a more conciliatory tone, so as not to upset him altogether, “that was +in a very cold winter.” + +“Well, but you must admit that I bought them very cheaply.” + +Was there anything she would not admit in order to see him happy? + +She had ordered boiled groats for dinner, as an experiment. But after +Lewis had eaten a ptarmigan, he regretted that he could not eat as +much of the groats as he would have liked, in order to show her that +he was really very fond of groats. He liked groats very much indeed--milk +did not agree with him after his attack of ague. He couldn’t take milk, +but groats he would like to see on his table every evening, every blessed +evening of his life, if only she wouldn’t be angry with him. + +And groats never again appeared on his table. + +When they had been married for six weeks, the young wife fell ill. She +suffered from headaches and sickness. It could not be anything serious, +just a little cold. But this sickness? Had she eaten anything which had +disagreed with her? Hadn’t all the copper vessels new coatings of tin? +He sent for the doctor. The doctor smiled and said it was all right. + +“What was all right? Oh! Nonsense! It wasn’t possible. How could it +have been possible? No, surely, the bed-room paper was to blame. It +must contain arsenic. Let us send a piece to the chemist’s at once and +have it tested.” + +“Entirely free from arsenic,” reported the chemist. + +“How strange! No arsenic in the wall papers?” + +The young wife was still ill. He consulted a medical book and whispered +a question in her ear. “There now! a hot bath!” + +Four weeks later the midwife declared that everything was “as it +should be.” + +“As it should be? Well, of course! Only it was somewhat premature!” + +But as it could not, be helped, they were delighted. Fancy, a baby! +They would be papa and mama! What should they call him? For, of course, +it would be a boy. No doubt, it would. But now she had a serious +conversation with her husband! There had been no translating or +proof-correcting since their marriage. And his salary alone was not +sufficient. + +“Yes, they had given no thought to the morrow. But, dear me, one was +young only once! Now, however, there would be a change.” + +On the following morning the assistant called on an old schoolfriend, +a registrar, to ask him to stand security for a loan. + +“You see, my dear fellow, when one is about to become a father, one +has to consider how to meet increasing expenses.” + +“Quite so, old man,” answered the registrar, “therefore I have been +unable to get married. But you are fortunate in having the means.” + +The assistant hesitated to make his request. How could he have the +audacity to ask this poor bachelor to help him to provide the expenses +for the coming event? This bachelor, who had not the means to found a +family of his own? He could not bring himself to do it. + +When he came home to dinner, his wife told him that two gentlemen had +called to see him. + +“What did they look like? Were they young? Did they wear eye-glasses? +Then there was no doubt, they were two lieutenants, old friends of his +whom he had met at Vaxholm.” + +“No, they couldn’t have been lieutenants; they were too old for that.” + +“Then he knew; they were old college friends from Upsala, probably P. +who was a lecturer, and O. who was a curate, now. They had come to see +how their old pal was shaping as a husband.” + +“No, they didn’t come from Upsala, they came from Stockholm.” + +The maid was called in and cross-examined. She thought the callers had +been shabbily dressed and had carried sticks. + +“Sticks! I can’t make out what sort of people they can have been. +Well, we’ll know soon enough, as they said they would call again. But +to change the subject, I happened to see a basket of hothouse +strawberries at a really ridiculous price; it really is absurd! Just +imagine, hothouse strawberries at one and sixpence a basket! And at +this time of the year!” + +“But, my darling, what is this extravagance to lead to?” + +“It’ll be all right. I have got an order for a translation this very day.” + +“But you are in debt, Lewis?” + +“Trifles! Mere nothings! It’ll be all right when I take up a big loan, +presently.” + +“A loan! But that’ll be a new debt!” + +“True! But there’ll be easy terms! Don’t let’s talk business now! Aren’t +these strawberries delicious? What? A glass of sherry with them would be +tip-top. Don’t you think so? Lina, run round to the stores and fetch a +bottle of sherry, the best they have.” + +After his afternoon nap, his wife insisted on a serious conversation. + +“You won’t be angry, dear, will you?” + +“Angry? I! Good heavens, no! Is it about household expenses?” + +“Yes! We owe money at the stores! The butcher is pressing for payment; +the man from the livery stables has called for his money; it’s most +unpleasant.” + +“Is that all? I shall pay them to the last farthing to-morrow. How +dare they worry you about such trifles? They shall be paid to-morrow, +but they shall lose a customer. Now, don’t let’s talk about it any +more. Come out for a walk. No carriage! Well, we’ll take the car to +the Deer Park, it will cheer us up.” + +They went to the Deer Park. They asked for a private room at the +restaurant, and people stared at them and whispered. + +“They think we are out on a spree,” he laughed. “What fun! What madness!” + +But his wife did not like it. + +They had a big bill to pay. + +“If only we had stayed at home! We might have bought such a lot of things +for the money.” + +Months elapsed. The great event was coming nearer and nearer. A cradle +had to be bought and baby-clothes. A number of things were wanted. The +young husband was out on business all day long. The price of wheat had +risen. Hard times were at hand. He could get no translations, no +proof-correcting. Men had become materialists. They didn’t spend money +on books, they bought food. What a prosaic period we were living in! +Ideals were melting away, one after the other, and ptarmigans were not +to be had under two crowns the brace. The livery stables would not +provide carriages for nothing for the cab-proprietors had wives and +families to support, just as everybody else; at the stores cash had to +be paid for goods, Oh! what realists they all were! + +The great day had come at last. It was evening. He must run for the +midwife. And while his wife suffered all the pangs of childbirth, he +had to go down into the hall and pacify the creditors. + +At last he held a daughter in his arms. His tears fell on the baby, +for now he realised his responsibility, a responsibility which he was +unable to shoulder. He made new resolutions. But his nerves were +unstrung. He was working at a translation which he seemed unable to +finish, for he had to be constantly out on business. + +He rushed to his father-in-law, who was staying in town, to bring him +the glad news. + +“We have a little daughter!” + +“Well and good,” replied his father-in-law; “can you support a child?” + +“Not at present; for heaven’s sake, help us, father!” + +“I’ll tide you over your present difficulties. I can’t do more. My +means are only sufficient to support my own family.” + +The patient required chickens which he bought himself at the market, +and wine at six crowns the bottle. It had to be the very best. + +The midwife expected a hundred crowns. + +“Why should we pay her less than others? Hasn’t she just received a +cheque for a hundred crowns from the captain?” + +Very soon the young wife was up again. She looked like a girl, as +slender as a willow, a little pale, it was true, but the pallor suited +her. + +The old man called and had a private conversation with his son-in-law. + +“No more children, for the present,” he said, “or you’ll be ruined.” + +“What language from a father! Aren’t we married! Don’t we love one +another? Aren’t we to have a family?” + +“Yes, but not until you can provide for them. It’s all very fine to +love one another, but you musn’t forget that you have responsibilities.” + +His father-in-law, too, had become a materialist. Oh! what a miserable +world it was! A world without ideals! + +The home was undermined, but love survived, for love was strong, and +the hearts of the young couple were soft. The bailiff, on the contrary, +was anything but soft. Distraint was imminent, and bankruptcy threatened. +Well, let them distrain then! + +The father-in-law arrived with a large travelling coach to fetch his +daughter and grand-child. He warned his son-in-law not to show his +face at his house until he could pay his debts and make a home for his +wife and child. He said nothing to his daughter, but it seemed to him +that he was bringing home a girl who had been led astray. It was as if +he had lent his innocent child to a casual admirer and now received +her back “dishonoured.” She would have preferred to stay with her +husband, but he had no home to offer her. + +And so the husband of one year’s standing was left behind to watch the +pillaging of his home, if he could call it his home, for he had paid +for nothing. The two men with spectacles carted away the beds and +bedclothes; the copper kettles and tin vessels; the dinner set, the +chandelier and the candlesticks; everything, everything! + +He was left alone in the two empty, wretched rooms! If only _she_ had +been left to him! But what should she do here, in these empty rooms? +No, she was better off where she was! She was being taken care of. + +Now the struggle for a livelihood began in bitter earnest. He found +work at a daily paper as a proof-corrector. He had to be at the office +at midnight; at three in the morning his work was done. He did not +lose his berth, for bankruptcy had been avoided, but he had lost all +chance of promotion. + +Later on he is permitted to visit wife and child once a week, but he +is never allowed to see her alone. He spends Saturday night in a tiny +room, close to his father-in-law’s bedroom. On Sunday morning he has +to return to town, for the paper appears on Monday morning.... He says +good-bye to his wife and child who are allowed to accompany him as far +as the garden gate, he waves his hand to them once more from the +furthest hillock, and succumbs to his wretchedness, his misery, his +humiliation. And she is no less unhappy. + +He has calculated that it will take him twenty years to pay his debts. +And then? Even then he cannot maintain a wife and child. And his +prospects? He has none! If his father-in-law should die, his wife and +child would be thrown on the street; he cannot venture to look forward +to the death of their only support. + +Oh! How cruel it is of nature to provide food for all her creatures, +leaving the children of men alone to starve! Oh! How cruel, how cruel! +that life has not ptarmigans and strawberries to give to all men. How +cruel! How cruel! + + + + +COMPELLED TO + + +Punctually at half past nine on a winter evening he appears at the +door leading to the glass-roofed verandah of the restaurant. While, +with mathematical precision, he takes off his gloves, he peers over +his dim spectacles, first to the right, then to the left, to find out +whether any of his acquaintances are present. Then he hangs up his +overcoat on its special hook, the one to the right of the fireplace. +Gustav, the waiter, an old pupil of his, flies to his table and, +without waiting for an order, brushes the crumbs off the tablecloth, +stirs up the mustard, smooths the salt in the salt-cellar and turns +over the dinner napkin. Then he fetches, still without any order, a +bottle of Medhamra, opens half a bottle of Union beer and, merely for +appearance sake, hands the schoolmaster the bill of fare. + +“Crabs?” he asks, more as a matter of form than because there is any +need of the question. + +“Female crabs,” answers the schoolmaster. + +“Large, female crabs,” repeats Gustav, walks to the speaking tube +which communicates with the kitchen, and shouts: “Large female crabs +for Mr. Blom, and plenty of dill.” + +He fetches butter and cheese, cuts two very thin slices of rye-bread, +and places them on the schoolmaster’s table. The latter has in the +meantime searched the verandah for the evening papers, but has only +found the official _Post_. To make up for this very poor success, he +takes the _Daily Journal_, which he had not had time to finish at +lunch, and after first opening and refolding the _Post_, and putting +it on the top of the bread basket on his left, sits down to read it. +He ornaments the rye-bread with geometrical butter hieroglyphics, cuts +off a piece of cheese in the shape of a rectangle, fills his liqueur +glass three quarters full and raises it to his lips, hesitates as if +the little glass contained physic, throws back his head and says: Ugh! + +He has done this for twelve years and will continue doing it until the +day of his death. + +As soon as the crabs, six of them, have been put before him, he +examines them as to their sex, and everything being as it should be, +makes ready to enjoy himself. He tucks a corner of his dinner napkin +into his collar, places two slices of thin bread and cheese by the +side of his plate and pours out a glass of beer and half a glass of +liqueur. Then he takes the little crab-knife and business begins. He +is the only man in Sweden who knows how to eat a crab, and whenever he +sees anybody else engaged in the same pursuit, he tells him that he +has no idea how to do it. He makes an incision all round the head, and +a hole against which he presses his lips and begins to suck. + +“This,” he says, “is the best part of the whole animal.” + +He severs the thorax from the lower part, puts his teeth to the body +and drinks deep draughts; he sucks the little legs as if they were +asparagus, eats a bit of dill, and takes a drink of beer and a mouthful +of rye-bread. When he has carefully taken the shell off the claws and +sucked even the tiniest tubes, he eats the flesh; last of all he attacks +the lower part of the body. When he has eaten three crabs, he drinks half +a glass of liqueur and reads the promotions in the _Post_. + +He has done this for twelve years and will continue doing it until he +dies. + +He was just twenty years old when he first began to patronise the +restaurant, now he is thirty-two, and Gustav has been a waiter for ten +years in the same place. Not one of its frequenters has known the +restaurant longer than the school-master, not even the proprietor who +took it over eight years ago. He has watched generations of diners +come and go; some came for a year, some for two, some for five years; +then they disappeared, went to another restaurant, left the town or +got married. He feels very old, although he is only thirty-two! The +restaurant is his home, for his furnished room is nothing but the +place where he sleeps. + +It is ten o’clock. He leaves his table and goes to the back room where +his grog awaits him. This is the time when the bookseller arrives. +They play a game of chess or talk about books. At half-past ten the +second violin from the Dramatic Theatre drops in. He is an old Pole +who, after 1864, escaped to Sweden, and now makes a living by his +former hobby. Both the Pole and the bookseller are over fifty, but +they get on with the schoolmaster as if he were a contemporary. + +The proprietor has his place behind the counter. He is an old sea +captain who fell in love with the proprietress and married her. She +rules in the kitchen, but the sliding panel is always open, so that +she can keep an eye on the old man, lest he should take a glass too +much before closing time. Not until the gas has been turned out, and +the old man is ready to go to bed, is he allowed a nightcap in the +shape of a stiff glass of rum and water. + +At eleven o’clock the young bloods begin to arrive; they approach the +counter diffidently and ask the proprietor in a whisper whether any of +the private rooms upstairs are disengaged, and then there is a rustling +of skirts in the hall and cautious footsteps are creeping upstairs. + +“Well,” says the bookseller, who has suddenly found a topic of +conversation, “when are you going to be married, Blom, old man?” + +“I haven’t the means to get married,” answered the school-master. “Why +don’t you take a wife to your bosom yourself?” + +“No woman would have me, now that my head looks like an old, +leather-covered trunk,” says the bookseller. “And, moreover, there’s +my old Stafva, you know.” + +Stafva was a legendary person in whom nobody believed. She was the +incarnation of the bookseller’s unrealised dreams. + +“But you, Mr. Potocki?” suggested the schoolmaster. + +“He’s been married once, that’s enough,” replies the bookseller. + +The Pole nods his head like a metrometer. + +“Yes, I was married very happily. Ugh!” he says and finishes his grog. + +“Well,” continues the schoolmaster, “if women weren’t such fools, one +might consider the matter; but they are infernal fools.” + +The Pole nods again and smiles; being a Pole, he doesn’t understand +what the word fool means. + +“I have been married very happily, ugh!” + +“And then there is the noise of the children, and children’s clothes +always drying near the stove; and servants, and all day long the smells +from the kitchen. No, thank you! And, perhaps, sleepless nights into the +bargain.” + +“Ugh!” added the Pole, completing the sentence. + +“Mr. Potocki says ‘ugh’ with the malice of the bachelor who listens to +the complaints of the married man,” remarked the bookseller. + +“What did I say?” asks the astonished widower. “Ugh!” says the +bookseller, mimicking him, and the conversation degenerates into a +universal grinning and a cloud of tobacco smoke. + +It is midnight. The piano upstairs, which has accompanied a mixed +choir of male and female voices, is silent. The waiter has finished +his countless journeys from the speaking tube to the verandah; the +proprietor enters into his daybook the last few bottles of champagne +which have been ordered upstairs. The three friends rise from their +chairs and go home, two to their “virgin couches,” and the bookseller +to his Stafva. + +When schoolmaster Blom had reached his twentieth year, he was compelled +to interrupt his studies at Upsala and accept a post as assistant teacher +at Stockholm. As he, in addition, gave private lessons, he made quite a +good income. He did not ask much of life. All he wanted was peace and +cleanliness. An elderly lady let him a furnished room and there he found +more than a bachelor finds as a rule. She looked after him and was kind +to him; she gave him all the tenderness which nature had intended her to +bestow on the new generation that was to spring from her. She mended his +clothes and looked after him generally. He had lost his mother when he +was a little boy and had never been accustomed to gratuitous kindness; +therefore he was inclined to look upon her services as an interference +with his liberty, but he accepted them nevertheless. But all the same +the public house was his real home. There he paid for everything and +ran up no bills. + +He was born in a small town in the interior of Sweden; consequently he +was a stranger in Stockholm. He knew nobody; was not on visiting terms +with any of the families and met his acquaintances nowhere but at the +public-house. He talked to them freely, but never gave them his +confidence, in fact he had no confidence to give. At school he taught +the third class and this gave him a feeling of having been stunted in +his growth. A very long time ago he had been in the third class +himself, had gradually crept up to the seventh, and had spent a few +terms at the University; now he had returned to the third; he had been +there for twelve years without being moved. He taught the second and +third books of Euclid; this was the course of instruction for the +whole year. He saw only a fragment of life; a fragment without +beginning or end; the second and third books. In his spare time he +read the newspapers and books on archaeology. Archaeology is a modern +science, one might almost say a disease of the time. And there is +danger in it, for it proves over and over again that human folly has +pretty nearly always been the same. + +Politics was to him nothing but an interesting game of chess--played +for the king, for he was brought up like everybody else; it was an +article of faith with him that nothing which happened in the world, +concerned him, personally; let those look to it whom God had placed in +a position of power. This way of looking at things filled his soul +with peace and tranquillity; he troubled nobody and nothing troubled +him. When he found, as he did occasionally, that an unusually foolish +event had occurred, he consoled himself with the conviction that it +could not have been helped. His education had made him selfish, and +the catechism had taught him that if everybody did his duty, all +things would be well, whatever happened. He did his duty towards his +pupils in an exemplary fashion; he was never late; never ill. In his +private life, too, he was above reproach; he paid his rent on the day +it fell due, never ran up bills at his restaurant, and spent only one +evening a week on pleasure. His life glided along like a railway train + to the second and, being a clever man, he managed to avoid collisions. +He gave no thought to the future; a truly selfish man never does, for +the simple reason that the future belongs to him for no longer than +twenty or thirty years at the most. + +And thus his days passed. + + * * * * * + +Midsummer morning dawned--radiant and sunny as mid-summer morning +should be. The schoolmaster was still in bed, reading a book on the +Art of Warfare in ancient Egypt, when Miss Augusta came into his room +with his breakfast. She had put on his tray some slices of saffron +bread, in honour of the festival, and on his dinner-napkin lay a spray +of elder blossoms. On the previous night she had decorated his room +with branches of the birch-tree, put clean sand and some cowslips in +the spittoon, and a bunch of lilies-of-the-valley on the dressing +table. + +“Aren’t you going to make an excursion to-day, sir?” she asked, glancing +at the decorations, anxious for a word of thanks or approval. + +But Mr. Blom had not even noticed the decorations, and therefore he +answered dryly: + +“Haven’t you realised yet that I never make excursions? I hate elbowing +my way through a crowd, and the noise of the children gets on my nerves.” + +“But surely you won’t stay in town on such a lovely day! You’ll at least +go to the Deer Park?” + +“That would be the very last place I should go to, especially to-day, +when it will be crowded. Oh! no, I’m better off in town, and I wish to +goodness that this holiday nuisance would be stopped.” + +“There are plenty of people who say that there aren’t half enough +holidays these days when everybody has to work so hard,” said the old +woman in a conciliatory tone. “But is there anything else you wish, +sir? My sister and I are making an excursion by steamer, and we shan’t +be back until ten o’clock to-night.” + +“I hope you’ll enjoy yourselves, Miss Augusta. I want nothing, and am +quite able to look after myself. The caretaker can do my room when I +have gone out.” + +Miss Augusta left him alone with his breakfast. When he had eaten it, +he lit a cigar and remained in bed with his _Egyptian Warfare_. The +open window shook softly in the southern breeze. At eight o’clock the +bells, large and small, of the nearest church began to ring, and those +of the other churches of Stockholm, St. Catherine’s, St. Mary’s and +St. Jacob’s, joined in; they tinkled and jingled, enough to make a +heathen tear his hair in despair. When the church bells stopped, a +military band on the bridge of a steamer began to play a set of +quadrilles from _The Weak Point_. The schoolmaster writhed between his +sheets, and would have got out of bed and shut the window if it had +not been so hot. Next there came a rolling of drums, which was +interrupted by the strains of a brass quintet which played, on another +steamer, the Hunter’s Chorus from the _Freischütz_. But the cursed +rolling of drums approached. They were marching at the head of the +Riflemen on their way to camp. Now he was subjected to a medley of +sounds: the Riflemen’s march, the signals, the bells and the brass +bands on the steamers, until at last the whole crash and din was +drowned by the throbbing of the screw. + +At ten o’clock he lit his spirit lamp and boiled his shaving water. +His starched shirt lay on his chest of drawers, white and stiff as a +board. It took him a quarter of an hour to push the studs through the +button-holes. He spent half-an-hour in shaving himself. He brushed his +hair as if it were a matter of the utmost importance. When he put on +his trousers, he was careful that the lower ends should not touch the +floor and become dusty. + +His room was simply furnished, extremely plain and tidy. It was +impersonal, neutral, like the room in a hotel. And yet he had spent in +it twelve years of his life. Most people collect no end of trifles +during such a period; presents, little superfluous nothings, ornaments. +Not a single engraving, not a supplement to an illustrated magazine +even, which at some time or other had appealed to him, hung on the walls; +no antimacassar, no rug worked by a loving sister, lay on the chairs; +no photograph of a beloved face stood on his writing-table, no +embroidered pen-wiper lay by the side of the ink-stand. Everything had +been bought as cheaply as possible with a view to avoiding unnecessary +expense which might have hampered the owner’s independence. + +He leaned out of the window which gave him a view of the street and, +across Artillery Place, of the harbour. In the house opposite a woman +was dressing. He turned away as if something ugly had met his gaze, or +something which might disturb his peace of mind. The harbour was gay +with the fluttering flags on the steamers and sailing-ships, and the +water glittered in the sunshine. A few old women, prayer-book in hand, +passed his window on their way to church. A sentinel with drawn sword +was walking up and down before the Artillery Barracks, glancing +discontentedly at the clock on the tower every now and then to see how +much longer he would have to wait until the relieving guard arrived. +Otherwise the street lay empty and grey in the hot sunshine. His eyes +wandered back to the woman opposite. She was standing before her +looking-glass, powder puff in hand, intent on powdering the corners of +her nose, with a grimace which made her look like a monkey. He left the +window and sat down in his rocking chair. + +He made his programme for the day, for he had a vague dread of +solitude. On week days he was surrounded by the school-boys, and +although he had no love for those wild beasts whose taming, or rather +whose efficient acquisition of the difficult art of dissembling, was +his life task, yet he felt a certain void when he was not with them. +Now, during the long summer vacations, he had established a holiday +school, but even so he had been compelled to give the boys short summer +holidays, and, with the exception of meal times when he could always +count on the bookseller and the second violin, he had been alone for +several days. + +“At two o’clock,” he mused, “when the guard has been relieved, and the +crowds have dispersed, I’ll go to my restaurant to dine; then I’ll +invite the bookseller to Strömsborg; there won’t be a soul to-day; we +can have coffee there and punch, and stay till the evening when we’ll +return to town and to Rejner’s.” (Rejner’s was the name of his +restaurant in Berzelius Place.) + +Punctually at two o’clock he took his hat, brushed himself carefully +and went out. + +“I wonder whether there’ll be stewed perch to-day,” he thought. “And +mightn’t one treat oneself to asparagus, as it’s midsummer-day?” + +He strolled past the high wall of the Government Bakery. In Berzelius +Park the seats which were usually occupied by the nursemaids of the +rich and their charges, were crowded with the families of the +labourers who had appeared in great numbers with their perambulators. +He saw a mother feeding her baby. She was a large, full-breasted +woman, and the baby’s dimpled hand almost disappeared in her bosom. +The schoolmaster turned away with a feeling of loathing. He was +annoyed to see these strangers in _his_ park. It was very much like +the servants using the drawing-room when their master and mistress had +gone out; moreover, he couldn’t forgive them their plainness. + +He arrived at the glass verandah, and put his hand on the door handle, +thinking once more of the stewed perch “with lots of parsley,” when +his eyes fell on a notice on the door. There was no necessity to read +it, he knew its purport: the restaurant was closed on midsummer-day; +he had forgotten it. He felt as if he had run with his head into a +lamp-post. He was furious; first of all with the proprietor for +closing, then with himself for having forgotten that the restaurant +would be closed. It seemed to him so monstrous that he could have +forgotten an incident of such importance, that he couldn’t believe it +and racked his brain to find someone on whom he could lay the blame. +Of course, it was the fault of the proprietor. He had run off the +lines, come into collision. He was done. He sat down on the seat and +almost shed tears of rage. + +Thump! a ball hit him right in the middle of his starched shirt front. +Like an infuriated wasp he rose from his seat to find the criminal; a +plain little girl’s face laughed into his; a labourer in his Sunday +clothes and straw hat appeared, took her by the hand and smilingly +expressed a hope that the child had not hurt him; a laughing crowd of +soldiers and servant girls stared at him. He looked round for a +constable for he felt that his rights as a human being had been +encroached upon. But when he saw the constable in familiar conversation +with the child’s mother, he dropped the idea of making a scene, went +straight to the nearest cab-stand, hired a cab, and told the driver +to drive him to the bookseller’s; he could not bear to be alone any +longer. + +In the safe shelter of the cab he took out his handkerchief and flicked +the dust from his shirt front. + +He dismissed the cab in Goten Street, for he felt sure that he would +find his friend at home. But as he walked upstairs his assurance left +him. Supposing he were out after all! + +He was out. Not one of the tenants was at home. His knock sounded +through an empty house; his footsteps re-echoed on the deserted +stairs. + +When he was again in the street he was at a loss to know what to do. +He did not know Potocki’s address, and where was he to find an address +book on a day when all the shops were closed? + +Without knowing where he was going, he went down the street, past the +harbour, across the bridge. He did not meet a single man he knew. The +presence of the crowd which occupied the town during the absence of +their betters annoyed him, for, like the rest of us, the education +which he had received at school had made an aristocrat of him. + +In his first anger he had forgotten his hunger, but now it re-asserted +itself. A new, terrible thought occurred to him, a thought which up to +now he had put away from him out of sheer cowardice: Where was he to +dine? He had started out with plenty of vouchers in his pocket, but +only one crown and fifty öre in coin. The vouchers were only used at +Rejner’s, for convenience sake, and he had spent a crown on his +cabfare. + +He found himself again in Berzelius Park. Everywhere he met labourers +and their families, eating what they had brought with them in baskets; +hard-boiled eggs, crabs, pancakes. And the police did not interfere. +On the contrary, he saw a policeman with a sandwich in one hand and a +glass of beer in the other. But what irritated him more than anything +else was the fact that these people whom he despised had the advantage +of him. But why couldn’t he go into a dairy and appease his hunger? +Yes, why not? The very thought of it made him shudder. + +After some little reflection he went down to the harbour, intending to +cross over to the Deer Park. He was bound to find acquaintances there +from whom he could borrow money (hateful thought!) for his dinner. And +if so, he would dine at “Hazelmount,” the best restaurant. + +The steamer was so crowded that schoolmaster Blom had to stand close +to the engine; the heat at his back was intolerable; his morning coat +was being covered with grease spots, while he stood, with his gaze +rivetted on the untidy head of a servant girl and endured the rancid +smell of the hair-oil. But he did not see a single face he knew. + +When he entered the restaurant in the Deer Park, he squared his +shoulders and tried to look as distinguished as possible. + +The space before the restaurant was like the auditorium of a theatre +and seemed to serve the same purpose: that is to say, it was a place +where one met one’s friends and showed off. The verandah was occupied +by officers, blue in the face with eating and drinking; with them were +representatives of the foreign Powers, grown old and grey in their +strenuous efforts to protect fellow-countrymen who had got mixed up +with sailors and fishermen in drunken brawls, or assist at Gala +performances, christenings, weddings and funerals. So much for the +aristocracy. In the centre of a large space Mr. Blom suddenly discovered +the chimney sweep of his quarter, the proprietor of a small inn, the +chemist’s assistant and others of the same standing. He watched the +game-keeper in his green coat and silver lace, with his gilt staff, +walking up and down and casting contemptuous glances at the assembled +crowd, as if he were wondering why they were here? The schoolmaster felt +self-conscious under the stare of all those eyes which seemed to say: +“Look at him! there he goes, wondering how to get dinner!” But there was +nothing else for it. He went on to the verandah where the people sat +eating perch and asparagus, and drinking Sauternes and Champagne. + +All of a sudden he felt the pressure of a friendly hand on his shoulder, +and as he turned round, he found himself face to face with Gustav, the +waiter, who seized his hand and exclaimed with undisguised pleasure: + +“Is that really you, Mr. Blom? How are you?” + +But Gustav, the waiter, who was so pleased to find himself for a few +moments the equal of his master, held a piece of wood in his warm hand +and met a pair of eyes which pierced his soul like gimlets. And yet +this same hand had given him ten crowns only yesterday, and the owner +of it had thanked him for six months’ service and attention in the way +one thanks a friend. The waiter went back to his companions and sat +down amongst them, embarrassed and snubbed. But Mr. Blom left the +verandah with bitter thoughts and pushed his way through the crowd; he +fancied that he could hear a mocking: “He hasn’t been able to get +dinner, after all!” + +He came to a large open space. There was a puppet-show, and Jasper was +being beaten by his wife. A little further off a sailor was showing +servant girls, soldiers and apprentices their future husband or wife +in a wheel of fortune. They all had had dinner and were enjoying +themselves; for a moment he believed himself their inferior, but only +for a moment; then he remembered that they had not the vaguest idea of +how an Egyptian camp was fortified. The thought gave him back his +self-respect, and he wondered how it was possible that people could be +so degraded as to find pleasure in such childishness. + +In the meantime he had lost all inclination to try the other restaurants; +he passed the Tivoli and went further into the heart of the park. Young +men and women were dancing on the grass to the strains of a violin: a +little further off a whole family was camping under an old oak; the head +of the family was kneeling down, in his shirt sleeves, with bare head, a +glass of beer in one hand, a sandwich in the other; his fat, jolly, +clean-shaven face beamed with pleasure and good-nature as he invited his +guests, who were evidently his wife, parents-in-law, brothers, +shop-assistants and servants, to eat, drink and be merry, for to-day was +Midsummer day, all day long. And the jovial fellow made such droll remarks +that the whole party writhed on the grass with amusement. After the +pancake had been produced and eaten with the fingers, and the port bottle +been round, the senior shop-assistant made a speech which was at once so +moving and so witty that the ladies at one moment pressed their +handkerchiefs to their eyes, while the head of the family bit his lips, +and at the next interrupted the speaker with loud laughter and cheers. + +The schoolmaster’s mood became more and more morose, but instead of +going away he sat down on a stone under a pinetree and watched “the +animals.” + +When the speech was finished and father and mother had been toasted +with cheers and a flourish of trumpets, executed on a concertina, +accompanied by the rattling of all cups and saucers that happened to +be empty, the party rose to play “Third Man,” while mother and +mother-in-law attended to the babies. + +“Just like the beasts in the field,” thought the schoolmaster, turning +away, for all that was natural was ugly in his eyes, and only that +which was unnatural could lay any claim to beauty in his opinion, +except, of course, the paintings of “well-known” masters in the +National Museum. + +He watched the young men taking off their coats, the young girls +slipping off their cuffs and hanging them on the blackthorn bushes; +then they took up their positions and the game began. + +The girls picked up their skirts and threw up their legs so that their +garters, made of blue and red braid such as the grocers sell for tying +up pots, were plainly visible, and whenever the cavalier caught his +lady, he took her in his arms and swung her round so that her skirts +flew; and young and old shrieked so with laughter that the park +re-echoed. + +“Is this innocence or corruption?” wondered the schoolmaster. + +But evidently the party did not know what the learned word “corruption” + meant, and that was the reason why they were so merry. + +By the time they were tired of playing “Third Man” tea was ready. The +schoolmaster was puzzled to know where the cavaliers had learnt their +fine manners, for they moved about on all fours to offer the girls +sugar and cake; and the straps of their waistcoats stood out like +handles. + +“The males showing off before the females!” thought the schoolmaster. +“They don’t know what they are in for.” + +He noticed how the head of the family, the jolly fellow, waited on +father and mother-in-law, wife, shop-assistants and servant girls: and +whenever one of them begged him to help himself first, he invariably +answered that there was plenty of time for that. + +He watched the father-in-law peeling a willow branch to make a flute +for the little boy; he watched the mother-in-law wash up as if she had +been one of the servants. And he thought that there was something +strange about selfishness, since it could be so cleverly disguised +that it looked as if no one gave more than he received; for it must be +selfishness, it couldn’t be anything else. + +They played at forfeits and redeemed every forfeit with kisses, true, +genuine, resounding kisses on the lips; and when the jolly book-keeper +was made to kiss the old oak-tree, his conduct was too absurd for +anything; he embraced and caressed the gnarled trunk as if it had been +a girl whom he had met secretly; everybody shouted with laughter, for +all knew how to do it, although none of them would have liked to be +caught doing it. + +The schoolmaster who had begun by watching the spectacle with critical +eyes, fell more and more under the spell of it; he almost believed +himself to be one of the party. He smiled at the sallies of the +shop-assistants, and before an hour was gone the head of the family +had won his whole sympathy. No one could deny that the man was a +comedian of the first rank. He could play “Skin-the-cat”; he could +“walk backwards,” “lie” on the tree-trunks, swallow coins, eat fire, +and imitate all sorts of birds. And when he extracted a saffron cake +from the dress of one of the girls and made it disappear in his right +ear, the schoolmaster laughed until his empty inside ached. + +Then the dancing began. The schoolmaster had read in Rabe’s grammar: +Nemo saltat sobrius, nisi forte insanit, and had always looked upon +dancing as a species of insanity. True, he had watched puppies and +calves dancing when they felt frisky, but he did not believe that +Cicero’s maxim applied to the animal world, and he was in the habit of +drawing a sharp line between men and animals. Now, as he sat watching +these young people who were quite sober, and neither hungry nor thirsty, +moving round and round to the slow measures of the concertina, he felt +as if his soul were in a swing which was being kept going by his eyes +and ears, and his right foot beat time gently on the springy turf. + +He spent three hours musing and watching, then he rose. He found it +almost difficult to tear himself away; it was just as if he were +leaving a merry party to which he had been invited; but his mood had +changed; he felt more reconciled. He was at peace with the world and +pleasantly tired, as if he had been enjoying himself. + +It was evening. Smart carriages passed him, the lady-occupants lolling +on the back seats and looking in their long, white theatre wraps like +corpses in their shrouds; it was fashionable then to look as if one +had been exhumed. The schoolmaster, whose thoughts were running in +another direction, was sure that the ladies must be bored to death and +felt no trace of envy. Below the dusty highroad, far out on the sea, +the steamers with their flags and brass bands were returning from +their pleasure trips; cheers, strains of music and snatches of song +were wafted by the sea breezes to the mountains and the Deer Park. + +The schoolmaster had never felt so lonely in his life as he did this +evening in the moving throng. He fancied that everybody was looking at +him compassionately as he made his solitary way through the crowd, and +almost gave way to self-pity. He would have liked to talk to the first +comer, for the mere pleasure of hearing his voice, for in his loneliness +he felt as if he were walking by the side of a stranger. And now his +conscience smote him. He remembered the waiter Gustav, who had been +unable to hide his pleasure at meeting him. Now he had arrived at a +point when he would have given worlds if anybody had met him and shown +any pleasure at the fact. But nobody came. + +Yes, somebody did, after all. As he was sitting by himself on the +steamer, a setter, who had lost his master, came to him and put its +head on his knee. The schoolmaster was not particularly fond of dogs, +but he allowed it to stay; he felt it pressing its soft warm body +against his leg, he saw the eyes of the forsaken brute looking at him +in dumb appeal, as if it were asking him to find its master. + +But as soon as they landed, the setter ran away. “It needed me no +longer,” thought the schoolmaster, and he walked home and went to bed. + +These trifling incidents of Midsummer day had robbed the schoolmaster +of his assurance. They taught him that all foresight, all precautions, +all the clever calculations in the world availed nothing. He felt a +certain instability in his surroundings. Even the public house, his +home, was not to be counted on. It might be closed any day. Moreover, +a certain reserve on the part of Gustav troubled him. The waiter was +as civil as before, more attentive even, but his friendship was gone; +he had lost confidence. It afforded the schoolmaster food for thought, +and whenever a tough piece of meat, or too small a dish of potatoes +was set before him he thought: + +“Haha! He’s paying me out!” + +It was a bad summer for the schoolmaster: the second violin was out of +town and the book-seller frequented “Mosesheight,” a garden restaurant +in his own district, situated on a hill. + +On an evening in autumn the bookseller and the second violin were +sitting at their favourite table, drinking a glass of punch, when +the schoolmaster entered, carrying under his arm a parcel which he +carefully hid in an empty hamper in a cupboard used for all sorts of +lumber. He was ill-tempered and unusually irritable. + +“Well, old boy,” the bookseller began for the hundredth time, “and +when are you going to be married?” + +“Confound your ‘when are you going to be married!’ As if a man hadn’t +enough trouble without it! Why don’t you get married yourself?” + growled the schoolmaster. + +“Oh! because I have my old Stafva,” answered the bookseller, who always +had a number of stereotyped answers in readiness. + +“I was married very happily,” said the Pole, “but my wife is dead, +now, ugh!” + +“Is she?” mimicked the schoolmaster; “and the gentleman is a widower? +How am I to reconcile these facts?” + +The Pole nodded, for he did not in the least understand what the +schoolmaster was driving at. + +The latter felt bored by his friends; their topic of conversation was +always the same; he knew their replies by heart. + +Presently he went into the corridor for a few moments to fetch his +cigar-case which he had left in the pocket of his overcoat. The +bookseller instantly raided the cupboard and returned with the +mysterious parcel. As it was not sealed, he opened it quickly; it +contained a beautiful American sleeping-suit; he hung it carefully +over the back of the schoolmaster’s chair. + +“Ugh!” said the Pole, grinning, as if he were looking at something +unsightly. + +The proprietor of the restaurant who loved a practical joke, bent over +the counter, laughing loudly; the waiter stood rooted to the spot, and +one of the cooks peeped through the door which communicated with the +kitchen. + +When the schoolmaster came back and realised the trick played on him, +he grew pale with anger; he immediately suspected the bookseller; but +when his eyes fell on Gustav who was standing in a corner of the room, +laughing, his old obsession returned to him: “He’s paying me out!” + Without a word he seized his property, threw a few coins on the +counter and left the restaurant. + +Henceforth the schoolmaster avoided Rejner’s. The bookseller had heard +that he dined at a restaurant in his own district. This was true. But +he was very discontented! The food was not actually bad, but it was +not cooked to his liking. The waiters were not attentive. He often +thought of returning to Rejner’s, but his pride would not let him. He +had been turned out of his home; in five minutes a bond of many years’ +standing had been severed. + +A short time after fate struck him a fresh blow. Miss Augusta had +inherited a little fortune in the provinces and had decided to leave +Stockholm on the first of October. The schoolmaster had to look out +for new lodgings. + +But he had been spoilt, and there was no pleasing him. He changed his +room every month. There was nothing wrong with the rooms, but they +were not like his old room. It had become such a habit with him to +walk through certain streets, that he often found himself before his +old front door before he realised his mistake. He was like a lost +child. + +Eventually he went to live in a boarding house, a solution which he +had always loathed and dreaded. And then his friends lost sight of him +altogether. + +One evening, as the Pole was sitting alone over his grog, smoking, +drinking, and nodding with the capacity of the oriental to lapse into +complete stupor, the bookseller burst in on him like a thunderstorm, +flung his hat on the table, and shouted: + +“Confound him! Has anybody ever heard anything like it?” + +The Pole roused himself from his brandy-and-tobacco Nirvana, and +rolled his eyes. + +“I say, confound it! Has anybody ever heard anything like it? He’s +going to be married!” + +“Who’s going to be married?” asked the Pole, startled by the +bookseller’s violence and emphatic language. + +“Schoolmaster Blom!” + +The bookseller expected a glass of grog in exchange for his news. The +proprietor left the counter and came to their table to listen. + +“Has she any money?” he asked acutely. + +“I don’t think so,” replied the bookseller, conscious of his temporary +importance and selling his wares one by one. + +“Is she beautiful?” asked the Pole. “My wife was very beautiful. Ugh!” + +“No, she’s not beautiful either,” answered the bookseller, “but +nice-looking.” + +“Have you seen her?” enquired the proprietor. “Is she old?” His eyes +wandered towards the kitchen door. + +“No, she’s young!” + +“And her parents?” continued the proprietor. + +“I heard that her father was a brass founder in Orebro.” + +“The rascal! Well, I never!” said the proprietor. + +“Haven’t I always said so? The man is a born husband,” said the +bookseller. + +“We all of us are,” said the proprietor, “and take my word for it, no +one escapes his fate!” + +With this philosophical remark he closed the subject and returned to +the counter. + +When they had settled that the schoolmaster was not marrying for money, +they discussed the problem of “what the young people were going to live +on.” The bookseller made a guess at the schoolmaster’s salary and “what +he might earn besides by giving private lessons.” When that question, +too, had been settled, the proprietor, who had returned to the table, +asked for details. + +“Where had he met her? Was she fair or dark? Was she in love with +him?” + +The last question was by no means out of the way; the bookseller +“thought she was,” for he had seen them together, arm in arm, looking +into shop windows. + +“But that he, who was such a stick, could fall in love! It was incredible!” + +“And what a husband he would make!” The proprietor knew that he was +_devilish particular_ about his food, and that, he said, was a mistake +when one was married. + +“And he likes a glass of punch in the evening, and surely a married +man can’t drink punch every evening of his life. And he doesn’t like +children! It won’t turn out well,” he whispered. “Take my word for it, +it won’t turn out well. And, gentlemen, there’s another thing,” (he +rose from his seat, looked round and continued in a whisper), “I believe, +I’m hanged if I don’t, that the old hypocrite has had a love affair of +some sort. Do you remember that incident, gentlemen, with +the--hihihi--sleeping suit? He’s one of those whom you don’t find where +you leave them! Take care, Mrs. Blom! Mind what you are about! I’ll say +no more!” + +It was certainly a fact that the schoolmaster was engaged to be +married and that the wedding was to take place within two months. + +What happened after, does not belong to this story, and, moreover, it +is difficult to know what goes on behind the convent walls of +domesticity when the vow of silence is being kept. + +It was also a fact that the schoolmaster, after his marriage, was never +again seen at a public house. + +The bookseller, who met him by himself in the street one evening, had +to listen to a long exhortation on getting married. The schoolmaster +had inveighed against all bachelors; he had called them egotists, who +refused to do their duty by the State; in his opinion they ought to be +heavily taxed, for all indirect taxes weighed most cruelly on the +father of a family. He went so far as to say that he wished to see +bachelorhood punished by the law of the land as a “crime against +nature.” + +The bookseller had a good memory. He said that he doubted the +advisability of taking a _fool_ into one’s house, permanently. But the +schoolmaster replied that _his_ wife was the most intelligent woman he +had ever met. + +Two years after the wedding the Pole saw the schoolmaster and his wife +in the theatre; he thought that they looked happy; “ugh!” + +Another three years went by. On a Midsummer day the proprietor of the +restaurant made a pleasure trip on the Lake of Mälar to Mariafred. +There, before Castle Cripsholm, he saw the schoolmaster, pushing a +perambulator over a green field, and carrying in his disengaged hand a +basket containing food, while a whole crowd of young men and women, +“who looked like country folk,” followed in the rear. After dinner the +schoolmaster sang songs and turned somersaults with the youngsters. He +looked ten years younger and had all the ways of a ladies’ man. + +The proprietor, who was quite close to the party while they were +having dinner, overheard a little conversation between Mr. and Mrs. +Blom. When the young wife took a dish of crabs from the basket, she +apologised to Albert, because she had not been able to buy a single +female crab in the whole market. Thereupon the schoolmaster put his +arm round her, kissed her and said that it didn’t matter in the least, +because male or female crabs, it was all the same to him. And when one +of the babies in the perambulator began to cry, the schoolmaster +lifted it out and hushed it to sleep again. + +Well, all these things are mere details, but how people can get married +and bring up a family when they have not enough for themselves while +they are bachelors, is a riddle to me. It almost looks as if babies +brought their food with them when they come into this world; it really +almost does look as if they did. + + + + +COMPENSATION + + +He was considered a genius at College, and no one doubted that he +would one day distinguish himself. But after passing his examinations, +he was obliged to go to Stockholm and look out for a berth. His +dissertation, which was to win him the doctor’s degree, had to be +postponed. As he was very ambitious, but had no private means, he +resolved to marry money, and with this object in view, he visited only +the very best families, both at Upsala where he studied for the bar, and +later on at Stockholm. At Upsala he always fraternised with the new +arrivals, that is to say, when they were members of aristocratic families, +and the freshers felt flattered by the advances made by the older man. +In this way he formed many useful ties, which meant invitations to his +friends’ country houses during the summer. + +The country houses were his happy hunting ground. He possessed social +talents, he could sing and play and amuse the ladies, and consequently +he was a great favourite. He dressed beyond his means; but he never +borrowed money from any of his friends or aristocratic acquaintances. +He even went to the length of buying two worthless shares and mentioning +on every possible occasion that he had to attend a General Meeting of +the shareholders. + +For two summers he had paid a great deal of attention to a titled lady +who owned some property, and his prospects were the general topic, +when he suddenly disappeared from high life and became engaged to a +poor girl, the daughter of a cooper, who owned no property whatever. + +His friends were puzzled and could not understand how he could thus +stand in his own light. He had laid his plans so well, he “had but to +stretch out his hand and success was in his grasp”; he had the morsel +firmly stuck on his fork, it was only necessary for him to open his +mouth and swallow it. He himself was at a loss to understand how it +was that the face of a little girl whom he had met but once on a steamer +could have upset all his plans of many years’ standing. He was bewitched, +obsessed. + +He asked his friends whether they didn’t think her beautiful? + +Frankly speaking they didn’t. + +“But she is so clever! Just look into her eyes! What expressive eyes +she has!” + +His friends could see nothing and hear less, for the girl never opened +her lips. + +But he spent evening after evening with the cooper’s family; to be +sure, the cooper was a very intelligent man! On his knees before her +(a trick often practised at the country houses) he held her skeins of +wool; he played and sang to her, talked about religion and the drama, +and he always read acquiescence in her eyes. He wrote poetry about +her, and sacrificed at her shrine his laurels, his ambitious dreams, +even his dissertation. + +And then he married her. + +The cooper drank too much at the wedding and made an improper speech +about girls in general. But the son-in-law found the old man so +unsophisticated, so amiable, that he egged him on instead of shutting +him up. He felt at his ease among these simple folk; in their midst he +could be quite himself. + +“That’s being in love,” said his friends. “Love is a wonderful thing.” + +And now they were married. One month--two months. He was unspeakably +happy. Every evening they spent together and he sang a song to her +about the Rose in the Wood, her favourite song. And he talked about +religion and the drama, and she sat and listened eagerly. But she never +expressed an opinion; she listened in silence and went on with her +crochet work. + +In the third month he relapsed into his old habit of taking an afternoon +nap. His wife, who hated being by herself, insisted on sitting by him. +It irritated him, for he felt an overwhelming need to be alone with his +thoughts. + +Sometimes she met him on his way home from his office, and her heart +swelled with pride when he left his colleagues and crossed the street +to join her. She took him home in triumph: he was _her_ husband! + +In the fourth month he grew tired of her favourite song. It was stale +now! He took up a book and read, and neither of them spoke. + +One evening he had to attend a meeting which was followed by a banquet. +It was his first night away from home. He had persuaded his wife to +invite a friend to spend the evening with her, and to go to bed early, +for he did not expect to be home until late. + +The friend came and stayed until nine o’clock. The young wife sat in +the drawing-room, waiting, for she was determined not to go to bed +until her husband had returned. She felt too restless to go to sleep. + +She sat alone in the drawing-room. What could she do to make the time +pass more quickly? The maid had gone to bed; the grandfather’s clock +ticked and ticked. But it was only ten o’clock when she put away her +crochet work. She fidgeted, moved the furniture about and felt a little +unstrung. + +So that was what being married meant! One was torn from one’s early +surroundings, and shut up in three solitary rooms to wait until one’s +husband came home, half intoxicated.--Nonsense! he loved her, and he +was out on business. She was a fool to forget that. But _did_ he love +her still? Hadn’t he refused a day or two ago to hold a skein of wool +for her?--a thing he loved to do before they were married. Didn’t he +look rather annoyed yesterday when she met him before lunch? And--after +all--if he had to attend a business meeting to-night, there was no +necessity for him to be present at the banquet. + +It was half-past ten when her musing had reached this point. She was +surprised that she hadn’t thought of these things before. She relapsed +into her dark mood and the dismal thoughts again passed through her +mind, one by one. But now reinforcements had arrived. He never talked +to her now! He never sang to her, never opened the piano! He had told +her a lie when he had said that he couldn’t do without his afternoon +nap, for he was reading French novels all the time. + +He had told her a lie! + +It was only half-past eleven. The silence was oppressive. She opened +the window and looked out into the street. Two men were standing down +below, bargaining with two women. That was men’s way! If he should +ever do anything like that! She should drown herself if he did. + +She shut the window and lighted the chandelier in the bedroom. “One +ought to be able to see what one is about,” he had once said to her on +a certain occasion.--Everything was still so bright and new! The green +coverlet looked like a mown lawn, and the little pillows reminded her +of two white kittens curled up on the grass. The polish of her +dressing-table reflected the light: the mirror had as yet none of +those ugly stains which are made by the splashing of water. The silver +on the back of her hair-brush, her powder-box, her tooth-brush, all +shone and sparkled. Her bedroom slippers were still so new and pretty +that it was impossible to picture them down-at-heel. Everything looked +new, and yet everything seemed to have lost some of its freshness. She +knew all his songs, all his drawing-room pieces, all his words, all +his thoughts. She knew before-hand what he would say when he sat down +to lunch, what he would talk about when they were alone in the +evening. + +She was sick of it all. Had she been in love with him? Oh, yes! +Certainly! But was this all then? Was she realising all the dreams of +her girlhood? Were things to go on like this until she died? Yes! +But--but--but--surely they would have children! though there was no +sign of it as yet. Then she would no longer be alone! Then he might go +out as often as he liked, for she would always have somebody to talk +to, to play with. Perhaps it was a baby which she wanted to make her +happy. Perhaps matrimony really meant something more than being a +man’s legitimate mistress. That must be it! But then, he would have to +love her, and he didn’t do that. And she began to cry. + +When her husband came home at one o’clock, he was quite sober. But he +was almost angry with her when he found her still up. + +“Why didn’t you go to bed?” were the words with which he greeted her. + +“How can I go to sleep when I am waiting for you?” + +“A fine look out for me! Am I never to go out then? I believe you have +been crying, too?” + +“Yes, I have, and how can I help it if you--don’t--love--me--any--more?” + +“Do you mean to say I don’t love you because I had to go out on +business?” + +“A banquet isn’t business!” + +“Good God! Am I not to be allowed to go out? How can women be so +obtrusive?” + +“Obtrusive? Yes, I noticed that yesterday, when I met you. I’ll never +meet you again.” + +“But, darling, I was with my chief--” + +“Huhuhu!” + +She burst into tears, her body moved convulsively. + +He had to call the maid and ask her to fetch the hot-water bottle. + +He, too, was weeping. Scalding tears! He wept over himself, his hardness +of heart, his wickedness, his illusions over everything. + +Surely his love for her wasn’t an illusion? He did love her! Didn’t +he? And she said she loved him, too, as he was kneeling before her +prostrate figure, kissing her eyes. Yes, they loved one another! It +was merely a dark cloud which had passed, now. Ugly thoughts, born of +solitude and loneliness. She would never, never again stay alone. They +fell asleep in each other’s arms, her face dimpled with smiles. + +But she did not go to meet him on the following day. He asked no +questions at lunch. He talked a lot, but more for the sake of talking +than to amuse her; it seemed as if he were talking to himself. + +In the evening he entertained her with long descriptions of the life +at Castle Sjöstaholm; he mimicked the young ladies talking to the +Baron, and told her the names of the Count’s horses. And on the +following day he mentioned his dissertation. + +One afternoon he came home very tired. She was sitting in the +drawing-room, waiting for him. Her ball of cotton had fallen on the +floor. In passing, his foot got entangled in the cotton; at his next +step he pulled her crochet work out of her hand and dragged it along; +then he lost his temper and kicked it aside. + +She exclaimed at his rudeness. + +He retorted that he had no time to bother about her rubbish, and +advised her to spend her time more profitably. He had to think of his +dissertation, if he was to have a career at all. And she ought to +consider the question of how to limit their household expenses. + +Things had gone far indeed! + +On the next day the young wife, her eyes swollen with weeping, was +knitting socks for her husband. He told her he could buy them cheaper +ready-made. She burst into tears. What was she to do? The maid did all +the work of the house, there was not enough work in the kitchen for +two. She always dusted the rooms. Did he want her to send the maid +away? + +“No, no!” + +“What did he want, then?” + +He didn’t know himself, but he was sure that something was wrong. Their +expenses were too high. That was all. They couldn’t go on living at their +present rate, and then--somehow he could never find time to work at his +dissertation. + +Tears, kisses, and a grand reconciliation! But now he started staying +away from home in the evening several times a week. Business! A man +must show himself! If he stays at home, he will be overlooked and +forgotten! + +A year had passed; there were no signs of the arrival of a baby. “How +like a little liaison I once had in the old days,” he thought; “there +is only one difference: this one is duller and costs more.” There was +no more conversation, now; they merely talked of household matters. +“She has no brain,” he thought. “I am listening to myself when I am +talking to her, and the apparent depths of her eyes is a delusion, due +to the size of her pupils--the unusual size of her pupils.--” + +He talked openly about his former love for her as of something that +was over and done with. And yet, whenever he did so, he felt a pain +in his heart, an irritating, cruel pain, a remorseless pain that could +never die. + +“Everything on earth withers and dies,” he mused, “why should her +favourite song alone be an exception to this? When one has heard it +three hundred and sixty-five times, it becomes stale; it can’t be +helped. But is my wife right when she says that our love, also, has +died? No, and yet--perhaps she is. Our marriage is no better than a +vulgar liaison, for we have no child.” + +One day he made up his mind to talk the matter over with a married +friend, for were they not both members of the “Order of the Married”? + +“How long have you been married?” + +“Six years.” + +“And does matrimony bore you?” + +“At first it did; but when the children came, matters improved.” + +“Was that so? It’s strange that we have no child.” + +“Not your fault, old man! Tell your wife to go and see a doctor about +it.” + +He had an intimate conversation with her and she went. + +Six weeks after what a change! + +What a bustle and commotion in the house! The drawing-room table was +littered with baby-clothes which were quickly hidden if anybody entered +unexpectedly, and reappeared as quickly if it was only he who had come +in. A name had to be thought of. It would surely be a boy. The midwife +had to be interviewed, medical books had to be bought, and a cradle +and a baby’s outfit. + +The baby arrived and it really was a boy! And when he saw the “little +monkey that smelled of butter” clasped to her bosom, which until then +had but been his plaything, he reverently discovered the mother in his +little wife; and “when he saw the big pupils looking at the baby so +intently that they seemed to be looking into the future”, he realised +that there were depths in her eyes after all; depths more profound +than he could fathom for all his drama and religion. And now all his +old love, his dear old love, burst into fresh flames, and there was +something new added to it, which he had dimly divined, but never +realised. + +How beautiful she was when she busied herself about the house again! +And how intelligent in all matters concerning the baby! + +As for him, he felt a man. Instead of talking of the Baron’s horses +and the Count’s cricket matches, he now talked, too much almost, of +his son. + +And when occasionally he was obliged to be out of an evening, he always +longed for his own fireside; not because his wife sat there waiting for +him, like an evil conscience, but because he knew that she was not alone. +And when he came home, both mother and child were asleep. He was almost +jealous of the baby, for there had been a certain charm in the thought +that while he was out, somebody was sitting alone at home, eagerly +awaiting his return. + +Now he was allowed his afternoon nap. And as soon as he had gone back +to town, the piano was opened and the favourite song of the _Rose in +the Wood_ was sung, for it was quite new to Harold, and had regained +all its freshness for poor little Laura who hadn’t heard it for so many +days. + +She had no time now for crochet work, but there were plenty of +antimacassars in the house. He, on his part, could not spare the time +for his dissertation. + +“Harold shall write it,” said the father, for he knew now that his +life would not be over when he came to die. + +Many an evening they sat together, as before, and gossiped, but now +both took a share in the conversation, for now she understood what +they were talking about. + +She confessed that she was a silly girl who knew nothing about religion +and the drama; but she said that she had always told him so, and that he +had refused to believe it. + +But now he believed it less than ever. + +They sang the old favourite song, and Harold crowed, they danced to the +tune and rocked the baby’s cradle to it, and the song always retained +its freshness and charm. + + + + +FRICTIONS + + +His eyes had been opened. He realised the perversity of the world, but +he lacked the power to penetrate the darkness and discover the cause +of this perversity; therefore he gave himself up to despair, a +disillusioned man. Then he fell in love with a girl who married +somebody else. He complained of her conduct to his friends, male and +female, but they only laughed at him. For a little while longer he trod +his solitary path alone and misunderstood. He belonged to “society,” + and joined in its pursuits, because it distracted him; but at the bottom +of his heart he had nothing but contempt for its amusements, which he +took no pains to conceal. + +One evening he was present at a ball. He danced with a young woman of +unusual beauty and animation. When the band ceased playing, he remained +standing by her side. He knew he ought to talk to her but he did not +know what to say. After a while the girl broke the silence. + +“You are fond of dancing, Baron?” she said with a cold, smile. + +“Oh no! not at all,” he answered. “Are you?” + +“I can’t imagine anything more foolish,” she replied. + +He had met his man, or rather his woman. + +“Why do you dance, then?” he asked. + +“For the same reason that you do.” + +“Can you read my mind?” + +“Easily enough; if two people think alike, the other always knows.” + +“H’m! You’re a strange woman! Do you believe in love?” + +“No!” + +“Nor do I! You and I ought to get married.” + +“I’m beginning to think so myself.” + +“Would you marry me?” + +“Why not? At any rate, we shouldn’t fight.” + +“Horrible idea! But how can you be so sure?” + +“Because we think alike.” + +“Yes, but that might become monotonous. We should have nothing to talk +about, because the one would always know what the other is thinking.” + +“True; but wouldn’t it be even more monotonous if we remained +unmarried and misunderstood?” + +“You are right! Would you like to think it over?” + +“Yes, until the cotillon.” + +“No longer?” + +“Why any longer?” + +He took her back to the drawing-room and left her there, drank several +glasses of champagne and watched her during supper. She allowed two +young members of the Diplomatic Corps to wait on her, but made fun of +them all the time and treated them as if they were footmen. + +As soon as the cotillon began, he went to her and offered her a bouquet. + +“Do you accept me?” he asked. + +“Yes,” she replied. + +And so they were engaged. + +It’s a splendid match, said the world. They are made for one another. +They are equals as far as social position and money are concerned. +They hold the same blasé views of life. By blasé the world meant that +they cared very little for dances, theatres, bazaars, and other noble +sports without which life is not really worth living. + +They were like carefully wiped twin slates, exactly alike; but utterly +unable to surmise whether or not life would write the same legend on +both. They never asked one another during the tender moments of their +engagement: Do you love me? They knew quite well that it was impossible, +because they did not believe in love. They talked little, but they +understood one another perfectly. + +And they married. + +He was always attentive, always polite, and they were good friends. + +When the baby was born, it had but one effect on their relationship; +they had something to talk about now. + +But by-and-by the husband began to reveal a certain energy. He had a +sense of duty, and moreover, he was sick of being idle. He had a +private income, but was in no way connected with politics or the +Government. Now he looked round for some occupation which would fill +the void in his life. He had heard the first morning call of the +awakening spirits and felt it his duty to do his share of the great +work of research into the causes of human misery. He read much, made a +careful study of politics and eventually wrote an article and sent it +to a paper. The consequence was that he was elected a member of the +Board of Education. This necessitated hard reading in future, for all +questions were to be threshed out thoroughly. + +The Baroness lay on the sofa and read Chateaubriand and Musset. She +had no faith in the improvement of humanity, and this stirring up of +the dust and mould which the centuries had deposited on human +institutions irritated her. Yet she noticed that she did not keep pace +with her husband. They were like two horses at a race. They had been +weighed before the start and been found to be of the same weight; they +had promised to keep side by side during the run; everything was +calculated to make them finish the race and leave the course at the +same time. But already the husband had gained by the length of a neck. +Unless she hurried up, she was bound to be left behind. + +And the latter really happened. In the following year he was made +controller of the budget. He was away for two months. His absence made +the Baroness realise that she loved him; a fact which was brought home +to her by her fear of losing him. + +When he returned home, she was all eagerness; but his mind was filled +with the things he had seen and heard abroad. He realised that they +had come to the parting of the ways, but he would have liked to delay +it, prevent it, if possible. He showed her in great living pictures +the functioning of the colossal gigantic machinery of the State, he +tried to explain to her the working of the wheels, the multifarious +transmissions, regulators and detents, unreliable pendulums and +untrustworthy safety valves. + +She was interested at first, but after a while her interest waned. +Conscious of her mental inferiority, her insignificance, she devoted +herself entirely to her baby, anxious to demonstrate to her husband +that she yet had a value as a model mother. But her husband did not +appreciate this value. He had married her for the sake of companionship, +and he found in her an excellent nurse for his child. But how could it +be helped now? Who could have foreseen such a thing? + +The house was always full of members of Parliament, and politics was +the subject of conversation at dinner. The hostess merely took care +that no fault could be found with the cooking. The Baron never omitted +to have one or two men amongst his guests who could talk to his wife +about music and the drama, but the Baroness wanted to discuss nothing +but the nursery and the bringing up of children. After dessert, as +soon as the health of the hostess was drunk, there was a general +stampede to the smoking-room where the political discussions were +continued. The Baroness left her guests and went to the nursery with a +feeling of bitterness in her heart; she realised that her husband had +so far outdistanced her that she could never again hope to come up +with him. + +He worked much at home in the evening; frequently he was busy at his +writing-table until the small hours of the morning, but always behind +locked doors. When he noticed afterwards, as he sometimes did, that +his wife went about with red eyes, he felt a pain in his heart; but +they had nothing to say to each other. + +Occasionally however, at those times when his work palled, when he +realised that his inner life was growing poorer and poorer, he felt a +void within him, a longing for warmth, for something intimate, something +he had dreamed of long ago, in the early days of his youth. But every +feeling of that sort he suppressed at once as unfaithfulness to his wife, +for he had a very high conception of the duty of a husband. + +To bring a little more variety into her daily life, he suggested one +day that she should invite a cousin of whom she had often spoken, but +whom he had never seen, to spend the winter with them in town. + +This had always been a great wish of the Baroness’s, but now that the +realisation of it was within her power, she changed her mind. She did +not want her in the least now. Her husband pressed her for reasons, +but she could not give him any. It roused his curiosity and finally +she confessed that she was afraid of her cousin; afraid that she might +win his heart, that he might fall in love with her. + +“She must be a queer girl, we really must have her here!” + +The Baroness wept and warned, but the Baron laughed and the cousin +arrived. + +One afternoon the Baron came home, tired as usual; he had forgotten +all about the cousin and his curiosity in regard to her. They sat down +to dinner. The Baron asked the cousin if she was fond of the theatre. +She replied that she was not. She preferred reality to make-believe. +At home she had founded a school for black sheep and a society for the +care of discharged prisoners. Indeed! The Baron was much interested in +the administration of prisons. The cousin was able to give him a good +deal of information, and during the rest of the dinner the conversation +was exclusively about prisons. Eventually the cousin promised to treat +the whole question in a paper which the Baron was going to read and work +up. + +What the Baroness had foreseen, happened. The Baron contracted a +spiritual marriage with the cousin, and his wife was left out in the +cold. But the cousin was also beautiful, and when she leaned over the +Baron at his writing-desk, and he felt her soft arm on his shoulder +and her warm breath against his cheek, he could not suppress a +sensation of supreme well-being. Needless to say, their conversation +was not always of prisons. They also discussed love. She believed in +the love of the souls, and she stated as plainly as she could, that +marriage without love was prostitution. The Baron had not taken much +interest in the development of modern ideas on love, and found that +her views on the subject were rather hard, but after all she was +probably quite right. + +But the cousin possessed other qualities, too, invaluable qualifications +for a true spiritual marriage. She had no objection to tobacco smoke for +instance, in fact, she was very fond of a cigarette herself. There was no +reason, therefore, why she should not go into the smoking-room with the +men after dinner and talk about politics. And then she was charming. + +Tortured by little twinges of conscience, the Baron would every now +and then disappear from the smoking-room, go into the nursery, kiss +his wife and child, and ask her how she was getting on? The Baroness +was grateful, but she was not happy. After these little journeys the +Baron always returned to his friends in the best of tempers; one might +have thought that he had faithfully performed a sacred duty. At other +times it irritated and distressed him that his wife did not join the +party in the smoking-room, too, as _his_ wife; this thought was a +burden which weighed quite heavily on him. + +The cousin did not go home in the spring, but accompanied the couple +to a watering-place. There she organised little performances for the +benefit of the poor, in which she and the Baron played the parts of +the lovers. This had the inevitable result that the fire burst into +flames. But the flames were only spiritual flames; mutual interests, +like views, and, perhaps, similar dispositions. + +The Baroness had ample time to consider her position. The day arrived +when she told her husband that since everything was over between them, +the only decent thing to do was to part. But that was more than he had +bargained for; he was miserable; the cousin had better return to her +parents, and he would prove to his wife that he was a man of honour. + +The cousin left. A correspondence between her and the Baron began. He +made the Baroness read every letter, however much she hated doing it. +After a while, however, he gave in and read the letters without showing +them to his wife. + +Finally the cousin returned. Then matters came to a crisis. The Baron +discovered that he could not live without her. + +What were they to do? Separate? It would be death. Go on as at present? +Impossible! Annul the marriage which the Baron had come to look upon as +legal prostitution and marry his beloved? However painful it might be, +it was the only honest course to take. + +But that was against the wishes of the cousin. She did not want it said +of her that she had stolen another woman’s husband. And then the scandal! +the scandal! + +“But it was dishonest not to tell his wife everything; it was dishonest +to allow things to go on; one could never tell how the matter would end.” + +“What did he mean? How could it end?” + +“Nobody could tell!” + +“Oh! How dared he! What did he think of her?” + +“That she was a woman!” + +And he fell on his knees and worshipped her; he said that he did not +care if the administration of prisons and the school for black sheep +went to the devil; he did not know what manner of woman she was; he +only knew that he loved her. + +She replied that she had nothing but contempt for him, and went helter +skelter to Paris. He followed at her heels. At Hamburg he wrote a +letter to his wife in which he said that they had made a mistake and +that it was immoral not to rectify it. He asked her to divorce him. + +And she divorced him. + +A year after these events the Baron and the cousin were married. They +had a child. But that was a fact which did not interfere with their +happiness. On the contrary! What a wealth of new ideas germinated in +their minds in their voluntary exile! How strong were the winds which +blew here! + +He encouraged her to write a book on “young criminals.” The press tore +it to pieces. She was furious and swore that she would never write +another book. He asked her whether she wrote for praise, whether she +was ambitious?--She replied by a question: Why did he write?--A little +quarrel arose. He said it was refreshing to hear her express views +which did not echo his own--always his own.--Always his own? What did +he mean? Didn’t she have _views of her own_? She henceforth made it +her business to prove to him on every occasion that she was capable of +forming her own opinions; and to prevent any errors on his part she +took good care that they always differed from his. He told her he did +not care what views she held as long as she loved him.--Love? What about +it? He was no better than other men and, moreover, he had betrayed her. +He did not love her soul, but her body.--No, he loved both, he loved +her, every bit of her!--Oh! How deceitful he had been!--No, he had not +been deceitful, he had merely deceived himself when he believed that he +loved her soul only. + +They were tired of strolling up and down the boulevard, and sat down +before a cafe. She lighted a cigarette. A waiter requested her rather +uncivilly, not to smoke. The Baron demanded an explanation and the +waiter said that the cafe was a first-class establishment and the +management was anxious not to drive away respectable people by serving +_these ladies_. They rose from their seats, paid and went away. The +Baron was furious, the young Baroness had tears in her eyes. + +“There they had a demonstration of the power of prejudice! Smoking was +a foolish act as far as a man was concerned, but in a woman it was a +crime! Let him who was able to do so, destroy this prejudice! Or, let +us say, him who would care to do so! The Baron had no wish that his +wife should be the first victim, even if it were to win for her the +doubtful honour of having cast aside a prejudice. For it was nothing +else. In Russia, ladies belonging to the best society smoked at the +dinner-table during the courses. Customs changed with the latitudes. +And yet those trifles were not without importance, for life consisted +of trifles. If men and women shared bad habits, intercourse between +them would be less stiff and formal: they would make friends more +easily and keep pace with one another. If they had the same education, +they would have the same interests, and cling together more closely +during the whole of their lives.” + +The Baron was silent as if he had said something foolish. But she had +not been listening to him; her thoughts had been far away. + +“She had been insulted by a waiter, told that she was not fit to +associate with respectable people. There was more behind that, than +appeared on the surface. She had been recognised. Yes, she was sure of +it, it was not the first time that she had noticed it.” + +“What had she noticed?” + +“That she had been treated with little respect at the restaurants. The +people evidently did not think that they were married; because they +were affectionate and civil to one another. She had borne it in silence +for a long time, but now she had come to the end of her tether. And yet +this was nothing compared to what they were saying at home!” + +“Well, what were they saying? And why had she never told him anything +about it before?” + +“Oh! horrible things! The letters she had received! Leaving the +anonymous ones quite out of the question. + +“Well, and what about him? Was he not being treated as if he were a +criminal? And yet he had not committed a crime! He had acted according +to all legal requirements, he had not broken his marriage vows. He had +left the country in compliance with the dictates of the law; the Royal +Consistory has granted his appeal for a divorce; the clergy, Holy Church, +had given him his release from the bonds of his first marriage on stamped +paper; therefore he had not broken them! When a country was conquered, a +whole nation was absolved from its oath of loyalty to its monarch; why +did society look askance at the release from a promise? Had it not +conferred the right on the Consistory to dissolve a marriage? How could +it dare to assume the character of a judge now and condemn its own laws? +Society was at war with itself! He was being treated like a criminal! +Hadn’t the secretary of the Embassy, his old friend, on whom he had left +his and his wife’s cards, acknowledged them by simply returning one card +only? And was he not overlooked at all public functions?” + +“Oh! She had had to put up with worse things! One of her friends in Paris +had closed her door to her, and several had cut her in the street.” + +“Only the wearer of a boot knew where it pinched. The boots which they +were wearing now were real Spanish boots, and they were at war with +society. The upper classes had cut them. The upper classes! This +community of semi-imbeciles, who secretly lived like dogs, but showed +one another respect as long as there was no public scandal; that was to +say as long as one did not honestly revoke an agreement and wait until +it had lapsed before one made use of one’s newly-regained freedom! And +these vicious upper classes were the awarders of social position and +respect, according to a scale on which honesty ranked far below zero. +Society was nothing but a tissue of lies! It was inexplicable that it +hadn’t been found out long ago! It was high time to examine this fine +structure and inquire into the condition of its foundations.” + +They were on friendlier terms on arriving home than they had been for +many years. The Baroness stayed at home with her baby, and was soon +expecting a second one. This struggle against the tide was too hard +for her, and she was already growing tired of it. She was tired of +everything! To write in an elegantly furnished, well-heated room on +the subject of discharged prisoners, offering them, at a proper +distance, a well-gloved hand, was a proceeding society approved of; +but to hold out the hand of friendship to a woman who had married a +legally divorced man was quite another thing. Why should it be so? It +was difficult to find an answer. + +The Baron fought in the thick of the battle. He visited the Chamber of +Deputies, was present at meetings, and everywhere he listened to +passionate diatribes against society. He read papers and magazines, +kept a keen eye on literature, studied the subject deeply. His wife +was threatened by the same fate which had overtaken the first one; to +be left behind! It was strange. She seemed unable to take in all the +details of his investigations, she disapproved of much of the new +doctrine, but she felt that he was right and fighting for a good +cause. He knew that he could always count on her never-flagging +sympathy; that he had a friend at home who would always stand by him. +Their common fate drove them into each other’s arms like frightened +birds at the approach of a storm. All the womanliness in her,--however +little it may be appreciated now-a-days,--which is after all nothing +but a memory of the great mother, the force of nature which is woman’s +endowment, was roused. It fell on the children like the warm glow of a +fire at eventide; it fell on the husband like a ray of sunshine; it +brought peace to the home. He often wondered how it was that he did +not miss his old comrade, with whom he was wont to discuss everything; +he discovered that his thoughts had gained force and vigour since he +stopped pouring them out as soon as he conceived them; it seemed to +him that he was profiting more by the silent approval, the kindly nod, +the unwavering sympathy. He felt that his strength had increased, that +his views were less under outside control; he was a solitary man, now, +and yet he was less solitary than he had been in the past, for he was +no longer constantly met by contradictions which merely filled his +heart with misgivings. + +It was Christmas Eve in Paris. A large Christmas tree, grown in the +wood of St. Germain, stood in their little chalet on the Cours de la +Reine. They were going out after breakfast to buy Christmas presents +for the children. The Baron was pre-occupied, for he had just published +a little pamphlet, entitled: “Do the Upper Classes constitute Society?” + They were sitting at breakfast in their cosy dining-room, and the doors +which led to the nursery stood wide open. They listened to the nurse +playing with the children, and the Baroness smiled with contentment and +happiness. She had grown very gentle and her happiness was a quiet one. +One of the children suddenly screamed and she rose from the table to see +what was the matter. At the same moment the footman came into the +dining-room with the morning post. The Baron opened two packets of +printed matter. The first was a “big respectable” newspaper. He opened +it and his eyes fell on a headline in fat type: “A Blasphemer!” + +He began to read: “Christmas is upon us again! This festival dear to +all pure hearts, this festival sacred to all Christian nations, which +has brought a message of peace and good-will to all men, which makes +even the murderer sheathe his knife, and the thief respect the sacred +law of property; this festival, which is not only of very ancient +origin, but which is also, especially in the countries of the North, +surrounded by a host of historic associations, etc., etc. And then like +foul fumes arising from a drain, an individual suddenly confronts us +who does not scruple to tear asunder the most sacred bonds, who vomits +malice on all respectable members of society; malice, dictated by the +pettiest vengeance....” He refolded the paper and put it into the +pocket of his dressing-gown. Then he opened the second parcel. It +contained caricatures of himself and his wife. It went the same way as +the first, but he had to be quick, for his wife was re-entering the +dining-room. He finished his breakfast and went into his bed-room to +get ready to go out. They left the house together. + +The sunlight fell on the frosted plane-trees of the Champs Elysées, +and in the heart of the stony desert the Place de la Concorde opened +out like a large oasis. He felt her arm on his, and yet he had the +feeling as if she were supporting him. She talked of the presents +which they were going to buy for the children, and he tried to force +himself to take an interest in the subject. But all at once he +interrupted her conversation and asked her, à-propos of nothing: + +“Do you know the difference between vengeance and punishment?” + +“No, I’ve never thought about it.” + +“I wonder whether it isn’t this: When an anonymous journalist revenges +himself, it is punishment; but when a well-known writer, who is not a +pressman, fights with an open visor, meting out punishment, then it is +revenge! Let us join the new prophets!” + +She begged him not to spoil Christmas by talking of the newspapers. + +“This festival,” he muttered, “on which peace and good-will....” + +They passed through the arcades of the Rue de Rivoli, turned into the +boulevards and made their purchases. They dined at the Grand Hotel. +She was in a sunny frame of mind and tried to cheer him up. But he +remained preoccupied. Suddenly he asked, + +“How is it possible that one can have a bad conscience when one has +acted rightly?” + +She did not know. + +“Is it because the upper classes have so trained us, that our conscience +troubles us whenever we rebel against them? Probably it is so. Why +shouldn’t he who has been hurt unjustly, have the right to attack +injustice? Because only he who has been hurt will attack, and the upper +classes hate being attacked. Why did I not strike at the upper classes +in the past, when I belonged to them? Because, of course, I didn’t know +them then. One must look at a picture from a distance in order to find +the correct visual point!” + +“One shouldn’t talk about such things on Christmas Eve!” + +“True, it is Christmas. This festival of....” + +They returned home. They lit the candles on the Christmas tree; it +radiated peace and happiness; but its dark branches smelt of a funeral +and looked sinister, like the Baron’s face. The nurse came in with the +little ones. His face lighted up, for, he thought, when they are grown +up they will reap in joy what we have sown in tears; then their +conscience will only trouble them when they have sinned against the +laws of nature; they won’t have to suffer from whims which have been +caned into us at school, drummed into us by the parsons, invented by +the upper classes for their own benefit. + +The Baroness sat down at the piano when the maids and the footmen +entered. She played melancholy old dances, dear to the heart of the +people of the North, while the servants danced gravely with the +children. It was very much like the penitential part of divine +service. + +After that the presents were distributed among the children, and the +servants received their gifts. And then the children were put to bed. + +The Baroness went into the drawing-room and sat down in an arm-chair. +The Baron threw himself on a footstool at her feet. He rested his head +on her knees. It was so heavy--so heavy. She silently stroked his +forehead. “What! was he weeping?” + +“Yes!” + +She had never before seen a man weep. It was a terrible sight. His big +strong frame shook, but he made no sound. + +“Why was he weeping?” + +“Because he was unhappy.” + +“Unhappy with her?” + +“No, no, not with her, but still, unhappy.” + +“Had anybody treated him badly?” + +“Yes!” + +“Couldn’t he tell her all about it?” + +“No, he only wanted to sit at her knees, as he used to sit long ago, +at his mother’s.” + +She talked to him as if he had been a child. She kissed his eyes and +wiped his face with her handkerchief. She felt so proud, so strong, +there were no tears in her eyes. The sight of her inspired him with +new courage. + +“How weak he had been! That he should have found the machine-made +attacks of his opponents so hard to bear! Did his enemies really +believe what they said?” + +“Terrible thought! Probably they did. One often found stones firmly +grown into pine-trees, why should not opinions grow into the brain in +the same way? But she believed in him, she knew that he was fighting +for a good cause?” + +“Yes, she believed it! But--he must not be angry with her for asking +him such a question--but--did he not miss his child, the first one?” + +“Yes, certainly, but it could not be helped. At least, not yet! But he +and the others who were working for the future would have to find a +remedy for that, too. He did not know, yet, what form that remedy +would take, but stronger brains than his, and many together, would +surely one day solve this problem which at present seemed insolvable.” + +“Yes, she hoped it would be so.” + +“But their marriage? Was it a marriage in the true sense of the word, +seeing that he couldn’t tell her what troubled him? Wasn’t it, too, +pro...?” + +“No, it was a true marriage, for they loved one another. There had +been no love between him and his first wife. But he and she did love +one another, could she deny it?” + +“She couldn’t, he was her dear love.” Then their marriage was a true +marriage before God and before Nature. + + + + +UNNATURAL SELECTION OR THE ORIGIN OF RACE + + +The Baron had read in _The Slaves of Life_ with disgust and indignation +that the children of the aristocracy were bound to perish unless they +took the mothers’ milk from the children of the lower classes. He had +read Darwin and believed that the gist of his teaching was that through +selection the children of the aristocracy had come to be more highly +developed representatives of the genus “Man.” But the doctrine of +heredity made him look upon the employment of a foster-mother with +aversion; for might not, with the blood of the lower classes, certain +conceptions, ideas and desires be introduced and propagated in the +aristocratic nursling? He was therefore determined that his wife should +nurse her baby herself, and if she should prove incapable of doing so, +the child should be brought up with the bottle. He had a right to the +cows’ milk, for they fed on his hay; without it they would starve, or +would not have come into existence at all. The baby was born. It was a +son! The father had been somewhat anxious before he became certain of +his wife’s condition, for he was, personally, a poor man; his wife, on +the other hand, was very wealthy, but he had no claim to her fortune +unless their union was blest with a legal heir, (in accordance with the +law of entail chap. 00 par. 00). His joy was therefore great and genuine. +The baby was a transparent little thoroughbred, with blue veins shining +through his waxen skin. Nevertheless his blood was poor. His mother who +possessed the figure of an angel, was brought up on choice food, protected +by rich furs from all the eccentricities of the climate, and had that +aristocratic pallor which denotes the woman of noble descent. + +She nursed the baby herself. There was consequently no need to become +indebted to peasant women for the privilege of enjoying life on this +planet. Nothing but fables, all he had read about it! The baby sucked +and screamed for a fortnight. But all babies scream. It meant nothing. +But it lost flesh. It became terribly emaciated. The doctor was sent +for. He had a private conversation with the father, during which he +declared that the baby would die if the Baroness continued to nurse +him, because she was firstly too highly strung, and secondly had +nothing with which to feed him. He took the trouble to make a +quantitative analysis of the milk, and proved (by equations) that the +child was bound to starve unless there was a change in the method of +his feeding. + +What was to be done? On no account could the baby be allowed to die. + +Bottle or foster mother? The latter was out of the question. Let us +try the bottle! The doctor, however, prescribed a foster mother. + +The best Dutch cow, which had received the gold medal for the district, +was isolated and fed with hay; with dry hay of the finest quality. The +doctor analysed the milk, everything was all right. How simple the system +was! How strange that they had not thought of it before! After all, one +need not engage a foster mother a tyrant before whom one had to cringe, +a loafer one had to fatten; not to mention the fact that she might have +an infectious disease. + +But the baby continued to lose flesh and to scream. It screamed night +and day. There was no doubt it suffered from colic. A new cow was +procured and a fresh analysis made. The milk was mixed with Karlsbad +water, genuine Sprudel, but the baby went on screaming. + +“There’s no remedy but to engage a foster mother,” said the doctor. + +“Oh! anything but that! One did not want to rob other children, it was +against nature, and, moreover, what about heredity?” + +When the Baron began to talk of things natural and unnatural, the +doctor explained to him that if nature were allowed her own way, all +noble families would die out and their estates fall to the crown. This +was the wisdom of nature, and human civilization was nothing but a +foolish struggle against nature, in which man was bound to be beaten. +The Baron’s race was doomed; this was proved by the fact that his wife +was unable to feed the fruit of her womb; in order to live they were +bound to buy or steal the milk of other women. Consequently the race +lived on robbery, down to the smallest detail. + +“Could the purchase of the milk be called robbery? The purchase of +it!” + +“Yes, because the money with which it was bought was produced by labour. +Whose labour? The people’s! For the aristocracy didn’t work.” + +“The doctor was a socialist!” + +“No, a follower of Darwin. However, he didn’t care in the least if they +called him a socialist. It made no difference to him.” + +“But surely, purchase was not robbery! That was too strong a word!” + +“Well, but if one paid with money one hadn’t earned!” + +“That was to say, earned by manual labour?” + +“Yes!” + +“But in that case the doctor was a robber too!” + +“Quite so! Nevertheless he would not hold back with the truth! Didn’t +the Baron remember the repenting thief who had spoken such true words?” + +The conversation was interrupted; the Baron sent for a famous professor. +The latter called him a murderer straight out, because he had not +engaged a nurse long ago. + +The Baron had to persuade his wife. He had to retract all his former +arguments and emphasize the one simple fact, namely, the love for his +child, (regulated by the law of entail). + +But where was a foster mother to come from? It was no use thinking of +looking for one in town, for there all people were corrupt. No, it +would have to be a country girl. But the Baroness objected to a girl +because, she argued, a girl with a baby was an immoral person; and her +son might contract a hereditary tendency. + +The doctor retorted that all foster mothers were unmarried women and +that if the young Baron inherited from her a preference for the other +sex, he would grow into a good fellow; tendencies of that sort ought +to be encouraged. It was not likely that any of the farmers’ wives +would accept the position, because a farmer who owned land, would +certainly prefer to keep his wife and children with him. + +“But supposing they married a girl to a farm labourer?” + +“It would mean a delay of nine months.” + +“But supposing they found a husband for a girl who had a baby?” + +“That wasn’t a bad idea!” + +The Baron knew a girl who had a baby just three months old. He knew +her only too well, for he had been engaged for three years and had +been unfaithful to his fiancee by “doctor’s orders.” He went to her +himself and made his suggestion. She should have a farm of her own if +she would consent to marry Anders, a farm labourer, and come to the +Manor as foster mother to the young Baron. Well, was it strange that +she should accept the proffered settlement in preference to her bearing +her disgrace alone? It was arranged there and then that on the following +Sunday the banns should be read for the first, second and third time, +and that Anders should go home to his own village for two months. + +The Baron looked at her baby with a strange feeling of envy. He was a +big, strong boy. He was not beautiful, but he looked like a guarantee +of many generations to come. The child was born to live but it was not +his fate to fulfil his destination. + +Anna wept when he was taken to the orphanage, but the good food at the +Manor (her dinner was sent up to her from the dining-room, and she had +as much porter and wine as she wanted) consoled her. She was also +allowed to go out driving in the big carriage, with a footman by the +side of the coachman. And she read _A Thousand and One Nights_. Never +in all her life had she been so well off. + +After an absence of two months Anders returned. He had done nothing +but eat, drink, and rest. He took possession of the farm, but he also +wanted his Anna. Couldn’t she, at least, come and see him sometimes? +No, the Baroness objected. No nonsense of that sort! + +Anna lost flesh and the little Baron screamed. The doctor was +consulted. + +“Let her go and see her husband,” he said. + +“But supposing it did the baby harm?” + +“It won’t!” + +But Anders must be “analysed” first. Anders objected. + +Anders received a present of a few sheep and was “analysed.” + +The little Baron stopped screaming. + +But now news came from the orphanage that Anna’s boy had died of +diphtheria. + +Anna fretted, and the little Baron screamed louder than ever. She was +discharged and sent back to Anders and a new foster mother was +engaged. + +Anders was glad to have his wife with him at last, but she had +contracted expensive habits. She couldn’t drink Brazilian coffee, for +instance, it had to be Java. And her health did not permit her to eat +fish six times a week, nor could she work in the fields. Food at the +farm grew scarce. + +Anders would have been obliged to give up the farm after twelve months, +but the Baron had a kindly feeling for him and allowed him to stay on as +a tenant. + +Anna worked daily at the Manor and frequently saw the little Baron; +but he did not recognise her and it was just as well that he did not. +And yet he had lain at her breast! And she had saved his life by +sacrificing the life of her own child. But she was prolific and had +several sons, who grew up and were labourers and railway men; one of +them was a convict. + +But the old Baron looked forward with anxiety to the day on which his +son should marry and have children in his turn. He did not look strong! +He would have been far more reassured if the other little Baron, the +one who had died at the orphanage, had been the heir to the estates. +And when he read _The Slaves of Life_ a second time, he had to admit +that the upper classes live at the mercy of the lower classes, and when +he read Darwin again he could not deny that natural selection, in our +time, was anything but natural. But facts were facts and remained +unalterable, in spite of all the doctor and the socialists might say +to the contrary. + + + + +AN ATTEMPT AT REFORM + + +She had noticed with indignation that girls were solely brought up to +be housekeepers for their future husbands. Therefore she had learnt a +trade which would enable her to keep herself in all circumstances of +life. She made artificial flowers. + +He had noticed with regret that girls simply waited for a husband who +should keep them; he resolved to marry a free and independent woman +who could earn her own living; such a woman would be his equal and a +companion for life, not a housekeeper. + +Fate ordained that they should meet. He was an artist and she, as I +already mentioned, made flowers; they were both living in Paris at the +time when they conceived these ideas. + +There was style in their marriage. They took three rooms at Passy. In +the centre was the studio, to the right of it his room, to the left +hers. This did away with the common bed-room and double bed, that +abomination which has no counterpart in nature and is responsible for +a great deal of dissipation and immorality. It moreover did away with +the inconvenience of having to dress and undress in the same room. It +was far better that each of them should have a separate room and that +the studio should be a neutral, common meeting-place. + +They required no servant; they were going to do the cooking themselves +and employ an old charwoman in the mornings and evenings. It was all +very well thought out and excellent in theory. + +“But supposing you had children?” asked the sceptics. + +“Nonsense, there won’t be any!” + +It worked splendidly. He went to the market in the morning and did the +catering. Then he made the coffee. She made the beds and put the rooms +in order. And then they sat down and worked. + +When they were tired of working they gossiped, gave one another good +advice, laughed and were very jolly. + +At twelve o’clock he lit the kitchen fire and she prepared the +vegetables. He cooked the beef, while she ran across the street to +the grocer’s; then she laid the table and he dished up the dinner. + +Of course, they loved one another as husbands and wives do. They said +good-night to each other and went into their own rooms, but there was +no lock to keep him out when he knocked at her door; but the +accommodation was small and the morning found them in their own +quarters. Then he knocked at the wall: + +“Good morning, little girlie, how are you to-day?” + +“Very well, darling, and you?” + +Their meeting at breakfast was always like a new experience which never +grew stale. + +They often went out together in the evening and frequently met their +countrymen. She had no objection to the smell of tobacco, and was never +in the way. Everybody said that it was an ideal marriage; no one +had ever known a happier couple. + +But the young wife’s parents, who lived a long way off, were always +writing and asking all sorts of indelicate questions; they were longing +to have a grandchild. Louisa ought to remember that the institution of +marriage existed for the benefit of the children, not the parents. +Louisa held that this view was an old-fashioned one. Mama asked her +whether she did not think that the result of the new ideas would be the +complete extirpation of mankind? Louisa had never looked at it in that +light, and moreover the question did not interest her. Both she and her +husband were happy; at last the spectacle of a happy married couple was +presented to the world, and the world was envious. + +Life was very pleasant. Neither of them was master and they shared +expenses. Now he earned more, now she did, but in the end their +contributions to the common fund amounted to the same figure. + +Then she had a birthday! She was awakened in the morning by the entrance +of the charwoman with a bunch of flowers and a letter painted all over +with flowers, and containing the following words: + + “To the lady flower-bud from her dauber, who wishes her many happy + returns of the day and begs her to honour him with her company at an + excellent little breakfast--at once.” + +She knocked at his door--come in! + +And they breakfasted, sitting on the bed--his bed; and the charwoman +was kept the whole day to do all the work. It was a lovely birthday! + +Their happiness never palled. It lasted two years. All the prophets +had prophesied falsely. + +It was a model marriage! + +But when two years had passed, the young wife fell ill. She put it +down to some poison contained in the wall-paper; he suggested germs of +some sort. Yes, certainly, germs. But something was wrong. Something +was not as it should be. She must have caught cold. Then she grew +stout. Was she suffering from tumour? Yes, they were afraid she was. + +She consulted a doctor--and came home crying. It was indeed a growth, +but one which would one day see daylight, grow into a flower and bear +fruit. + +The husband did anything but cry. He found style in it, and then the +wretch went to his club and boasted about it to his friends. But the +wife still wept. What would her position be now? She would soon not be +able to earn money with her work and then she would have to live on +him. And they would have to have a servant! Ugh! those servants! + +All their care, their caution, their wariness had been wrecked on the +rock of the inevitable. + +But the mother-in-law wrote enthusiastic letters and repeated over and +over again that marriage was instituted by God for the protection of +the children; the parents’ pleasure counted for very little. + +Hugo implored her to forget the fact that she would not be able to +earn anything in future. Didn’t she do her full share of the work by +mothering the baby? Wasn’t that as good as money? Money was, rightly +understood, nothing but work. Therefore she paid her share in full. + +It took her a long time to get over the fact that he had to keep her. +But when the baby came, she forgot all about it. She remained his wife +and companion as before in addition to being the mother of his child, +and he found that this was worth more than anything else. + + + + +A NATURAL OBSTACLE + + +Her father had insisted on her learning book-keeping, so that she might +escape the common lot of young womanhood; to sit there and wait for a +husband. + +She was now employed as book-keeper in the goods department of the +Railways, and was universally looked upon as a very capable young +woman. She had a way of getting on with people, and her prospects were +excellent. + +Then she met the green forester from the School of Forestry and +married him. They had made up their minds not to have any children; +theirs was to be a true, spiritual marriage, and the world was to be +made to realise that a woman, too, has a soul, and is not merely sex. +Husband and wife met at dinner in the evening. It really was a true +marriage, the union of two souls; it was, of course, also the union of +two bodies, but this is a point one does not discuss. + +One day the wife came home and told her husband that her office hours +had been changed. The directors had decided to run a new night train +to Malmo, and in future she would have to be at her office from six to +nine in the evening. It was a nuisance, for he could not come home +before six. That was quite impossible. + +Henceforth they had to dine separately and meet only at night. He was +dissatisfied. He hated the long evenings. + +He fell into the habit of calling for her. But he found it dull to sit +on a chair in the goods department and have the porters knocking against +him. He was always in the way. And when he tried to talk to her as she +sat at her desk with the penholder behind her ear, she interrupted him +with a curt: + +“Oh! do be quiet until I’ve done!” + +Then the porters turned away their faces and he could see by their +backs that they were laughing. + +Sometimes one or the other of her colleagues announced him with a: + +“Your husband is waiting for you, Mrs. X.” + +“Your husband!” There was something scornful in the very way in which +they pronounced the word. + +But what irritated him more than anything else was the fact that the +desk nearest to her was occupied by a “young ass” who was always +gazing into her eyes and everlastingly consulting the ledger, bending +over her shoulders so that he almost touched her with his chin. +And they talked of invoices and certificates, of things which might +have meant anything for all he knew. And they compared papers and +figures and seemed to be on more familiar terms with one another than +husband and wife were. And that was quite natural, for she saw more of +the young ass than of her husband. It struck him that their marriage +was not a true spiritual marriage after all; in order to be that he, +too, would have had to be employed in the goods department. But as it +happened he was at the School of Forestry. + +One day, or rather one night, she told him that on the following +Saturday a meeting of railway employés, which was to conclude with a +dinner, would be held, and that she would have to be present. Her +husband received the communication with a little air of constraint. + +“Do you want to go?” he asked naïvely. + +“Of course, I do!” + +“But you will be the only woman amongst so many men, and when men have +had too much to drink, they are apt to become coarse.” + +“Don’t you attend the meetings of the School of Forestry without me?” + +“Certainly, but I am not the only man amongst a lot of women.” + +“Men and women were equals, she was amazed that he, who had always +preached the emancipation of women could have any objection to her +attending the meeting.” + +“He admitted that it was nothing but prejudice on his part. He admitted +that she was right and that he was wrong, but all the same he begged her +not to go; he hated the idea. He couldn’t get over the fact.” + +“He was inconsequent.” + +“He admitted that he was inconsequent, but it would take ten generations +to get used to the new conditions.” + +“Then he must not go to meetings either?” + +“That was quite a different matter, for his meetings were attended by +men only. He didn’t mind her going out without him; what he didn’t like +was that she went out alone with so many men.” + +“She wouldn’t be alone, for the cashier’s wife would be present as--” + +“As what?” + +“As the cashier’s wife.” + +“Then couldn’t he be present as her husband?” + +“Why did he want to make himself so cheap by being in the way?” + +“He didn’t mind making himself cheap.” + +“Was he jealous?” + +“Yes! Why not? He was afraid that something might come between them.” + +“What a shame to be jealous! What an insult! What distrust! What did +he think of her?” + +“That she was perfect. He would prove it. She could go alone!” + “Could she really? How condescending of him!” + +She went. She did not come home until the early hours of the morning. +She awakened her husband and told him how well it had all gone off. He +was delighted to hear it. Somebody had made a speech about her; they +had sung quartets and ended with a dance. + +“And how had she come home?” + +“The young ass had accompanied her to the front door.” + +“Supposing anybody who knew them had seen her at three o’clock in the +morning in the company of the young ass?” + +“Well, and what then? She was a respectable woman.” + +“Yes, but she might easily lose her reputation.” + +“Ah! He was jealous, and what was even worse, he was envious. He +grudged her every little bit of fun. That was what being married +meant! To be scolded if one dared to go out and enjoy oneself a +little. What a stupid institution marriage was! But was their union a +true marriage? They met one another at night, just as other married +couples did. Men were all alike. Civil enough until they were married, +but afterwards, oh! Afterwards.... Her husband was no better than +other men: he looked upon her as his property, he thought he had a +right to order her about.” + +“It was true. There was a time when he had believed that they belonged +to one another, but he had made a mistake. He belonged to her as a dog +belonged to its master. What was he but her footman, who called for +her at night to see her home? He was ‘her husband.’ But did she want +to be ‘his wife’? Were they equals?” + +“She hadn’t come home to quarrel with him. She wanted to be nothing +but his wife, and she did not want him to be anything but her +husband.” + +The effect of the champagne, he thought, and turned to the wall. + +She cried and begged him not to be unjust, but to--forgive her. + +He pulled the blankets over his ears. + +She asked him again if he--if he didn’t want her to be his wife any +more? + +“Yes, of course, he wanted her! But he had been so dreadfully bored +all the evening, he could never live through another evening like it.” + +“Let them forget all about it then!” + +And they forgot all about it and continued loving one another. + +On the following evening, when the green forester came for his wife, +he was told that she had gone to the store rooms. He was alone in the +counting-house and sat down on a chair. Presently a glass door was +opened and the young ass put in his head: “Are you here, Annie?” + +No, it was only her husband! + +He rose and went away. The young ass called his wife Annie, and was +evidently on very familiar terms with her. It was more than he could +bear. + +When she came home they had a scene. She reproached him with the fact +that he did not take his views on the emancipation of women seriously, +otherwise he could not be annoyed at her being on familiar terms with +her fellow-clerks. He made matters worse by admitting that his views +were not to be taken seriously. + +“Surely he didn’t mean what he was saying! Had he changed his mind? +How could he!” + +“Yes, he had changed his mind. One could not help modifying one’s +views almost daily, because one had to adapt them to the conditions of +life which were always changing. And if he had believed in spiritual +marriages in the days gone by, he had now come to lose faith in +marriages of any sort whatever. That was progress in the direction of +radicalism. And as to the spiritual, she was spiritually married to +the young ass rather than to him, for they exchanged views on the +management of the goods department daily and hourly, while she took no +interest at all in the cultivation of forests. Was there anything +spiritual in their marriage? Was there?” + +“No, not any longer! Her love was dead! He had killed it when he +renounced his splendid faith in--the emancipation of women.” + +Matters became more and more unbearable. The green forester began to +look to his fellow-foresters for companionship and gave up thinking of +the goods department and its way of conducting business, matters which +he never understood. + +“You don’t understand me,” she kept on saying over and over again. + +“No, I don’t understand the goods department,” he said. + +One night, or rather one morning, he told her that he was going +botanising with a girls’ class. He was teaching botany in a girls’ +school. + +“Oh! indeed! Why had he never mentioned it before? Big girls?” + +“Oh! very big ones. From sixteen to twenty.” + +“H’m! In the morning?” + +“No! In the afternoon! And they would have supper in one of the +outlying little villages.” + +“Would they? The head-mistress would be there of course?” + +“Oh! no, she had every confidence in him, since he was a married man. +It was an advantage, sometimes, to be married.” + +On the next day she was ill. + +“Surely he hadn’t the heart to leave her!” + +“He must consider his work before anything else. Was she very ill?” + +“Oh! terribly ill!” + +In spite of her objections he sent for a doctor. The doctor declared +that there was nothing much the matter; it was quite unnecessary for +the husband to stay at home. The green forester returned towards morning. +He was in high spirits. He had enjoyed himself immensely! He had not had +such a day for a long, long time. + +The storm burst. Huhuhu! This struggle was too much for her! He must +swear a solemn oath never to love any woman but her. Never! + +She had convulsions; he ran for the smelling salts. + +He was too generous to give her details of the supper with the +schoolgirls, but he could not forego the pleasure of mentioning his +former simile anent dogs and possession, and he took the occasion to +draw her attention to the fact that love without the conception of a +right to possession--on both sides--was not thinkable. What was +making her cry? The same thing which had made him swear, when she went +out with twenty men. The fear of losing him! But one can lose only +that which one possesses! Possesses! + +Thus the rent was repaired. But goods department and girls’ school +were ready with their scissors to undo the laborious mending. + +The harmony was disturbed. + +The wife fell ill. +She was sure that she had hurt herself in lifting a case which was too +heavy for her. She was so keen on her work that she could not bear to +wait while the porters stood about and did nothing. She was compelled +to lend a hand. Now she must have ruptured herself. + +Yes, indeed, there was something the matter! + +How angry she was! Angry with her husband who alone was to blame. What +were they going to do with the baby? It would have to be boarded out! +Rousseau had done that. It was true, he was a fool, but on this +particular point he was right. + +She was full of fads and fancies. The forester had to resign his lessons +at the girls’ school at once. + +She chafed and fretted because she was no longer able to go into the +store rooms, but compelled to stay in the counting-house all day long +and make entries. But the worst blow which befell her was the arrival +of an assistant whose secret mission it was to take her place when she +would be laid up. + +The manner of her colleagues had changed, too. The porters grinned. +She felt ashamed and longed to hide herself. It would be better to +stay at home and cook her husband’s dinner than sit here and be stared +at. Oh! What black chasms of prejudice lay concealed in the deceitful +hearts of men! + +She stayed at home for the last month, for the walk to and from her +office four times a day was too much for her. And she was always so +hungry! She had to send out for sandwiches in the morning. And every +now and then she felt faint and had to take a rest. What a life! A +woman’s lot was indeed a miserable one. + +The baby was born. + +“Shall we board it out?” asked the father. + +“Had he no heart?” + +“Oh! yes, of course he had!” + +And the baby remained at home. + +Then a very polite letter arrived from the head office, enquiring after +the young mother’s health. + +“She was very well and would be back at the office on the day after +to-morrow.” + +She was still a little weak and had to take a cab; but she soon picked +up her strength. However, a new difficulty now presented itself. She +must be kept informed of the baby’s condition; a messenger boy was +despatched to her home, at first twice a day, then every two hours. + +And when she was told that the baby had been crying, she put on her +hat and rushed home at once. But the assistant was there, ready to +take her place. The head clerk was very civil and made no comment. + +One day the young mother discovered accidentally that the nurse was +unable to feed the baby, but had concealed the fact for fear of losing +her place. She had to take a day off in order to find a new foster mother. +But they were all alike; brutal egoists every one of them, who took no +interest in the children of strangers. No one could ever depend on them. + +“No,” agreed the husband, “in a case of this sort one can only depend on +oneself.” + +“Do you mean to insinuate that I ought to give up my work?” + +“Oh! You must do as you like about that!” + +“And become your slave!” + +“No, I don’t mean that at all!” + +The little one was not at all well; all children are ill occasionally. +He was teething! One day’s leave after another! The poor baby suffered +from toothache. She had to soothe him at night, work at the office +during the day, sleepy, tired, anxious, and again take a day off. + +The green forester did his best and carried the baby about in his arms +half the night, but he never said a word about his wife’s work at the +goods department. + +Nevertheless she knew what was in his mind. He was waiting for her to +give in; but he was deceitful and so he said nothing! How treacherous +men were! She hated him; she would sooner kill herself than throw up +her work and “be his slave.” + +The forester saw quite clearly now that it was impossible for any +woman to emancipate herself from the laws of nature; _under present +circumstances_, he was shrewd enough to add. + +When the baby was five months old, it was plainly evident that the +whole thing would before very long repeat itself. + +What a catastrophe! + +But when that sort of thing once begins.... + +The forester was obliged to resume his lessons at the girls’ school to +augment their income, and now--she laid down her arms. + +“I am your slave, now,” she groaned, when she came home with her +discharge. + +Nevertheless she is the head of the house, and he gives her every +penny he earns. When he wants to buy a cigar he makes a long speech +before he ventures to ask for the money. She never refuses it to him, +but all the same he finds the asking for it unpleasant. He is allowed +to attend meetings, but no dinners, and all botanising with girls is +strictly forbidden. He does not miss it much, for he prefers playing +with his children. + +His colleagues call him henpecked; but he smiles, and tells them that +he is happy in spite of it, because he has in his wife a very sweet +and sensible companion. + +She, on her part, obstinately maintains that she is nothing but his +slave, whatever he might say to the contrary. It is her one comfort, +poor, little woman! + + + + +A DOLL’S HOUSE + + +They had been married for six years, but they were still more like +lovers than husband and wife. He was a captain in the navy, and every +summer he was obliged to leave her for a few months; twice he had been +away on a long voyage. But his short absences were a blessing in +disguise, for if their relations had grown a little stale during the +winter, the summer trip invariably restored them to their former +freshness and delightfulness. + +During the first summer he wrote veritable love-letters to her and +never passed a sailing ship without signalling: “Will you take +letters?” And when he came in sight of the landmarks of the Stockholm +Archipelago, he did not know how to get to her quickly enough. But she +found a way. She wired him to Landsort that she would meet him at +Dalarö. When he anchored, he saw a little blue scarf fluttering on the +verandah of the hotel: then he knew that it was she. But there was so +much to do aboard that it was evening before he could go ashore. He +saw her from his gig on the landing-stage as the bow held out his oar +to fend off; she was every bit as young, as pretty and as strong as +she had been when he left her; it was exactly as if they were +re-living the first spring days of their love. A delicious little +supper waited for him in the two little rooms she had engaged. What a +lot they had to talk about! The voyage, the children, the future! The +wine sparkled in the glasses and his kisses brought the blood to her +cheeks. + +Tattoo went on the ship, but he took no notice of it, for he did not +intend to leave her before one o’clock. + +“What? He was going?” + +“Yes; he must get back aboard, but it would do if he was there for the +morning watch.” + +“When did the morning watch begin?” + +“At five o’clock.” + +“Oh!... As early as that!” + +“But where was she going to stay the night?” + +“That was her business!” + +He guessed it and wanted to have a look at her room; but she planted +herself firmly on the threshold. He covered her face with kisses, took +her in his arms as if she were a baby and opened the door. + +“What an enormous bed! It was like the long boat. Where did the people +get it from?” + +She blushed crimson. + +“Of course, she had understood from his letter that they would stay at +the hotel together.” + +“Well, and so they would, in spite of his having to be back aboard for +the morning watch. What did he care for the stupid morning prayers!” + +“How could he say such a thing!” + +“Hadn’t they better have some coffee and a fire? The sheets felt damp! +What a sensible little rogue she was to provide for his staying, too! +Who would have thought that she had so much sense? Where did she get +it from?” + +“She didn’t get it from anywhere!” + +“No? Well, he might have known! He might have known everything!” + +“Oh! But he was so stupid!” + +“Indeed, he was stupid, was he?” + +And he slipped his arm round her waist. + +“But he ought to behave himself!” + +“Behave himself? It was easy to talk!” + +“The girl was coming with the wood!” + +When it struck two, and sea and Skerries were flaming in the east, +they were sitting at the open window. + +“They were lovers still, weren’t they? And now he must go. But he +would be back at ten, for breakfast, and after that they would go for +a sail.” + +He made some coffee on her spirit lamp, and they drank it while the +sun was rising and the seagulls screamed. The gunboat was lying far +out at sea and every now and then he saw the cutlasses of the watch +glinting in the sunlight. It was hard to part, but the certainty of +meeting again in a few hours’ time helped them to bear it. He kissed +her for the last time, buckled on his sword and left her. + +When he arrived at the bridge and shouted: “boat ahoy!” she hid +herself behind the window curtains as if she were ashamed to be seen. +He blew kisses to her until the sailors came with the gig. Then a last: +“Sleep well and dream of me” and the gig put off. He watched her +through his glasses, and for a long time he could distinguish a little +figure with black hair. The sunbeams fell on her nightdress and bare +throat and made her look like a mermaid. + +The reveille went. The longdrawn bugle notes rolled out between the +green islands over the shining water and returned from behind the pine +woods. The whole crew assembled on deck and the Lord’s Prayer and +“Jesus, at the day’s beginning” were read. The little church tower of +Dalarö answered with a faint ringing of bells, for it was Sunday. +Cutters came up in the morning breeze: flags were flying, shots +resounded, light summer dresses gleamed on the bridge, the steamer, +leaving a crimson track behind her, steamed up, the fishers hauled in +their nets, and the sun shone on the blue, billowy water and the green +islands. + +At ten o’clock six pairs rowed the gig ashore from the gunboat. They +were together again. And as they sat at breakfast in the large +dining-room, the hotel guests watched and whispered: “Is she his +wife?” He talked to her in an undertone like a lover, and she cast +down her eyes and smiled; or hit his fingers with her dinner napkin. + +The boat lay alongside the bridge; she sat at the helm, he looked +after the foresail. But he could not take his eyes off her finely +shaped figure in the light summer dress, her determined little face +and proud eyes, as she sat looking to windward, while her little hand +in its strong leather glove held the mainsheet. He wanted to talk to +her and was purposely clumsy in tacking; then she scolded him as if he +were a cabin boy, which amused him immensely. + +“Why didn’t you bring the baby with you?” he asked her teasingly. + +“Where should I have put it to sleep?” + +“In the long boat, of course?” + +She smiled at him in a way which filled his heart with happiness. + +“Well, and what did the proprietress say this morning?” + +“What should she say?” + +“Did she sleep well last night?” + +“Why shouldn’t she sleep well?” + +“I don’t know; she might have been kept awake by rats, or perhaps by +the rattling of a window; who can tell what might not disturb the gentle +sleep of an old maid!” + +“If you don’t stop talking nonsense, I shall make the sheet fast and +sail you to the bottom of the sea.” + +They landed at a small island and ate their luncheon which they had +brought with them in a little basket. After lunch they shot at a +target with a revolver. Then they pretended to fish with rods, but +they caught nothing and sailed out again into the open sea where the +eidergeese were, through a strait where they watched the carp playing +about the rushes. He never tired of looking at her, talking to her, +kissing her. + +In this manner they met for six summers, and always they were just as +young, just as mad and just as happy as before. They spent the winter +in Stockholm in their little cabins. He amused himself by rigging boats +for his little boys or telling them stories of his adventures in China +and the South Sea Islands, while his wife sat by him, listening and +laughing at his funny tales. It was a charming room, that could not be +equalled in the whole world. It was crammed full of Japanese sunshades +and armour, miniature pagodas from India, bows and lances from Australia, +nigger drums and dried flying fish, sugar cane and opium pipes. Papa, +whose hair was growing thin at the top, did not feel very happy outside +his own four walls. Occasionally he played at draughts with his friend, +the auditor, and sometimes they had a game at Boston and drank a glass +of grog. At first his wife had joined in the game, but now that she had +four children, she was too busy; nevertheless, she liked to sit with the +players for a little and look at their cards, and whenever she passed +Papa’s chair he caught her round the waist and asked her whether she +thought he ought to be pleased with his hand. + +This time the corvette was to be away for six months. The captain did +not feel easy about it, for the children were growing up and the +responsibility of the big establishment was too much for Mama. The +captain himself was not quite so young and vigorous as he had been, +but--it could not be helped and so he left. + +Directly he arrived at Kronborg he posted a letter to her. + + “My darling Topmast,” it began. + + “Wind moderate, S.S.E. by E. + 10° C. 6 bells, watch below. I cannot + express in words what I feel on this voyage during which I shall not + see you. When we kedged out (at 6 p.m. while a strong gale blew from + N.E. by N.) I felt as if a belaying pin were suddenly being driven + into my chest and I actually had a sensation as if a chain had been + drawn through the hawsepipes of my ears. They say that sailors can + feel the approach of misfortune. I don’t know whether this is true, + but I shall not feel easy until I have had a letter from you. Nothing + has happened on board, simply because nothing must happen. How are you + all at home? Has Bob had his new boots, and do they fit? I am a + wretched correspondent as you know, so 111 stop now. With a big kiss + right on this x. + + “Your old Pal. + + “P.S. You ought to find a friend (female, of course) and don’t forget + to ask the proprietress at Dalaro to take care of the long boat until + my return. The wind is getting up; it will blow from the North to-night.” + +Off Portsmouth the captain received the following letter from his +wife: + + “Dear old Pal, + + “It’s horrible here without you, believe me. I have had a lot of + worry, too, for little Alice has got a new tooth. The doctor said it + was unusually early, which was a sign of (but I’m not going to tell + you that). Bob’s boots fit him very well and he is very proud of them. + + “You say in your letter that I ought to find a friend of my own sex. + Well, I have found one, or, rather, she has found me. Her name is + Ottilia Sandegren, and she was educated at the seminary. She is rather + grave and takes life very seriously, therefore you need not be afraid, + Pal, that your Topmast will be led astray. Moreover, she is religious. + We really ought to take religion a little more seriously, both of us. + She is a splendid woman. She has just arrived and sends you her kind + regards. + + “Your Gurli.” + +The captain was not overpleased with this letter. It was too short and +not half as bright as her letters generally were. Seminary, religion, +grave, Ottilia: Ottilia twice! And then Gurli! Why not Gulla as +before? H’m! + +A week later he received a second letter from Bordeaux, a letter which +was accompanied by a book, sent under separate cover. + +“Dear William!”--“H’m! William! No longer Pal!”--“Life is a +struggle”--“What the deuce does she mean? What has that to do with +us?”--“from beginning to end. Gently as a river in Kedron”--“Kedron! +she’s quoting the Bible!”--“our life has glided along. Like sleepwalkers +we have been walking on the edge of precipices without being aware of +them”--“The seminary, oh! the seminary!”--“Suddenly we find ourselves +face to face with the ethical”--“The ethical? Ablative!”--“asserting +itself in its higher potencies!”--“Potencies?”--“Now that I am awake +from my long sleep and ask myself: has our marriage been a marriage in +the true sense of the word? I must admit with shame and remorse that +this has not been the case. For love is of divine origin. (St. Matthew +xi. 22, 24.)” + +The captain had to mix himself a glass of rum and water before he felt +able to continue his reading.--“How earthly, how material our love has +been! Have our souls lived in that harmony of which Plato speaks? +(Phaidon, Book vi. Chap. ii. Par. 9). Our answer is bound to be in the +negative. What have I been to you? A housekeeper and, oh! The disgrace! +your mistress! Have our souls understood one another? Again we are bound +to answer ‘No.’”--“To Hell with all Ottilias and seminaries! +Has she been my housekeeper? She has been my wife and the mother of my +children!”--“Read the book I have sent you! It will answer all your +questions. It voices that which for centuries has lain hidden in the +hearts of all women! Read it, and then tell me if you think that our +union has been a true marriage. Your Gurli.” + +His presentiment of evil had not deceived him. The captain was beside +himself; he could not understand what had happened to his wife. It was +worse than religious hypocrisy. + +He tore off the wrapper and read on the title page of a book in a +paper cover: _Et Dukkehjem af Henrik Ibsen_. A Doll’s House? Well, +and--? His home had been a charming doll’s house; his wife had been +his little doll and he had been her big doll. They had danced along +the stony path of life and had been happy. What more did they want? +What was wrong? He must read the book at once and find out. + +He finished it in three hours. His brain reeled. How did it concern +him and his wife? Had they forged bills? No! Hadn’t they loved one +another? Of course they had! + +He locked himself into his cabin and read the book a second time; he +underlined passages in red and blue, and when the dawn broke, he took +“A well-meant little ablative on the play _A Doll’s House_, written by +the old Pal on board the Vanadis in the Atlantic off Bordeaux. (Lat. 45° +Long. 16°.) + + “1. She married him because he was in love with her and that was a + deuced clever thing to do. For if she had waited until she had fallen + in love with someone, it might have happened that _he_ would not have + fallen in love with her, and then there would have been the devil to + pay. For it happens very rarely that both parties are equally in love.” + + “2. She forges a bill. That was foolish, but it is not true that it + was done for the husband’s sake only, for she has never loved him; it + would have been the truth if she had said that she had done it for him, + herself and the children. Is that clear?” + + “3. That he wants to embrace her after the ball is only a proof of his + love for her, and there is no wrong in that; but it should not be done + on the stage. “_Il y a des choses qui se font mais que ne se disent + point_,’ as the French say, Moreover, if the poet had been fair, he + would also save shown an opposite case. ‘_La petite chienne veut, mais + le grand chien ne veut pas_,’ says Ollendorf. (Vide the long boat at + Dalarö.)” + + “4. That she, when she discovers that her husband is a fool (and that + he is when he offers to condone her offence because it has not leaked + out) decides to leave her children ‘not considering herself worthy of + bringing them up,’ is a not very clever trick of coquetry. If they have + both been fools (and surely they don’t teach at the seminary that it + is right to forge bills) they should pull well together in future in + double harness.” + + “Least of all is she justified in leaving her children’s education in + the hands of the father whom she despises.” + + “5. Nora has consequently every reason for staying with her children + when she discovers what an imbecile her husband is.” + + “6. The husband cannot be blamed for not sufficiently appreciating + her, for she doesn’t reveal her true character until after the row.” + + “7. Nora has undoubtedly been a fool; she herself does not deny it.” + + “8. There is every guarantee of their pulling together more happily + in future; he has repented and promised to turn over a new leaf. So + has she. Very well! Here’s my hand, let’s begin again at the beginning. + Birds of a feather flock together. There’s nothing lost, we’ve both + been fools! You, little Nora, were badly brought up. I, old rascal, + didn’t know any better. We are both to be pitied. Pelt our teachers + with rotten eggs, but don’t hit me alone on the head. I, though a man, + am every bit as innocent as you are! Perhaps even a little more so, + for I married for love, you for a home. Let us be friends, therefore, + and together teach our children the valuable lesson we have learnt + in the school of life.” + + Is that clear? All right then! + + This was written by Captain Pal with his stiff fingers and slow brain! + + And now, my darling dolly, I have read your book and given you my + opinion. But what have we to do with it? Didn’t we love one another? + Haven’t we educated one another and helped one another to rub off our + sharp corners? Surely you’ll remember that we had many a little + encounter in the beginning! What fads of yours are those? To hell with + all Ottilias and seminaries! + + The book you sent me is a queer book. It is like a watercourse with + an insufficient number of buoys, so that one might run aground at any + moment. But I pricked the chart and found calm waters. Only, I + couldn’t do it again. The devil may crack these nuts which are rotten + inside when one has managed to break the shell. I wish you peace and + happiness and the recovery of your sound common sense. + + “How are the little ones? You forgot to mention them. Probably you + were thinking too much of Nora’s unfortunate kiddies, (which exist + only in a play of that sort). Is my little boy crying? My nightingale + singing, my dolly dancing? She must always do that if she wants to + make her old pal happy. And now may God bless you and prevent evil + thoughts from rising between us. My heart is sadder than I can tell. + And I am expected to sit down and write a critique on a play. God + bless you and the babies; kiss their rosy cheeks for your faithful + old Pal.” + +When the captain had sent off his letter, he went into the officers’ +mess and drank a glass of punch. The doctor was there, too. + +“Have you noticed a smell of old black breeches?” he asked. “I should +like to hoist myself up to the cat block and let a good old N.W. by N. +blow right through me.” + +But the doctor did not understand what he was driving at. + +“Ottilia, Ottilia!... What she wants is a taste of the handspike. Send +the witch to the quarterdeck and let the second mess loose on her behind +closed hatches. One knows what is good for an old maid.” + +“What’s the matter with you, old chap?” asked the doctor. + +“Plato! Plato! To the devil with Plato! To be six months at sea makes +one sick of Plato. That teaches one ethics! Ethics? I bet a marlinspike +to a large rifle: if Ottilia were married she would cease talking of +Plato.” + +“What on earth _is_ the matter?” + +“Nothing. Do you hear? You’re a doctor. What’s the matter with those +women? Isn’t it bad for them to remain unmarried? Doesn’t it make +them...? What?” + +The doctor gave him his candid opinion and added that he was sorry +that there were not enough men to go round. + +“In a state of nature the male is mostly polygamous; in most cases +there is no obstacle to this, as there is plenty of food for the young +ones (beasts of prey excepted): abnormalities like unmated females do +not exist in nature. But in civilised countries, where a man is lucky +if he earns enough bread, it is a common occurrence, especially as the +females are in preponderance. One ought to treat unmarried women with +kindness, for their lot is a melancholy one.” + +“With kindness! That’s all very well; but supposing they are anything +but kind themselves!” + +And he told the doctor the whole story, even confessing that he had +written a critique on a play. + +“Oh! well, no end of nonsense is written,” said the doctor, putting +his hand on the lid of the jug which contained the punch. “In the end +science decides all great questions! Science, and nothing else.” + +When the six months were over and the captain, who had been in +constant, but not very pleasant, correspondence with his wife, (she +had sharply criticised his critique), at last landed at Dalarö, he was +received by his wife, all the children, two servants and Ottilia. His +wife was affectionate, but not cordial. She held up her brow to be +kissed. Ottilia was as tall as a stay, and wore her hair short; seen +from the back she looked like a swab. The supper was dull and they +drank only tea. The long boat took in a cargo of children and the +captain was lodged in one of the attics. + +What a change! Poor old Pal looked old and felt puzzled. + +“To be married and yet not have a wife,” he thought, “it’s +intolerable!” + +On the following morning he wanted to take his wife for a sail. But +the sea did not agree with Ottilia. She had been ill on the steamer. +And, moreover, it was Sunday. Sunday? That was it! Well, they would go +for a walk. They had a lot to talk about. Of course, they had a lot to +say to each other. But Ottilia was not to come with them! + +They went out together, arm in arm. But they did not talk much; and +what they said were words uttered for the sake of concealing their +thoughts more than for the sake of exchanging ideas. + +They passed the little cholera cemetery and took the road leading to +the Swiss Valley. A faint breeze rustled through the pine trees and +glimpses of the blue sea flashed through the dark branches. + +They sat down on a stone. He threw himself on the turf at her feet. +Now the storm is going to burst, he thought, and it did. + +“Have you thought at all about our marriage?” she began. + +“No,” he replied, with every appearance of having fully considered the +matter, “I have merely felt about it. In my opinion love is a matter +of sentiment; one steers by landmarks and makes port; take compass and +chart and you are sure to founder.” + +“Yes, but our home has been nothing but a doll’s house.” + +“Excuse me, but this is not quite true. You have never forged a bill; +you have never shown your ankles to a syphilitic doctor of whom you +wanted to borrow money against security _in natura_; you have never +been so romantically silly as to expect your husband to give himself +up for a crime which his wife had committed from ignorance, and which +was not a crime because there was no plaintiff; and you have never +lied to me. I have treated you every bit as honestly as Helmer treated +his wife when he took her into his full confidence and allowed her to +have a voice in the banking business; tolerated her interference with +the appointment of an employee. We have therefore been husband and +wife according to all conceptions, old and new-fashioned.” + +“Yes, but I have been your housekeeper!” + +“Pardon me, you are wrong. You have never had a meal in the kitchen, +you have never received wages, you have never had to account for money +spent. I have never scolded you because one thing or the other was not +to my liking. And do you consider my work: to reckon and to brace, to +ease off and call out ‘Present arms,’ count herrings and measure rum, +weigh peas and examine flour, more honourable than yours: to look +after the servants, cater for the house and bring up the children?” + +“No, but you are paid for your work! You are your own master! You are +a man!” + +“My dear child, do you want me to give you wages? Do you want to be my +housekeeper in real earnest? That I was born a man is an accident. I +might almost say a pity, for it’s very nearly a crime to be a man +now-a-days, but it isn’t my fault. The devil take him who has stirred +up the two halves of humanity, one against the other! He has much to +answer for. Am I the master? Don’t we both rule? Have I ever decided +any important matter without asking for your advice? What? But you--you +bring up the children exactly as you like! Don’t you remember that I +wanted you to stop rocking them to sleep because I said it produced a +sort of intoxication? But you had your own way! Another time I had mine, +and then it was your turn again. There was no compromise possible, +because there was no middle course to steer between rocking and not +rocking. We got on very well until now. But you have thrown me over for +Ottilia’s sake!” + +“Ottilia! always Ottilia! Didn’t you yourself send her to me?” + +“No, not her personally! But there can be no doubt that it is she who +rules now.” + +“You want to separate me from all I care for!” + +“Is Ottilia all you care for? It almost looks like it!” + +“But I can’t send her away now that I have engaged her to teach the +girls pedagogics and Latin.” + +“Latin! Great Scott! Are the girls to be ruined?” + +“They are to know everything a man knows, so that when the time comes, +their marriage will be a true marriage.” + +“But, my love, all husbands don’t know Latin! I don’t know more than +one single word, and that is ‘ablative.’ And we have been happy in +spite of it. Moreover, there is a movement to strike off Latin from +the plan of instruction for boys, as a superfluous accomplishment. +Doesn’t this teach you a lot? Isn’t it enough that the men are ruined, +are the women to be ruined, too? Ottilia, Ottilia, what have I done to +you, that you should treat me like this!” + +“Supposing we dropped that matter.--Our love, William, has not been +what it should be. It has been sensual!” + +“But, my darling, how could we have had children, if it hadn’t? And it +has not been sensual only.” + +“Can a thing be both black and white? Tell me that!” + +“Of course, it can. There’s your sunshade for instance, it is black +outside and white inside.” + +“Sophist!” + +“Listen to me, sweetheart, tell me in your own way the thoughts which +are in your heart; don’t talk like Ottilia’s books. Don’t let your head +run away with you; be yourself again, my sweet, darling little wife.” + +“Yours, your property, bought with your labour.” + +“Just as I am your property, your husband, at whom no other woman is +allowed to look if she wants to keep her eyes in her head; your husband, +who made a present of himself to you, or rather, gave himself to you in +exchange. Are we not quits?” + +“But we have trifled away our lives! Have we ever had any higher +interests, William?” + +“Yes, the very highest, Gurli; we have not always been playing, we +have had grave hours, too. Have we not called into being generations +to come? Have we not both bravely worked and striven for the little +ones, who are to grow up into men and women? Have you not faced death +four times for their sakes? Have you not robbed yourself of your +nights’ rest in order to rock their cradle, and of your days’ +pleasures, in order to attend to them? Couldn’t we now have a large +six-roomed flat in the main street, and a footman to open the door, if +it were not for the children? Wouldn’t you be able to wear silk +dresses and pearls? And I, your old Pal, wouldn’t have _crows’ nests_ +in my knees, if it hadn’t been for the kiddies. Are we really no +better than dolls? Are we as selfish as old maids say? Old maids, +rejected by men as no good. Why are so many girls unmarried? They all +boast of proposals and yet they pose as martyrs! Higher interests! +Latin! To dress in low neck dresses for charitable purposes and leave +the children at home, neglected! I believe that my interests are +higher than Ottilia’s, when I want strong and healthy children, who +will succeed where we have failed. But Latin won’t help them! Goodbye, +Gurli! I have to go back on board. Are you coming?” + +But she remained sitting on the stone and made no answer. He went with +heavy footsteps, very heavy footsteps. And the blue sea grew dark and +the sun ceased shining. + +“Pal, Pal, where is this to lead to?” he sighed, as he stepped over +the fence of the cemetery. “I wish I lay there, with a wooden cross to +mark my place, among the roots of the trees. But I am sure I couldn’t +rest, if I were there without her! Oh! Gurli! Gurli! + +“Everything has gone wrong, now, mother,” said the captain on a chilly +autumn day to his mother-in-law, to whom he was paying a visit. + +“What’s the matter, Willy, dear?” + +“Yesterday they met at our house. On the day before yesterday at the +Princess’s. Little Alice was suddenly taken ill. It was unfortunate, +of course, but I didn’t dare to send for Gurli, for fear she might +think that it was done on purpose to annoy her! Oh! when once one has +lost faith.... I asked a friend at the Admiralty yesterday whether it +was legal in Sweden to kill one’s wife’s friends with tobacco smoke. I +was told it wasn’t, and that even if it were it was better not to do +it, for fear of doing more harm than good. If only it happened to be +an admirer! I should take him by the neck and throw him out of the +window. What am I to do?” + +“It’s a difficult matter, Willy, dear, but we shall be able to think +of a way out of it. You can’t go on living like a bachelor.” + +“No, of course, I can’t.” + +“I spoke very plainly to her, a day or two ago. I told her that she +would lose you if she didn’t mend her ways.” + +“And what did she say?” + +“She said you had a right to do as you liked with your body.” + +“Indeed! And she, too? A fine theory! My hair is fast turning grey, +mother!” + +“It’s a good old scheme to make a wife jealous. It’s generally kill or +cure, for if there is any love left, it brings it out.” + +“There is, I know, there is!” + +“Of course, there is. Love doesn’t die suddenly; it gets used up in +the course of the years, perhaps. Have a flirtation with Ottilia, and +we shall see!” + +“Flirt with Ottilia? With Ottilia?” + +“Try it. Aren’t you up in any of the subjects which interest her?” + +“Well, yes! They are deep in statistics, now. Fallen women, infectious +diseases. If I could lead the conversation to mathematics! I am well +up in that!” + +“There you are! Begin with mathematics--by and by put her shawl round +her shoulders and button her overshoes. Take her home in the evening. +Drink her health and kiss her when Gurli is sure to see it. If necessary, +be a little officious. She won’t be angry, believe me. And give her a +big dose of mathematics, so big that Gurli has no option but to sit and +listen to it quietly. Come again in a week’s time and tell me the +result.” + +The captain went home, read the latest pamphlets on immorality and at +once started to carry out his scheme. + +A week later he called on his mother-in-law, serene and smiling, and +greatly enjoying a glass of good sherry. He was in high spirits. + +“Now tell me all about it,” said the old woman, pushing her spectacles +up on her forehead. + +“It was difficult work at first,” he began, “for she distrusted me. +She thought I was making fun of her. Then I mentioned the effect which +the computation of probabilities had had on the statistics of morality +in America. I told her that it had simply been epoch-making. She knew +nothing about it, but the subject attracted her. I gave her examples +and proved in figures that it was possible to calculate with a certain +amount of probability the percentage of women who are bound to fall. +She was amazed. I saw that her curiosity was aroused and that she was +eager to provide herself with a trump-card for the next meeting. Gurli +was pleased to see that Ottilia and I were making friends, and did +everything to further my scheme. She pushed her into my room and +closed the door; and there we sat all afternoon, making calculations. +The old witch was happy, for she felt that she was making use of me, +and after three hours’ work we were fast friends. At supper my wife +found that such old friends as Ottilia and I ought to call one another +by their Christian names. I brought out my good old sherry to +celebrate the occasion. And then I kissed her on the lips, may God +forgive me for my sins! Gurli looked a little startled, but did not +seem to mind. She was radiant with happiness. The sherry was strong +and Ottilia was weak. I wrapped her in her cloak and took her home. I +gently squeezed her arm and told her the names of the stars. She +became enthusiastic! She had always loved the stars, but had never +been able to remember their names. The poor women were not allowed to +acquire any knowledge. Her enthusiasm grew and we parted as the very +best of friends who had been kept apart through misunderstanding each +other for such a long, long time. + +“On the next day more mathematics. We worked until supper time. Gurli +came in once or twice and gave us an encouraging nod. At supper we +talked of nothing but stars and mathematics, and Gurli sat there, +silently, listening to us. Again I took her home. On my way back I met +a friend. We went to the Grand Hotel and drank a glass of punch. It +was one o’clock when I came home. Gurli was still up waiting for me. + +“‘Where have you been all this time, William?’ she asked. + +“Then the devil entered into my soul and I replied: + +“‘We had such a lot to talk about that I forgot all about the time.’ + +“_That_ blow struck home. + +“‘I don’t think it’s nice to run about half the night with a young +woman,’ she said. + +“I pretended to be embarrassed and stammered: + +“‘If one has so much to say to one another, one forgets sometimes what +is nice and what is not.’ + +“‘What on earth did you talk about?’ asked Gurli, pouting. “‘I really +can’t remember.’ + +“You managed very well, my boy,” said the old woman. “Go on!” + +“On the third day,” continued the captain, “Gurli came in with her +needlework and remained in the room until the lesson in mathematics +was over. Supper was not quite as merry as usual, but on the other +hand, very astronomical. I assisted the old witch with her overshoes, +a fact which made a great impression on Gurli. When Ottilia said +good-night, she only offered her cheek to be kissed. On the way home I +pressed her arm and talked of the sympathy of souls and of the stars +as the home of the souls. I went to the Grand Hotel, had some punch +and arrived home at two o’clock. Gurli was still up; I saw it, but I +went straight to my room, like the bachelor I was, and Gurli did not +like to follow me and ply me with questions. + +“On the following day I gave Ottilia a lesson in astronomy. Gurli +declared that she was much interested and would like to be present; +but Ottilia said we were already too far advanced and she would +instruct her in the rudiments later on. This annoyed Gurli and she +went away. We had a great deal of sherry for supper. When Ottilia +thanked me for a jolly evening, I put my arm round her waist and +kissed her. Gurli grew pale. When I buttoned her overshoes, I ... +I....” + +“Never mind me,” said the old lady, “I am an old woman.” + +He laughed. “All the same, mother, she’s not so bad, really she isn’t. +But when I was going to put on my overcoat, I found to my astonishment +the maid waiting in the hall, ready to accompany Ottilia home. Gurli +made excuses for me; she said I had caught a cold on the previous +evening, and that she was afraid the night air might do me harm. +Ottilia looked self-conscious and left without kissing Gurli. + +“I had promised to show Ottilia some astronomical instruments at the +College at twelve o’clock on the following day. She kept her +appointment, but she was much depressed. She had been to see Gurli, +who had treated her very unkindly, so she said. She could not imagine +why. When I came home to dinner I found a great change in Gurli. She +was cold and mute as a fish. I could see that she was suffering. Now +was the time to apply the knife. + +“‘What did you say to Ottilia?’ I commenced. ‘She was so unhappy.’” + +‘What did I say to her? Well, I said to her that she was a flirt. +That’s what I said.’ + +‘How could you say such a thing?’ I replied. ‘Surely, you’re not +jealous!’ + +‘I! Jealous of her!’ she burst out. + +‘Yes, that’s what puzzles me, for I am sure an intelligent and sensible +person like Ottilia could never have designs on another woman’s husband!’ + +‘No,’ (she was coming to the point) ‘but another woman’s husband might +have designs on her.’ + +‘Huhuhu!’ she went for me tooth and nail. I took Ottilia’s part; Gurli +called her an old maid; I continued to champion her. On this afternoon +Ottilia did not turn up. She wrote a chilly letter, making excuses and +winding up by saying she could see that she was not wanted. I protested +and suggested that I should go and fetch her. That made Gurli wild! She +was sure that I was in love with Ottilia and cared no more for herself. +She knew that she was only a silly girl, who didn’t know anything, was +no good at anything, and--huhuhu!--could never understand mathematics. +I sent for a sleigh and we went for a ride. In a hotel, overlooking the +sea, we drank mulled wine and had an excellent little supper. It was just +as if we were having our wedding day over again, and then we drove home.” + +“And then--?” asked the old woman, looking at him over her spectacles. + +“And then? H’m! May God forgive me for my sins! I seduced my own little +wife. What do you say now, granny?” + +“I say that you did very well, my boy! And then?” + +“And then? Since then everything has been all right, and now we discuss +the education of the children and the emancipation of women from +superstition and old-maidishness, from sentimentality and the devil +and his ablative, but we talk when we are alone together and that is +the best way of avoiding misunderstandings. Don’t you think so, old +lady?” + +“Yes, Willy, dear, and now I shall come and pay you a call.” + +“Do come! And you will see the dolls dance and the larks and the +woodpeckers sing and chirrup; you will see a home filled with +happiness up to the roof, for there is no one there waiting for +miracles which only happen in fairy tales. You will see a real doll’s +house.” + + + + +PHOENIX + + +The wild strawberries were getting ripe when he met her for the first +time at the vicarage. He had met many girls before, but when he saw +_her_ he knew; this was she! But he did not dare to tell her so, and +she only teased him for he was still at school. + +He was an undergraduate when he met her for the second time. And as he +put his arms round her and kissed her, he saw showers of rockets, heard +the ringing of bells and bugle calls, and felt the earth trembling under +his feet. + +She was a woman at the age of fourteen. Her young bosom seemed to be +waiting for hungry little mouths and eager baby fists. With her firm +and elastic step, her round and swelling hips, she looked fit to bear +at any moment a baby under her heart. Her hair was of a pale gold, +like clarified honey, and surrounded her face like an aureole; her +eyes were two flames and her skin was as soft as a glove. + +They were engaged to be married and billed and cooed in the wood like +the birds in the garden under the lime trees; life lay before them +like a sunny meadow which the scythe had not yet touched. But he had +to pass his examinations in mining first, and that would take +him,--including the journey abroad--ten years. Ten years! + +He returned to the University. In the summer he came back to the +vicarage and found her every bit as beautiful. Three summers he +came--and the fourth time she was pale. There were tiny red lines in +the corners of her nose and her shoulders drooped a little. When the +summer returned for the sixth time, she was taking iron. In the +seventh she went to a watering-place. In the eighth she suffered from +tooth-ache and her nerves were out of order. Her hair had lost its +gloss, her voice had grown shrill, her nose was covered with little +black specks; she had lost her figure, dragged her feet, and her +cheeks were hollow. In the winter she had an attack of nervous fever, +and her hair had to be cut off. When it grew again, it was a dull +brown. He had fallen in love with a golden-haired girl of +fourteen--brunettes did not attract him--and he married a woman of +twenty-four, with dull brown hair, who refused to wear her dresses open +at the throat. + +But in spite of all this he loved her. His love was less passionate +than it had been; it had become calm and steadfast. And there was +nothing in the little mining-town which could disturb their happiness. + +She bore him two boys, but he was always wishing for a girl. And at +last a fair-haired baby girl arrived. + +She was the apple of his eye, and as she grew up she resembled her +mother more and more. When she was eight years old, she was just what +her mother had been. And the father devoted all his spare time to his +little daughter. + +The housework had coarsened the mother’s hands. Her nose had lost its +shape and her temples had fallen in. Constant stooping over the kitchen +range had made her a little round-shouldered. Father and mother met only +at meals and at night. They did not complain, but things had changed. + +But the daughter was the father’s delight. It was almost as if he were +in love with her. He saw in her the re-incarnation of her mother, his +first impression of her, as beautiful as it had been fleeting. He was +almost self-conscious in her company and never went into her room when +she was dressing. He worshipped her. + +But one morning the child remained in bed and refused to get up. Mama +put it down to laziness, but papa sent for the doctor. The shadow of +the angel of death lay over the house: the child was suffering from +diphtheria. Either father or mother must take the other children away. +He refused. The mother took them to a little house in one of the suburbs +and the father remained at home to nurse the invalid. There she lay! +The house was disinfected with sulphur which turned the gilded picture +frames black and tarnished the silver on the dressing-table. He walked +through the empty rooms in silent anguish, and at night, alone in his +big bed, he felt like a widower. He bought toys for the little girl, +and she smiled at him as he sat on the edge of the bed trying to amuse +her with a Punch and Judy show, and asked after mama and her little +brothers. And the father had to go and stand in the street before the +house in the suburbs, and nod to his wife who was looking at him from +the window, and blow kisses to the children. And his wife signalled to +him with sheets of blue and red paper. + +But a day came when the little girl took no more pleasure in Punch and +Judy, and ceased smiling; and ceased talking too, for Death had +stretched out his long bony arm and suffocated her. It had been a hard +struggle. + +Then the mother returned, full of remorse because she had deserted her +little daughter. There was great misery in the home, and great +wretchedness. When the doctor wanted to make a post mortem examination, +the father objected. No knife should touch her, for she was not dead to +him; but his resistance was overborne. Then he flew into a passion and +tried to kick and bite the doctor. + +When they had bedded her into the earth, he built a monument over her +grave, and for a whole year he visited it every day. In the second +year he did not go quite so often. His work was heavy and he had little +spare time. He began to feel the burden of the years; his step was less +elastic; his wound was healing. Sometimes he felt ashamed when he +realised that he was mourning less and less for his child as time went +by; and finally he forgot all about it. + +Two more girls were born to him, but it was not the same thing; the +void left by the one who had passed away could never be filled. + +Life was a hard struggle. The young wife who had once been like--like +no other woman on earth, had gradually lost her glamour; the gilding +had worn off the home which had once been so bright and beautiful. The +children had bruised and dented their mother’s wedding presents, spoiled +the beds and kicked the legs of the furniture. The stuffing of the sofa +was plainly visible here and there, and the piano had not been opened +for years. The noise made by the children had drowned the music and the +voices had become harsh. The words of endearment had been cast off with +the baby clothes, caresses had deteriorated into a sort of massage. They +were growing old and weary. Papa was no longer on his knees before mama, +he sat in his shabby armchair and asked her for a match when he wanted +to light his pipe. Yes, they were growing old. + +When papa had reached his fiftieth year, mama died. Then the past +awoke and knocked at his heart. When her broken body, which the last +agony had robbed of its few remaining charms, had been laid in its +grave, the picture of his fourteen-year-old sweetheart arose in his +memory. It was for her, whom he had lost so long ago that he mourned +now, and with his yearning for her came remorse. But he had never been +unkind to the old mama; he had been faithful to the fourteen-year-old +vicar’s daughter whom he had worshipped on his knees but had never led +to the altar, for he had married an anaemic young woman of twenty-four. +If he were to be quite candid, he would have to confess that it was she +for whom he mourned; it was true, he also missed the good cooking and +unremitting care of the old mama, but that was a different thing. + +He was on more intimate terms with his children, now; some of them had +left the old nest, but others were still at home. + +When he had bored his friends for a whole year with anecdotes of the +deceased, an extraordinary coincidence happened. He met a young girl +of eighteen, with fair hair, and a striking resemblance to his late +wife, as she had been at fourteen. He saw in this coincidence the +finger of a bountiful providence, willing to bestow on him at last the +first one, the well-beloved. He fell in love with her because she +resembled the first one. And he married her. He had got her at last. + +But his children, especially the girls, resented his second marriage. +They found the relationship between their father and step-mother +improper; in their opinion he had been unfaithful to their mother. And +they left his house and went out into the world. + +He was happy! And his pride in his young wife exceeded even his +happiness. + +“Only the aftermath!” said his old friends. + +When a year had gone by, the young wife presented him with a baby. +Papa, of course, was no longer used to a baby’s crying, and wanted his +night’s rest. He insisted on a separate bed-room for himself, heedless +of his wife’s tears; really, women were a nuisance sometimes. And, +moreover, she was jealous of his first wife. He had been fool enough +to tell her of the extraordinary likeness which existed between the +two and had let her read his first wife’s love-letters. She brooded +over these facts now that he neglected her. She realised that she had +inherited all the first one’s pet names, that she was only her +understudy, as it were. It irritated her and the attempt to win him +for herself led her into all sorts of mischief. But she only succeeded +in boring him, and in silently comparing the two women, his verdict +was entirely in favour of the first one. She had been so much more +gentle than the second who exasperated him. The longing for his +children, whom he had driven from their home increased his regret, and +his sleep was disturbed by bad dreams for he was haunted by the idea +that he had been unfaithful to his first wife. + +His home was no longer a happy one. He had done a deed, which he would +much better have left undone. + +He began to spend a good deal of time at his club. But now his wife +was furious. He had deceived her. He was an old man and he had better +look out! An old man who left his young wife so much alone ran a certain +risk. He might regret it some day! + +“Old? She called him old? He would show her that he was not old!” + +They shared the same room again. But now matters were seven times +worse. He did not want to be bothered with the baby at night. The +proper place for babies was the nursery. No! he hadn’t thought so in +the case of the first wife. + +He had to submit to the torture. + +Twice he had believed in the miracle of Phoenix rising from the ashes +of his fourteen year old love, first in his daughter, then in his +second wife. But in his memory lived the first one only, the little +one from the vicarage, whom he had met when the wild strawberries were +ripe, and kissed under the lime trees in the wood, but whom he had +never married. + +But now, as his sun was setting and his days grew short, he saw in his +dark hours only the picture of the old mama, who had been kind to him +and his children, who had never scolded, who was plain, who cooked the +meals and patched the little boys’ knickers and the skirts of the little +girls. His flush of victory being over, he was able to see facts clearly. +He wondered whether it was not, after all, the old mama who had been the +real true Phoenix, rising, calm and beautiful, from the ashes of the +fourteen year old bird of paradise, laying its eggs, plucking the +feathers from its breast to line the nest for the young ones, and +nourishing them with its life-blood until it died. + +He wondered ... but when at last he laid his weary head on the pillow, +never again to lift it up, he was convinced that it was so. + + + + +ROMEO AND JULIA + + +One evening the husband came home with a roll of music under his arm +and said to his wife: + +“Let us play duets after supper!” + +“What have you got there?” asked his wife. + +“Romeo and Julia, arranged for the piano. Do you know it?” + +“Yes, of course I do,” she replied, “but I don’t remember ever having +seen it on the stage.” + +“Oh! It’s splendid! To me it is like a dream of my youth, but I’ve +only heard it once, and that was about twenty years ago.” + +After supper, when the children had been put to bed and the house lay +silent, the husband lighted the candles on the piano. He looked at the +lithographed title-page and read the title: Romeo and Julia. + +“This is Gounod’s most beautiful composition,” he said, “and I don’t +believe that it will be too difficult for us.” + +As usual his wife undertook to play the treble and they began. D major, +common time, _allegro giusto_. + +“It is beautiful, isn’t it?” asked the husband, when they had finished +the overture. + +“Y--es,” admitted the wife, reluctantly. + +“Now the martial music,” said the husband; “it is exceptionally fine. +I can remember the splendid choruses at the Royal Theatre.” + +They played a march. + +“Well, wasn’t I right?” asked the husband, triumphantly, as if he had +composed “Romeo and Julia” himself. + +“I don’t know; it rather sounds like a brass band,” answered the wife. + +The husband’s honour and good taste were involved; he looked for the +Moonshine Aria in the fourth act. After a little searching he came +across an aria for soprano. That must be it. + +And he began again. + +Tram-tramtram, tram-tramtram, went the bass; it was very easy to play. + +“Do you know,” said his wife, when it was over, “I don’t think very +much of it.” + +The husband, quite depressed, admitted that it reminded him of a barrel +organ. + +“I thought so all along,” confessed the wife. + +“And I find it antiquated, too. I am surprised that Gounod should be +out of date, already,” he added dejectedly. “Would you like to go on +playing? Let’s try the Cavatina and the Trio; I particularly remember +the soprano; she was divine.” + +When they stopped playing, the husband looked crestfallen and put the +music away, as if he wanted to shut the door on the past. + +“Let’s have a glass of beer,” he said. They sat down at the table and +had a glass of beer. + +“It’s extraordinary,” he began, after a little while, “I never +realised before that we’ve grown old, for we really must have vied +with Romeo and Julia as to who should age faster. It’s twenty years +ago since I heard the opera for the first time. I was a newly fledged +undergraduate then, I had many friends and the future smiled at me. I +was immensely proud of the first down on my upper lip and my little +college cap, and I remember as if it were to-day, the evening when +Fritz, Phil and myself went to hear this opera. We had heard ‘Faust’ +some years before and were great admirers of Gounod’s genius. But +Romeo beat all our expectations. The music roused our wildest +enthusiasm. Now both my friends are dead. Fritz, who was ambitious, +was a private secretary when he died, Phil a medical student; I who +aspired to the position of a minister of state have to content myself +with that of a regimental judge. The years have passed by quickly and +imperceptibly. Of course I have noticed that the lines under my eyes +have grown deeper and that my hair has turned grey at the temples, but +I should never have thought that we had travelled so far on the road +to the grave.” + +“Yes, my dear, we’ve grown old; our children could teach us that. And +you must see it in me too, although you don’t say anything.” + +“How can you say that!” + +“Oh! I know only too well, my dear,” continued the wife, sadly; “I +know that I am beginning to lose my good looks, that my hair is +growing thin, that I shall soon lose my front teeth....” + +“Just consider how quickly everything passes away”--interrupted her +husband. “It seems to me that one grows old much more rapidly now-a-days, +than one used to do. In my father’s house Haydn and Mozart were played +a great deal, although they were dead long before he was born. And +now--now Gounod has grown old-fashioned already! How distressing it is +to meet again the ideals of one’s youth under these altered +circumstances! And how horrible it is to feel old age approaching!” + +He got up and sat down again at the piano; he took the music and turned +over the pages as if he were looking for keepsakes, locks of hair, +dried flowers and ends of ribbon in the drawer of a writing-table. +His eyes were riveted on the black notes which looked like little birds +climbing up and down a wire fencing; but where were the spring songs, +the passionate protestations, the jubilant avowals of the rosy days of +first love? The notes stared back at him like strangers; as if the +memory of life’s spring-time were grown over with weeds. + +Yes, that was it; the strings were covered with dust, the sounding board +was dried up, the felt worn away. + +A heavy sigh echoed through the room, heavy as if it came from a hollow +chest, and then silence fell. + +“But all the same, it is strange,” the husband said suddenly, “that +the glorious prologue is missing in this arrangement. I remember +distinctly that there was a prologue with an accompaniment of harps +and a chorus which went like this.” + +He softly hummed the tune, which bubbled up like a stream in a +mountain glen; note succeeded note, his face cleared, his lips smiled, +the lines disappeared, his fingers touched the keys, and drew from +them melodies, powerful, caressing and full of eternal youth, while +with a strong and ringing voice he sang the part of the bass. + +His wife started from her melancholy reverie and listened with tears +in her eyes. + +“What are you singing?” she asked, full of amazement. + +“Romeo and Julia! Our Romeo and our Julia!” + +He jumped up from the music stool and pushed the music towards his +astonished wife. + +“Look! This was the Romeo of our uncles and aunts, this was--read +it--Bellini! Oh! We are not old, after all!” + +The wife looked at the thick, glossy hair of her husband, his smooth +brow and flashing eyes, with joy. + +“And you? You look like a young girl. We have allowed old Bellini to +make fools of us. I felt that something was wrong.” + +“No, darling, I thought so first.” + +“Probably you did; that is because you are younger than I am.” + +“No, you....” + +And husband and wife, like a couple of children, laughingly quarrel +over the question of which of them is the elder of the two, and cannot +understand how they could have discovered lines and grey hairs where +there are none. + + + + +PROLIFICACY + + +He was a supernumerary at the Board of Trade and drew a salary of +twelve hundred crowns. He had married a young girl without a penny; +for love, as he himself said, to be no longer compelled to go to +dances and run about the streets, as his friends maintained. But be +that as it may, the life of the newly-wedded couple was happy enough +to begin with. + +“How cheaply married people can live,” he said one day, after the +wedding was a thing of the past. The same sum which had been barely +enough to cover the wants of the bachelor now sufficed for husband and +wife. Really, marriage was an excellent institution. One had all one’s +requirements within one’s four walls: club, cafe, everything; no more +bills of fare, no tips, no inquisitive porter watching one as one went +out with one’s wife in the morning. + +Life smiled at him, his strength increased and he worked for two. +Never in all his life had he felt so full of overflowing energy; he +jumped out of bed as soon as he woke up in the morning, buoyantly, and +in the highest spirits, he was rejuvenated. + +When two months had elapsed, long before his new circumstances had +begun to pall, his wife whispered a certain piece of information into +his ear. New joys! New cares! But cares so pleasant to bear! It was +necessary, however, to increase their income at once, so as to receive +the unknown world-citizen in a manner befitting his dignity. He managed +to obtain an order for a translation. + +Baby-clothes lay scattered about all over the furniture, a cradle +stood waiting in the hall, and at last a splendid boy arrived in this +world of sorrows. + +The father was delighted. And yet he could not help a vague feeling of +uneasiness whenever he thought of the future. Income and expenditure +did not balance. Nothing remained but to reduce his dress allowance. + +His frock coat began to look threadbare at the seams; his shirt front +was hidden underneath a large tie, his trousers were frayed. It was an +undeniable fact that the porters at the office looked down on him on +account of his shabbiness. + +In addition to this he was compelled to lengthen his working day. + +“It must be the first and last,” he said. But how was it to be done? + +He was at a loss to know. + +Three months later his wife prepared him in carefully chosen words +that his paternal joys would soon be doubled. It would not be true to +say that he rejoiced greatly at the news. But there was no alternative +now; he must travel along the road he had chosen, even if married life +should prove to be anything but cheap. + +“It’s true,” he thought, his face brightening, “the younger one will +inherit the baby-clothes of his elder brother. This will save a good +deal of expense, and there will be food enough for them--I shall be +able to feed them just as well as others.” + +And the second baby was born. + +“You are going it,” said a friend of his, who was a married man himself, +but father of one child only. + +“What is a man to do?” + +“Use his common-sense.” + +“Use his common-sense? But, my dear fellow, a man gets married in +order to ... I mean to say, not only in order to ... but yet in order +to.... Well, anyhow, we are married and that settles the matter.” + +“Not at all. Let me tell you something, my dear boy; if you are at all +hoping for promotion it is absolutely necessary that you should wear +clean linen, trousers which are not frayed at the bottom, and a hat +which is not of a rusty brown.” + +And the sensible man whispered sensible words into his ear. As the +result, the poor husband was put on short commons in the midst of +plenty. + +But now his troubles began. + +To start with his nerves went to pieces, he suffered from insomnia and +did his work badly. He consulted a doctor. The prescription cost him +three crowns; and such a prescription! He was to stop working; he had +worked too hard, his brain was overtaxed. To stop work would mean +starvation for all of them, and to work spelt death, too! + +He went on working. + +One day, as he was sitting at his desk, stooping over endless rows of +figures, he had an attack of faintness, slipped off his chair and fell +to the ground. + +A visit to a specialist--eighteen crowns. A new prescription; he must +ask for sick leave at once, take riding exercise every morning and +have steak and a glass of port for breakfast. + +Riding exercise and port! + +But the worst feature of the whole business was a feeling of alienation +from his wife which had sprung up in his heart--he did not know whence +it came. He was afraid to go near her and at the same time he longed for +her presence. He loved her, loved her still, but a certain bitterness +was mingled with his love. + +“You are growing thin,” said a friend. + +“Yes, I believe I’ve grown thinner,” said the poor husband. + +“You are playing a dangerous game, old boy!” + +“I don’t know what you mean!” + +“A married man in half mourning! Take care, my friend!” + +“I really don’t know what you’re driving at.”. + +“It’s impossible to go against the wind for any length of time. Set +all sails and run, old chap, and you will see that everything will +come right. Believe me, I know what I’m talking about. You understand +me.” + +He took no notice of the advice for a time, fully aware of the fact +that a man’s income does not increase in proportion to his family; at +the same time he had no longer any doubt about the cause of his +malady. + +It was summer again. The family had gone into the country. On a +beautiful evening husband and wife were strolling along the steep +shore, in the shade of the alder trees, resplendent in their young +green. They sat down on the turf, silent and depressed. He was morose +and disheartened; gloomy thoughts revolved behind his aching brow. +Life seemed a great chasm which had opened to engulf all he loved. + +They talked of the probable loss of his appointment; his chief had +been annoyed at his second application for sick leave. He complained +of the conduct of his colleagues, he felt himself deserted by everyone; +but the fact which hurt him more than anything else was the knowledge +that she, too, had grown tired of him. + +“Oh! but she hadn’t! She loved him every bit as much as she did in +those happy days when they were first engaged. How could he doubt it?” + +“No, he didn’t doubt it; but he had suffered so much, he wasn’t master +of his own thoughts.” + +He pressed his burning cheek against hers, put his arm round her and +covered her eyes with passionate kisses. + +The gnats danced their nuptial dance above the birch tree without a +thought of the thousands of young ones which their ecstasy would call +into being; the carp laid their eggs in the reed grass, careless of +the millions of their kind to which they gave birth; the swallow made +love in broad daylight, not in the least afraid of the consequences of +their irregular liaisons. + +All of a sudden he sprang to his feet and stretched himself like a +sleeper awakening from a long sleep, which had been haunted by evil +dreams, he drank in the balmy air in deep draughts. + +“What’s the matter?” whispered his wife, while a crimson blush spread +over her face. + +“I don’t know. All I know is that I live, that I breathe again.” + +And radiant, with laughing face and shining eyes, he held out his arms +to her, picked her up as if she were a baby and pressed his lips to +her forehead. The muscles of his legs swelled until they looked like +the muscles of the leg of an antique god, he held his body erect like +a young tree and intoxicated with strength and happiness, he carried +his beloved burden as far as the footpath where he put her down. + +“You will strain yourself, sweetheart,” she said, making a vain +attempt to free herself from his encircling arms. + +“Never, you darling! I could carry you to the end of the earth, and I +shall carry you, all of you, no matter how many you are now, or how +many you may yet become.” + +And they returned home, arm in arm, their hearts singing with +gladness. + +“If the worst comes to the worst, sweet love, one must admit that it +is very easy to jump that abyss which separates body and soul!” + +“What a thing to say!” + +“If I had only realised it before, I should have been less unhappy. +Oh! those idealists!” + +And they entered their cottage. + +The good old times had returned and had, apparently, come to stay. The +husband went to work to his office as before. They lived again through +love’s spring time. No doctor was required and the high spirits never +flagged. + +After the third christening, however, he came to the conclusion that +matters were serious and started playing his old game with the +inevitable results: doctor, sick-leave, riding-exercise, port! But +there must be an end of it, at all costs. Every time the balance-sheet +showed a deficit. + +But when, finally, his whole nervous system went out of joint, he let +nature have her own way. Immediately expenses went up and he was beset +with difficulties. + +He was not a poor man, it is true, but on the other hand he was not +blest with too many of this world’s riches. + +“To tell you the truth, old girl,” he said to his wife, “it will be +the same old story over again.” + +“I am afraid it will, my dear,” replied the poor woman, who, in +addition to her duties as a mother, had to do the whole work of the +house now. + +After the birth of her fourth child, the work grew too hard for her +and a nursemaid had to be engaged. + +“Now it must stop,” avowed the disconsolate husband. “This must be the +last.” + +Poverty looked in at the door. The foundations on which the house was +built were tottering. + +And thus, at the age of thirty, in the very prime of their life, the +young husband and wife found themselves condemned to celibacy. He grew +moody, his complexion became grey and his eyes lost their lustre. Her +rich beauty faded, her fine figure wasted away, and she suffered all +the sorrows of a mother who sees her children growing up in poverty +and rags. + +One day, as she was standing in the kitchen, frying herrings, a +neighbour called in for a friendly chat. + +“How are you?” she began. + +“Thank you, I’m not up to very much. How are you?” + +“Oh! I’m not at all well. Married life is a misery if one has to be +constantly on one’s guard.” + +“Do you think you are the only one?” + +“What do you mean?” + +“Do you know what my husband said to me the other day? One ought to +spare the draught cattle! And I suffer under it all, I can tell you. +No, there’s no happiness in marriage. Either husband or wife is bound +to suffer. It’s one or the other!” + +“Or both!” + +“But what about the men of science who grow fat at the expense of the +Government?” + +“They have to think of so many things, and moreover, it is improper to +write about such problems; they must not be discussed openly.” + +“But that would be the first necessity!” And the two women fell to +discussing their bitter experiences. + +In the following summer they were compelled to remain in town; they +were living in a basement with a view of the gutter, the smell of +which was so objectionable that it was impossible to keep the windows +open. + +The wife did needlework in the same room in which the children were +playing; the husband, who had lost his appointment on account of his +extreme shabbiness, was copying a manuscript in the adjoining room, +and grumbling at the children’s noise. Hard words were bandied through +the open door. + +It was Whitsuntide. In the afternoon the husband was lying on the +ragged leather sofa, gazing at a window on the other side of the +street. He was watching a woman of evil reputation who was dressing +for her evening stroll. A spray of lilac and two oranges were lying by +the side of her looking-glass. + +She was fastening her dress without taking the least notice of his +inquisitive glances. + +“She’s not having a bad time,” mused the celibate, suddenly kindled +into passion. “One lives but once in this world, and one must live +one’s life, happen what will!” + +His wife entered the room and caught sight of the object of his +scrutiny. Her eyes blazed; the last feeble sparks of her dead love +glowed under the ashes and revealed themselves in a temporary flash +of jealousy. + +“Hadn’t we better take the children to the Zoo?” she asked. + +“To make a public show of our misery? No, thank you!” + +“But it’s so hot in here. I shall have to pull down the blinds.” + +“You had better open a window!” + +He divined his wife’s thoughts and rose to do it himself. Out there, +on the edge of the pavement, his four little ones were sitting, in +close proximity of the waste pipes. Their feet were in the dry gutter, +and they were playing with orange peels which they had found in the +sweepings of the road. The sight stabbed his heart, and he felt a lump +rising in his throat. But poverty had so blunted his feelings that he +remained standing at the window with his arms crossed. + +All at once two filthy streams gushed from the waste pipes, inundated +the gutter and saturated the feet of the children who screamed, half +suffocated by the stench. + +“Get the children ready as quickly as you can,” he called, giving way +at the heart-rending scene. + +The father pushed the perambulator with the baby, the other children +clung to the hands and skirts of the mother. + +They arrived at the cemetery with its dark-stemmed lime-trees, their +usual place of refuge; here the trees grew luxuriantly, as if the soil +were enriched by the bodies which lay buried underneath it. + +The bells were ringing for evening prayers. The inmates of the +poorhouse flocked to the church and sat down in the pews left vacant +by their wealthy owners, who had attended to their souls at the +principal service of the day, and were now driving in their carriages +to the Royal Deer Park. + +The children climbed about the shallow graves, most of which were +decorated with armorial bearings and inscriptions. + +Husband and wife sat down on a seat and placed the perambulator, in +which the baby lay sucking at its bottle, by their side. Two puppies +were disporting themselves on a grave close by, half hidden by the +high grass. + +A young and well dressed couple, leading by the hand a little girl +clothed in silk and velvet, passed the seat on which they sat. The +poor copyist raised his eyes to the young dandy and recognised a +former colleague from the Board of Trade who, however, did not seem to +see him. A feeling of bitter envy seized him with such intensity that +he felt more humiliated by this “ignoble sentiment” than by his +deplorable condition. Was he angry with the other man because he +filled a position which he himself had coveted? Surely not. But +of a sense of justice, and his suffering was all the deeper because +it was shared by the whole class of the disinherited. He was convinced +that the inmates of the poorhouse, bowed down under the yoke of public +charity, envied his wife; and he was quite sure that many of the +aristocrats who slept all around him in their graves, under their coats +of arms, would have envied him his children if it had been their lot to +die without leaving an heir to their estates. Certainly, nobody under +the sun enjoyed complete happiness, but why did the plums always fall +to the lot of those who were already sitting in the lap of luxury? And +how was it that the prizes always fell to the organisers of the great +lottery? The disinherited had to be content with the mass said at +evening prayers; to their share fell morality and those virtues which +the others despised and of which they had no need because the gates of +heaven opened readily enough to their wealth. But what about the good +and just God who had distributed His gifts so unevenly? It would be +better, indeed, to live one’s life without this unjust God, who had, +moreover, candidly admitted that the “wind blew where it listed”; had +He not himself confessed, in these words, that He did not interfere in +the concerns of man? But failing the church, where should we look for +comfort? And yet, why ask for comfort? Wouldn’t it be far better to +strive to make such arrangements that no comfort was needed? Wouldn’t +it? + +His speculations were interrupted by his eldest daughter who asked him +for a leaf of the lime-tree, which she wanted for a sunshade for her +doll. He stepped on the seat and raised his hand to break off a little +twig, when a constable appeared and rudely ordered him not to touch +the trees. A fresh humiliation. At the same time the constable +requested him not to allow his children to play on the graves, which +was against the regulations. + +“We’d better go home,” said the distressed father. “How carefully they +guard the interests of the dead, and how indifferent they are to the +interests of the living.” + +And they returned home. + +He sat down and began to work. He had to copy the manuscript of an +academical treatise on over-population. + +The subject interested him and he read the contents of the whole book. + +The young author who belonged to what was called the ethical school, +was preaching against vice. + +“What vice?” mused the copyist. “That which is responsible for our +existence? Which the priest orders us to indulge in at every wedding +when he says: Be fruitful and multiply and fill the earth?” + +The manuscript ran on: Propagation, without holy matrimony, is a +destructive vice, because the fate of the children, who do not receive +proper care and nursing, is a sad one. In the case of married couples, +on the other hand, it becomes a sacred duty to indulge one’s desires. +This is proved, among other things, by the fact that the law protects +even the female ovum, and it is right that it should be so. + +“Consequently,” thought the copyist, “there is a providence for +legitimate children, but not for illegitimate ones Oh! this young +philosopher! And the law which protects the female ovum! What +business, then, have those microscopic things to detach themselves at +every change of the moon? Those sacred objects ought to be most +carefully guarded by the police!” + +All these futilities he had to copy in his best handwriting. + +They overflowed with morality, but contained not a single word of +enlightenment. + +The moral or rather the immoral gist of the whole argument was: There +is a God who feeds and clothes all children born in wedlock; a God in +His heaven, probably, but what about the earth? Certainly, it was said +that He came to earth once and allowed himself to be crucified, after +vainly trying to establish something like order in the confused +affairs of mankind; He did not succeed. + +The philosopher wound up by screaming himself hoarse in trying to +convince his audience that the abundant supply of wheat was an +irrefutable proof that the problem of over-population did not exist; +that the doctrine of Malthus was not only false, but criminal, +socially as well as morally. + +And the poor father of a family who had not tasted wheaten bread for +years, laid down the manuscript and urged his little ones to fill +themselves with gruel made of rye flour and bluish milk, a dish which +satisfied their craving, but contained no nourishment. + +He was wretched, not because he considered water gruel objectionable, +but because he had lost his precious sense of humour, that magician +who can transform the dark rye into golden wheat; almighty love, +emptying his horn of plenty over his poor home, had vanished. The +children had become burdens, and the once beloved wife a secret enemy +despised and despising him. + +And the cause of all this unhappiness? The want of bread! And yet the +large store houses of the new world were breaking down under the weight +of the over-abundant supply of wheat. What a world of contradictions! +The manner in which bread was distributed must be at fault. + +Science, which has replaced religion, has no answer to give; it merely +states facts and allows the children to die of hunger and the parents +of thirst. + + + + +AUTUMN + + +They had been married for ten years. Happily? Well, as happily as +circumstances permitted. They had been running in double harness, like +two young oxen of equal strength, each of which is conscientiously +doing his own share. + +During the first year of their marriage they buried many illusions and +realised that marriage was not perfect bliss. In the second year the +babies began to arrive, and the daily toil left them no time for +brooding. + +He was very domesticated, perhaps too much so; his family was his +world, the centre and pivot of which he was. The children were the +radii. His wife attempted to be a centre, too, but never in the middle +of the circle, for that was exclusively occupied by him, and therefore +the radii fell now on the top of one another, now far apart, and their +life lacked harmony. + +In the tenth year of their marriage he obtained the post of secretary +to the Board of Prisons, and in that capacity he was obliged to travel +about the country. This interfered seriously with his daily routine; +the thought of leaving his world for a whole month upset him. He +wondered whom he would miss more, his wife or his children, and he was +sure he would miss them both. + +On the eve of his departure he sat in the corner of the sofa and +watched his portmanteau being packed. His wife was kneeling on the +She brushed his black suit and folded it carefully, so that it should +take up as little space as possible. He had no idea how to do these +things. + +She had never looked upon herself as his housekeeper, hardly as his +wife, she was above all things mother: a mother to the children, a +mother to him. She darned his socks without the slightest feeling of +degradation, and asked for no thanks. She never even considered him +indebted to her for it, for did he not give her and the children new +stockings whenever they wanted them, and a great many other things +into the bargain? But for him, she would have to go out and earn her +own living, and the children would be left alone all day. + +He sat in the sofa corner and looked at her. Now that the parting was +imminent, he began to feel premature little twinges of longing. He +gazed at her figure. Her shoulders were a little rounded; much bending +over the cradle, ironing board and kitchen range had robbed her back +of its straightness. He, too, stooped a little, the result of his toil +at the writing-table, and he was obliged to wear spectacles. But at +the moment he really was not thinking of himself. He noticed that her +plaits were thinner than they had been and that a faint suggestion of +silver lay on her hair. Had she sacrificed her beauty to him, to him +alone? No, surely not to him, but to the little community which they +formed; for, after all, she had also worked for herself. His hair, +too, had grown thin in the struggle to provide for all of them. He +might have retained his youth a little longer, if there hadn’t been so +many mouths to fill, if he had remained a bachelor; but he didn’t +regret his marriage for one second. + +“It will be a good thing for you to get away for a bit,” said his +wife; “you have been too much at home.” + +“I suppose you are glad to get rid of me,” he replied, not without +bitterness; “but I--I shall miss you very much.” + +“You are like a cat, you’ll miss your cosy fireside, but not me; you +know you won’t.” + +“And the kiddies?” + +“Oh, yes! I daresay you’ll miss them when you are away, for all your +scolding when you are with them. No, no, I don’t mean that you are +unkind to them, but you do grumble a lot! All the same I won’t be +unjust, and I know that you love them.” + +At supper he was very tired and depressed. He didn’t read the evening +paper, he wanted to talk to his wife. But she was too busy to pay much +attention to him; she had no time to waste; moreover, her ten years’ +campaign in kitchen and nursery had taught her self-control. + +He felt more sentimental than he cared to show, and the topsy-turvydom +of the room made him fidgety. Scraps of his daily life lay scattered +all over chairs and chests of drawers; his black portmanteau yawned +wide-open like a coffin; his white linen was carefully laid on the top +of his black suit, which showed slight traces of wear and tear at the +knees and elbows. It seemed to him that he himself was lying there, +wearing a white shirt with a starched front. Presently they would +close the coffin and carry it away. + +On the following morning--it was in August--he rose early and dressed +hurriedly. His nerves were unstrung. He went into the nursery and +kissed the children who stared at him with sleepy eyes. Then he kissed +his wife, got into a cab, and told the driver to drive him to the +station. + +The journey, which he made in the company of his Board, did him good; +it really was a good thing for him to get out of his groove; +domesticity lay behind him like a stuffy bedroom, and on the arrival +of the train at Linkoping he was in high spirits. + +An excellent dinner had been ordered at the best hotel and the +remainder of the day was spent in eating it. They drank the health of +the Lord Lieutenant; no one thought of the prisoners on whose behalf +the journey had been undertaken. + +Dinner over, he had to face a lonely evening in his solitary room. A +bed, two chairs, a table, a washing-stand and a wax candle, which +threw its dim light on bare walls. He couldn’t suppress a feeling of +nervousness. He missed all his little comforts,--slippers, +dressing-gown, pipe rack and writing table; all the little details +which played an important part in his daily life. And the kiddies? And +his wife? What were they doing? Were they all right? He became +restless and depressed. When he wanted to wind up his watch, he found +that he had left his watch-key at home. It was hanging on the +watch-stand which his wife had given him before they were married. He +went to bed and lit a cigar. Then he wanted a book out of his +portmanteau and he had to get up again. Everything was packed so +beautifully, it was a pity to disturb it. In looking for the book, he +came across his slippers. She had forgotten nothing. Then he found the +book. But he couldn’t read. He lay in bed and thought of the past, of +his wife, as she had been ten years ago. He saw her as she had been +then; the picture of her, as she now was, disappeared in the blue-grey +clouds of smoke which rose in rings and wreaths to the rain-stained +ceiling. An infinite yearning came over him. Every harsh word he had +ever spoken to her now grated on his ears; he thought remorsefully of +every hour of anguish he had caused her. At last he fell asleep. + +The following day brought much work and another banquet with a toast +to the Prison-Governor--the prisoners were still unremembered. In the +evening solitude, emptiness, coldness. He felt a pressing need to talk +to her. He fetched some notepaper and sat down to write. But at the +very outset he was confronted by a difficulty. How was he to address +her? Whenever he had sent her a few lines to say that he would not be +home for dinner, he had always called her “Dear Mother.” But now he +was not going to write to the mother, but to his fiancée, to his +beloved one. At last he made up his mind and commenced his letter with +“My Darling Lily,” as he had done in the old days. At first he wrote +slowly and with difficulty, for so many beautiful words and phrases +seemed to have disappeared from the clumsy, dry language of every-day +life; but as he warmed to his work, they awakened in his memory like +forgotten melodies, valse tunes, fragments of poems, elder-blossoms, +and swallows, sunsets on a mirror-like sea. All his memories of the +springtime of life came dancing along in clouds of gossamer and +enveloped her. He drew a cross at the bottom of the page, as lovers +do, and by the side of it he wrote the words: “Kiss here.” + +When the letter was finished and he read it through, his cheeks burnt +and he became self-conscious. He couldn’t account for the reason. + +But somehow he felt that he had shown his naked soul to a stranger. + +In spite of this feeling he posted the letter. + +A few days elapsed before he received a reply. While he was waiting +for it, he was a prey to an almost childish bashfulness and +embarrassment. + +At last the answer came. He had struck the right note, and from the +din and clamour of the nursery, and the fumes and smell of the +kitchen, a song arose, clear and beautiful, tender and pure, like +first love. + +Now an exchange of love-letters began. He wrote to her every night, +and sometimes he sent her a postcard as well during the day. His +colleagues didn’t know what to think of him. He was so fastidious +about his dress and personal appearance, that they suspected him of a +love affair. And he was in love--in love again. He sent her his +photograph, without the spectacles, and she sent him a lock of her +hair. + +Their language was simple like a child’s, and he wrote on coloured +paper ornamented with little doves. Why shouldn’t they? They were a +long way off forty yet, even though the struggle for an existence had +made them feel that they were getting old. He had neglected her during +the last twelvemonth, not so much from indifference as from respect--he +always saw in her the mother of his children. + +The tour of inspection was approaching its end. He was conscious of a +certain feeling of apprehension when he thought of their meeting. He +had corresponded with his sweetheart; should he find her in the mother +and housewife? He dreaded a disappointment. He shrank at the thought +of finding her with a kitchen towel in her hand, or the children +clinging to her skirts. Their first meeting must be somewhere else, +and they must meet alone. Should he ask her to join him at Waxholm, in +the Stockholm Archipelago, at the hotel where they had spent so many +happy hours during the period of their engagement? Splendid idea! +There they could, for two whole days, re-live in memory the first +beautiful spring days of their lives, which had flown, never to return +again. + +He sat down and made the suggestion in an impassioned love-letter. She +answered by return agreeing to his proposal, happy that the same idea +had occurred to both of them. + + * * * * * + +Two days later he arrived at Waxholm and engaged rooms at the hotel. +It was a beautiful September day. He dined alone, in the great +dining-room, drank a glass of wine and felt young again. Everything +was so bright and beautiful. There was the blue sea outside; only the +birch trees on the shore had changed their tints. In the garden the +dahlias were still in full splendour, and the perfume of the mignonette +rose from the borders of the flower beds. A few bees still visited the +dying calyces but returned disappointed to their hives. The fishing +boats sailed up the Sound before a faint breeze, and in tacking the +sails fluttered and the sheets shook; the startled seagulls rose into +the air screaming, and circled round the fishermen who were fishing +from their boats for small herring. + +He drank his coffee on the verandah, and began to look out for the +steamer which was due at six o’clock. + +Restlessly, apprehensively, he paced the verandah, anxiously watching +fiord and Sound on the side where Stockholm lay, so as to sight the +steamer as soon as she came into view. + +At last a little cloud of smoke showed like a dark patch on the horizon. +His heart thumped against his ribs and he drank a liqueur. Then he went +down to the shore. + +Now he could see the funnel right in the centre of the Sound, and soon +after he noticed the flag on the fore-topmast.... Was she really on the +steamer, or had she been prevented from keeping the tryst? It was +only necessary for one of the children to be ill, and she wouldn’t be +there, and he would have to spend a solitary night at the hotel. The +children, who during the last few weeks had receded into the background, +now stepped between her and him. They had hardly mentioned them in their +last letters, just as if they had been anxious to be rid of all +eyewitnesses and spoil-sports. + +He stamped on the creaking landing-stage and then remained standing +motionless near a bollard staring straight at the steamer which +increased in size as she approached, followed in her wake by a river +of molten gold that spread over the blue, faintly rippled expanse. Now +he could distinguish people on the upper deck, a moving crowd, and +sailors busy with the ropes, now a fluttering speck of white near the +wheel-house. There was no one besides him on the landing-stage, the +moving white speck could only be meant for him, and no one would wave +to him but her. He pulled out his handkerchief and answered her +greeting, and in doing so he noticed that his handkerchief was not a +white one; he had been using coloured ones for years for the sake of +economy. + +The steamer whistled, signalled, the engines stopped, she came +alongside, and now he recognised her. Their eyes met in greeting; the +distance was still too great for words. Now he could see her being +pushed slowly by the crowd across the little bridge. It was she, and +yet it wasn’t. + +Ten years stretched between her and the picture of her which he had +had in his mind. Fashion had changed, the cut of the clothes was +different. Ten years ago her delicate face with its olive complexion +was framed by the cap which was then worn, and which left the forehead +free; now her forehead was hidden by a wicked imitation of a bowler +hat. Ten years ago the beautiful lines of her figure were clearly +definable under the artistic draperies of her cloak which playfully +now hid, now emphasised the curve of her shoulders and the movement of +her arms; now her figure was completely disguised by a long driving +coat which followed the lines of her dress but completely concealed +her figure. As she stepped off the landing-bridge, he caught sight of +her little foot with which he had fallen in love, when it was encased +in a buttoned boot, shaped on natural lines; the shoe which she was +now wearing resembled a pointed Chinese slipper, and did not allow her +foot to move in those dancing rhythms which had bewitched him. + +It was she and yet it was not she! He embraced and kissed her. She +enquired after his health and he asked after the children. Then they +walked up the strand. + +Words came slowly and sounded dry and forced. How strange! They were +almost shy in each other’s presence, and neither of them mentioned the +letters. + +In the end he took heart of grace and asked: + +“Would you like to go for a walk before sunset?” + +“I should love to,” she replied, taking his arm. + +They went along the high-road in the direction of the little town. The +shutters of all the summer residences were closed; the gardens plundered. +Here and there an apple, hidden among the foliage, might still be found +hanging on the trees, but there wasn’t a single flower in the flower +beds. The verandahs, stripped of their sunblinds, looked like skeletons; +where there had been bright eyes and gay laughter, silence reigned. + +“How autumnal!” she said. + +“Yes, the forsaken villas look horrible.” + +They walked on. + +“Let us go and look at the house where we used to live.” + +“Oh, yes! It will be fun.” + +They passed the bathing vans. + +Over there, squeezed in between the pilot’s and the gardener’s cottages, +stood the little house with its red fence, its verandah and its little +garden. + +Memories of past days awoke. There was the bedroom where their first +baby had been born. What rejoicing! What laughter! Oh! youth and gaiety! +The rose-tree which they had planted was still there. And the +strawberry-bed which they had made--no, it existed no longer, grass +had grown over it. In the little plantation traces of the swing which +they had put up were still visible, but the swing itself had +disappeared. + +“Thank you so much for your beautiful letters,” she said, gently +pressing his arm. + +He blushed and made no reply. + +Then they returned to the hotel, and he told her anecdotes, in +connection with his tour. + +He had ordered dinner to be served in the large dining-room at the +table where they used to sit. They sat down without saying grace. + +It was a tête-à-tête dinner. He took the bread-basket and offered her +the bread. She smiled. It was a long time since he had been so +attentive. But dinner at a seaside hotel was a pleasant change and +soon they were engaged in a lively conversation. It was a duet in +which one of them extolled the days that had gone, and the other +revived memories of “once upon a time.” They were re-living the past. +Their eyes shone and the little lines in their faces disappeared. Oh! +golden days! Oh! time of roses which comes but once, if it comes at +all, and which is denied to so many of us--so many of us. + +At dessert he whispered a few words into the ear of the waitress; she +disappeared and returned a few seconds later with a bottle of champagne. + +“My dear Axel, what are you thinking of?” + +“I am thinking of the spring that has past, but will return again.” + +But he wasn’t thinking of it exclusively, for at his wife’s reproachful +words there glided through the room, catlike, a dim vision of the nursery +and the porridge bowl. + +However--the atmosphere cleared again; the golden wine stirred their +memories, and again they lost themselves in the intoxicating rapture +of the past. + +He leaned his elbow on the table and shaded his eyes with his hand, as +if he were determined to shut out the present--this very present +which,--after all, had been of his own seeking. + +The hours passed. They left the dining-room and went into the +drawing-room which boasted a piano, ordering their coffee to be +brought there. + +“I wonder how the kiddies are?” said she, awakening to the hard facts +of real life. + +“Sit down and sing to me,” he answered, opening the instrument. + +“What would you like me to sing? You know I haven’t sung a note for +many days.” + +He was well aware of it, but he _did_ want a song. + +She sat down before the piano and began to play. It was a squeaking +instrument that reminded one of the rattling of loose teeth. + +“What shall I sing?” she asked, turning round on the music-stool. + +“You know, darling,” he replied, not daring to meet her eyes. + +“Your song! Very well, if I can remember it.” And she sang: “Where is +the blessed country where my beloved dwells?” + +But alas! Her voice was thin and shrill and emotion made her sing out +of tune. At times it sounded like a cry from the bottom of a soul +which feels that noon is past and evening approaching. The fingers +which had done hard work strayed on the wrong keys. The instrument, +too, had seen its best days; the cloth on the hammers had worn away; +it sounded as if the springs touched the bare wood. + +When she had finished her song, she sat for a while without turning +round, as if she expected him to come and speak to her. But he didn’t +move; not a sound broke the deep silence. When she turned round at +last, she saw him sitting on the sofa, his cheeks wet with tears. She +felt a strong impulse to jump up, take his head between her hands and +kiss him as she had done in days gone by, but she remained where she +was, immovable, with downcast eyes. + +He held a cigar between his thumb and first finger. When the song was +finished, he bit off the end and struck a match. + +“Thank you, Lily,” he said, puffing at his cigar, “will you have your +coffee now?” + +They drank their coffee, talked of summer holidays in general and +suggested two or three places where they might go next summer. But +their conversation languished and they repeated themselves. + +At last he yawned openly and said: “I’m off to bed.” + +“I’m going, too,” she said, getting up. “But I’ll get a breath of +fresh air first, on the balcony.” + +He went into the bed-room. She lingered for a few moments in the +dining-room, and then talked to the landlady for about half an hour of +spring-onions and woollen underwear. + +When the landlady had left her she went into the bedroom and stood for +a few minutes at the door, listening. No sound came from within. His +boots stood in the corridor. She opened the door gently and went in. +He was asleep. + +He was asleep! + + * * * * * + +At breakfast on the following morning he had a headache, and she +fidgeted. + +“What horrible coffee,” he said, with a grimace. + +“Brazilian,” she said, shortly. + +“What shall we do to-day?” he asked, looking at his watch. + +“Hadn’t you better eat some bread and butter, instead of grumbling at +the coffee?” she said. + +“Perhaps you’re right,” he answered, “and I’ll have a liqueur at the +same time. That champagne last night, ugh!” + +He asked for bread and butter and a liqueur and his temper improved. + +“Let’s go to the Pilot’s Hill and look at the view.” + +They rose from the breakfast table and went out. + +The weather was splendid and the walk did them good. But they walked +slowly; she panted, and his knees were stiff; they drew no more +parallels with the past. + +They walked across the fields. The grass had been cut long ago, there +wasn’t a single flower anywhere. They sat down on some large stones. + +He talked of the Board of Prisons and his office. She talked of the +children. + +Then they walked on in silence. He looked at his watch. + +“Three hours yet till dinner time,” he said. And he wondered how they +could kill time on the next day. + +They returned to the hotel. He asked for the papers. She sat down by +the side of him with a smile on her lips. + +They talked little during dinner. After dinner she mentioned the +servants. + +“For heaven’s sake, leave the servants alone!” he exclaimed. + +“Surely we haven’t come here to quarrel!” + +“Am I quarrelling?” + +“Well, I’m not!” + +An awkward pause followed. He wished somebody would come. The children! +Yes! This tête-à-tête embarrassed him, but he felt a pain in his heart +when he thought of the bright hours of yesterday. + +“Let’s go to Oak Hill,” she said, “and gather wild strawberries.” + +“There are no wild strawberries at this time of the year, it’s autumn.” + +“Let’s go all the same.” + +And they went. But conversation was difficult. His eyes searched for +some object on the roadside which would serve for a peg on which to +hang a remark, but there was nothing. There was no subject which they +hadn’t discussed. She knew all his views on everything and disagreed +with most of them. She longed to go home, to the children, to her own +fireside. She found it absurd to make a spectacle of herself in this +place and be on the verge of a quarrel with her husband all the time. + +After a while they stopped, for they were tired. He sat down and began +to write in the sand with his walking stick. He hoped she would +provoke a scene. + +“What are you thinking of?” she asked at last. + +“I?” he replied, feeling as if a burden were falling off his shoulders, +“I am thinking that we are getting old, mother: our innings are over, +and we have to be content with what has been. If you are of the same +mind, we’ll go home by the night boat.” + +“I have thought so all along, old man, but I wanted to please you.” + +“Then come along, we’ll go home. It’s no longer summer, autumn is here.” + +They returned to the hotel, much relieved. + +He was a little embarrassed on account of the prosaic ending of the +adventure, and felt an irresistible longing to justify it from a +philosophical standpoint. + +“You see, mother,” he said, “my lo--h’m” (the word was too strong) “my +affection for you has undergone a change in the course of time. It has +developed, broadened; at first it was centred on the individual, but +later on, on the family as a whole. It is not now you, personally, +that I love, nor is it the children, but it is the whole.... + +“Yes, as my uncle used to say, children are lightning conductors!” + +After his philosophical explanation he became his old self again. It +was pleasant to take off his frock coat; he felt, as if he were +getting into his dressing-gown. + +When they entered the hotel, she began at once to pack, and there she +was in her element. + +They went downstairs into the saloon as soon as they got on board. For +appearance sake, however, he asked her whether she would like to watch +the sunset; but she declined. + +At supper he helped himself first, and she asked the waitress the +price of black bread. + +When he had finished his supper, he remained sitting at the table, +lingering over a glass of porter. A thought which had amused him for +some time, would no longer be suppressed. + +“Old fool, what?” he said, lifting his glass and smiling at his wife +who happened to look at him at the moment. + +She did not return his smile but her eyes, which had flashed for a +second, assumed so withering an expression of dignity that he felt +crushed. + +The spell was broken, the last trace of his old love had vanished; he +was sitting opposite the mother of his children; he felt small. + +“No need to look down upon me because I have made a fool of myself for +a moment,” she said gravely. “But in a man’s love there is always a +good deal of contempt; it is strange.” + +“And in the love of a woman?” + +“Even more, it is true! But then, she has every cause.” + +“It’s the same thing--with a difference. Probably both of them are +wrong. That which one values too highly, because it is difficult of +attainment, is easily underrated when one has obtained it.” + +“Why does one value it too highly?” + +“Why is it so difficult of attainment?” + +The steam whistle above their heads interrupted their conversation. + +They landed. + +When they had arrived home, and he saw her again among her children, +he realised that his affection for her had undergone a change, and +that her affection for him had been transferred to and divided amongst +all these little screamers. Perhaps her love for him had only been a +means to an end. His part had been a short one, and he felt deposed. +If he had not been required to earn bread and butter, he would +probably have been cast off long ago. + +He went into his study, put on his dressing-gown and slippers, lighted +his pipe and felt at home. + +Outside the wind lashed the rain against the window panes, and whistled +in the chimney. + +When the children had been put to bed, his wife came and sat by him. + +“No weather to gather wild strawberries,” she said. + +“No, my dear, the summer is over and autumn is here.” + +“Yes, it is autumn,” she replied, “but it is not yet winter, there is +comfort in that.” + +“Very poor comfort if we consider that we live but once.” + +“Twice when one has children; three times if one lives to see one’s +grandchildren.” + +“And after that, the end.” + +“Unless there is a life after death.” + +“We cannot be sure of that! Who knows? I believe it, but my faith is +no proof.” + +“But it is good to believe it. Let us have faith! Let us believe that +spring will come again! Let us believe it!” + +“Yes, let us believe it,” he said, gathering her to his breast. + + + + +COMPULSORY MARRIAGE + + +His father died early and from that time forth he was in the hands of +a mother, two sisters and several aunts. He had no brother. They lived +on an estate in the Swedish province, Soedermanland, and had no +neighbours with whom they _could be_ on friendly terms. When he was +seven years old, a governess was engaged to teach him and his sisters, +and about the same time a girl cousin came to live with them. + +He shared his sisters’ bedroom, played their games and went bathing +with them; nobody looked upon him as a member of the other sex. Before +long his sisters took him in hand and became his schoolmasters and +tyrants. + +He was a strong boy to start with, but left to the mercy of so many +doting women, he gradually became a helpless molly-coddle. + +Once he made an attempt to emancipate himself and went to play with +the boys of the cottagers. They spent the day in the woods, climbed +the trees, robbed the birds’ nests and threw stones at the squirrels. +Frithiof was as happy as a released prisoner, and did not come home to +dinner. The boys gathered whortle-berries, and bathed in the lake. It +was the first really enjoyable day of his life. + +When he came home in the evening, he found the whole house in great +commotion. His mother though anxious and upset, did not conceal her +joy at his return; Aunt Agatha, however, a spinster, and his mother’s +eldest sister, who ruled the house, was furious. She maintained that +it would be a positive crime not to punish him. Frithiof could not +understand why it should be a crime, but his aunt told him that +disobedience was a sin. He protested that he had never been forbidden +to play with the children of the cottagers. She admitted it but said +that, of course, there could never have been two questions about it. +And she remained firm, and regardless of his mother’s pleading eyes, +took him away to give him a whipping in her own room. He was eight +years old and fairly big for his age. + +When the aunt touched his waist-belt to unbutton his knickers, a cold +shiver ran down his back; he gasped and his heart thumped against his +ribs. He made no sound, but stared, horror-struck, at the old woman +who asked him, almost caressingly, to be obedient and not to offer any +resistance. But when she laid hands on his shirt, he grew hot with +shame and fury. He sprang from the sofa on which she had pushed him, +hitting out right and left. Something unclean, something dark and +repulsive, seemed to emanate from this woman, and the shame of his sex +rose up in him as against an assailant. + +But the aunt, mad with passion, seized him, threw him on a chair and +beat him. He screamed with rage, pain he did not feel, and with +convulsive kicks tried to release himself; but all of a sudden he lay +still and was silent. + +When the old woman let him go, he remained where he was, motionless. + +“Get up!” she said, in a broken voice. + +He stood up and looked at her. One of her cheeks was pale, the other +crimson. Her eyes glowed strangely and she trembled all over. He looked +at her curiously, as one might examine a wild beast, and all of a +sudden a supercilious smile raised his upper lip; it seemed to him +as if his contempt gave him an advantage over her. “She-devil!” He +flung the word, newly acquired from the children of the cottagers, +into her face, defiantly and scornfully, seized his clothes and flew +downstairs to his mother, who was sitting in the dining-room, weeping. + +He wanted to open his heart to her and complain of his aunt’s treatment, +but she had not the courage to comfort him. So he went into the kitchen +where the maids consoled him with a handful of currants. + +From this day on he was no longer allowed to sleep in the nursery with +his sisters, but his mother had his bed removed to her own bedroom. He +found his mother’s room stuffy and the new arrangement dull; she +frequently disturbed his sleep by getting up and coming to his bed in +the night to see whether he was covered up; then he flew into a rage +and answered her questions peevishly. + +He was never allowed to go out without being carefully wrapped up by +someone, and he had so many mufflers that he never knew which one to +put on. Whenever he tried to steal out of the house, someone was sure +to see him from the window and call him back to put on an overcoat. + +By and by his sisters’ games began to bore him. His strong arms no +longer wanted to play battledore and shuttlecock, they longed to throw +stones. The squabbles over a petty game of croquet, which demanded +neither muscle nor brain, irritated him. + +The governess was another one of his trials. She always spoke to him +in French and he invariably answered her in Swedish. A vague disgust +with his whole life and surroundings began to stir in him. + +The free and easy manner in which everybody behaved in his presence +offended him, and he retaliated by heartily loathing all with whom he +came in contact. His mother was the only one who considered his feelings +to a certain extent: she had a big screen put round his bed. + +Ultimately the kitchen and the servants’ hall became his refuge; there +everything he did was approved of. Occasionally, of course, matters +were discussed there which might have aroused a boy’s curiosity, but +for him there were no secrets. On one occasion, for instance, he had +accidentally come to the maids’ bathing-place. The governess, who was +with him, screamed, he could not understand why, but he stopped and +talked to the girls who were standing or lying about in the water. +Their nudity made no impression upon him. + +He grew up into a youth. An inspector was engaged to teach him farming +for he was, of course, to take over the management of the estate in +due time. They chose an old man who held the orthodox faith. The old +man’s society was not exactly calculated to stimulate a young man’s +brain, but it was an improvement on the old conditions. It opened +new points of view to him and roused him to activity. But the +inspector received daily and hourly so many instructions from the +ladies, that he ended by being nothing but their mouth-piece. + +At the age of fifteen Frithiof was confirmed, received a present of a +gold watch and was allowed to go out on horseback; he was not +permitted, however, to realise his greatest ambition, namely to go +shooting. True, there was no longer any fear of a whipping from his +arch-enemy, but he dreaded his mother’s tears. He always remained a +child, and never managed to throw off the habit of giving way to the +judgment of other people. + +The years passed; he had attained his twentieth year. One day he was +standing in the kitchen watching the cook, who was busy scaling a +perch. She was a pretty young woman with a delicate complexion. He was +teasing her and finally put his hand down her back. + +“Do behave yourself, now, Mr. Frithiof,” said the girl. + +“But I am behaving myself,” he replied, becoming more and more +familiar. + +“If mistress should see you!” + +“Well supposing she did?” + +At this moment his mother passed the open kitchen door; she instantly +turned away and walked across the yard. + +Frithiof found the situation awkward and slunk away to his bed-room. + +A new gardener entered their service. In their wisdom, anxious to +avoid trouble with the maids, the ladies had chosen a married man. +But, as misfortune would have it, the gardener had been married long +enough to be the father of an exceedingly pretty young daughter. + +Frithiof quickly discovered the sweet blossom among the other roses in +the garden, and poured out all the good-will which lay stored up in +his heart for _that_ half of humanity to which he did not belong, on +this young girl, who was rather well developed and not without +education. + +He spent a good deal of his time in the garden and stopped to talk to +her whenever he found her working at one of the flower-beds or cutting +flowers. She did not respond to his advances, but this only had the +effect of stimulating his passion. + +One day he was riding through the wood, haunted, as usual, by visions +of her loveliness which, in his opinion, reached the very pinnacle of +perfection. He was sick with longing to meet her alone, freed from all +fear of incurring some watcher’s displeasure. In his heated +imagination the desire of being near her had assumed such enormous +proportions, that he felt that life without her would be impossible. + +He held the reins loosely in his hand, and the horse picked his way +leisurely while its rider sat on its back wrapped in deep thought. All +of a sudden something light appeared between the trees and the +gardener’s daughter emerged from the underwood and stepped out on the +footpath. + +Frithiof dismounted and took off his hat. They walked on, side by +side, talking, while he dragged his horse behind him. He spoke in +vague words of his love for her; but she rejected all his advances. + +“Why should we talk of the impossible?” she asked. + +“What is impossible?” he exclaimed. + +“That a wealthy gentleman like you should marry a poor girl like me.” + +There was no denying the aptitude of her remark, and Frithiof felt +that he was worsted. His love for her was boundless, but he could see +no possibility of bringing his doe safely through the pack which +guarded house and home; they would tear her to pieces. + +After this conversation he gave himself up to mute despair. + +In the autumn the gardener gave notice and left the estate without +giving a reason. For six weeks Frithiof was inconsolable, for he had +lost his first and only love; he would never love again. + +In this way the autumn slowly passed and winter stood before the door. +At Christmas a new officer of health came into the neighbourhood. He +had grown-up children, and as the aunts were always ill, friendly +relations were soon established between the two families. Among the +doctor’s children was a young girl and before long Frithiof was head +over ears in love with her. He was at first ashamed of his infidelity +to his first love, but he soon came to the conclusion that love was +something impersonal, because it was possible to change the object of +one’s tenderness; it was almost like a power of attorney made out on +the holder. + +As soon as his guardians got wind of this new attachment, the mother +asked her son for a private interview. + +“You have now arrived at that age,” she began, “when a man begins to +look out for a wife.” + +“I have already done that, my dear mother,” he replied. + +“I’m afraid you’ve been too hasty,” she said. “The girl of whom, I +suppose, you are thinking, doesn’t possess the moral principles which +an educated man should demand.” + +“What? Amy’s moral principles! Who has anything to say against them?” + +“I won’t say a word against the girl herself, but her father, as you +know, is a freethinker.” + +“I shall be proud to be related to a man who can think freely, without +considering his material interests.” + +“Well, let’s leave him out of the question; you are forgetting, my dear +Frithiof, that you are already bound elsewhere.” + +“What? Do you mean....” + +“Yes; you have played with Louisa’s heart.” + +“Are you talking of cousin Louisa?” + +“I am. Haven’t you looked upon yourselves as fiancés since your earliest +childhood? Don’t you realise that she has put all her faith and trust in +you?” + +“It’s you who have played with us, driven us together, not I!” answered +the son. + +“Think of your old mother, think of your sisters, Frithiof. Do you want +to bring a stranger into this house which has always been our home, a +stranger who will have the right to order us about?” + +“Oh! I see; Louisa is the chosen mistress!” + +“There’s no chosen mistress, but a mother always has a right to choose +the future wife of her son; nobody is so well fitted to undertake such +a task. Do you doubt my good faith? Can you possibly suspect me, your +mother, of a wish to injure you?” + +“No, no! but I--I don’t love Louisa; I like her as a sister, but....” + +“Love? Nothing in all the world is so inconstant as love! It’s folly +to rely on it, it passes away like a breath; but friendship, conformity +of views and habits, similar interests and a long acquaintanceship, +these are the surest guarantees of a happy marriage. Louisa is a capable +girl, domesticated and methodical, she will make your home as happy as +you could wish.” + +Frithiof’s only way of escape was to beg his mother for time to +consider the matter. + +Meanwhile all the ladies of the household had recovered their health, +so that the doctor was no longer required. Still he called one day, +but he was treated like a burglar who had come to spy out the land. He +was a sharp man and saw at once how matters stood. Frithiof returned +his call but was received coldly. This was the end of their friendly +relations. + +Frithiof came of age. + +Frantic attempts were now made to carry the fortress by storm. The +aunts cringed before the new master and tried to prove to him that +they could not be dispensed with, by treating him as if he were a +child. His sisters mothered him more than ever, and Louisa began to +devote a great deal of attention to her dress. She laced herself +tightly and curled her hair. She was by no means a plain girl, but she +had cold eyes and a sharp tongue. + +Frithiof remained indifferent; as far as he was concerned she was +sexless; he had never looked at her with the eyes of a man. But now, +after the conversation with his mother, he could not help a certain +feeling of embarrassment in her presence, especially as she seemed to +seek his society. He met her everywhere; on the stairs, in the garden, +in the stables even. One morning, when he was still in bed, she came +into his room to ask him for a pin; she was wearing a dressing-jacket +and pretended to be very shy. + +He took a dislike to her, but nevertheless she was always in his mind. + +In the meantime the mother had one conversation after another with her +son, and aunt and sisters never ceased hinting at the anticipated +wedding. + +Life was made a burden to him. He saw no way of escape from the net in +which he had been caught. Louisa was no longer his sister and friend, +though he did not like her any the better for it; his constant dwelling +on the thought of marrying her had had the result of making him realise +that she was a woman, an unsympathetic woman, it was true, but still a +woman. His marriage would mean a change in his position, and, perhaps, +delivery from bondage. There were no other girls in the neighbourhood, +and, after all, she was probably as good as any other young woman. + +And so he went one day to his mother and told her that he had made up +his mind. He would marry Louisa on condition that he should have an +establishment of his own in one of the wings of the house, and his own +table. He also insisted that his mother should propose for him, for he +could not bring himself to do it. + +The compromise was accepted and Louisa was called in to receive +Frithiof’s embrace and timid kiss. They both wept for reasons which +neither of them understood. They felt ashamed of themselves for the +rest of the day. Afterwards everything went on as before, but the +motherliness of aunts and sisters knew no bounds. They furnished the +wing, arranged the rooms, settled everything; Frithiof was never +consulted in the matter. + +The preparations for the wedding were completed. Old friends, buried +in the provinces, were hunted up and invited to be present at the +ceremony. + +The wedding took place. + +On the morning after his wedding day Frithiof was up early. He left +his bed-room as quickly as possible, pretending that his presence was +necessary in the fields. + +Louisa, who was still sleepy, made no objection. But as he was going +out she called after him: + +“You won’t forget breakfast at eleven!” + +It sounded like a command. + +He went to his den, put on a shooting coat and waterproof boots and +took his gun, which he kept concealed in his wardrobe. Then he went +out into the wood. + +It was a beautiful October morning. Everything was covered with hoar +frost. He walked quickly as if he were afraid of being called back, or +as if he were trying to escape from something. The fresh air had the +effect of a bath. He felt a free man, at last, and he used his freedom +to go out for a morning stroll with his gun. But this exhilarating +feeling of bodily freedom soon passed. Up to now he had at least had a +bedroom of his own. He had been master of his thoughts during the day +and his dreams at night. That was over. The thought of that common +bedroom tormented him; there was something unclean about it. Shame was +cast aside like a mask, all delicacy of feeling was dispensed with, +every illusion of the “high origin” of man destroyed; to come into +such close contact with nothing but the beast in man had been too much +for him, for he had been brought up by idealists. He was staggered by +the enormity of the hypocrisy displayed in the intercourse between men +and women; it was a revelation to him to find that the inmost substance +of that indescribable womanliness was nothing but the fear of +consequences. But supposing he had married the doctor’s daughter, +or the gardener’s little girl? Then to be alone with her would be +bliss, while to be alone with his wife was depressing and unlovely; +then the coarse desire to satisfy a curiosity and a want would be +transformed into an ecstasy more spiritual than carnal. + +He wandered through the wood without a purpose, without an idea of +what he wanted to shoot; be only felt a vague desire to hear a shot +and to kill something; but nothing came before his gun. The birds had +already migrated. Only a squirrel was climbing about the branches of a +pine-tree, staring at him with brilliant eyes. He raised the gun and +pulled the trigger; but the nimble little beast was already on the +other side of the trunk when the shot hit the tree. But the sound +impressed his nerves pleasantly. + +He left the footpath and went through the undergrowth. He stamped on +every fungus that grew on his way. He was in a destructive mood. He +looked for a snake so as to trample on it or kill it with a shot. + +Suddenly he remembered that he ought to go home and that it was the +morning after his wedding day. The mere thought of the curious glances +to which he would be exposed had the effect of making him feel like a +criminal, about to be unmasked and shown up for having committed a +crime against good manners and, what was worse, against nature. Oh! +that he could have left this world behind him! But how was he to do +that? + +His thoughts grew tired at last of revolving round and round the same +problem and he felt a craving for food. + +He decided to return home and have some breakfast. + +On entering the gate which led to the court yard, he saw the whole +house-party standing before the entrance hall. As soon as they caught +sight of him they began to cheer. He crossed the yard with uncertain +footsteps and listened with ill-concealed irritation to the sly +questions after his health. Then he turned away and went into the house, +never noticing his wife, who was standing amongst the group waiting for +him to go up to her and kiss her. + +At the breakfast table he suffered tortures; tortures which he knew +would be burnt into his memory for all times. The insinuations of his +guests offended him and his wife’s caresses stung him. His day of +rejoicing was the most miserable day of his life. + +In the course of a few months the young wife, with the assistance of +aunts and sisters, had established her over-rule in the house. Frithiof +remained, what he had always been, the youngest and dullest member of +the household. His advice was sometimes asked for, but never acted +upon; he was looked after as if he were still a child. His wife soon +found it unbearable to dine with him alone, for he kept an obstinate +silence during the meal. Louisa could not stand it; she must have a +lightning conductor; one of the sisters removed into the wing. + +Frithiof made more than one attempt to emancipate himself, but his +attempts were always frustrated by the enemy; they were too many for +him, and they talked and preached until he fled into the wood. + +The evenings held terror for him. He hated the bedroom, and went to it +as to a place of execution. He became morose and avoided everybody. + +They had been married for a year now, and still there was no promise +of a child; his mother took him aside one day to have a talk to him. + +“Wouldn’t you like to have a son?” she asked. + +“Of course, I would,” he replied. + +“You aren’t treating your wife very kindly,” said the mother as gently +as possible. + +He lost his temper. + +“What? What do you say? Are you finding fault with me? Do you want me +to toil all day long? H’m! You don’t know Louisa! But whose business +is it but mine? Bring your charge against me in such a way that I can +answer it!” + +But the mother was not disposed to do that. + +Lonely and miserable, he made friends with the inspector, a young man, +addicted to wine and cards. He sought his company and spent the evenings +in his room; he went to bed late, as late as possible. + +On coming home one night, he found his wife still awake and waiting +for him. + +“Where have you been?” she asked sharply. + +“That’s my business,” he replied. + +“To be married and have no husband is anything but pleasant,” she +rejoined. “If we had a child, at least!” + +“It isn’t my fault that we haven’t!” + +“It isn’t mine!” + +A quarrel arose as to whose fault it was, and the quarrel lasted for +two years. + +As both of them were too obstinate to take medical advice, the usual +thing happened. The husband cut a ridiculous figure, and the wife a +tragic one. He was told that a childless woman was sacred because, for +some reason or other, “God’s” curse rested on her. That “God” could +also stoop to curse a man was beyond the women’s comprehension. + +But Frithiof had no doubt that a curse rested on him for his life was +dreary and unhealthy. Nature has created two sexes, which are now +friends, now enemies. He had met the enemy, an overwhelming enemy. + +“What is a capon?” he was asked by one of his sisters one day. She was +busy with her needlework and asked the question à propos of nothing. + +He looked at her suspiciously. No, she did not know the meaning of the +word; she had probably listened to a conversation and her curiosity +was aroused. + +But the iron had entered his soul. He was being laughed at. He grew +suspicious. Everything he heard and saw he connected with that charge. +Beside himself with rage, he seduced one of the maids. + +His act had the desired result. In due time he was a father. + +Now Louisa was looked upon as a martyr and he as a blackguard. The +abuse left him indifferent, for he had vindicated his honour--if it +was an honour and not merely a lucky chance to be born without +defects. + +But the incident roused Louisa’s jealousy and--it was a strange +thing--awakened in her a sort of love for her husband. It was a love +which irritated him, for it showed itself in unremitting watchfulness +and nervous obtrusiveness; sometimes even in maternal tenderness and +solicitude which knew no bounds. She wanted to look after his gun, see +whether it was charged; she begged him on her knees to wear his overcoat +when he went out.... She kept his home with scrupulous care, tidied +and dusted all day long; every Saturday the rooms were turned inside +out, the carpets beaten and his clothes aired. He had no peace and +never knew when he would be turned out of his room so that it could +be scrubbed. + +There was not sufficient to do to occupy him during the day, for the +women looked after everything. He studied agriculture and attempted to +make improvements, but all his efforts were frustrated. He was not +master in his own house. + +Finally he lost heart. He had grown taciturn because he was always +contradicted. The want of congenial company and fellows-in-misfortune +gradually dulled his brain; his nerves went to pieces; he neglected +his appearance and took to drink. + +He was hardly ever at home now. Frequently he could be found, +intoxicated, at the public house or in the cottages of the farm +labourers. He drank with everybody and all day long. He stimulated his +brain with alcohol for the sake of the relief he found in talking. It +was difficult to decide whether he drank in order to be able to talk +to somebody who did not contradict him, or whether he drank merely in +order to get drunk. + +He sold privileges and farm produce to the cottagers to provide +himself with money, for the women held the cash. Finally he burgled +his own safe and stole the contents. + +There was an orthodox, church-going inspector on the premises now; the +previous one had been dismissed on account of his intemperate habits. +When at last, through the clergyman’s influence, the proprietor of the +inn lost his license Frithiof took to drinking with his own farm +labourers. Scandal followed on scandal. + +He developed into a heavy drinker who had epileptic fits whenever he +was deprived of alcohol. + +He was ultimately committed to an institution where he remained as an +incurable patient. + +At lucid intervals, when he was capable of surveying his life, his +heart was filled with compassion for all women who are compelled to +marry without love; his compassion was all the deeper because he had +suffered in his own flesh the curse which lies on every violation of +nature; and yet he was only a man. + +He saw the cause of his unhappiness in the family--the family as a +social institution, which does not permit the child to become an +independent individual at the proper time. + +He brought no charge against his wife, for was she not equally +unhappy, a victim of the same unfortunate conditions which are +honoured by the sacred name of Law? + + + + +CORINNA + + +Her father was a general, her mother died when she was still a baby. +After her mother’s death few ladies visited the house; the callers +were mostly men. And her father took her education into his own hands. + +She went out riding with him, was present at the manoeuvres, took an +interest in gymnastics and attended the musters of the reserves. + +Since her father occupied the highest rank in their circle of friends, +everybody treated him with an amount of respect which is rarely shown +to equals, and as she was the general’s daughter, she was treated in +the same way. She held the rank of a general and she knew it. + +There was always an orderly sitting in the hall who rose with much +clanking and clashing of steel and stood at attention whenever she +went in or out. At the balls none but the majors dared to ask her for +a dance; she looked upon a captain as a representative of an inferior +race, and a lieutenant as a naughty boy. + +She fell into the habit of appreciating people entirely according to +their rank. She called all civilians “fishes,” poorly-clad people +“rascals,” and the very poor “the mob.” + +The ladies, however, were altogether outside this scale. Her father, +who occupied a position above all men, and who was saluted respectfully +wherever he went, always stood up before a lady, regardless of her age, +kissed the hands of those he knew, and was at the beck and call of every +pretty woman. The result of this was that very early in life she became +very firmly convinced of the superiority of her own sex, and accustomed +herself to look upon a man as a lower being. + +Whenever she went out on horseback, a groom invariably rode behind +her. When she stopped to admire the landscape, he stopped too. He was +her shadow. But she had no idea what he looked like, or whether he was +young or old. If she had been asked about his sex, she would not have +known how to reply; it had never occurred to her that the shadow could +have a sex; when, in mounting, she placed her little riding-boot in +his hand, she remained quite indifferent, and even occasionally raised +her habit a little as if nobody were present. + +These inbred conceptions of the surpassing importance of rank +influenced her whole life. She found it impossible to make friends +with the daughters of a major or a captain, because their fathers were +her father’s social inferiors. Once a lieutenant asked her for a dance. +To punish him for his impudence, she refused to talk to him in the +intervals. But when she heard later on that her partner had been one +of the royal princes, she was inconsolable. She who knew every order +and title, and the rank of every officer, had failed to recognise a +prince! It was too terrible! + +She was beautiful, but pride gave her features a certain rigidity +which scared her admirers away. The thought of marriage had never +occurred to her. The young men were not fully qualified, and those to +whose social position there was no objection, were too old. If she, +the daughter of a general, had married a captain, then a major’s wife +would have taken precedence of her. Such a degradation would have +killed her. Moreover, she had no wish to be a man’s chattel, or an +ornament for his drawing-room. She was accustomed to command, +accustomed to be obeyed; she could obey no man. The freedom and +independence of a man’s life appealed to her; it had fostered in her a +loathing for all womanly occupations. + +Her sexual instinct awoke late. As she belonged to an old family which +on her father’s side, had squandered its strength in a soulless +militarism, drink and dissipation, and on her mother’s had suppressed +fertility to prevent the splitting up of property, Nature seemed to +have hesitated about her sex at the eleventh hour; or perhaps had +lacked strength to determine on the continuation of the race. Her +figure possessed none of those essentially feminine characteristics, +which Nature requires for her purposes, and she scorned to hide her +defects by artificial means. + +The few women friends she had, found her cold and indifferent towards +everything connected with the sex problem. She treated it with +contempt, considered the relationship between the sexes disgusting, +and could not understand how a woman could give herself to a man. In +her opinion Nature was unclean; to wear clean underlinen, starched +petticoats and stockings without holes was to be virtuous; poor was +merely another term for dirt and vice. + +Every summer she spent with her father on their estate in the country. + +She was no great lover of the country. Nature made her feel small; she +found the woods uncanny, the lake made her shudder, there was danger +hidden in the tall meadow-grass. She regarded the peasants as cunning +and rather filthy beasts. They had so many children, and she had no +doubt that both boys and girls were full of vice. Nevertheless they +were always invited to the manor house on Midsummer day and on the +general’s birthday, to play the part of the chorus of grand opera, +that is to say, to cheer and dance, and look like the figures in a +painting. + +It was springtime. Helena, on her thoroughbred mare, had penetrated +into the depths of the country. She felt tired and dismounted; she +fastened her mare to a birchtree which grew near an enclosure. Then +she strolled along by the side of a ditch and began to gather wild +orchids. The air was soft and balmy, steam was rising from the ground. +She could hear the frogs jumping into the ditch which was half-full of +water. + +All at once the mare neighed and, stretching her slender neck over the +fence, drew in the air with wide-open nostrils. + +“Alice!” she called out, “be quiet, old girl!” + +And she continued to gather the modest flowers which so cleverly hide +their secrets behind the prettiest and neatest curtains that for all +the world look like printed calico. + +But the mare neighed again. From behind the hazel bushes on the other +side of the enclosure came an answer, a second neighing, deeper and +fuller. The swampy ground of the enclosure shook, powerful hoofs +scattered the stones, to right and left and a black stallion appeared +at full gallop. The tense neck carried a magnificent head, the muscles +lay like ropes under the glossy skin. As he caught sight of the mare, +his eyes began to flash. He stopped and stretched out his neck as if +he were going to yawn, raised his upper lip and showed his teeth. Then +he galloped across the grass and approached the railings. + +Helena picked up her skirt and ran to her mare; she raised her hand to +seize the bridle, but the mare broke away and took the fence. Then the +wooing began. + +She stood at the fence and called, but the excited mare paid no heed. +Inside the enclosure the horses chased one another; the situation was +a critical one. The breath of the stallion came like smoke from his +nostrils and white foam flecked his shoulders. + +Helena longed to escape, for the scene filled her with horror. She had +never witnessed the raging of a natural instinct in a living body. +This uncontrolled outbreak terrified her. + +She wanted to run after her mare and drag her away by force, but she +was afraid of the savage stallion. She wanted to call for help, but +she was loath to attract other eyewitnesses. She turned her back to +the scene and decided to wait. + +The sound of horses’ hoofs came from the direction of the highroad; a +carriage appeared in sight. + +There was no escape; although she was ashamed to stay where she was, +it was too late now to run away, for the horses were slowing down and +the carriage stopped a few yards in front of her. + +“How beautiful!” exclaimed one of the occupants of the carriage, a +lady, and raised her golden lorgnette so as to get a better view of +the spectacle. + +“But why are we stopping?” retorted the other, irritably. “Drive on!” + +“Don’t you think it beautiful?” asked the elder lady. + +The coachman’s smile was lost in his great beard, as he urged the +horses on. + +“You are such a prude, my dear Milly,” said the first voice. “To me +this kind of thing is like a thunderstorm, or a heavy sea....” + +Helena could hear no more. She felt crushed with vexation, shame and +horror. + +A farm labourer came shuffling along the highroad. Helena ran to meet +him, so as to prevent him from witnessing the scene, and at the same +time ask his help. But he was already too near. + +“I believe it’s the miller’s black stallion,” he said gravely. “In +that case it will be better to wait until it’s all over, for he won’t +brook interference. If the lady will leave it to me, I will bring her +mare home later on.” + +Glad to have done with the matter, Helena hurried away. + +When she arrived home, she was ill. + +She refused to ride her mare again, for in her eyes the beast had +become unclean. + +This pretty adventure had a greater influence on Helena’s psychic +development than might have been expected. The brutal outbreak of a +natural instinct, the undisguised exhibition of which in the community +of men is punished with a term of imprisonment, haunted her as if she +had been present at an execution. It distressed her during the day and +disturbed her dreams at night. It increased her fear of nature and +made her give up her former amazon’s life. She remained at home and +gave herself up to study. + +The house boasted a library. But as misfortune would have it, no +additions had been made since her grandfather’s death. All books were +therefore a generation too old, and Helena found antiquated ideals. +The first book which fell into her hands was Madame de Staël’s _Corinna_ +The way in which the volume lay on the shelf indicated that it had +served a special purpose. Bound in green and gold, a little shabby at +the edges, full of marginal notes and underlined passages, the work of +her late mother, it became a bridge, as it were, between mother and +daughter, which enabled the now grown-up daughter to make the +acquaintance of the dead mother. These pencil notes were the story +of a soul. Displeasure with the prose of life and the brutality of +nature, had inflamed the writer’s imagination and inspired it to +construct a dreamworld in which the souls dwelled, disincarnate. It +was essentially an aristocratic world, this dreamworld, for it +required financial independence from its denizens, so that the soul +might be fed with thoughts. This brain-fever, called romance, was +therefore the gospel of the wealthy, and became absurd and pitiful as +soon as it penetrated to the lower classes. + +Corinna became Helena’s ideal: the divinely inspired poetess who like +the nun of the middle-ages, had vowed a vow of chastity, so that she +might lead a life of purity, who was, of course, admired by a brilliant +throng, rose to immeasurable heights above the heads of the petty +every-day mortals. It was the old ideal all over again, transposed: +salutes, standing at attention, rolling of drums, the first place +everywhere. Helena was quite ignorant of the fact that Madame de Staël +outlived the Corinna ideal, and did not become a real influence until +she came out of her dreamworld into the world of facts. + +She ceased to take an interest in everyday affairs, she communed with +herself and brooded over her ego. The inheritance which her mother had +left her in posthumous notes began to germinate. She identified herself +with both Corinna and her mother, and spent much time in meditating on +her mission in life. That nature had intended her to become a mother +and do her share in the propagation of the human race, she refused to +admit her mission was to explain to humanity what Madame de Staël’s +Corinna had thought fifty years ago; but she imagined the thoughts were +her own, striving to find expression. + +She began to write. One day she attempted verse. She succeeded. The +lines were of equal length and the last words rhymed. A great light +dawned on her: she was a poetess. One thing more remained: she wanted +ideas; well she could take them from _Corinna_. + +In this way quite a number of poems originated. + +But they had also to be bestowed on the world, and this could not be +done unless they were printed. One day she sent a poem entitled +_Sappho_ and signed _Corinna_ to the _Illustrated Newspaper_. With a +beating heart she went out to post the letter herself, and as it +dropped into the pillarbox, she prayed softly to “God.” + +A trying fortnight ensued. She ate nothing, hardly closed her eyes, +and spent her days in solitude. + +When Saturday came and the paper was delivered, she trembled as if she +were fever-stricken, and when she found that her verses were neither +printed nor mentioned in “Letters to Correspondents,” she almost broke +down. + +On the following Saturday, when she could count on an answer with some +certainty, she slipped the paper into her pocket without unfolding it, +and went into the woods. When she had arrived at a secluded spot and +made sure that no one was watching her, she unfolded the paper and +hastily glanced at the contents. One poem only was printed, entitled +_Bellman’s-day_. She turned to “Letters to Correspondents.” Her first +glance at the small print made her start violently. Her fingers +clutched the paper, rolled it into a ball and flung it into the +underwood. Then she stared, fascinated, at the ball of white, +glimmering through the green undergrowth. For the first time in her +life she had received an insult. She was completely unnerved. This +unknown journalist had dared what nobody had dared before: he had been +rude to her. She had come out from behind her trenches into the arena +where high birth counts for nothing, but where victory belongs to that +wonderful natural endowment which we call talent, and before which all +powers bow when it can no longer be denied. But the unknown had also +offended the woman in her, for he had said: + +“The Corinna of 1807 would have cooked dinners and rocked cradles if +she had lived after 1870. But you are no Corinna.” + +For the first time she had heard the voice of the enemy, the +arch-enemy, man. Cook dinners and rock cradles! They should see! + +She went home. She felt so crushed that her muscles hardly obeyed her +relaxed nerves. + +When she had gone a little way, she suddenly turned round and retraced +her footsteps. Supposing anybody found that paper! It would give her +away. + +She returned to the spot, and breaking off a hazel switch, dragged the +paper out from where it lay and carefully smoothed it. Then she raised +a piece of turf, hid the paper underneath and rolled a stone on the +top. It was a hope that lay buried there, and also a proof--of what? +That she had committed a crime? She felt that she had. She had done a +wrong, she had shown herself naked before the other sex. + +From this day on a struggle went on in her heart. Ambition and fear of +publicity strove within her, and she was unable to come to a decision. + +In the following autumn her father died. As he had been addicted to +gambling, and more often lost than won, he left debts behind him. But +in smart society these things are of no account. There was no +necessity for Helena to earn her living in a shop, for a hitherto +unknown aunt came forward and offered her a home. + +But her father’s death wrought a complete change in her position. No +more salutes; the officers of the regiment nodded to her in a friendly +fashion, the lieutenants asked her to dance. She saw plainly that the +respect shown to her had not been shown to her personally, but merely +to her rank. She felt degraded and a lively sympathy for all subalterns +was born in her; she even felt a sort of hatred for all those who +enjoyed her former privileges. Side by side with this feeling grew up +a yearning for personal appreciation, a desire to win a position +surpassing all others, although it might not figure in the Army list. + +She longed to distinguish herself, to win fame, and, (why not?) to +rule. She possessed one talent which she had cultivated to some +extent, although she had never risen above the average; she played the +piano. She began to study harmony and talked of the sonata in G minor +and the symphony in F major as if she had written them herself. And +forthwith she began to patronise musicians. + +Six months after her father’s death, the post of a lady-in-waiting was +offered to her. She accepted it. The rolling of drums and military +salutes recommenced, and Helena gradually lost her sympathy with +subalterns. But the mind is as inconstant as fortune, and fresh +experiences again brought about a change of her views. + +She discovered one day, and the day was not long in coming, that she +was nothing but a servant. She was sitting in the Park with the +Duchess. The Duchess was crocheting. + +“I consider those blue stockings perfectly idiotic,” said the Duchess. + +Helena turned pale; she stared at her mistress. + +“I don’t,” she replied. + +“I didn’t ask your opinion,” replied the Duchess, letting her ball of +wool roll into the dust. + +Helena’s knees trembled; her future, her position passed away before +her eyes like a flash of lightning. She went to pick up the wool. It +seemed to her that her back was breaking as she stooped, and her +cheeks flamed when the Duchess took the ball without a word of thanks. + +“You are not angry?” asked the Duchess, staring impertinently at her +victim. + +“Oh, no, Your Royal Highness,” was Helena’s untruthful reply. + +“They say that you are a blue-stocking yourself,” continued the +Duchess. “Is it true?” + +Helena had a feeling as if she were standing nude before her tormentor +and made no reply. + +For the second time the ball rolled into the dust. Helena pretended +not to notice it, and bit her lips to hold back the angry tears which +were welling up in her eyes. “Pick up my wool, please,” said the +Duchess. + +Helena drew herself up, looked the autocrat full in the face and said: + +“I won’t.” + +And with these words she turned and fled. The sand gritted under her +feet, and little clouds of dust followed in the wake of her train. She +almost ran down the stone steps and disappeared. + +Her career at court was ended; but a sting remained. Helena was made +to feel what it means to be in disgrace, and above all things what it +means to throw up one’s post. Society does not approve of changes and +nobody would believe that she had voluntarily renounced the sunshine +of the court. No doubt she had been sent away. Yes, it must be so, she +had been sent away. Never before had she felt so humiliated, so +insulted. It seemed to her that she had lost caste; her relations +treated her with coldness, as if they were afraid that her disgrace +might be infectious; her former friends gave her the cold shoulder +when they met her, and limited their conversation to a minimum. + +On the other hand, as she stooped from her former height, the +middle-classes received her with open arms. It was true, at first +their friendliness offended her more than the coldness of her own +class, but in the end she preferred being first down below to being +last up above. She joined a group of Government officials and +professors who hailed her with acclamations. Animated by the +superstitious awe with which the middle classes regard everybody +connected with the court, they at once began to pay her homage. She +became their chosen leader and hastened to form a regiment. A number +of young professors enlisted at once and she arranged lectures for +women. Old academic rubbish was brought out from the lumber-room, +dusted and sold for new wares. In a dining-room, denuded of its +furniture, lectures on Plato and Aristotle were given to an audience +which unfortunately held no key to this shrine of wisdom. + +Helena, in conquering these pseudo-mysteries felt the intellectual +superior of the ignorant aristocracy. This feeling gave her an +assurance which impressed people. The men worshipped her beauty and +aloofness; but she never felt in the least moved in their company. She +accepted their homage as a tribute due to women and found it +impossible to respect these lackeys who jumped up and stood at +attention whenever she passed. + +But in the long run her position as an unmarried woman failed to +satisfy her, and she noted with envious eyes the freedom enjoyed by +her married sisters. They were at liberty to go wherever they liked, +talk to whom they liked, and always had a footman in their husband to +meet them and accompany them on their way home. In addition, married +women had a better social position, and a great deal more influence. +With what condescension for instance, they treated the spinsters! But +whenever she thought of getting married, the incident with her mare +flashed into her mind and terror made her ill. + +In the second year the wife of a professor from Upsala, who combined +with her official position great personal charm, appeared on the +scene. Helena’s star paled; all her worshippers left her to worship +the new sun. As she no longer possessed her former social position, +and the savour of the court had vanished like the scent on a +handkerchief, she was beaten in the fight. One single vassal remained +faithful to her, a lecturer on ethics, who had hitherto not dared to +push himself forward. His attentions were well received, for the +severity of his ethics filled her with unlimited confidence. He wooed +her so assiduously that people began to gossip; Helena, however, took +no notice, she was above that. + +One evening, after a lecture on “The Ethical Moment in Conjugal Love” + or “Marriage as a Manifestation of Absolute Identity,” for which the +lecturer received nothing but his expenses and a grateful pressure of +hands, they were sitting in the denuded dining-room on their +uncomfortable cane chairs, discussing the subject. + +“You mean to say then,” said Helena, “that marriage is a relationship +of co-existence between two identical Egos?” + +“I mean what I said already in my lecture, that only if there exists +such a relationship between two congruous identities, _being_ can +conflow into _becoming_ of higher potentiality.” + +“What do you mean by _becoming?_” asked Helena, blushing. + +“The post-existence of two egos in a new ego.” + +“What? You mean that the continuity of the ego, which through the +cohabitation of two analogous beings will necessarily incorporate +itself into a becoming....” + +“No, my dear lady, I only meant to say that marriage, in profane +parlance, can only produce a new spiritual ego, which cannot be +differentiated as to sex, when there is compatibility of souls. I mean +to say that the new being born under those conditions will be a +conglomerate of male and female; a new creature to whom both will have +yielded their personality, a unity in multiplicity, to use a +well-known term, an _‘hommefemme.’_ The man will cease to be man, the +woman will cease to be woman.” + +“That is the union of souls!” exclaimed Helena, glad to have +successfullly navigated the dangerous cliffs. + +“It is the harmony of souls of which Plato speaks. It is true marriage +as I have sometimes visualised it in my dreams, but which, +unfortunately, I shall hardly be able to realise in actuality.” + +Helena stared at the ceiling and whispered: + +“Why shouldn’t you, one of the elect, realise this dream?” + +“Because she to whom my soul is drawn with irresistible longing does +not believe in--h’m--love.” + +“You cannot be sure of that.” + +“Even if she did, she would always be tormented by the suspicion that +the feeling was not sincere. Moreover, there is no woman in the world +who would fall in love with me, no, not one.” + +“Yes, there is,” said Helena, gazing into his glass eye. (He had a +glass eye, but it was so well made, it was impossible to detect it.) + +“Are you sure?” + +“Quite sure,” replied Helena. “For you are different to other men. You +realise what spiritual love means, the love of the souls!” + +“Even if the woman did exist, I could never marry her.” + +“Why not?” + +“Share a room with her!” + +“That needn’t be the case. Madame de Staël merely lived in the same +house as her husband.” + +“Did she?” + +“What interesting topic are you two discussing?” asked the professor’s +wife, coming out of the drawing-room. + +“We were talking of _Laocoon_,” answered Helena, rising, from her +chair. She was offended by the note of condescension in the lady’s +voice. And she made up her mind. + +A week later her engagement to the lecturer was publicly announced. +They decided to be married in the autumn and take up their abode at +Upsala. + +A brilliant banquet, in celebration of the close of his bachelor life, +was given to the lecturer on ethics. A great deal of wine had been +consumed and the only artist the town boasted, the professor of +drawing at the Cathedral School, had depicted in bold outlines the +victim’s career up to date. It was the great feature of the whole +entertainment. Ethics was a subject of teaching and a milch cow, like +many others, and need not necessarily influence either the life of the +community, or the life of the individual. The lecturer had not been a +saint, but had had his adventures like everybody else; these were +public property, for he had had no reason to keep them dark. With a +careless smile he watched his career, pictured in chalk and colours, +accompanied by witty verses, unfolding itself before his eyes, but +when at last his approaching bliss was portrayed in simple but +powerful sketches, he became deeply embarrassed, and the thought “If +Helena were to see that!” flashed like lightning through his brain. + +After the banquet, at which according to an old, time-honoured custom, +he had drunk eight glasses of brandy, he was so intoxicated that he +could no longer suppress his fears and apprehensions. Among his hosts +was a married man and to him the victim turned for counsel and advice. +Since neither of them was sober, they chose, as the most secluded spot +in the whole room, two chairs right in the centre, immediately under +the chandelier. Consequently they were soon surrounded by an eagerly +listening crowd. + +“Look here! You are a married man,” said the lecturer at the top of +his voice, so as not to be heard by the assembly, as he fondly +imagined. “You must give me a word of advice, just one, only one +little word of advice, for I am extremely sensitive to-night, +especially in regard to this particular point.” + +“I will, brother,” shouted his friend, “just one word, as you say,” + and he put his arm round his shoulders that he might whisper to him; +then he continued, screaming loudly: “Every act consists of three +parts, my brother: _Progresses, culmen, regressus_. I will speak to +you of the first, the second is never mentioned. Well, the initiative, +so to speak, that is the man’s privilege--your part! You must take the +initiative, you must attack, do you understand?” + +“But supposing the other party does not approve of the initiative?” + +The friend stared at the novice, taken aback; then he rose and +contemptuously turned his back on him. + +“Fool!” he muttered. + +“Thank you!” was all the grateful pupil could reply. + +Now he understood. + +On the following day he was on fire with all the strong drink he had +consumed; he went and took a hot bath, for on the third day was to be +his wedding. + +The wedding guests had departed; the servant had cleared the table; +they were alone. + +Helena was comparatively calm, but he felt exceedingly nervous. The +period of their engagement had been enhanced by conversations on +serious subjects. They had never behaved liked ordinary, every-day +fiancés, had never embraced or kissed. Whenever he had attempted the +smallest familiarity, her cold looks had chilled his ardour. But he +loved her as a man loves a woman, with body and soul. + +They fidgeted about the drawing-room and tried to make conversation. +But an obstinate silence again and again reasserted itself. The +candles in the chandelier had burnt low and the wax fell in greasy +drops on the carpet. The atmosphere was heavy with the smell of food +and the fumes of the wines which mingled with the voluptuous perfume +of carnations and heliotrope, exhaled by Helena’s bridal bouquet that +lay on a side-table. + +At last he went up to her, held out his arms, and said in a voice +which he hoped sounded natural: + +“And now you are my wife!” + +“What do you mean?” was Helena’s brusque reply. + +Completely taken aback, he allowed his arms to drop to his sides. But +he pulled himself together again, almost immediately, and said with a +self-conscious smile: + +“I mean to say that we are husband and wife.” + +Helena looked at him as if she thought that he had taken leave of his +senses. + +“Explain your words!” she said. + +That was just what he couldn’t do. Philosophy and ethics failed him; +he was faced by a cold and exceedingly unpleasant reality. + +“It’s modesty,” he thought. “She’s quite right, but I must attack and +do my duty.” + +“Have you misunderstood me?” asked Helena and her voice trembled. + +“No, of course not, but, my dear child, h’m--we--h’m....” + +“What language is that? Dear child? What do you take me for? What do +you mean? Albert, Albert!”--she rushed on without waiting for a reply, +which she didn’t want--“Be great, be noble, and learn to see in women +something more than sex. Do that, and you will be happy and great!” + +Albert was beaten. Crushed with shame and furious with his false +friend who had counselled him wrongly, he threw himself on his knees +before her and stammered: + +“Forgive me, Helena, you are nobler, purer, better than I; you are +made of finer fibre and you will lift me up when I threaten to perish +in coarse matter.” + +“Arise and be strong, Albert,” said Helena, with the manner of a +prophetess. “Go in peace and show to the world that love and base +animal passion are two very different things. Good-night!” + +Albert rose from his knees and stared irresolutely after his wife who +went into her room and shut the door behind her. + +Full of the noblest and purest sentiments he also went into his room. +He took off his coat and lighted a cigar. His room was furnished like +a bachelor’s room: a bed-sofa, a writing table, some book shelves, a +washstand. + +When he had undressed, he dipped a towel into his ewer and rubbed +himself all over. Then he lay down on his sofa and opened the evening +paper. He wanted to read while he smoked his cigar. He read an article +on Protection. His thoughts began to flow in a more normal channel, +and he considered his position. + +Was he married or was he still a bachelor? He was a bachelor as +before, but there was a difference--he now had a female boarder who +paid nothing for her board. The thought was anything but pleasant, but +it was the truth. The cook kept house, the housemaid attended to the +rooms. Where did Helena come in? She was to develop her individuality! +Oh, rubbish! he thought, I am a fool! Supposing his friend had been +right? Supposing women always behaved in this silly way under these +circumstances? She could not very well come to him--he must go to her. +If he didn’t go, she would probably laugh at him to-morrow, or, worse +still, be offended. Women were indeed incomprehensible. He must make +the attempt. + +He jumped up, put on his dressing-gown and went into the drawing-room. +With trembling knees he listened outside Helena’s door. + +Not a sound. He took heart of grace, and approached a step or two. +Blue flashes of lightning darted before his eyes as he knocked. + +No answer. He trembled violently and beads of perspiration stood on +his forehead. + +He knocked again. And in a falsetto voice, proceeding from a parched +throat, he said: + +“It’s only I.” + +No answer. Overwhelmed with shame, he returned to his room, puzzled +and chilled. + +She was in earnest, then. + +He crept between the sheets and again took up the paper. + +He hadn’t been reading long when he heard footsteps in the street which +gradually approached and then stopped. Soft music fell on his ear, deep, +strong voices set in: + +“Integer vitae sclerisque purus....” + +He was touched. How beautiful it was! + +Purus! He felt lifted above matter. It was in accordance with the spirit +of the age then, this higher conception of marriage. The current of +ethics which penetrated the epoch was flowing through the youth of the +country.... + +“_Nec venenatis...._” + +Supposing Helena had opened her door! + +He gently beat time and felt himself as great and noble as Helena +desired him to be. + +_“Fusce pharetra!”_ + +Should he open the window and thank the undergraduates in the name of +his wife? + +He got out of bed. + +A fourfold peal of laughter crashed against the windowpanes at the very +moment he lifted his hand to draw up the blind. + +There could be no doubt, they were making fun of him! + +Beside himself with anger he staggered back from the window and +knocked against the writing-table. He was a laughing-stock. A faint +hatred against the woman whom he had to thank for this humiliating +scene, began to stir within him, but his love acquitted her. He was +incensed against the jesters down below, and swore to bring them +before the authorities. + +But again and again he reverted to his unpleasant position, furious +that he had allowed himself to be led by the nose. He paced his room +until dawn broke in the East. Then he threw himself on his bed and +fell asleep, in bitter grief over the dismal ending of his +wedding-day, which ought to have been the happiest day of his life. + +On the following morning he met Helena at the breakfast table. She was +cold and self-possessed as usual. Albert, of course, did not mention +the serenade. Helena made great plans for the future and talked +volumes about the abolition of prostitution. Albert met her half-way +and promised to do all in his power to assist her. Humanity must +become chaste, for only the beasts were unchaste. + +Breakfast over, he went to his lecture. The serenade had roused his +suspicions, and as he watched his audience, he fancied that they were +making signs to each other; his colleagues, too, seemed to congratulate +him in a way which offended him. + +A big, stout colleague, who radiated vigour and _joie de vivre_, stopped +him in the corridor which led to the library, seized him by the collar +and said with a colossal grin on his broad face. + +“Well?” + +“You ought to be ashamed of yourself,” was the indignant reply with +which he tore himself away and rushed down stairs. + +When he arrived home, his flat was crowded with his wife’s friends. +Women’s skirts brushed against his legs, and when he sat down in an +armchair, he seemed to sink out of sight into piles and piles of +women’s clothes. + +“I’ve heard rumours of a serenade last night,” said the professor’s +wife. + +Albert grew pale, but Helena took up the gauntlet. + +“It was well meant, but they really might have been sober. This +excessive drinking among students is terrible.” + +“What did they sing?” asked the professor’s wife. + +“Oh! the usual songs: ‘My life a sea,’ and so on,” replied Helena. + +Albert stared at her in amazement, but he couldn’t help admiring her. + +The day went with gossip and discussions. Albert felt tired. Been +joyed spending a few hours, after the daily toil was over, in +pleasant conversation with women, but this was really too much. And +moreover, he had to agree to everything they said, for whenever he +attempted to express a contradictory opinion, they were down on him in +a minute. + +Night fell; it was bedtime. Husband and wife wished one another good +night and retired to their separate rooms. + +Again he was attacked by doubt and restlessness. He fancied that he +had seen a tender look on Helena’s face, and he wasn’t quite sure +whether she hadn’t squeezed his hand. He lit a cigar and unfolded his +paper. As soon as he began to read of every-day matters, he seemed to +see clearly. + +“It’s sheer madness,” he said aloud, throwing the paper aside. + +He slipped on his dressing-gown and went into the drawing-room. + +Somebody was moving in Helena’s room. + +He knocked. + +“Is that you, Louise?” asked a voice from inside. + +“No, it’s only I,” he whispered, hardly able to speak. + +“What’s the matter? What do you want?” + +“I want to speak to you, Helena,” he answered, hardly knowing what he +was saying. + +The key turned in the lock. Albert could hardly trust his ears. The +door flew open. Helena stood on the threshold, still fully dressed. + +“What is it you want?” she asked. Then she noticed that he was in his +dressing-gown and that his eyes shone strangely. + +She stretched out her hand, pushed him away and slammed the door. + +He heard a thud on the floor and almost simultaneously loud sobs. + +Furious, but abashed, he returned to his room. She was in earnest, +then! But this was certainly anything but normal. + +He lay awake all night, brooding, and on the following morning he +breakfasted alone. + +When he came home for lunch, Helena received him with an expression of +pained resignation. + +“Why do you treat me like that?” she asked. + +He apologised, with as few words as possible. Then he repented his +curtness and climbed down. + +Thus matters stood for six months. He was tossed between doubt, rage +and love, but his chain held. + +His face grew pale and his eyes lost their lustre. His temper had +become uncertain; a sullen fury smouldered beneath his outward calm. + +Helena found him changed, despotic, because he was beginning to oppose +her, and often left the meetings to seek amusement elsewhere. + +One day he was asked to become a candidate for a professorial chair. +He refused, believing that he had no chance, but Helena gave him no +peace until he complied with the conditions. He was elected. He never +knew the reason why, but Helena did. + +A short time after there was a by-election. + +The new professor, who had never dreamed of taking an active interest +in public affairs, was nonplussed when he found himself nominated. His +surprise was even greater when he was elected. He intended to decline, +but Helena’s entreaties and her argument that life in a big city was +preferable to an existence in a small provincial town induced him to +accept the mandate. + +They removed to Stockholm. + +During these six months the newly-made professor and member of +Parliament had made himself acquainted with the new ideas which came +from England and purposed to recreate society and the old standards of +morality. At the same time he felt that the moment was not far off +when he would have to break with his “boarder.” He recovered his +strength and vigour in Stockholm, where fearless thinkers encouraged +him to profess openly the views which he had long held in secret. + +Helena, on the other hand, scented a favourable opportunity in the +counter-current and threw herself into the arms of the Church Party. +This was too much for Albert and he rebelled. His love had grown cold; +he found compensation elsewhere. He didn’t consider himself unfaithful +to his wife for she had never claimed constancy in a relationship +which didn’t exist. + +His friendly intercourse with the other sex aroused his manliness and +made him realise his degradation. + +His growing estrangement did not escape Helena. Their home-life became +unpleasant and every moment threatened to bring a catastrophe. + +The opening of Parliament was imminent. Helena became restless and +seemed to have changed her tactics. Her voice was more gentle and she +appeared anxious to please him. She looked after the servants and saw +that the meals were served punctually. + +He grew suspicious and wondered, watched her movements and prepared +for coming events. + +One morning, at breakfast, Helena looked embarrassed and self-conscious. +She played with her dinner napkin and cleared her throat several times. +Then she took her courage in both her hands and made a plunge. + +“Albert,” she began, “I can count on you, can’t I? You will serve the +Cause to which I have devoted my life?” + +“What cause is that?” he asked curtly, for now he had the upper hand. + +“You will do something for the oppressed women, won’t you?” + +“Where are the oppressed women?” + +“What? Have you deserted our great cause? Are you leaving us in the +lurch?” + +“What cause are you talking about?” + +“The Women’s Cause!” + +“I know nothing about it.” + +“You know nothing about it? Oh, come! You must admit that the position +of the women of the lower classes is deplorable.” + +“No, I can’t see that their position is any worse than the position of +the men. Deliver the men from their exploiters and the women too will +be free.” + +“But the unfortunates who have to sell themselves, and the scoundrels +who--” + +“The scoundrels who pay! Has ever a man taken payment for a pleasure +which both enjoy?” + +“That is not the question! The question is whether it is just that the +law of the land should punish the one and let the other go scotfree.” + +“There is no injustice in that. The one has degraded herself until she +has become a source of infection, and therefore the State treats her +as it treats a mad dog. Whenever you find a man, degraded to that +degree, well, put him under police control, too. Oh, you pure angels, +who despise men and look upon them as unclean beasts!...” + +“Well, what is it? What do you want me to do?” + +He noticed that she had taken a manuscript from the sideboard and held +it in her hand. Without waiting for a reply, he took it from her and +began to examine it. “A bill to be introduced into Parliament! I’m to +be the man of straw who introduces it! Is that moral? Strictly speaking, +is it honest?” + +Helena rose from her chair, threw herself on the sofa and burst into +tears. + +He, too, rose and went to her. He took her hand in his and felt her +pulse, afraid lest her attack might be serious. She seized his hand +convulsively, and pressed it against her bosom. + +“Don’t leave me,” she sobbed, “don’t go. Stay, and let me keep faith +in you.” + +For the first time in his life he saw her giving way to her emotions. +This delicate body, which he had loved and admired so much, could be +warmed into life! Red, warm blood flowed in those blue veins. Blood +which could distil tears. He gently stroked her brow. + +“Oh!” she sighed, “why aren’t you always good to me like that? Why +hasn’t it always been so?” + +“Well,” he answered, “why hasn’t it? Tell me, why not?” + +Helena’s eyelids drooped. “Why not?” she breathed, softly. + +She did not withdraw her hand and he felt a gentle warmth radiating +from her velvety skin; his love for her burst into fresh flames, but +this time he felt that there was hope. + +At last she rose to her feet. + +“Don’t despise me,” she said, “don’t despise me, dear.” + +And she went into her room. + +What was the matter with her? Albert wondered as he went up to town. +Was she passing through a crisis of some sort? Was she only just +beginning to realise that she was his wife? + +He spent the whole day in town. In the evening he went to the theatre. +They played _Le monde où l’on s’ennuit_. As he sat and watched platonic +love, the union of souls, unmasked and ridiculed, he felt as if a veil +of close meshed lies were being drawn from his reason; he smiled as he +saw the head of the charming beast peeping from underneath the card-board +wings of the stage-angel; he almost shed tears of amusement at his long, +long self-deception; he laughed at his folly. What filth and corruption +lay behind this hypocritical morality, this insane desire for +emancipation from healthy, natural instincts. It was the ascetic +teaching of idealism and Christianity which had implanted this germ +into the nineteenth century. + +He felt ashamed! How could he have allowed himself to be duped all this +time! + +There was still light in Helena’s room as he passed her door on tip-toe +so as not to wake her. He heard her cough. + +He went straight to bed, smoked his cigar and read his paper. He was +absorbed in an article on conscription, when all of a sudden Helena’s +door was flung open, and footsteps and screams from the drawing-room +fell on his ears. He jumped up and rushed out of his room, believing +that the house was on fire. + +Helena was standing in the drawing-room in her nightgown. + +She screamed when she saw her husband and ran to her room; on the +threshold she hesitated and turned her head. + +“Forgive me, Albert,” she stammered, “it’s you. I didn’t know that you +were still up. I thought there were burglars in the house. Please, +forgive me.” + +And she closed her door. + +What did it all mean? Was she in love with him? + +He went into his room and stood before the looking-glass. Could any +woman fall in love with him? He was plain. But one loves with one’s +soul and many a plain man had married a beautiful woman. It was true, +though, that in such cases the man had nearly always possessed wealth +and influence.--Was Helena realising that she had placed herself in a +false position? Or had she become aware of his intention to leave her +and was anxious to win him back? + +When they met at the breakfast table on the following morning, Helena +was unusually gentle, and the professor noticed that she was wearing a +new morning-gown trimmed with lace, which suited her admirably. + +As he was helping himself to sugar, his hand accidentally touched hers. + +“I beg your pardon, dear,” she said with an expression on her face which + he had never seen before. She looked like a young girl. + +They talked about indifferent things. + +On the same day Parliament opened. + +Helena’s yielding mood lasted and she grew more and more affectionate. + +The period allowed for the introduction of new bills drew to a close. + +One evening the professor came home from his club in an unusually gay +frame of mind. He went to bed with his paper and his cigar. After a +while he heard Helena’s door creak. Silence, lasting for a few minutes, +followed. Then there came a knock at his door. + +“Who is there?” he shouted. + +“It’s I, Albert, do dress and come into the drawing-room, I want to +speak to you.” + +He dressed and went into the drawing-room. + +Helena had lighted the chandelier and was sitting on the sofa, dressed +in her lace morning-gown. + +“Do forgive me,” she said, “but I can’t sleep. My head feels so +strange. Come here and talk to me.” + +“You are all unstrung, little girl,” said Albert, taking her hand in +his own. “You ought to take some wine.” + +He went into the dining-room and returned with a decanter and two +glasses. + +“Your health, darling,” he said. + +Helena drank and her cheeks caught fire. + +“What’s wrong?” he asked, putting his arm round her waist. + +“I’m not happy,” she replied. + +He was conscious that the words sounded dry and artificial, but his +passion was roused and he didn’t care. + +“Do you know why you are unhappy?” he asked. + +“No. I only know one thing, and that is that I love you.” + +Albert caught her in his arms and kissed her face. + +“Are you my wife, or aren’t you?” he whispered hoarsely. + +“I am your wife,” breathed Helena, collapsing, as if every nerve in +her body had snapped. + +“Altogether?” he whispered paralysing her with his kisses. + +“Altogether,” she moaned, moving convulsively, like a sleeper +struggling with the horrors of a nightmare. + +When Albert awoke, he felt refreshed, his head was clear and he was +fully conscious of what had happened in the night. He could think +vigorously and logically like a man after a deep and restful sleep. +The whole scene stood vividly before his mind. He saw the full +significance of it, unvarnished, undisguised, in the sober light of +the morning. + +She had sold herself! + +At three o’clock in the morning, intoxicated with love, blind to +everything, half insane, he had promised to introduce her bill. + +And the price! She had given herself to him calmly, coldly, unmoved. + +Who was the first woman who found out that she could sell her favour? +And who was the woman who discovered that man is a buyer? Whoever she +was, she was the founder of marriage and prostitution. And they say +that marriages are made in heaven! + +He realised his degradation and hers. She wanted to triumph over her +friends, to be the first woman who had taken an active share in the +making of her country’s laws; for the sake of this triumph she had +sold herself. + +Well, he would tear the mask from her face. He would show her what she +really was. He would tell her that prostitution could never be +abolished while women found an advantage in selling themselves. + +With his mind firmly made up, he got out of bed and dressed. + +He had to wait a little for her in the dining-room. He rehearsed the +scene which would follow and pulled himself together to meet her. + +She came in calm, smiling, triumphant, but more beautiful than he had +ever seen her before. A sombre fire burnt in her eyes, and he, who had +expected that she would meet him with blushes and down-cast eyes, was +crushed. She was the triumphant seducer, and he the bashful victim. + +The words he had meant to say refused to come. Disarmed and humble he +went to meet her and kissed her hand. + +She talked as usual without the slightest indication that a new factor +had entered her life. + +He went to the House, fuming, with her bill in his pocket, and only +the vision of the bliss in store for him, calmed his excited nerves. + +But when, in the evening, he knocked quite boldly at her door, it +remained closed. + +It remained closed for three weeks. He cringed before her like a dog, +obeyed every hint, fulfilled all her wishes--it was all in vain. + +Then his indignation got the better of him and he overwhelmed her with +a flood of angry words. She answered him sharply. But when she +realised that she had gone too far, that his chain was wearing thin, +she gave herself to him. + +And he wore his chain. He bit it, strained every nerve to break it, +but it held. + +She soon learned how far she could go, and whenever he became restive, +she yielded. + +He was seized with a fanatical longing to make her a mother. He +thought it might make a woman of her, bring out all that was good and +wholesome in her. But the future seemed to hold no promise on that +score. + +Had ambition, the selfish passion of the individual, destroyed the +source of life? He wondered.... + +One morning she informed him that she was going away for a few days to +stay with her friends. + +When he came home on the evening of the day of her departure and found +the house empty, his soul was tormented by a cruel feeling of loss and +longing. All of a sudden it became clear to him that he loved her with +every fibre of his being. The house seemed desolate; it was just as if +a funeral had taken place. When dinner was served he stared at her +vacant chair and hardly touched his food. + +After supper he lit the chandelier in the drawing-room. He sat down in +her corner of the sofa. He fingered her needlework which she had left +behind--it was a tiny jacket for a stranger’s baby in a newly-founded +crèche. There was the needle, still sticking in the calico, just as +she had left it. He pricked his finger with it as if to find solace in +the ecstasy of pain. + +Presently he lighted a candle and went into her bedroom. As he stood +on the threshold, he shaded the flame with his hand and looked round +like a man who is about to commit a crime. The room did not betray the +slightest trace of femininity. A narrow bed without curtains; a +writing-table, bookshelves, a smaller table by the side of her bed, a +sofa. Just like his own room. There was no dressing-table, but a +little mirror hung on the wall. + +Her dress was hanging on a nail. The lines of her body were clearly +defined on the thick, heavy serge. He caressed the material and hid +his face in the lace which trimmed the neck; he put his arm round the +waist, but the dress collapsed like a phantom. “They say the soul is a +spirit,” he mused, “but then, it ought to be a tangible spirit, at +least.” He approached the bed as if he expected to see an apparition. +He touched everything, took everything in his hand. + +At last, as if he were looking for something, something which should +help him to solve the problem, he began to tug at the handles which +ornamented the drawers of her writing-table; all the drawers were +locked. As if by accident he opened the drawer of the little table by +her bedside, and hastily closed it again, but not before he had read +the title on the paper-cover of a small book and caught sight of a few +strange-looking objects, the purpose of which he could guess. + +That was it then! _Facultative Sterility!_ What was intended for a +remedy for the lower classes, who have been robbed of the means of +existence, had become an instrument in the service of selfishness, the +last consequence of idealism. Were the upper classes so degenerate +that they refused to reproduce their species, or were they morally +corrupt? They must be both, for they considered it immoral to bring +illegitimate children into the world, and degrading to bear children +in wedlock. + +But he wanted children! He could afford to have them, and he considered +it a duty as well as a glorious privilege to pour his individuality into +a new being. It was Nature’s way from a true and healthy egoism towards +altruism. But she travelled on another road and made jackets for the +babies of strangers. Was that a better, a nobler thing to do? It stood +for so much, and yet was nothing but fear of the burden of motherhood, +and it was cheaper and less fatiguing to sit in the corner of a +comfortable sofa and make little jackets than to bear the toil and broil +of a nursery. It was looked upon as a disgrace to be a woman, to have +a sex, to become a mother. + +That was it. They called it working for Heaven, for higher interests, +for humanity, but it was merely a pandering to vanity, to selfishness, +to a desire for fame or notoriety. + +And he had pitied her, he had suffered remorse because her sterility +had made him angry. She had told him once that he deserved “the contempt +of all good and honest men” because he had failed to speak of sterile +women with the respect due to misfortune; she had told him that they +were sacred, because their sorrow was the bitterest sorrow a woman +could have to bear. + +What, after all, was this woman working for? For progress? For the +salvation of humanity? No, she was working against progress, against +freedom and enlightenment. Hadn’t she recently brought forward a motion +to limit religious liberty? Wasn’t she the author of a pamphlet on the +intractability of servants? Wasn’t she advocating greater severity in +the administration of the military laws? Was she not a supporter of the +party which strives to ruin our girls by giving them the same miserable +education which our boys receive? + +He hated her soul, for he hated her ideas. And yet he loved her? What +was it then that he loved? + +Probably, he reflected, compelled to take refuge in philosophy, +probably the germ of a new being, which she carries in her womb, but +which she is bent on killing. + +What else could it be? + +But what did she love in him? His title, his position, his influence? + +How could these old and worn-out men and women rebuild society? + +He meant to tell her all this when she returned home; but in his +inmost soul he knew all the time that the words would never be said. +He knew that he would grovel before her and whine for her favour; that +he would remain her slave and sell her his soul again and again, just +as she sold him her body. He knew that that was what he would do, for +he was head over ears in love with her. + + + + +UNMARRIED AND MARRIED + + +The young barrister was strolling on a lovely spring evening through +the old Stockholm Hop-Garden. Snatches of song and music came from the +pavilion; light streamed through the large windows and lit up the +shadows cast by the great lime trees which were just bursting into +leaf. + +He went in, sat down at a vacant table near the platform and asked for +a glass of punch. + +A young comedian was singing a pathetic ballad of a _Dead Rat_. Then a +young girl, dressed in pink, appeared and sang the Danish song: _There +is nothing so charming as a moonshine ride._ She was comparatively +innocent looking and she addressed her song to our innocent barrister. +He felt flattered by this mark of distinction, and at once started +negotiations which began with a bottle of wine and ended in a +furnished flat, containing two rooms, a kitchen and all the usual +conveniences. + +It is not within the scope of this little story to analyse the feelings +of the young man, or give a description of the furniture and the other +conveniences. It must suffice if I say that they were very good friends. + +But, imbued with the socialistic tendencies of our time, and desirous +of having his lady-love always under his eyes, the young man decided +to live in the flat himself and make his little friend his house +keeper. She was delighted at the suggestion. + +But the young man had a family, that is to say, his family looked upon +him as one of its members, and since in their opinion he was committing +an offence against morality, and casting a slur on their good name, he +was summoned to appear before the assembled parents, brothers and +sisters in order to be censured. He considered that he was too old for +such treatment and the family tie was ruptured. + +This made him all the more fond of his own little home, and he +developed into a very domesticated husband, excuse me, lover. They +were happy, for they loved one another, and no fetters bound them. +They lived in the happy dread of losing one another and therefore they +did their utmost to keep each other’s love. They were indeed one. + +But there was one thing which they lacked: they had no friends. +Society displayed no wish to know them, and the young man was not +asked to the houses of the “Upper Ten.” + +It was Christmas Eve, a day of sadness for all those who once had a +family. As he was sitting at breakfast, he received a letter. It was +from his sister, who implored him to spend Christmas at home, with his +parents. The letter touched upon the strings of old feelings and put +him in a bad temper. Was he to leave his little friend alone on +Christmas Eve? Certainly not! Should his place in the house of his +parents remain vacant for the first time on a Christmas Eve? H’m! This +was the position of affairs when he went to the Law Courts. + +During the interval for lunch a colleague came up to him and asked him +as discreetly as possible: + +“Are you going to spend Christmas Eve with your family?” + +He flared up at once. Was his friend aware of his position? Or what +did he mean? + +The other man saw that he had stepped on a corn, and added hastily, +without waiting for a reply: + +“Because if you are not, you might spend it with us. You know, +perhaps, that I have a little friend, a dear little soul.” + +It sounded all right and he accepted the invitation on condition that +they should both be invited. Well, but of course, what else did he +think? And this settled the problem of friends and Christmas Eve. + +They met at six o’clock at the friend’s flat, and while the two “old +men” had a glass of punch, the women went into the kitchen. + +All four helped to lay the table. The two “old men” knelt on the floor +and tried to lengthen the table by means of boards and wedges. The +women were on the best of terms at once, for they felt bound together +by that very obvious tie which bears the great name of “public opinion.” + They respected one another and saved one another’s feelings. They +avoided those innuendoes in which husbands and wives are so fond +of indulging when their children are not listening, just as if they +wanted to say: “We have a right to say these things now we are +married.” + +When they had eaten the pudding, the barrister made a speech praising +the delights of one’s own fireside, that refuge from the world and +from all men: that harbour where one spends one’s happiest hours in +the company of one’s real friends. + +Mary-Louisa began to cry, and when he urged her to tell him the cause +of her distress, and the reason of her unhappiness, she told him in a +voice broken by sobs that she could see that he was missing his mother +and sisters. + +He replied that he did not miss them in the least, and that he should +wish them far away if they happened to turn up now. + +“But why couldn’t he marry her?” + +“Weren’t they as good as married?” + +“No, they weren’t married properly.” + +“By a clergyman? In his opinion a clergyman was nothing but a student +who had passed his examinations, and his incantations were pure +mythology.” + +“That was beyond her, but she knew that something was wrong, and the +other people in the house pointed their fingers at her.” + +“Let them point!” + +Sophy joined in the conversation. She said she knew that they were not +good enough for his relations; but she didn’t mind. Let everybody keep +his own place and be content. + +Anyhow, they had friends now, and lived together in harmony, which is +more than could be said of many properly constituted families. The tie +which held them together remained intact, but they were otherwise +unfettered. They continued being lovers without contracting any bad +matrimonial habits, as, for example, the habit of being rude to one +another. + +After a year or two their union was blest with a son. The mistress had +thereby risen to the rank of a mother, and everything else was +forgotten. The pangs which she had endured at the birth of the baby, +and her care for the newly born infant, had purged her of her old +selfish claims to all the good things of the earth, including the +monopoly of her husband’s love. + +In her new role as mother she gave herself superior little airs with +her friend, and showed a little more assurance in her intercourse with +her lover. + +One day the latter came home with a great piece of news. He had met +his eldest sister in the street and had found her well informed on all +their private affairs. She was very anxious to see her little nephew +and had promised to pay them a call. + +Mary-Louisa was surprised, and at once began to sweep and dust the +flat; in addition she insisted on a new dress for the occasion. And +then she waited for a whole week. The curtains were sent to the +laundry, the brass knobs on the doors of the stoves were made to +shine, the furniture was polished. The sister should see that her +brother was living with a decent person. + +And then she made coffee, one morning at eleven o’clock, the time when +the sister would call. + +She came, straight as if she had swallowed a poker, and gave Mary-Louisa +a hand which was as stiff as a batting staff. She examined the bed-room +furniture, but refused to drink coffee, and never once looked her +sister-in-law in the face. But she showed a faint, though genuine, +interest in the baby. Then she went away again. + +Mary-Louisa in the meantime had carefully examined her coat, priced +the material of her dress and conceived a new idea of doing her hair. +She had not expected any great display of cordiality. As a start, the +fact of the visit was quite sufficient in itself, and she soon let the +house know that her sister-in-law had called. + +The boy grew up and by and by a baby sister arrived. +Now Mary-Louisa began to show the most tender solicitude for the future +of the children, and not a day passed but she tried to convince their +father that nothing but a legal marriage with her would safeguard their +interests. + +In addition to this his sister gave him a very plain hint to the +effect that a reconciliation with his parents was within the scope of +possibility, if he would but legalise his liaison. + +After having fought against it day and night for two years, he +consented at last, and resolved that for the children’s sake the +mythological ceremony should be allowed to take place. + +But whom should they ask to the wedding? Mary-Louisa insisted on being +married in church. In this case Sophy could not be invited. That was +an impossibility. A girl like her! Mary-Louisa had already learnt to +pronounce the word “girl” with a decidedly moral accent. He reminded +her that Sophy had been a good friend to her, and that ingratitude was +not a very fine quality. Mary-Louisa, however, pointed out that +parents must be prepared to sacrifice private sympathies at the altar +of their children’s prospects; and she carried the day. + +The wedding took place. + +The wedding was over. No invitation arrived from his parents, but a +furious letter from Sophy which resulted in a complete rupture. + +Mary-Louisa was a wedded wife, now. But she was more lonely than she +had been before. Embittered by her disappointment, sure of her husband +who was now legally tied to her, she began to take all those liberties +which married people look upon as their right. What she had once +regarded in the light of a voluntary gift, she now considered a +tribute due to her. She entrenched herself behind the honourable title +of “the mother of his children,” and from there she made her sallies. + +Simple-minded, as all duped husbands are, he could never grasp what +constituted the sacredness in the fact that she was the mother of +_his_ children. Why his children should be different from other +children, and from himself, was a riddle to him. + +But, with an easy conscience, because his children had a legal mother +now, he commenced to take again an interest in the world which he had +to a certain extent forgotten in the first ecstasy of his love-dream, +and which later on he had neglected because he hated to leave his wife +and children alone. + +These liberties displeased his wife, and since there was no necessity +for her to mince matters now, and she was of an outspoken disposition, +she made no secrets of her thoughts. + +But he had all the lawyer’s tricks at his fingers’ ends, and was never +at a loss for a reply. + +“Do you think it right,” she asked, “to leave the mother of your +children alone at home with them, while you spend your time at a +public house?” + +“I don’t believe you missed me,” he answered by way of a preliminary. + +“Missed you? If the husband spends the housekeeping money on drink, +the wife will miss a great many things in the house.” + +“To start with I don’t drink, for I merely have a mouthful of food and +drink a cup of coffee; secondly, I don’t spend the housekeeping money +on drink, for you keep it locked up: I have other funds which I spend +‘on drink.’” + +Unfortunately women cannot stand satire, and the noose, made in fun, +was at once thrown round his neck. + +“You do admit, then, that you drink?” + +“No, I don’t, I used your expression in fun.” + +“In fun? You are making fun of your wife? You never used to do that!” + +“You wanted the marriage ceremony. Why are things so different now?” + +“Because we are married, of course.” + +“Partly because of that, and partly because intoxication has the +quality of passing off.” + +“It was only intoxication in your case, then?” + +“Not only in my case; in your case, too, and in all others as well. It +passes off more or less quickly.” + +“And so love is nothing but intoxication as far as a man is +concerned!” + +“As far as a woman is concerned too!” + +“Nothing but intoxication!” + +“Quite so! But there is no reason why one shouldn’t remain friends.” + +“One need not get married for that!” + +“No; and that’s exactly what I meant to point out.” + +“You? Wasn’t it you who insisted on our marriage?” + +“Only because you worried me about it day and night three long years.” + +“But it was your wish, too!” + +“Only because you wished it. Be grateful to me now that you’ve got +it!” + +“Shall I be grateful because you leave the mother of your children +alone with them while you spend your time at the public-house?” + +“No, not for that, but because I married you!” + “You really think I ought to be grateful for that?” + +“Yes, like all decent people who have got their way!” + +“Well, there is no happiness in a marriage like ours. Your family +doesn’t acknowledge me!” + +“What have you got to do with my family? I haven’t married yours?” + +“Because you didn’t think it good enough!” + +“But mine was good enough for you. If they had been shoemakers, you +wouldn’t mind so much.” + +“You talk of shoemakers as if they were beneath your notice. Aren’t +they human beings like everybody else?” + +“Of course they are, but I don’t think you would have run after them.” + +“All right! Have your own way.” + +But it was not all right, and it was never again all right. Was it due +to the fact of their being married, or was it due to something else? +Mary-Louisa could not help admitting in her heart that the old times +had been better times; they had been “jollier” she said. + +He did not think that it was only owing to the fact that their marriage +had been legalised for he had observed that other marriages, too, were +not happy. And the worst of it all was this: when one day he went to +see his old friend and Sophy, as he sometimes did, behind his wife’s +back, he was told that there was an end to that matter. And they had +not been married. So it could not have been marriage which was to blame. + + + + +A DUEL + + +She was plain and therefore the coarse young men who don’t know how to +appreciate a beautiful soul in an ugly body took no notice of her. But +she was wealthy, and she knew that men run after women for the sake of +their wealth; whether they do it because all wealth has been created +by men and they therefore claim the capital for their sex, or on other +grounds, was not quite clear to her. As she was a rich woman, she +learned a good many things, and as she distrusted and despised men, +she was considered an intellectual young woman. + +She had reached the age of twenty. Her mother was still alive, but she +had no intention to wait for another five years before she became her +own mistress. Therefore she quite suddenly surprised her friends with +an announcement of her engagement. + +“She is marrying because she wants a husband,” said some. + +“She is marrying because she wants a footman and her liberty,” said +others. + +“How stupid of her to get married,” said the third; “she doesn’t know +that she will be even less her own mistress than she is now.” + +“Don’t be afraid,” said the fourth, “she’ll hold her own in spite of +her marriage.” + +What was he like? Who was he? Where had she found him? + +He was a young lawyer, rather effeminate in appearance, with broad +hips and a shy manner. He was an only son, brought up by his mother +and aunt. He had always been very much afraid of girls, and he detested +the officers on account of their assurance, and because they were the +favourites at all entertainments. That is what he was like. + +They were staying at a watering place and met at a dance. He had come +late and all the girls’ programmes were full. A laughing, triumphant +“No!” was flung into his face wherever he asked for a dance, and a +movement of the programme brushed him away as if he were a buzzing +fly. + +Offended and humiliated he left the ball-room and sat down on the +verandah to smoke a cigar. The moon threw her light on the lime-trees +in the Park and the perfume of the mignonette rose from the flower +beds. + +He watched the dancing couples through the windows with the impotent +yearning of the cripple; the voluptuous rhythm of the waltz thrilled +him through and through. + +“All alone and lost in dreams?” said a voice suddenly. “Why aren’t you +dancing?” + +“Why aren’t you?” he replied, looking up. + +“Because I am plain and nobody asked me to,” she answered. + +He looked at her. They had known each other for some time, but he had +never studied her features. She was exquisitely dressed, and in her +eyes lay an expression of infinite pain, the pain of despair and vain +revolt against the injustice of nature; he felt a lively sympathy for +her. + +“I, too, am scorned by everybody,” he said. “All the rights belong to +the officers. Whenever it is a question of natural selection, right is +on the side of the strong and the beautiful. Look at their shoulders +and epaulettes....” + +“How can you talk like that!” + +“I beg your pardon! To have to play a losing game makes a man bitter! +Will you give me a dance?” + +“For pity’s sake?” + +“Yes! Out of compassion for me!” + +He threw away his cigar. + +“Have you ever known what it means to be marked by the hand of fate, +and rejected? To be always the last?” he began again, passionately. + +“I have known all that! But the last do not always remain the last,” + she added, emphatically. “There are other qualities, besides beauty, +which count.” + +“What quality do you appreciate most in a man?” + +“Kindness,” she exclaimed, without the slightest hesitation. “For this +is a quality very rarely found in a man.” + +“Kindness and weakness usually go hand in hand; women admire +strength.” + +“What sort of women are you talking about? Rude strength has had its +day; our civilisation has reached a sufficiently high standard to make +us value muscles and rude strength no more highly than a kind heart.” + +“It ought to have! And yet--watch the dancing couples!” + +“To my mind true manliness is shown in loftiness of sentiment and +intelligence of the heart.” + +“Consequently a man whom the whole world calls weak and cowardly....” + +“What do I care for the world and its opinion!” + +“Do you know that you are a very remarkable woman?” said the young +lawyer, feeling more and more interested. + +“Not in the least remarkable! But you men are accustomed to regard +women as dolls....” + +“What sort of men do you mean? I, dear lady, have from my childhood +looked up to woman as a higher manifestation of the species man, and +from the day on which I fell in love with a woman, and she returned my +love, I should be her slave.” + +Adeline looked at him long and searchingly. + +“You are a remarkable man,” she said, after a pause. + +After each of the two had declared the other to be a remarkable +specimen of the species man, and made a good many remarks on the +futility of dancing, they began to talk of the melancholy influence of +the moon. Then they returned to the ball-room and took their place in +a set of quadrilles. + +Adeline was a perfect dancer and the lawyer won her heart completely +because he “danced like an innocent girl.” + +When the set was over, they went out again on the verandah and sat +down. + +“What is love?” asked Adeline, looking at the moon as if she expected +an answer from heaven. + +“The sympathy of the souls,” he replied, and his voice sounded like +the whispering breeze. + +“But sympathy may turn to antipathy; it has happened frequently,” + objected Adeline. + +“Then it wasn’t genuine! There are materialists who say that there +would be no such thing as love if there weren’t two sexes, and they +dare to maintain that sensual love is more lasting than the love of +the soul. Don’t you think it low and bestial to see nothing but sex in +the beloved woman?” + +“Don’t speak of the materialists!” + +“Yes, I must, so that you may realise the loftiness of my feelings for +a woman, if ever I fell in love. She need not be beautiful; beauty +soon fades. I should look upon her as a dear friend, a chum. I should +never feel shy in her company, as with any ordinary girl. I should +approach her without fear, as I am approaching you, and I should say: +‘Will you be my friend for life?’ I should be able to speak to her +without the slightest tremor of that nervousness which a lover is +supposed to feel when he proposes to the object of his tenderness, +because his thoughts are not pure.” + +Adeline looked at the young man, who had taken her hand in his, with +enraptured eyes. + +“You are an idealist,” she said, “and I agree with you from the very +bottom of my heart. You are asking for my friendship, if I understand +you rightly. It shall be yours, but I must put you to the test first. +Will you prove to me that you can pocket your pride for the sake of a +friend?” + +“Speak and I shall obey!” + +Adeline took off a golden chain with a locket which she had been +wearing round her neck. + +“Wear this as a symbol of our friendship.” + +“I will wear it,” he said, in an uncertain voice; “but it might make +the people think that we are engaged.” + +“And do you object?” + +“No, not if you don’t! Will you be my wife?” + +“Yes, Axel! I will! For the world looks askance at friendship between +man and woman; the world is so base that it refuses to believe in the +possibility of such a thing.” + +And he wore the chain. + +The world, which is very materialistic at heart, repeated the verdict +of her friends: + +“She marries him in order to be married; he marries her because he +wants a wife.” + +The world made nasty remarks, too. It said that he was marrying her +for the sake of her money; for hadn’t he himself declared that +anything so degrading as love did not exist between them? There was +no need for friends to live together like married couples. + +The wedding took place. The world had received a hint that they would +live together like brother and sister, and the world awaited with a +malicious grin the result of the great reform which should put +matrimony on another basis altogether. + +The newly married couple went abroad. + +When they returned, the young wife was pale and ill-tempered. She +began at once to take riding-lessons. The world scented mischief and +waited. The man looked as if he were guilty of a base act and was +ashamed of himself. It all came out at last. + +“They have _not_ been living like brother and sister,” said the world. + +“What? Without loving one another? But that is--well, what is it?” + +“A forbidden relationship!” said the materialists. + +“It is a spiritual marriage!” + +“Or incest,” suggested an anarchist. + +Facts remained facts, but the sympathy was on the wane. Real life, +stripped of All make-believe, confronted them and began to take +revenge. + +The lawyer practised his profession, but the wife’s profession was +practised by a maid and a nurse. Therefore she had no occupation. The +want of occupation encouraged brooding, and she brooded a great deal +over her position. She found it unsatisfactory. Was it right that an +intellectual woman like her should spend her days in idleness? Once +her husband had ventured to remark that no one compelled her to live +in idleness. He never did it again. + +“She had no profession.” + +“True; to be idle was no profession. Why didn’t she nurse the baby?” + +“Nurse the baby? She wanted a profession which brought in money.” + +“Was she such a miser, then? She had already more than she knew how to +spend; why should she want to earn money?” + +“To be on an equal footing with him.” + +“That could never be, for she would always be in a position to which +he could never hope to attain. It was nature’s will that the woman was +to be the mother, not the man.” + +“A very stupid arrangement!” + +“Very likely! The opposite might have been the case, but that would +have been equally stupid.” + +“Yes; but her life was unbearable. It didn’t satisfy her to live for +the family only, she wanted to live for others as well.” + +“Hadn’t she better begin with the family? There was plenty of time to +think of the others.” + +The conversation might have continued through all eternity; as it was +it only lasted an hour. + +The lawyer was, of course, away almost all day long, and even when he +was at home he had his consulting hours. It drove Adeline nearly mad. +He was always locked in his consulting-room with other women who +confided information to him which he was bound to keep secret. These +secrets formed a barrier between them, and made her feel that he was +more than a match for her. + +It roused a sullen hatred in her heart; she resented the injustice of +their mutual relationship; she sought for a means to drag him down. +Come down he must, so that they should be on the same level. + +One day she proposed the foundation of a sanatorium. He said all he +could against it, for he was very busy with his practice. But on +further consideration he thought that occupation of some sort might be +the saving of her; perhaps it would help her to settle down. + +The sanatorium was founded; he was one of the directors. + +She was on the Committee and ruled. When she had ruled for six months, +she imagined herself so well up in the art of healing that she +interviewed patients and gave them advice. + +“It’s easy enough,” she said. + +Then it happened that the house-surgeon made a mistake, and she +straightway lost all confidence in him. It further happened that one +day, in the full consciousness of her superior wisdom, she prescribed +for a patient herself, in the doctor’s absence. The patient had the +prescription made up, took it and died. + +This necessitated a removal to another centre of activity. But it +disturbed the equilibrium. A second child, which was born about the +same time, disturbed it still more and, to make matters worse, a +rumour of the fatal accident was spreading through the town. + +The relations between husband and wife were unlovely and sad, for +there had never been any love between them. The healthy, powerful +natural instinct, which does not reflect, was absent; what remained +was an unpleasant liaison founded on the uncertain calculations of a +selfish friendship. + +She never voiced the thoughts hatched behind her burning brow after +she had discovered that she was mistaken in believing that she had a +higher mission, but she made her husband suffer for it. + +Her health failed; she lost her appetite and refused to go out. She +grew thin and seemed to be suffering from a chronic cough. The husband +made her repeatedly undergo medical examinations, but the doctors were +unable to discover the cause of her malady. In the end he became so +accustomed to her constant complaints that he paid no more attention +to them. + +“I know it’s unpleasant to have an invalid wife,” she said. + +He admitted in his heart that it was anything but pleasant; had he +loved her, he would neither have felt nor admitted it. + +Her emaciation became so alarming, that he could not shut his eyes to +it any longer, and had to consent to her suggestion that she should +consult a famous professor. + +Adeline was examined by the celebrity. “How long have you been ill?” + he asked. + +“I have never been very strong since I left the country,” she replied. +“I was born in the country.” + +“Then you don’t feel well in town?” + +“Well? Who cares whether I feel well or not?” And her face assumed an +expression which left no room for doubt: she was a martyr. + +“Do you think that country air would do you good?” continued the +professor. + +“Candidly, I believe that it is the only thing which could save my +life.” + +“Then why don’t you live in the country?” + +“My husband couldn’t give up his profession for my sake.” + +“He has a wealthy wife and we have plenty of lawyers.” + +“You think, then, that we ought to live in the country?” + +“Certainly, if you believe that it would do you good. You are not +suffering from any organic disease, but your nerves are unstrung; +country air would no doubt benefit you.” + +Adeline returned home to her husband very depressed. + +“Well?” + +“The professor had sentenced her to death if she remained in town.” + +The lawyer was much upset. But since the fact that his distress was +mainly caused by the thought of giving up his practice was very +apparent, she held that she had absolute proof that the question of +her health was a matter of no importance to him. + +“What? He didn’t believe that it was a matter of life and death? +Didn’t he think the professor knew better than he? Was he going to let +her die?” + +He was not going to let her die. He bought an estate in the country +and engaged an inspector to look after it. + +As a sheriff and a district-judge were living on the spot, the lawyer +had no occupation. The days seemed to him as endless as they were +unpleasant. Since his income had stopped with his practice, he was +compelled to live on his wife’s money. In the first six months he read +a great deal and played “Fortuna.” In the second six months he gave up +reading, as it served no object. In the third he amused himself by +doing needle-work. + +His wife, on the other hand, devoted herself to the farm, pinned up +her skirts to the knees and went into the stables. She came into the +house dirty, and smelling of the cow-shed. She felt well and ordered +the labourers about that it was a pleasure to hear her, for she had +grown up in the country and knew what she was about. + +When her husband complained of having nothing to do, she laughed at +him. + +“Find some occupation in the house. No one need ever be idle in a +house like this.” + +He would have liked to suggest some outside occupation, but he had not +the courage. + +He ate, slept, and went for walks. If he happened to enter the barn or +the stables, he was sure to be in the way and be scolded by his wife. + +One day, when he had grumbled more than usual, while the children had +been running about, neglected by the nurse, she said: + +“Why don’t you look after the children? That would give you something +to do.” + +He stared at her. Did she really mean it? + +“Well, why shouldn’t he look after the children? Was there anything +strange in her suggestion?” + +He thought the matter over and found nothing strange in it. Henceforth +he took the children for a walk every day. + +One morning, when he was ready to go out, the children were not +dressed. The lawyer felt angry and went grumbling to his wife; of the +servants he was afraid. + +“Why aren’t the children dressed?” he asked. + +“Because Mary is busy with other things. Why don’t you dress them? +You’ve nothing else to do. Do you consider it degrading to dress your +own children?” + +He considered the matter for a while, but could see nothing degrading +in it. He dressed them. + +One day he felt inclined to take his gun and go out by himself, +although he never shot anything. + +His wife met him on his return. + +“Why didn’t you take the children for a walk this morning?” she asked +sharply and reproachfully. + +“Because I didn’t feel inclined to do so.” + +“You didn’t feel inclined? Do you think I want to work all day long in +stable and barn? One ought to do _something_ useful during the day, even +if it does go against one’s inclination.” + +“So as to pay for one’s dinner, you mean?” + +“If you like to put it that way! If I were a big man like you, I +should be ashamed to be lying all day long on a sofa, doing nothing.” + +He really felt ashamed, and henceforth he established himself the +children’s nurse. He never failed in his duties. He saw no disgrace in +it, yet he was unhappy. Something was wrong, somewhere, he thought, +but his wife always managed to carry her point. + +She sat in the office and interviewed inspector and overseer; she +stood in the store-room and weighed out stores for the cottagers. +Everybody who came on the estate asked for the mistress, nobody ever +wanted to see the master. + +One day he took the children past a field in which cattle were +grazing. He wanted to show them the cows and cautiously took them up +to the grazing herd. All at once a black head, raised above the backs +of the other animals, stared at the visitors, bellowing softly. + +The lawyer picked up the children and ran back to the fence as hard as +he could. He threw them over and tried to jump it himself, but was +caught on the top. Noticing some women on the other side, he shouted: + +“The bull! the bull!” + +But the women merely laughed, and went to pull the children, whose +clothes were covered with mud, out of the ditch. + +“Don’t you see the bull?” he screamed. + +“It’s no bull, sir,” replied the eldest of the women, “the bull was +killed a fortnight ago.” + +He came home, angry and ashamed and complained of the women to his +wife. But she only laughed. + +In the afternoon, as husband and wife were together in the drawing-room, +there was a knock at the door. + +“Come in!” she called out. + +One of the women who had witnessed the adventure with the bull came +in, holding in her hand the lawyer’s gold chain. + +“I believe this belongs to you, M’m,” she said hesitatingly. + +Adeline looked first at the woman and then at her husband, who stared +at the chain with wide-open eyes. + +“No, it belongs to your master,” she said, taking the proffered chain. +“Thank you! Your master will give you something for finding it.” + +He was sitting there, pale and motionless. + +“I have no money, ask my wife to give you something,” he said, taking +the necklet. + +Adeline took a crown out of her big purse and handed it to the woman, +who went away, apparently without understanding the scene. + +“You might have spared me this humiliation!” he said, and his voice +plainly betrayed the pain he felt. + +“Are you not man enough to take the responsibility for your words and +actions on your own shoulders? Are you ashamed to wear a present I +gave you, while you expect me to wear yours? You’re a coward! And you +imagine yourself to be a man!” + +Henceforth the poor lawyer had no peace. Wherever he went, he met +grinning faces, and farm-labourers and maid-servants from the safe +retreat of sheltered nooks, shouted “the bull! the bull!” whenever he +went past. + +Adeline had resolved to attend an auction and stay away for a week. +She asked her husband to look after the servants in her absence. + +On the first day the cook came and asked him for money for sugar and +coffee. He gave it to her. Three days later she came again and asked +him for the same thing. He expressed surprise at her having already +spent what he had given her. + +“I don’t want it all for myself,” she replied, “and mistress doesn’t +mind.” + +He gave her the money. But, wondering whether he had made a mistake, +he opened his wife’s account book and began to add up the columns. + +He arrived at a strange result. When he had added up all the pounds +for a month, he found it came to a lispound. + +He continued checking her figures, and the result was everywhere the +same. He took the principal ledger and found that, leaving the high +figures out of the question, very stupid mistakes in the additions had +been made. Evidently his wife knew nothing of denominate quantities or +decimal fractions. This unheard of cheating of the servants must +certainly lead to ruin. + +His wife came home. After having listened to a detailed account of the +auction, he cleared his throat, intending to tell his tale, but his +wife anticipated his report: + +“Well, and how did you get on with the servants?” + +“Oh! very well, but I am certain that they cheat you.” + +“Cheat me!” + +“Yes; for instance the amount spent on coffee and sugar is too large.” + +“How do you know?” + +“I saw it in your account book.” + +“Indeed! You poked your nose into my books?” + +“Poked my nose into your books? No, but I took it upon me to check +your....” + +“What business was it of yours?” + +“And I found that you keep books without having the slightest +knowledge of denominate quantities or decimal fractions.” + +“What? You think I don’t know?” + +“No, you don’t! And therefore the foundations of the establishment are +shaky. Your book-keeping is all humbug, old girl!” + +“My book-keeping concerns no one but myself.” + +“Incorrect book-keeping is an offence punishable by law; if you are +not liable, then I am.” + +“The law? I care a fig for the law!” + +“I daresay! But we shall get into its clutches, if not you, then most +certainly I! And therefore I am going to be book-keeper in the future.” + +“We can engage a man to do it.” + +“No, that’s not necessary! I have nothing else to do.” + +And that settled the matter. + +But once the husband occupied the chair at the desk and the people +came to see _him_, the wife lost all interest in farming and +cattle-breeding. + +A violent reaction set in; she no longer attended to the cows and +calves, but remained in the house. There she sat, hatching fresh +plots. + +But the husband had regained a fresh hold on life. He took an eager +interest in the estate and woke up the people. Now he held the reins; +managed everything, gave orders and paid the bills. + +One day his wife came into the office and asked him for a thousand +crowns to buy a piano. + +“What are you thinking of?” said the husband. “Just when we are going +to re-build the stables! We haven’t the means to buy a piano.” + +“What do you mean?” she replied. “Why haven’t we got the means? Isn’t my +money sufficient?” + +“Your money?” + +“Yes, my money, my dowry.” + +“That has now become the property of the family.” + +“That is to say yours?” + +“No, the family’s. The family is a small community, the only one which +possesses common property which, as a rule, is administered by the +husband.” + +“Why should he administer it and not the wife?” + +“Because he has more time to give to it, since he does not bear +children.” + +“Why couldn’t they administer it jointly?” + +“For the same reason that a joint stock company has only one managing +director. If the wife administered as well, the children would claim +the same right, for it is their property, too.” + +“This is mere hair-splitting. I think it’s hard that I should have to +ask your permission to buy a piano out of my own money.” + +“It’s no longer your money.” + +“But yours?” + +“No, not mine either, but the family’s. And you are wrong when you say +that you ‘have to ask for my permission’; it’s merely wise that you +should consult with the administrator as to whether the position of +affairs warrants your spending such a large sum on a luxury.” + +“Do you call a piano a luxury?” + +“A new piano, when there is an old one, must be termed a luxury. The +position of our affairs is anything but satisfactory, and therefore it +doesn’t permit you to buy a new piano at present, but _I_, personally, +can or will have nothing to say against it.” + +“An expenditure of a thousand crowns doesn’t mean ruin.” + +“To incur a debt of a thousand crowns at the wrong time may be the +first step towards ruin.” + +“All this means that you refuse to buy me a new piano?” + +“No, I won’t say that. The uncertain position of affairs....” + +“When, oh! when will the day dawn on which the wife will manage her +own affairs and have no need to go begging to her husband?” + +“When she works herself. A man, your father, has earned your money. +The men have gained all the wealth there is in the world; therefore it +is but just that a sister should inherit less than her brother, +especially as the brother is born with the duty to provide for a +woman, while the sister need not provide for a man. Do you +understand?” + +“And you call that justice? Can you honestly maintain that it is? +Ought we not all to share and share alike?” + +“No, not always. One ought to share according to circumstances and +merit. The idler who lies in the grass and watches the mason building +a house, should have a smaller share than the mason.” + +“Do you mean to insinuate that I am lazy?” + +“H’m! I’d rather not say anything about that. But when I used to lie +on the sofa, reading, you considered me a loafer, and I well remember +that you said something to that effect in very plain language.” + +“But what am I to do?” + +“Take the children out for walks.” + +“I’m not constituted to look after the children.” + +“But there was a time when I had to do it. Let me tell you that a +woman who says that she is not constituted to look after children, +isn’t a woman. But that fact doesn’t make a man of her, by any means. +What is she, then?” + +“Shame on you that you should speak like that of the mother of your +children!” + +“What does the world call a man who will have nothing to do with +women? Isn’t it something very ugly?” + +“I won’t hear another word!” + +And she left him and locked herself into her room. + +She fell ill. The doctor, the almighty man, who took over the care of +the body when the priest lost the care of the soul, pronounced country +air and solitude to be harmful. + +They were obliged to return to town so that the wife could have proper +medical treatment. + +Town had a splendid effect on her health; the air of the slums gave +colour to her cheeks. + +The lawyer practised his profession and so husband and wife had found +safety-valves for their temperaments which refused to blend. + + + + +HIS SERVANT OR DEBIT AND CREDIT + + +Mr. Blackwood was a wharfinger at Brooklyn and had married Miss +Dankward, who brought him a dowry of modern ideas. To avoid seeing his +beloved wife playing the part of his servant, Mr. Blackwood had taken +rooms in a boarding house. + +The wife, who had nothing whatever to do, spent the day in playing +billiards and practising the piano, and half the night in discussing +Women’s Rights and drinking whiskies and sodas. + +The husband had a salary of five thousand dollars. He handed over his +money regularly to his wife who took charge of it. She had, moreover, +a dress allowance of five hundred dollars with which she did as she +liked. + +Then a baby arrived. A nurse was engaged who, for a hundred dollars, +took upon her shoulders the sacred duties of the mother. + +Two more children were born. + +They grew up and the two eldest went to school. But Mrs. Blackwood was +bored and had nothing with which to occupy her mind. + +One morning she appeared at the breakfast table, slightly intoxicated. + +The husband ventured to tell her that her behaviour was unseemly. + +She had hysterics and went to bed, and all the other ladies in the +house called on her and brought her flowers. + +“Why do you drink so much whisky?” asked her husband, as kindly as +possible. “Is there anything which troubles you?” + +“How could I be happy when my whole life is wasted!” + +“What do you mean by wasted? You are the mother of three children and +you might spend your time in educating them.” + +“I can’t be bothered with children.” + +“Then you ought to be bothered with them! You would be benefiting the +whole community and have a splendid object in life, a far more +honourable one, for instance, than that of being a wharfinger.” + +“Yes, if I were free!” + +“You are freer than I am. I am under your rule. You decide how my +earnings are to be spent. You have five hundred dollars pin money to +spend as you like; but I have no pin money. I have to make an +application to the cash-box, in other words, to you, whenever I want +to buy tobacco. Don’t you think that you are freer than I am?” + +She made no reply; she tried to think the question out. + +The upshot of it was that they decided to have a home of their own. +And they set up house-keeping. + +“My dear friend,” Mrs. Blackwood wrote a little later on to a friend +of hers, “I am ill and tired to death. But I must go on suffering, for +there is no solace for an unhappy woman who has no object in life. I +will show the world that I am not the sort of woman who is content to +live on her husband’s bounty, and therefore I shall work myself to +death....” + +On the first day she rose at nine o’clock and turned out her husband’s +room. Then she dismissed the cook and at eleven o’clock she went out +to do the catering for the day. + +When the husband came home at one o’clock, lunch was not ready. It was +the maid’s fault. + +Mrs. Blackwood was dreadfully tired and in tears. The husband could +not find it in his heart to complain. He ate a burnt cutlet and went +back to his work. + +“Don’t work so hard, darling,” he said, as he was leaving. + +In the evening his wife was so tired that she could not finish her +work and went to bed at ten o’clock. + +On the following morning, as Mr. Blackwood went into his wife’s room +to say good morning to her, he was amazed at her healthy complexion. + +“Have you slept well?” he asked. + +“Why do you ask?” + +“Because you are looking so well.” + +“I--am--looking--well?” + +“Yes, a little occupation seems to agree with you.” + +“A little occupation? You call it little? I should like to know what +you would call much.” + +“Never mind, I didn’t mean to annoy you.” + +“Yes, you did. You meant to imply that I wasn’t working hard enough. +And yet I turned out your room yesterday, just as if I were a +house-maid, and stood in the kitchen like a cook. Can you deny that I +am your servant?” + +In going out the husband said to the maid: + +“You had better get up at seven in future and do my room. Your +mistress shouldn’t have to do your work.” + +In the evening Mr. Blackwood came home in high spirits but his wife +was angry with him. + +“Why am I not to do your room?” she asked. + +“Because I object to your being my servant.” + +“Why do you object?” + +“The thought of it makes me unhappy.” + +“But it doesn’t make you unhappy to think of me cooking your dinner +and attending to your children?” + +This remark set him thinking. + +He pondered the question during the whole of his tram journey to +Brooklyn. + +When he came home in the evening, he had done a good deal of thinking. + +“Now, listen to me, my love,” he began, “I’ve thought a lot about your +position in the house and, of course, I am far from wishing that you +should be my servant. I think the best thing to do is this: You must +look upon me as your boarder and I’ll pay for myself. Then you’ll be +mistress in the house, and I’ll pay you for my dinner.” + +“What do you mean?” asked his wife, a little uneasy. + +“What I say. Let’s pretend that you keep a boarding-house and that I’m +your boarder. We’ll only pretend it, of course.” + +“Very well! And what are you going to pay me?” + +“Enough to prevent me from being under an obligation to you. It will +improve my position, too, for then I shall not feel that I am kept out +of kindness.” + +“Out of kindness?” + +“Yes; you give me a dinner which is only half-cooked, and then you go +on repeating that you are my servant, that is to say, that you are +working yourself to death for me.” + +“What are you driving at?” + +“Is three dollars a day enough for my board? Any boarding-house will +take me for two.” + +“Three dollars ought to be plenty.” + +“Very well! Let’s say a thousand dollars per annum. Here’s the money +in advance!” + +He laid a bill on the table. + +It was made out as follows: + + Rent 500 dollars + Nurse’s wages 100 ” + Cook’s wages 150 ” + Wife’s maintenance 500 ” + Wife’s pin money 500 ” + Nurse’s maintenance 300 ” + Cook’s maintenance 300 ” + Children’s maintenance 700 ” + Children’s clothes 500 ” + Wood, light, assistance 500 ” + + 4.500 dollars + +“Divide this sum by two, since we share expenses equally, that leaves +2025 dollars. Deduct my thousand dollars and give me 1025 dollars. If +you have got the money by you, all the better.” + +“Share expenses equally?” was all the wife could say. “Do you expect +me to pay you, then?” + +“Yes, of course, if we are to be on a footing of equality. I pay for +half of your and the children’s support. Or do you want me to pay the +whole? Very well, that would mean that I should have to pay you 4050 +dollars plus 1000 dollars for my board. But I pay separately for rent, +food, light, wood and servants’ wages. What do I get for my three +dollars a day for board? The preparation of the food? Nothing else but +that for 4050 dollars? Now, if I subtract really half of this sum, +that is to say, my share of the expenses, 2025 dollars, then the +preparation of my food costs me 2025 dollars. But I have already paid +the cook for doing it; how, then, can I be expected to pay 2025 dollars, +plus 1000 dollars for food?” + +“I don’t know.” + +“Neither do I. But I know that I owe you nothing after paying for the +whole of your support, the children’s support and the servants’ +support; the servants who do your work, which, in your opinion, is +equal, or superior, to mine. But even if your work should really be +worth more, you must remember that you have another five hundred +dollars in addition to the household expenses, while I have nothing.” + +“I repeat that I don’t understand your figures!” + +“Neither do I. Perhaps we had better abandon the idea of the +boarding-house. Let’s put down the debit and credit of the +establishment. Here’s the account, if you’d like to see it.” + + To Mrs. Blackwood for assistance in the house, and to Mrs. Blackwood’s + cook and nursemaid: + + Rent and maintenance 1000 dollars + Clothes 500 ” + Amusements 100 ” + Pin money (by cash) 500 ” + Her children’s maintenance 1200 ” + Her children’s education 600 ” + On account of the maids who do her + work 850 ” + + 4570 dollars + + Paid M. Blackwood, _Wharfinger_ + +“Oh! It’s too bad of you to worry your wife with bills!” + +“With counter-bills! And even that one you need not pay, for I pay all +bills.” + +The wife crumpled up the paper. + +“Am I to pay for your children’s education, too?” + +“No, I will, and I shall, and I will also pay for your children’s +education. You shall not pay one single farthing for mine. Is that +being on a footing of equality? But I shall deduct the sum for the +maintenance of my children and servants: then you will still have 2100 +dollars for the assistance you give to my servants. Do you want any +more bills?” + +She wanted no more; never again. + + + + +THE BREADWINNER + + +He wakes up in the morning from evil dreams of bills which have become +due and copy which has not been delivered. His hair is damp with cold +perspiration, and his cheeks tremble as he dresses himself. He listens +to the chirruping of the children in the next room and plunges his +burning face into cold water. He drinks the coffee which he has made +himself, so as not to disturb the nursery maid at the early hour of +eight o’clock. Then he makes his bed, brushes his clothes, and sits +down to write. + +The fever attacks him, the fever which is to create hallucinations of +rooms he has never seen, landscapes which never existed, people whose +names cannot be found in the directory. He sits at his writing table +in mortal anguish. His thoughts must be clear, pregnant and +picturesque, his writing legible, the story dramatic; the interest +must never abate, the metaphors must be striking, the dialogue +brilliant. The faces of those automata, the public, whose brains he is +to wind up, are grinning at him; the critics whose good-will he must +enlist, stare at him through the spectacles of envy; he is haunted by +the gloomy face of the publisher, which it is his task to brighten. He +sees the jurymen sitting round the black table in the centre of which +lies a Bible; he hears the sound of the opening of prison doors behind +which free-thinkers are suffering for the crime of having thought bold +thoughts for the benefit of the sluggards; he listens to the noiseless +footfall of the hotel porter who is coming with the bill.... + +And all the while the fever is raging and his pen flies, flies over +the paper without a moment’s delay at the vision of publisher or +jurymen, leaving in its track red lines as of congealed blood which +slowly turn to black. + +When he rises from his chair, after a couple of hours, he has only +enough strength left to stumble across the room. He sinks down on his +bed and lies there as if Death held him in his clutches. It is not +invigorating sleep which has closed his eyes, but a stupor, a long +fainting fit during which he remains conscious, tortured by the +horrible thought that his strength is gone, his nervous system +shattered, his brain empty. + +A ring at the bell of the private hotel! _Voilà le facteur_! The mail +has arrived. + +He rouses himself and staggers out of his room. A pile of letters is +handed to him. Proofs which must be read at once; a book from a young +author, begging for a candid criticism: a paper containing a +controversial article to which he must reply without delay, a request +for a contribution to an almanac, an admonishing letter from his +publisher. How can an invalid cope with it all? + +In the meantime the children’s nurse has got up and dressed the +children, drunk the coffee made for her in the hotel kitchen, and +eaten the rolls spread with honey which have been sent up for her. +After breakfast she takes a stroll in the park. + +At one o’clock the bell rings for luncheon. All the guests are assembled +in the dining-room. He, too, is there, sitting at the table by himself. + +“Where is your wife?” he is asked on all sides. + +“I don’t know,” he replies. + +“What a brute!” is the comment of the ladies, who are still in their +morning gowns. + +The entrance of his wife interrupts the progress of the meal, and the +hungry guests who have been punctual are kept waiting for the second +course. + +The ladies enquire anxiously whether his, wife has slept well and +feels refreshed? Nobody asks him how he feels. There is no need to +enquire. + +“He looks like a corpse,” says one of the ladies. + +And she is right. + +“Dissipation,” says another. + +But that is anything but true. +He takes no part in the conversation, for he has nothing to say to +these women. But his wife talks for two. While he swallows his food, +his ears are made to listen to rich praise of all that is base, and +vile abuse of all that is noble and good. + +When luncheon is over he takes his wife aside. + +“I wish you would send Louisa to the tailor’s with my coat; a seam has +come undone and I haven’t the time to sew it up myself.” + +She makes no reply, but instead of sending the coat by Louisa, she +takes it herself and walks to the village where the tailor lives. + +In the garden she meets some of her emancipated friends who ask her +where she is going. + +She replies, truthfully enough, that she is going to the tailor’s for +her husband. + +“Fancy sending her to the tailor’s! And she allows him to treat her +like a servant!” + +“While he is lying on the bed, taking an after-dinner nap! A nice +husband!” + +It is quite true, he is taking an after dinner nap, for he is +suffering from anaemia. + +At three o’clock the postman rings again; he is expected to answer a +letter from Berlin in German, one from Paris in French, and one from +London in English. + +His wife, who has returned from the tailor’s and refreshed herself +with a cognac, asks him whether he feels inclined to make an excursion +with the children. No, he has letters to write. + +When he has finished his letters, he goes out for a stroll before +dinner. He is longing for somebody to talk to. But he is alone. He +goes into the garden and looks for the children. + +The stout nurse is sitting on a garden seat, reading Mrs. Leffler’s +_True Women_ which his wife has lent her. The children are bored, they +want to run about or go for a walk. + +“Why don’t you take the children for a walk, Louisa?” he asks. + +“Mistress said it was too hot.” + +His wife’s orders! + +He calls to the children and walks with them towards the high road; +suddenly he notices that their hands and faces are dirty and their +boots in holes. + +“Why are the children allowed to wear such boots?” he asks Louisa. + +“Mistress said....” + +His wife said! + +He goes for a walk by himself. + +It is seven o’clock and dinner-time. The ladies have not yet returned +to the hotel. The two first courses have been served when they arrive +with flushed faces, talking and laughing loudly. + +His wife and her friend are in high spirits and smell of cognac. + +“What have you been doing with yourself all day, daddy?” she asks her +husband. + +“I went for a walk with the children.” + +“Wasn’t Louisa there?” + +“Oh! yes, but she was otherwise engaged.” + +“Well, I don’t think it’s too much to ask of a man to keep an eye on +his own children,” says the friend. + +“No, of course not,” answers the husband. “And therefore I scolded +Louisa for allowing the children to run about with dirty faces and +worn-out boots.” + +“I never come home but I am scolded,” says the wife; “You spoil every +little pleasure I have with your fault-finding.” + +And a tiny tear moistens her reddened eyelids. The friend and all the +rest of the ladies cast indignant glances at the husband. + +An attack is imminent and the friend sharpens her tongue. + +“Has anybody here present read Luther’s views on the right of a woman?” + +“What right is that?” asks his wife. + +“To look out for another partner if she is dissatisfied with the one +she has.” + +There is a pause. + +“A very risky doctrine as far as a woman’s interests are concerned,” + says the husband, “for it follows that in similar circumstances a man +is justified in doing the same thing. The latter happens much more +frequently than the former.” + +“I don’t understand what you mean,” says the wife. + +“That’s neither Luther’s fault nor mine,” answers the husband. “Just +as it is not necessarily the husband’s fault if he doesn’t get on with +his wife. Possibly he would get on excellently with another woman.” + +A dead silence follows; the diners rise from their chairs. + +The husband retires to his own room. His wife and her friend leave the +dining-room together and sit down in the pavilion. + +“What brutality!” exclaims the friend. “How can you, a sensitive, +intelligent woman, consent to be the servant of that selfish brute?” + +“He has never understood me,” sighs the wife. Her satisfaction in being +able to pronounce these damning words is so great, that it drowns the +memory of a reply which her husband has given her again and again: + +“Do you imagine that your thoughts are so profound that I, a man with +a subtle brain, am unable to fathom them? Has it never occurred to you +that it may be your shallowness which prevents you from understanding +me?” + +He sits down in his room, alone. He suffers from remorse, as if he had +struck his mother. But she struck the first blow; she has struck him +blow after blow, for many years, and never once before has he +retaliated. + +This coarse, heartless, cynical woman, in whose keeping he confided +his whole soul with all its thoughts and emotions, was conscious of +his superiority, and therefore she humiliated him, dragged him down, +pulled him by the hair, covered him with abuse. Was it a crime that he +struck back when she publicly taunted him? Yes--he felt as guilty as +if he had murdered his dearest friend. + +The twilight of the warm summer night deepens and the moon rises. + +The sound of music from the drawing-room floats through his window. He +goes into the garden and sits down under a walnut tree. Alone! The +chords of the piano blend with the words of the song: + + When the veil of night was drawn + And crowded earth, mysterious sea + Became one sweet, enchanted ground + For us, until the starless dawn + Dissolved the failing moon--then we + In one long ecstasy were bound. + Now, I, alone in silence and in pain + Weep for the ache of well-remembered bliss, + For you who never can return again, + For you, my spring time, for your love, your kiss. + +He strolls through the garden and looks through the window. There she +sits, his living poem, which he has composed for his own delight. She +sings with tears in her voice. The ladies on the sofas look at one +another significantly. + +But behind the laurel bushes on a garden seat two men are sitting, +smoking, and chatting. He can hear what they say. + +“Nothing but the effect of the cognac.” + +“Yes, they say that she drinks.” + +“And blame the husband for it.” + +“That’s a shame! She took to drinking in Julian’s studio. She was +going to be an artist, you know, but she didn’t succeed. When they +rejected her picture at the exhibition, she threw herself at the head +of this poor devil and married him to hide her defeat.” + +“Yes, I know, and made his life a burden until he is but the shadow of +his former self. They started with a home of their own in Paris, and +he kept two maids for her; still she called herself his servant. +Although she was mistress over everything, she insisted that she was +but his slave She neglected the house, the servants robbed them right +and left, and he saw their home threatened with ruin without being +able to move a finger to avert it. She opposed every suggestion he +made; if he wanted black, she wanted white. In this way she broke his +will and shattered, his nerves. He broke up his home and took her to a +boarding-house to save her the trouble of housekeeping and enable her +to devote herself entirely to her art. But she won’t touch a brush and +goes out all day long with her friend. She has tried to come between +him and his work, too, and drive him to drink, but she has not managed +it; therefore she hates him, for he is the better of the two.” + +“But the husband must be a fool,” remarks the other man. + +“He is a fool wherever his wife is concerned, but he is no exception +to the rule. They have been married for twelve years and he is still +in love with her. The worst of it is that he is a strong man, who +commanded the respect of Parliament and Press, is breaking up. I +talked to him this morning; he is ill, to say the least.” + +“Yes; I heard that she tried to have him locked up in a asylum, and +that her friend did everything in her power to assist her.” + +“And he works himself to death, so that she can enjoy herself.” + +“Do you know why she treats him so contemptuously? Because he cannot +give her all the luxury she wants. ‘A man who cannot give his wife all +she wants,’ she said the other day at dinner, ‘ce n’est pas grand’ +chose.’ I believe that she counted on his booming her as an artist. +Unfortunately his political views prevent him from being on good terms +with the leading papers, and, moreover, he has no friends in artistic +circles; his interests lie elsewhere.” + +“I see; she wanted to make use of him for her own ends; when he +resisted she threw him over; but he serves his purpose as a breadwinner.” + + Now, I, alone in silence and in pain, + Weep for the ache of well-remembered bliss.... + +comes her voice from the drawing-room. + +“Bang!” the sound came from behind the walnut tree. It was followed by +a snapping of branches and a crunching of sand. + +The talkers jumped to their feet. + +The body of a well-dressed man lay across the road, with his head +against the leg of a chair. + +The song stopped abruptly. The ladies rushed into the garden. The +friend poured a few drops of eau de Cologne which she held in her +hand, on the face of the prostrate man. + +When she realised that it was no fainting fit, she started back. +“Horrible!” she exclaimed, putting her hand up to her face. + +The elder of the two men, who was stooping over; the dead body, looked +up. + +“Be silent, woman!” he exclaimed. + +“What a brute!” said the friend. + +The dead man’s wife fainted, but was caught in the arms of her friend +and tenderly nursed by the rest of the women. + +“Send for a doctor!” shouted the elder of the two men. “Run!” + +Nobody took any notice; everybody was busy with the unconscious wife. + +“To bring such grief on his wife! Oh! what a man! What a man!” sobbed +the friend. + +“Has no one a thought for the dying man? All this’ fuss because a woman +has fainted! Give her some brandy, that will revive her!” + +“The wretched man has deserved his fate!” said the friend emphatically. + +“He indeed deserved a better fate than to fall into your hands alive. +Shame on you, woman, and all honour to the breadwinner!” + +He let the hand of the dead man go and rose to his, feet. + +“It’s all over!” he said. + + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Married, by August Strindberg + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MARRIED *** + +***** This file should be named 7956-0.txt or 7956-0.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/7/9/5/7956/ + +Produced by David Starner, Marc D’Hooghe, Charles Franks +and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team + + +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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Hart was the originator of the Project Gutenberg-tm +concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared +with anyone. For forty years, he produced and distributed Project +Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support. + +Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed +editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the U.S. +unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not necessarily +keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition. + +Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility: + + www.gutenberg.org + +This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, +including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary +Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to +subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. + diff --git a/7956-0.zip b/7956-0.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..bb4d462 --- /dev/null +++ b/7956-0.zip diff --git a/7956-8.txt b/7956-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..cd75a8f --- /dev/null +++ b/7956-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,10486 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Married, 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: Married + +Author: August Strindberg + + +Release Date: April, 2005 [EBook #7956] +This file was first posted on June 5, 2003 +Last Updated: May 5, 2013 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MARRIED *** + + + + +Produced by David Starner, Marc D'Hooghe, Charles Franks +and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team + + + + + + + + +MARRIED + +By August Strindberg + + + + +CONTENTS + + +ASRA + +LOVE AND BREAD + +COMPELLED TO + +COMPENSATION + +FRICTIONS + +UNNATURAL SELECTION + +AN ATTEMPT AT REFORM + +A NATURAL OBSTACLE + +A DOLL'S HOUSE + +PHOENIX + +ROMEO AND JULIA + +PROLIFICACY + +AUTUMN + +COMPULSORY MARRIAGE + +CORINNA + +UNMARRIED AND MARRIED + +A DUEL + +HIS SERVANT + +THE BREADWINNER + + + + + +BIBLIOGRAPHY + + +Strindberg's works in English translation: Plays translated by Edwin +Bjorkman; _Master Olof_, American Scandinavian Foundation, 1915; _The +Dream Play, The Link, The Dance of Death_, New York, Charles +Scribner's Sons, 1912; _Swanwhite, Simoon, Debit and Credit, Advent, +The Thunderstorm, After the Fire,_ the same, 1913; _There Are Crimes +and Crimes, Miss Julia, The Stronger, Creditors, Pariah_, the same, +1913; Bridal Crown, _The Spook Sonata, The First Warning, Gustavus +Vasa_, the same, 1916. Plays translated by Edith and Warner Oland, +Boston Luce & Co., Vol. I (1912), _The Father, Countess Julie, The +Stronger, The Outlaw_; Vol. II (1912), _Facing Death, Easter, Pariah, +Comrades_; Vol. III (1914), _Swanwhite, Advent, The Storm, Lucky Pehr_, +tr. by Velma Swanston Howard, Cincinnati, Stewart & Kidd Co., 1912. +_The Red Room_, tr. by Ellie Schleussner, New York, Putnam's, 1913; +_Confession of a Fool_, tr. by S. Swift, London, F. Palmer, 1912; _The +German Lieutenant and Other Stories_, Chicago, A. C. McClurg & Co., +1915; _In Midsummer Days and Other Tales_, tr. by Ellie Schleussner, +London, H. Latimer, 1913; _Motherlove_, tr. by Francis J. Ziegler, +Philadelphia, Brown Bros., 2nd ed., 1916, _On the Seaboard_, tr. by +Elizabeth Clarke Westergren, Cincinnati, Stewart & Kidd Co., 1913; +_The Son of a Servant_, tr. by. Claud Field, introduction by Henry +Vacher-Burch, New York, Putnam's, 1913; _The Growth of a Soul_, tr. by +Claud Field, London, W. Rider & Co., 1913; _The Inferno_, tr. by Claud +Field, New York, Putnam's, 1913; _Legends, Autobiographical Sketches_, +London, A. Melrose, 1912; _Zones of the Spirit_, tr. by Claud Field, +introduction by Arthur Babillotte, London, G. Allen & Co. + + + + +INTRODUCTION + + +These stories originally appeared in two volumes, the first in 1884, +the second in 1886. The latter part of the present edition is thus +separated from the first part by a lapse of two years. + +Strindberg's views were continually undergoing changes. Constancy was +never a trait of his. He himself tells us that opinions are but the +reflection of a man's experiences, changing as his experiences change. +In the two years following the publication of the first volume, +Strindberg's experiences were such as to exercise a decisive influence +on his views on the woman question and to transmute his early +predisposition to woman-hating from a passive tendency to a positive, +active force in his character and writing. + +Strindberg's art in _Married_ is of the propagandist, of the fighter +for a cause. He has a lesson to convey and he makes frankly for his +goal without attempting to conceal his purpose under the gloss of +"pure" art. He chooses the story form in preference to the treatise as +a more powerful medium to drive home his ideas. That the result has +proved successful is due to the happy admixture in Strindberg of +thinker and artist. His artist's sense never permitted him to distort +or misrepresent the truth for the sake of proving his theories. In +fact, he arrived at his theories not as a scholar through the study of +books, but as an artist through the experience of life. When life had +impressed upon him what seemed to him a truth, he then applied his +intellect to it to bolster up that truth. Hence it is that, however +opinionated Strindberg may at times seem, his writings carry that +conviction which we receive only when the author reproduces' truths he +has obtained first-hand from life. One-sided he may occasionally be in +_Married_, especially in the later stories, but rarely unfaithful. His +manner is often to throw such a glaring searchlight upon one spot of +life that all the rest of it stays in darkness; but the places he does +show up are never unimportant or trivial. They are well worth seeing +with Strindberg's brilliant illumination thrown upon them. + +August Strindberg has left a remarkably rich record of his life in +various works, especially in his autobiographical series of novels. He +was born in 1849 in Stockholm. His was a sad childhood passed in +extreme poverty. He succeeded in entering the University of Upsala in +1867, but was forced for a time on account of lack of means to +interrupt his studies. He tried his fortune as schoolmaster, actor, +and journalist and made an attempt to study medicine. All the while he +was active in a literary way, composing his first plays in 1869. In +1874 he obtained a position in the Royal Library, where he devoted +himself to scientific studies, learned Chinese in order to catalogue +the Chinese manuscripts, and wrote an erudite monograph which was read +at the Academy of Inscriptions in Paris. + +His first important literary productions were the drama _Master Olof_ +(1878) and the novel _The Red Room_ (1879). Disheartened by the +failure of _Master Olof_, he gave up literature for a long time. When +he returned to it, he displayed an amazing productivity. Work followed +work in quick succession--novels, short stories, dramas, histories, +historical studies, and essays. _The Swedish People_ is said to be the +most popular book in Sweden next to the Bible. The mere enumeration of +his writings would occupy more than two pages. His versatility led him +to make researches in physics and chemistry and natural science and to +write on those subjects. + +Through works like _The Red Room_, _Married_, and the dramas _The +Father_ and _Miss Julia_, Strindberg attached himself to the +naturalistic school of literature. Another period of literary +inactivity followed, during which he passed through a mental crisis +akin to insanity. When he returned to the writing of novels and dramas +he was no longer a naturalist, but a symbolist and mystic. Among the +plays he composed in this style are _To Damascus_, _The Dream Play_, +and _The Great Highway_. + +Strindberg married three times, divorced his first two wives, but +separated amicably from the third. He died in 1913. The vast +demonstration at his funeral, attended by the laboring classes as well +as by the "upper" classes, proved that, in spite of the antagonisms he +had aroused, Sweden unanimously awarded him the highest place in her +literature. + +THOMAS SELTZER. + + + + + +ASRA + + +He had just completed his thirteenth year when his mother died. He +felt that he had lost a real friend, for during the twelve months of +her illness he had come to know her personally, as it were, and +established a relationship between them which is rare between parents +and children. He was a clever boy and had developed early; he had read +a great many books besides his schoolbooks, for his father, a +professor of botany at the Academy of Science, possessed a very good +library. His mother, on the other hand, was not a well-educated woman; +she had merely been head housekeeper and children's nurse in her +husband's house. Numerous births and countless vigils (she had not +slept through a single night for the last sixteen years), had +exhausted her strength, and when she became bedridden, at the age of +thirty-nine, and was no longer able to look after her house, she made +the acquaintance of her second son; her eldest boy was at a military +school and only at home during the week ends. Now that her part as +mother of the family was played to the end and nothing remained of her +but a poor invalid, the old-fashioned relationship of strict discipline, +that barrier between parents and children, was superseded. +The thirteen-year-old son was almost constantly at her bedside, +reading to her whenever he was not at school or doing home lessons. +She had many questions to ask and he had a great deal to explain, and +therefore all those distinguishing marks erected by age and position +vanished, one after the other: if there was a superior at all, it was +the son. But the mother, too, had much to teach, for she had learnt +her lessons in the school of life; and so they were alternately +teacher and pupil. They discussed all subjects. With the tact of a +mother and the modesty of the other sex she told her son all he ought +to know of the mystery of life. He was still innocent, but he had +heard many things discussed by the boys at school which had shocked +and disgusted him. The mother explained to him all she could explain; +warned him of the greatest danger to a young man, and exacted a +promise from him never to visit a house of ill-fame, not even out of +curiosity, because, as she pointed out, in such a case no man could +ever trust himself. And she implored him to live a temperate life, and +turn to God in prayer whenever temptation assaulted him. + +His father was entirely devoted to science, which was a sealed book to +his wife. When the mother was already on the point of death, he made a +discovery which he hoped would make his name immortal in the scientific +world. He discovered, on a rubbish heap, outside the gates of Stockholm, +a new kind of goose-foot with curved hairs on the usually straight-haired +calyx. He was in communication with the Berlin Academy of Sciences, and +the latter was even now considering the advisability of including the new +variety in the "Flora Germanica"; he was daily expecting to hear whether +or not the Academy had decided to immortalise his name by calling the +plant Chenopodium Wennerstroemianium. At his wife's death-bed he was +absentminded, almost unkind, for he had just received an answer in the +affirmative, and he fretted because neither he nor his wife could enjoy +the great news. She thought only of heaven and her children. He could not +help realising that to talk to her now of a calyx with curved hairs would +be the height of absurdity; but, he justified himself, it was not so +much a question of a calyx with straight or curved hairs, as of a +scientific discovery; and, more than that, it was a question of his +future and the future of his children, for their father's distinction +meant bread for them. + +When his wife died on the following evening, he cried bitterly; he had +not shed a tear for many years. He was tortured by remorse, remembered +even the tiniest wrong he had ever done her, for he had been, on the +whole, an exemplary husband; his indifference, his absent-mindedness +of the previous day, filled him with shame and regret, and in a moment +of blankness he realised all the pettishness and selfishness of his +science which, he had imagined, was benefiting mankind. But these +emotions were short-lived; if you open a door with a spring behind it, +it will close again immediately. On the following morning, after he +had drawn up an announcement of her death for the papers, he wrote a +letter of thanks to the Berlin Academy of Sciences. After that he +resumed his work. + +When he came home to dinner, he longed for his wife, so that he might +tell her of his success, for she had always been his truest friend, +the only human being who had never been jealous or envious. Now he +missed this loyal companion on whose approval he could count as a +matter of course; never once had she contradicted him, for since he +never told her more than the practical result of his researches, there +was no room for argument. For a moment the thought occurred to him +that he might make friends with his son; but they knew each other too +little; their relationship was that of officer and private soldier. +His superior rank did not permit him to make advances; moreover, he +regarded the boy with suspicion, because the latter possessed a keener +intellect and had read a number of new books which were unknown to +him; occasionally it even happened that the father, the professor, +plainly revealed his ignorance to his son, the school-boy. In such +cases the father was either compelled to dismiss the argument, with a +few contemptuous remarks to "these new follies," or peremptorily order +the school-boy to attend to his lessons. Once or twice, in self-defence, +the son had produced one or other of his school-books; the professor +had lost his temper and wished the new school-books to hell. + +And so it came about that the father devoted himself to his +collections of dried plants and the son went his own way. + +They lived in a quiet street to the left of the Observatory, in a +small, one-storey house, built of bricks, and surrounded by a large +garden; the garden was once the property of the Horticultural Society, +and had come into the professor's possession by inheritance. But since +he studied descriptive botany, and took no interest in the much more +interesting subjects of the physiology and morphology of plants, a +science which was as good as unknown in his youth, he was practically +a stranger to living nature. He allowed the garden with its many +splendours to become a wilderness, and finally let it to a gardener on +condition that he and his children should be allowed certain +privileges. The son used the garden as a park and enjoyed its beauty +as he found it, without taking the trouble to try and understand it +scientifically. + +One might compare the boy's character to an ill-proportioned +compensation pendulum; it contained too much of the soft metal of the +mother, not enough of the hard metal of the father. Friction and +irregular oscillations were the natural consequences. Now he was full +of sentiment, now hard and sceptical. His mother's death affected him +beyond words. He mourned her deeply, and she always lived in his memory +as the personification of all that was good and great and beautiful. + +He wasted the summer following her death in brooding and novel-reading. +Grief, and to no small extent idleness, had shaken his whole nervous +system and quickened his imagination. His tears had been like warm April +showers falling on fruit trees, wakening them to a precocious burgeoning: +but alas! only too often the blossoms are doomed to wither and perish in +a frosty May night, before the fruit has had time to set. + +He was fifteen years old and had therefore arrived at the age when +civilised man attains to manhood and is ripe to give life to a new +generation, but is prevented from doing so by his inability to +maintain a family. Consequently he was about to begin the ten years' +martyrdom which a young man is called upon to endure in the struggle +against an overwhelming force of nature, before he is in a position to +fulfil her laws. + + * * * * * + +It is a warm afternoon about Whitsuntide. The appletrees are gorgeous +in their white splendour which nature has showered all over them with +a profuse hand. The breeze shakes the crowns and fills the air with +pollen; a part of it fulfils its destination and creates new life, a +part sinks to the ground and dies. What is a handful of pollen more or +less in the inexhaustible store-house of nature! The fertilised blossom +casts off its delicate petals which flutter to the ground and wither; +they decay in the rain and are ground to dust, to rise again through the +sap and re-appear as blossoms, and this time, perhaps, to become fruit. +But now the struggle begins: those which a kind fate has placed on the +sunny side, thrive and prosper; the seed bud swells, and if no frost +intervenes, the fruit, in due time, will set. But those which look +towards the North, the poor things which grow in the shadow of the +others and never see the sun, are predestined to fade and fall off; +the gardener rakes them together and carts them to the pig-sty. + +Behold the apple-tree now, its branches laden with half-ripe fruit, +little, round, golden apples with rosy cheeks. A fresh struggle +begins: if all remain alive, the branches will not be able to bear +their weight, the tree will perish. A gale shakes the branches. It +requires firm stems to hold on. Woe to the weaklings! they are +condemned to destruction. + +A fresh danger! The apple-weevil appears upon the scene. It, too, has +to maintain life and to fulfil a duty towards its progeny. The grub +eats its way through the fruit to the stem and the apple falls to the +ground. But the dainty beetle chooses the strongest and soundest for +its brood, otherwise too many of the strong ones would be allowed to +live, and competition would become over-keen. + +The hour of twilight, the gathering dusk, arouses the passionate +instincts of the beast-world. The night-crow crouches on the newly-dug +flower-bed to lure its mate. Which of the eager males shall carry the +prize? Let them decide the question! + +The cat, sleek and warm, fresh from her evening milk, steals away from +her corner by the hearth and picks her way carefully among daffodils +and lilies, afraid lest the dew make her coat damp and ragged before +her lover joins her. She sniffs at the young lavender and calls. Her +call is answered by the black tom-cat which appears, broad-backed like +a marten, on the neighbour's fence; but the gardener's tortoise-shell +approaches from the cow-shed and the fight begins. Handfuls of the +rich, black soil are flying about in all directions, and the +newly-planted radishes and spinach plants are roughly awakened from +their quiet sleep and dreams of the future. The stronger of the two +remains in possession of the field, and the female awaits complacently +the frenetic embraces of the victor. The vanquished flies to engage in +a new struggle in which, perhaps, victory will smile on him. + +Nature smiles, content, for she knows of no other sin than the sin +against her law; she is on the side of the strong for her desire is +for strong children, even though she should have to kill the "eternal +ego" of the insignificant individual. And there is no prudery, no +hesitation, no fear of consequences, for nature has plenty of food for +all her children--except mankind. + + * * * * * + +After supper he went for a walk in the garden while his father sat +down at his bed-room window to smoke a pipe and read the evening +paper. He strolled along the paths, revelling in the delicious odours +which a plant only exhales when it is in full bloom, and which is the +finest and strongest extract of etheric oils, containing in a +condensed form the full strength of the individual, destined to become +the representative of the species. He listened to the nuptial song of +the insects above the lime trees, which rings in our ears like a +funeral dirge: he heard the purring call of the night-crow; the ardent +mewing of the cat, which sounds as if death, and not life, were +wooing; the humming note of the dung-beetle, the fluttering of the +large moths, the thin peeping of the bats. + +He stopped before a bed of narcissus, gathered one of the while, +starry flowers, and inhaled its perfume until he felt the blood +hammering in his temples. He had never examined this flower minutely. +But during the last term they had read Ovid's story of Narcissus. He +had not discovered a deeper meaning in the legend. What did it mean, +this story of a youth who, from unrequited love, turned his ardour +upon himself and was consumed by the flame when he fell in love with +his own likeness seen in a well? As he stood, examining the white, +cup-shaped petals, pale as the cheeks of an invalid with fine red +lines such as one may see in the faces of consumptives when a pitiless +cough forces the blood into the extremest and tiniest blood-vessels, +he thought of a school-fellow, a young aristocrat, who was a +midshipman now; he looked like that. + +When he had inhaled the scent of the flower for some time, the strong +odour of cloves disappeared and left but a disagreeable, soapy smell +which made him feel sick. + +He sauntered on to where the path turned to the right and finally lost +itself in an avenue planted on both sides with elm-trees whose branches +had grown together and formed an arch overhead. In the semi-darkness, +far down the perspective, he could see a large green swing, suspended +by ropes, slowly moving backwards and forwards. A girl stood on the +back board, gently swinging herself by bending her knees and throwing +her body forward, while she clung, with arms raised high above her head, +to the ropes at her side. He recognised the gardener's daughter, a girl +who had been confirmed last Easter and had just begun to wear long +skirts. To-night, however, she was dressed in one of her old dresses +which barely reached to her ankles. + +The sight of the young man embarrassed her, for she remembered the +shortness of her skirt, but she nevertheless remained on the swing. He +advanced and looked at her. + +"Go away, Mr. Theodore," said the girl, giving the swing a vigorous +push. + +"Why should I?" answered the youth, who felt the draught of her +fluttering skirts on his throbbing temples. + +"Because I want you to," said the girl. + +"Let me come up, too, and I'll swing you, Gussie," pleaded Theodore, +springing on to the board. + +Now he was standing on the swing, facing her. And when they rose into +the air, he felt her skirts flapping against his legs, and when they +descended, he bent over her and looked into her eyes which were +brilliant with fear and enjoyment. Her thin cotton blouse fitted +tightly and showed every line of her young figure; her smiling lips +were half-open, displaying two rows of sound white teeth, which looked +as if they would like to bite or kiss him. + +Higher and higher rose the swing, until it struck the topmost branches +of the maple. The girl screamed and fell forward, into his arms; he +was pushed over, on to the seat. The trembling of the soft warm body +which nestled closely in his arms, sent an electric shock through his +whole nervous system; a black veil descended before his eyes and he +would have let her go if her left shoulder had not been tightly +pressed against his right arm. + +The speed of the swing slackened. She rose and sat on the seat facing +him. And thus they remained with downcast eyes, not daring to look one +another in the face. + +When the swing stopped, the girl slipped off the seat and ran away as +if she were answering a call. Theodore was left alone. He felt the +blood surging in his veins. It seemed to him that his strength was +redoubled. But he could not grasp what had happened. He vaguely +conceived himself as an electrophor whose positive electricity, in +discharging, had combined with the negative. It had happened during a +quite ordinary, to all appearances chaste, contact with a young woman. +He had never felt the same emotion in wrestling, for instance, with +his school-fellows in the play-ground. He had come into contact with +the opposite polarity of the female sex and now he knew what it meant +to be a man. For he was a man, not a precocious boy, kicking over the +traces; he was a strong, hardy, healthy youth. + +As he strolled along, up and down the garden paths, new thoughts +formed in his brain. Life looked at him with graver eyes, he felt +conscious of a sense of duty. But he was only fifteen years old. He +was not yet confirmed and many years would have to elapse before he +would be considered an independent member of the community, before he +would be able to earn a living for himself, let alone maintain a wife +and family. He took life seriously, the thought of light adventures +never occurred to him. Women were to him something sacred, his +opposite pole, the supplement and completion of himself. He was mature +now, bodily and mentally, fit to enter the arena of life and fight his +way. What prevented him from doing so? His education, which had taught +him nothing useful; his social position, which stood between him and a +trade he might have learned. The Church, which had not yet received +his vow of loyalty to her priests; the State, which was still waiting +for his oath of allegiance to Bernadotte and Nassau; the School, which +had not yet trained him sufficiently to consider him ripe for the +University; the secret alliance of the upper against the lower +classes. A whole mountain of follies lay on him and his young +strength. Now that he knew himself to be a man, the whole system of +education seemed to him an institution for the mutilation of body and +soul. They must both be mutilated before he could be allowed to enter +the harem of the world, where manhood is considered a danger; he could +find no other excuse for it. And thus he sank back into his former +state of immaturity. He compared himself to a celery plant, tied up +and put under a flower-pot so as to make it as white and soft as +possible, unable to put forth green leaves in the sunshine, flower, +and bear seed. + +Wrapped in these thoughts he remained in the garden until the clock on +the nearest church tower struck ten. Then he turned towards the house, +for it was bed-time. But the front door was locked. The house-maid, a +petticoat thrown over her nightgown, let him in. A glimpse of her bare +shoulders roused him from his sentimental reveries; he tried to put +his arm round her and kiss her, for at the moment he was conscious of +nothing but her sex. But the maid had already disappeared, shutting +the door with a bang. Overwhelmed with shame he opened his window, +cooled his head in a basin of cold water and lighted his lamp. + +When he had got into bed, he took up a volume of Arndt's _Spiritual +Voices of the Morning_, a book which had belonged to his mother; he +read a chapter of it every evening to be on the safe side, for in the +morning his time was short. The book reminded him of the promise of +chastity given to his mother on her death-bed, and he felt a twinge of +conscience. A fly which had singed its wings on his lamp, and was now +buzzing round the little table by his bedside, turned his thoughts +into another channel; he closed the book and lit a cigarette. He heard +his father take off his boots in the room below, knock out his pipe +against the stove, pour out a glass of water and get ready to go to +bed. He thought how lonely he must be since he had become a widower. +In days gone by he had often heard the subdued voices of his parents +through the thin partition, in intimate conversation on matters on +which they always agreed; but now no voice was audible, nothing but +the dead sounds which a man makes in waiting upon himself, sounds +which one must put side by side, like the figures in a rebus, before +one can understand their meaning. + +He finished his cigarette, blew out the lamp and said the Lord's Prayer +in an undertone, but he got no farther than the fifth petition. Then he +fell asleep. + +He awoke from a dream in the middle of the night. He had dreamt that +he held the gardener's daughter in his arms. He could not remember the +circumstances, for he was quite dazed, and fell asleep again directly. + +On the following morning he was depressed and had a headache. He +brooded over the future which loomed before him threateningly and +filled him with dread. He realised with a pang how quickly the summer +was passing, for the end of the summer meant the degradation of +school-life. Every thought of his own would be stifled by the thoughts +of others; there was no advantage in being able to think independently; +it required a fixed number of years before one could reach one's goal. +It was like a journey on a good's train; the engine was bound to remain +for a certain time in the stations, and when the pressure of the steam +became too strong, from want of consumption of energy, a waste-pipe had +to be opened. The Board had drawn up the time-table and the train was +not permitted to arrive at the stations before its appointed time. That +was the principal thing which mattered. + +The father noticed the boy's pallor, but he put it down to grief over +his mother's death. + +Autumn came and with it the return to school. Theodore, by dint of +much novel-reading during the summer, and coming in this way, as it +were, in constant contact with grown-up people and their problems and +struggles, had come to look upon himself as a grown-up member of +society. Now the masters treated him with familiarity, the boys took +liberties which compelled him to repay them in kind. And this +educational institution, which was to ennoble him and make him fit to +take his place in the community, what did it teach him? How did it +ennoble him? The compendiums, one and all, were written under the +control of the upper classes, for the sole purpose of forcing the +lower classes to look up to their betters. The schoolmasters +frequently reproached their pupils with ingratitude and impressed on +them their utter inability to realise, even faintly, the advantage +they enjoyed in receiving an education which so many of their poorer +fellow-creatures would always lack. No, indeed, the boys were not +sophisticated enough to see through the gigantic fraud and its +advantages. + +But did they ever find true joy, real pleasure in the subjects of +their studies for their own sakes? Never! Therefore the teachers had +to appeal incessantly to the lower passions of their pupils, to +ambition, self-interest, material advantages. + +What a miserable make-believe school was! Not one of the boys believed +that he would reap any benefit from repeating the names and dates of +hated kings in their proper sequence, from learning dead languages, +proving axioms, defining "a matter of course," and counting the anthers +of plants and the joints on the hindlegs of insects, to knowing the end +no more about them than their Latin names. How many long hours were +wasted in the vain attempt to divide an angle into three equal sections, +a thing which can be done so easily in a minute in an _unscientific_ +(that is to say practical) way by using a graduator. + +How they scorned everything practical! His sisters, who were taught +French from Ollendorf's grammar, were able to speak the language after +two years' study; but the college boys could not say a single sentence +after six. Ollendorf was a name which they pronounced with pity and +contempt. It was the essence of all that was stupid. + +But when his sister asked for an explanation and enquired whether the +purpose of spoken language was not the expression of human thought, +the young sophist replied with a phrase picked up from one of the +masters who in his turn had borrowed it from Talleyrand. Language was +invented to hide one's thoughts. This, of course, was beyond the +horizon of a young girl (how well men know how to hide their +shortcomings), but henceforth she believed her brother to be +tremendously learned, and stopped arguing with him. + +And was there not even a worse stumbling-block in aesthetics, delusive +and deceptive, casting a veil of borrowed splendour and sham beauty +over everything? They sang of "The Knights' Vigil of Light." What +knights' vigil? With patents of nobility and students' certificates; +false testimonials, as they might have told themselves. Of light? That +was to say of the upper classes who had the greatest interest in +keeping the lower classes in darkness, a task in which they were ably +assisted by church and school. "And onward, onward, on the path of +light!" + +Things were always called by the wrong name. And if it so happened +that a light-bearer arose from the lower classes, everybody was ready +and prepared to extinguish his torch. Oh! youthful, healthy host of +fighters! How healthy they were, all these young men, enervated by +idleness, unsatisfied desires and ambitions, who scorned every man who +had not the means to pay for a University education! What splendid +liars they were, the poets of the upper classes! Were they the +deceivers or the deceived? + +What was the usual subject of the young men's conversation? Their +studies? Never! Once in a way, perhaps, they would talk of certificates. +No, their conversation was of things obscene; of appointments with +women; of billiards and drink; of certain diseases which they had heard +discussed by their elder brothers. They lounged about in the afternoon +and "held the reviews," and the best informed of them knew the name of +the officer and could tell the others where his mistress lived. + +Once two members of the "Knights' Vigil of Light," had dined in the +company of two women on the terrace of a high-class restaurant in the +Zoological Gardens. For this offence they were expelled from school. +They were punished for their navet, not because their conduct was +considered vicious, for a year after they passed their examinations +and went to the University, gaining in this way a whole year; and when +they had completed their studies at Upsala, they were attached to the +Embassy in one of the capitals of Europe, to represent the United +Kingdoms of Sweden and Norway. + +In these surroundings Theodore spent the best part of his youth. He +had seen through the fraud, but was compelled to acquiesce! Again and +again he asked himself the question: What can I do? There was no answer. +And so he became an accessory and learned to hold his tongue. + +His confirmation appeared to him to be very much on a level with his +school experience. A young minister, an ardent pietist, was to teach +him in four months Luther's Catechism, regardless of the fact that he was +well versed in theology, exegesis and dogmatics, besides having read the +New Testament in Greek. Nevertheless the strict pietism, which demanded +absolute truth in thought and action, could not fail to make a great +impression on him. + +When the catechumens were assembled for the first time, Theodore found +himself quite unexpectedly surrounded by a totally different class of +boys to whom he had been used at school. When he entered the +assembly-room he was met by the stare of something like a hundred +inimical eyes. There were tobacco binders, chimney sweeps, apprentices +of all trades. They were on bad terms and freely abused one another, +but this enmity between the different trades was only superficial; +however much they quarrelled, they yet held together. He seemed to +breathe a strangely stifling atmosphere; the hatred with which they +greeted him was not unmixed with contempt, the reverse of a certain +respect or envy. He looked in vain for a friend, for a companion, +like-minded, dressed as he was. There was not a single one. The parish +was poor, the rich people sent their children to the German church which +was then the fashion. It was in the company of the children of the +people, the lower classes, that he was to approach the altar, as their +equal. He asked himself what it was that separated him from these boys? +Were they not, bodily, endowed with the same gifts as he? No doubt, for +every one of them earned his living, and some of them helped to keep +their parents. Were they less gifted, mentally? He did not think so, for +their remarks gave evidence of keen powers of observation; he would have +laughed at many of their witty remarks if he had not been conscious of +his superior caste. There was no definite line of demarcation between +him and the fools who were his school-fellows. But there was a line here +Was it the shabby clothes, the plain faces, the coarse hands, which +formed the barrier? Partly, he thought. Their plainness, especially, +repulsed him. But were they worse than others because they were plain? + +He was carrying a foil, as he had a fencing lesson later on. He put it +in a corner of the room, hoping that it would escape attention. But it +had been seen already. Nobody knew what kind of a thing it really was, +but everybody recognised it as a weapon of some sort. Some of the +boldest busied themselves about the corner, so as to have a look at +it. They fingered the covering of the handle, scratched the guard with +their nails, bent the blade, handled the small leather ball. They were +like hares sniffing at a gun which had been lost in the wood. They did +not understand its use, but they knew it for something inimical, +something with a hidden meaning. Presently a belt-maker's apprentice, +whose brother was in the Life Guards, joined the inquisitive throng +and at once decided the question: "Can't you see that it is a sword, +you fools?" he shouted, with a look at Theodore. It was a respectful +look, but a look which also hinted at a secret understanding between +them, which, correctly interpreted, meant: You and I understand these +things! But a young rope-maker, who had once been a trumpeter in a +military band, considered this giving of a verdict without consulting +him a personal slight and declared that he "would be hanged if it +wasn't a rapier!" The consequence was a fight which transformed the +place into a bear-garden, dense with dust and re-echoing with screams +and yells. + +The door opened and the minister stood on the threshold. He was a pale +young man, very thin, with watery blue eyes and a face disfigured by a +rash. He shouted at the boys. The wild beasts ceased fighting. He +began talking of the precious blood of Christ and the power of the +Evil One over the human heart. After a little while he succeeded in +inducing the hundred boys to sit down on the forms and chairs. But now +he was quite out of breath and the atmosphere was thick with dust. He +glanced at the window and said in a faint voice: "Open the sash!" This +request re-awakened the only half-subdued passions. Twenty-five boys +made a rush for the window and tried to seize the window cord. + +"Go to your places at once!" screamed the minister, stretching out his +hand for his cane. + +There was a momentary silence during which the minister tried to think +of a way of having the sash raised without a fight. + +"You," he said at last to a timid little fellow, "go and open the +window!" + +The small boy went to the window and tried to disentangle the window +cord. The others looked on in breathless silence, when suddenly a big +lad, in sailor's clothes, who had just come home on the brig _Carl +Johan_, lost patience. + +"The devil take me if I don't show you what a lad can do," he shouted, +throwing off his coat and jumping on the window sill; there was a +flash from his cutlass and the rope was cut. + +"Cable's cut!" he laughed, as the minister with a hysterical cry, +literally drove him to his seat. + +"The rope was so entangled that there was nothing for it but to cut +it," he assured him, as he sat down. + +The minister was furious. He had come from a small town in the +provinces and had never conceived the possibility of so much sin, so +much wickedness and immorality. He had never come into contact with +lads so far advanced on the road to damnation. And he talked at great +length of the precious blood of Christ. + +Not one of them understood what he said, for they did not realise that +they had fallen, since they had never bee different. The boys received +his words with coldness and indifference. + +The minister rambled on and spoke of Christ's precious wounds, but not +one of them took his words to heart, for not one of them was conscious +of having wounded Christ. He changed the subject and spoke of the +devil, but that was a topic so familiar to them that it made no +impression. At last he hit on the right thing. He began to talk of +their confirmation which was to take place in the coming spring. He +reminded them of their parents, anxious that their children should +play a part in the life of the community; when he went on to speak of +employers who refused to employ lads who had not been confirmed, his +listeners became deeply interested at once, and every one of them +understood the great importance of the coming ceremony. Now he was +sincere, and the young minds grasped what he was talking about; the +noisiest among them became quiet. + +The registration began. What a number of marriage certificates were +missing! How could the children come to Christ when their parents had +not been legally married? How could they approach the altar when their +fathers had been in prison? Oh! what sinners they were! + +Theodore was deeply moved by the exhibition of so much shame and +disgrace. He longed to tear his thoughts away from the subject, but +was unable to do so. Now it was his turn to hand in his certificates +and the minister read out: son: Theodore, born on such and such a +date; parents: professor and knight ... a faint smile flickered like a +feeble sunbeam over his face, he gave him a friendly nod and asked: +"And how is your dear father?" But when he saw that the mother was +dead (a fact of which he was perfectly well aware) his face clouded +over. "She was a child of God," he said, as if he were talking to +himself, in a gushing, sympathetic, whining voice, but the remark +conveyed at the same time a certain reproach against the "dear father," +who was only a professor and knight. After that Theodore could go. + +When he left the assembly-room he felt that he had gone through an +almost impossible experience. Were all those lads really depraved +because they used oaths and coarse language, as his companions, his +father, his uncle, and all the upper classes did at times? What did +the minister mean when he talked of immorality? They were more savage +than the spoilt children of the wealthy, but that was because they +were more fully alive. It was unfair to blame them for missing +marriage certificates. True, his father had never committed a theft, +but there was no necessity for a man to steal if he had an income of +six thousand crowns and could please himself. The act would be absurd +or abnormal in such a case. + +Theodore went back to school realising what it meant "to have received +an education"; here nobody was badgered for small faults. As little +notice as possible was taken of one's own or one's parent's weaknesses, +one was among equals and understood one another. + +After school one "held the reviews," sneaked into a cafe and drank a +liqueur, and finally went to the fencing-room. He looked at the young +officers who treated him as their equal, observed all those young +bloods with their supple limbs, pleasant manners and smiling faces, +every one of them certain that a good dinner was awaiting him at home, +and became conscious of the existence of two worlds: an upper and an +under-world. He remembered the gloomy assembly-room and the wretched +assembly he had just left with a pang; all their wounds and hidden +defects were mercilessly exposed and examined through a +magnifying-glass, so that the lower classes might acquire that true +humility failing which the upper classes cannot enjoy their amiable +weaknesses in peace. And for the first time something jarring had come +into this life. + +However much Theodore was tossed about between his natural yearning +for the only half-realised temptations of the world, and his newly +formed desire to turn his back on this world and his mind heavenwards, +he did not break the promise given to his mother. The religious +teaching which he and the other catechumens received from the minister +in the church, did not fail to impress him deeply. He was often gloomy +and wrapped in thought and felt that life was not what it ought to be. +He had a dim notion that once upon a time a terrible crime had been +committed, which it was now everybody's business to hide by practising +countless deceptions; he compared himself to a fly caught in a spider's +web: the more it struggled to regain its freedom, the more it entangled +itself, until at last it died miserably, strangled by the cruel threads. + +One evening--the minister scorned no trick likely to produce an effect +on his hard-headed pupils--they were having a lesson in the choir. It +was in January. Two gas jets lighted up the choir, illuminating and +distorting the marble figures on the altar. The whole of the large +church with its two barrel-vaults, which crossed one another, lay in +semi-darkness. In the background the shining organ pipes faintly +reflected the gas flames; above it the angels blowing their trumpets +to summon the sleepers before the judgment seat of their maker, looked +merely like sinister, threatening human figures above life size; the +cloisters were lost in complete darkness. + +The minister had explained the seventh commandment. He had spoken of +immorality between married and unmarried people. He could not explain +to his pupils what immorality between husband and wife meant, although +he was a married man himself; but on the subject of immorality in all +its other aspects he was well-informed. He went on to the subject of +self-abuse. As he pronounced the word a rustling sound passed through +the rows of young men; they stared at him, with white cheeks and +hollow eyes, as if a phantom had appeared in their midst. As long as +he kept to the tortures of hell fire, they remained fairly indifferent, +but when he took up a book and read to them accounts of youths who had +died at the age of twenty-five of consumption of the spine, they +collapsed in their seats, and felt as if the floor were giving way +beneath them! He told them the story of a young boy who was committed +to an asylum at the age of twelve, and died at the age of fourteen, +having found peace in the faith of his Redeemer. They saw before their +shrinking eyes a hundred corpses, washed and shrouded. "There is but one +remedy against this evil," went on the minister, "the precious wounds of +Christ." But how this remedy was to be used against sexual precocity, he +did not tell them. He admonished them not to go to dances, to shun +theatres and gaming-houses, and above all things, to avoid women; that +is to say to act in exact contradiction to their inclinations. That this +vice contradicts and utterly confounds he pronouncement of the community +that a man is not mature until he is twenty-one, was passed over in +silence. Whether it could be prevented by early marriages (supposing a +means of providing food for all instead of banquets for a few could be +found) remained an open question. The final issue was that one should +throw oneself into the arms of Christ, that is to say, go to church, and +leave the care of temporal things to the upper classes. + +After this admonishment the minister requested the first five on the +first form to stay behind. He wished to speak to them in private. The +first five looked as if they had been sentenced to death. Their chests +contracted; they breathed with difficulty, and a careful observer might +have noticed that their hair had risen an inch at the roots and lay over +their skulls in damp strands like the hair of a corpse. Their eyes stared +from their blanched sockets like two round glass bullets set in leather, +motionless, not knowing whether to face the question with a bold front, +or hide behind an impudent lie. + +After the prayer the hymn of Christ's wounds was sung; to-night it +sounded like the singing of consumptives; every now and then it died +away altogether, or was interrupted by a dry cough, like the cough of +a man who is dying of thirst. Then they began to file out. One of the +five attempted to steal away, but the minister called him back. + +It was a terrible moment. Theodore who sat on the first form was one +of the five. He felt sick at heart. Not because he was guilty of the +offence indicated, but because in his heart he considered it an insult +to a man thus to have to lay bare the most secret places of his soul. + +The other four sat down, as far from each other as they could. The +belt-maker's apprentice, who was one of them, tried to make a joke, +but the words refused to come. They saw themselves confronted by the +police-court, the prison, the hospital and, in the background, the +asylum. They did not know what was going to happen, but they felt +instinctively that a species of scourging awaited them. Their only +comfort in their distressing situation was the fact that _he_, Mr. +Theodore, was one of them. It was not clear to them why that fact +should be a comfort, but they knew intuitively that no evil would +happen to the son of a professor. + +"Come along, Wennerstroem," said the minister, after he had lighted +the gas in the vestry. + +Wennerstroem went and the door closed behind him. The four remained +seated on their forms, vainly trying to discover a comfortable +position for their limbs. + +After a while Wennerstroem returned, with red eyes, trembling with +excitement; he immediately went down the corridor and out into the +night. + +When he stood in the churchyard which lay silent under a heavy cover +of snow, he recapitulated all that had happened in the vestry. The +minister had asked him whether he had sinned? No, he had not. Did he +have dreams? Yes! He was told that dreams were equally sinful, because +they proved that the heart was wicked, and God looked at the heart. +"He trieth the heart and reins, and on the last day he will judge +every one of us for every sinful thought, and dreams are thoughts. +Christ has said: Give me your heart, my son! Go to Him! Pray, pray, +pray! Whatsoever is chaste, whatsoever is pure, whatsoever is +lovely--that is He. The alpha and the omega, life and happiness. +Chasten the flesh and be strong in prayer. Go in the name of the Lord +and sin no more!" + +He felt indignant, but he was also crushed. In vain did he struggle to +throw off his depression, he had not been taught sufficient common-sense +at school to use it as a weapon against this Jesuitical sophistry. It +was true, his knowledge of psychology enabled him to modify the statement +that dreams are thoughts; dreams are fancies, he mused, creations of the +imagination; but God has no regard for words! Logic taught him that there +was something unnatural in his premature desires. He could not marry at +the age of sixteen, since he was unable to support a wife; but why he was +unable to support a wife, although he felt himself to be a man, was a +problem which he could not solve. However anxious he might be to get +married, the laws of society which are made by the upper classes and +protected by bayonets, would prevent him. Consequently nature must have +been sinned against in some way, for a man was mature long before he was +able to earn a living. It must be degeneracy. His imagination must be +degenerate; it was for him to purify it by prayer and sacrifice. + +When he arrived home, he found his father and sisters at supper. He +was ashamed to sit down with them, for he felt degraded. His father +asked him, as usual, whether the date of the confirmation had been +fixed. Theodore did not know. He touched no food, pretending that he +was not well; the truth was that he did not dare to eat any supper. He +went into his bedroom and read an essay by Schartau which the minister +had lent him. The subject was the vanity of reason. And here, just +here, where all his hopes of arriving at a clear understanding were +centred, the light failed. Reason which he had dared to hope would +some day guide him out of the darkness into the light, reason, too, +was sin; the greatest of all sins, for it questioned God's very +existence, tried to understand what was not meant to be understood. +Why _it_ was not meant to be understood, was not explained; probably +it was because if _it_ had been understood the fraud would have been +discovered. + +He rebelled no longer, but surrendered himself. Before going to bed he +read two _Morning Voices_ from Arndt, recited the Creed, the Lord's +Prayer and the Blessing. He felt very hungry; a fact which he realised +with a certain spiteful pleasure, for it seemed to him that his enemy +was suffering. + +With these thoughts he fell asleep. He awoke in the middle of the +night. He had dreamt of a champagne supper in the company of a girl. +And the whole terrible evening arose fresh in his memory. + +He leapt out of bed with a bound, threw his sheets and blankets on the +floor and lay down to sleep on the bare mattress, covering himself +with nothing but a thin coverlet. He was cold and hungry, but he must +subdue the devil. Again he repeated the Lord's Prayer, with additions +of his own. By and by his thoughts grew confused, the strained +expression of his features relaxed, a smile softened the expression of +his mouth; lovely figures appeared before him, serene and smiling, he +heard subdued voices, half-stifled laughter, a few bars from a waltz, +saw sparkling glasses and frank and merry faces with candid eyes, +which met his own unabashed; suddenly a curtain was parted in the +middle; a charming little face peeped through the red silk draperies, +with smiling lips and dancing eyes; the slender throat is bare, the +beautiful sloping shoulders look as if they had been modelled by a +caressing hand; she holds out her arms and he draws her to his +thumping heart. + +The clock was striking three. Again he had been worsted in the fight. + +Determined to win, he picked up the mattress and threw it out of the +bed. Then he knelt on the cold floor and fervently prayed to God for +strength, for he felt that he was indeed wrestling with the devil. +When he had finished his prayer he lay down on the bare frame, and +with a feeling of satisfaction felt the ropes and belting cutting into +his arms and shins. + +He awoke in the morning in a high fever. + +He was laid up for six weeks. When he arose from his bed of sickness, +he felt better than he had ever felt before. The rest, the good food +and the medicine had increased his strength, and the struggle was now +twice as hard. But he continued to struggle. + +His confirmation took place in the spring. The moving scene in which +the lower classes promise on oath never to interfere with these things +which the upper classes consider their privilege, made a lasting +impression on him. It didn't trouble him that the minister offered him +wine bought from the wine-merchant Hgstedt at sixty-five re the +pint, and wafers from Lettstroem, the baker, at one crown a pound, as +the flesh and blood of the great agitator Jesus of Nazareth, who was +done to death nineteen hundred years ago. He didn't think about it, +for one didn't think in those days, one had emotions. + +A year after his confirmation he passed his final examination. The +smart little college cap was a source of great pleasure to him; +without being actually conscious of it, he felt that he, as a member +of the upper classes, had received a charter. They were not a little +proud of their knowledge, too, these young men, for the masters had +pronounced them "mature." The conceited youths! If at least they had +mastered all the nonsense of which they boasted! If anybody had +listened to their conversation at the banquet given in their honour, +it would have been a revelation to him. They declared openly that they +had not acquired five per cent. of the knowledge which ought to have +been in their possession; they assured everybody who had ears to +listen that it was a miracle that they had passed; the uninitiated +would not have believed a word of it. And some of the young masters, +now that the barrier between pupil and teacher was removed, and +simulation was no longer necessary, swore solemnly, with half-intoxicated +gestures, that there was not a single master in the whole school who +would not have been plucked. A sober person could not help drawing the +conclusion that the examination was like a line which could be drawn at +will between upper and lower classes; and then he saw in the miracle +nothing but a gigantic fraud. + +It was one of the masters who, sipping a glass of punch, maintained +that only an idiot could imagine that a human brain could remember at +the same time: the three thousand dates mentioned in history; the +names of the five thousand towns situated in all parts of the world; +the names of six hundred plants and seven hundred animals; the bones +in the human body, the stones which form the crust of the earth, all +theological disputes, one thousand French words, one thousand English, +one thousand German, one thousand Latin, one thousand Greek, half a +million rules and exceptions to the rules: five hundred mathematical, +physical, geometrical, chemical formulas. He was willing to prove that +in order to be capable of such a feat the brain would have to be as +large as the cupola of the Observatory at Upsala. Humboldt, he went on +to say, finally forgot his tables, and the professor of astronomy at +Lund had been unable to divide two whole numbers of six figures each. +The newly-fledged under-graduates imagined that they knew six +languages, and yet they knew no more than five thousand words at most +of the twenty thousand which composed their mother tongue. And hadn't +he seen how they cheated? Oh! he knew all their tricks! He had seen +the dates written on their finger nails; he had watched them +consulting books under cover of their desks, he had heard them +whispering to one another! But, he concluded, what is one to do? +Unless one closes an eye to these things, the supply of students is +bound to come to an end. During the summer Theodore remained at home, +spending much of his time in the garden. He brooded over the problem +of his future; what profession was he to choose? He had gained so much +insight into the methods of the huge Jesuitical community which, under +the name of the upper classes, constituted society, that he felt +dissatisfied with the world and decided to enter the Church to save +himself from despair. And yet the world beckoned to him. It lay before +him, fair and bright, and his young, fermenting blood yearned for +life. He spent himself in the struggle and his idleness added to his +torments. + +Theodore's increasing melancholy and waning health began to alarm his +father. He had no doubt about the cause, but he could not bring +himself to talk to his son on such a delicate subject. + +One Sunday afternoon the Professor's brother who was an officer in the +Pioneers, called. They were sitting in the garden, sipping their coffee. + +"Have you noticed the change in Theodore?" asked the Professor. + +"Yes, his time has come," answered the Captain. + +"I believe it has come long ago." + +"I wish you'd talk to him, I can't do it." + +"If I were a bachelor, I should play the part of the uncle," said the +Captain; "as it is, I'll ask Gustav to do it. The boy must see something +of life, or he'll go wrong. Hot stuff these Wennerstroems, what?" + +"Yes," said the Professor, "I was a man at fifteen, but I had a +school-friend who was never confirmed because he was a father at +thirteen." + +"Look at Gustav! Isn't he a fine fellow? I'm hanged if he isn't as +broad across the back as an old captain! He's a handful!" + +"Yes," answered the Professor, "he costs me a lot, but after all, I'd +rather pay than see the boy running any risks. I wish you'd ask Gustav +to take Theodore about with him a little, just to rouse him." + +"Oh! with pleasure!" answered the Captain. + +And so the matter was settled. + +One evening in July, when the summer is in its prime and all the +blossoms which the spring has fertilised ripen into fruit, Theodore +was sitting in his bed-room, waiting. He had pinned a text against his +wall. "Come to Jesus," it said, and it was intended as a hint to the +lieutenant not to argue with him when he occasionally came home from +barracks for a few minutes. Gustav was of a lively disposition, "a +handful," as his uncle had said. He wasted no time in brooding. He had +promised to call for Theodore at seven o'clock; they were going to +make arrangements for the celebration of the professor's birthday. +Theodore's secret plan was to convert his brother, and Gustav's +equally secret intention was to make his younger brother take a more +reasonable view of life. + +Punctually at seven o'clock, a cab stopped before the house, (the +lieutenant invariably arrived in a cab) and immediately after Theodore +heard the ringing of his spurs and the rattling of his sword on the +stairs. + +"Good evening, you old mole," said the elder brother with a laugh. He +was the picture of health and youth. His highly-polished Hessian boots +revealed a pair of fine legs, his tunic outlined the loins of a +cart-horse; the golden bandolier of his cartridge box made his chest +appear broader and his sword-belt showed off a pair of enormous thighs. + +He glanced at the text and grinned, but said nothing. + +"Come along, old man, let's be off to Bellevue! We'll call on the +gardener there and make arrangements for the old man's birthday. Put +on your hat, and come, old chap!" + +Theodore tried to think of an excuse, but the brother took him by the +arm, put a hat on his head, back to front, pushed a cigarette between +his lips and opened the door. Theodore felt like a fish out of water, +but he went with his brother. + +"To Bellevue!" said the lieutenant to the cab-driver, "and mind you +make your thoroughbreds fly!" + +Theodore could not help being amused. It would never have occurred to +him to address an elderly married man, like the cabman, with so much +familiarity. + +On the way the lieutenant talked of everything under the sun and stared +at every pretty girl they passed. + +They met a funeral procession on its return from the cemetery. + +"Did you notice that devilish pretty girl in the last coach?" asked +Gustav. + +Theodore had not seen her and did not want to see her. + +They passed an omnibus full of girls of the barmaid type. The +lieutenant stood up, unconcernedly, in the public thoroughfare, and +kissed his hands to them. He really behaved like a madman. + +The business at Bellevue was soon settled. On their return the +cab-driver drove them, without waiting for an order, to "The Equerry," +a restaurant where Gustav was evidently well-known. + +"Let's go and have something to eat," said the lieutenant, pushing his +brother out of the cab. + +Theodore was fascinated. He was no abstainer and saw nothing wrong in +entering a public-house, although it never occurred to him to do so. +He followed, though not without a slight feeling of uneasiness. + +They were received in the hall by two girls. "Good evening, little +doves," said the lieutenant, and kissed them both on the lips. "Let me +introduce you to my learned brother; he's very young and innocent, not +at all like me; what do you say, Jossa?" + +The girls looked shyly at Theodore, who did not know which way to turn. +His brother's language appeared to him unutterably impudent. + +On their way upstairs they met a dark-haired little girl, who had +evidently been crying; she looked quiet and modest and made a good +impression on Theodore. + +The lieutenant did not kiss her, but he pulled out his handkerchief +and dried her eyes. Then he ordered an extravagant supper. + +They were in a bright and pretty room, hung with mirrors and +containing a piano, a perfect room for banquetting. The lieutenant +opened the piano with his sword, and before Theodore knew where he +was, he was sitting on the music-stool, and his hands were resting on +the keyboard. + +"Play us a waltz," commanded the lieutenant, and Theodore played a +waltz. The lieutenant took off his sword and danced with Jossa; +Theodore heard his spurs knocking against the legs of the chairs and +tables. Then he threw himself on the sofa and shouted: + +"Come here, ye slaves, and fan me!" + +Theodore began to play softly and presently he was absorbed in the +music of Gounod's _Faust_. He did not dare to turn round. + +"Go and kiss him," whispered the brother. + +But the girls felt shy. They were almost afraid of him and his +melancholy music. + +The boldest of them, however, went up to the piano. + +"You are playing from the Freischtz, aren't you?" she asked. + +"No," said Theodore, politely, "I'm playing Gounod's _Faust_." + +"Your brother looks frightfully respectable," said the little dark +one, whose name was Rieke; "he's different to you, you old villain." + +"Oh! well, he's going into the Church," whispered the lieutenant. + +These words made a great impression on the girls, and henceforth they +only kissed the lieutenant when Theodore's back was turned, and looked +at Theodore shyly and apprehensively, like fowls at a chained mastiff. + +Supper appeared, a great number of courses. There were eighteen dishes, +not counting the hot ones. + +Gustav poured out the liqueurs. + +"Your health, you old hypocrite!" he laughed. + +Theodore swallowed the liqueur. A delicious warmth ran through his +limbs, a thin, warm veil fell over his eyes, he felt ravenous like a +starving beast. What a banquet it was! The fresh salmon with its +peculiar flavour, and the dill with its narcotic aroma; the radishes +which seem to scrape the throat and call for beer; the small +beef-steaks and sweet Portuguese onions, which made him think of +dancing girls; the fried lobster which smelt of the sea; the chicken +stuffed with parsley which reminded him of the gardener, and the first +gerkins with their poisonous flavour of verdigris which made such a +jolly, crackling sound between his crunching teeth. The porter flowed +through his veins like hot streams of lava; they drank champagne after +the strawberries; a waitress brought the foaming drink which bubbled +in the glasses like a fountain. They poured out a glass for her. And +then they talked of all sorts of things. + +Theodore sat there like a tree in which the sap is rising. He had +eaten a good supper and felt as if a whole volcano was seething in his +inside. New thoughts, new emotions, new ideas, new points of view +fluttered round his brow like butterflies. He went to the piano and +played, he himself knew not what. The ivory keys under his hands were +like a heap of bones from which his spirit drew life and melody. + +He did not know how long he had been playing, but when he turned, +round he saw his brother entering the room. He looked like a god, +radiating life and strength. Behind him came Rieke with a bowl of +punch, and immediately after all the girls came upstairs. The +lieutenant drank to each one of them separately; Theodore found that +everything was as it should be and finally became so bold that he +kissed Rieke on the shoulder. But she looked annoyed and drew away +from him, and he felt ashamed. + +When Theodore found himself alone in his room, he had a feeling as if +the whole world were turned upside down. He tore the text from the +wall, not because he no longer believed in Jesus, but because its +being pinned against the wall struck him as a species of bragging. He +was amazed to find that religion sat on him as loosely as a Sunday +suit, and he asked himself whether it was not unseemly to go about +during the whole week in Sunday clothes. After all he was but an +ordinary, commonplace person with whom he was well content, and he +came to the conclusion that he had a better chance of living in peace +with himself if he lived a simple, unpretentious, unassuming life. + +He slept soundly during the night, undisturbed by dreams. + +When he arose on the following morning, his pale cheeks looked fuller +and there was a new gladness in his heart. He went out for a walk and +suddenly found himself in the country. The thought struck him that he +might go to the restaurant and look up the girls. He went into the +large room; there he found Rieke and Jossa alone, in morning dresses, +snubbing gooseberries. Before he knew what he was doing, he was sitting +at the table beside them with a pair of scissors in his hand, helping +them. They talked of Theodore's brother and the pleasant evening they +had spent together. Not a single loose remark was made. They were just +like a happy family; surely he had fallen in good hands, he was among +friends. + +When they had finished with the gooseberries, he ordered coffee and +invited the girls to share it with him. Later on the proprietress came +and read the paper to them. He felt at home. + +He repeated his visit. One afternoon he went upstairs, to look for +Rieke. She was sewing a seam. Theodore asked her whether he was in her +way. "Not at all," she replied, "on the contrary." They talked of his +brother who was away at camp, and would be away for another two +months. Presently he ordered some punch and their intimacy grew. + +On another occasion Theodore met her in the Park. She was gathering +flowers. They both sat down in the grass. She was wearing a light +summer dress, the material of which was so thin that it plainly +revealed her slight girlish figure. He put his arms round her waist +and kissed her. She returned his kisses and he drew her to him in a +passionate embrace; but she tore herself away and told him gravely +that if he did not behave himself she would never meet him again. + +They went on meeting one another for two months. Theodore had fallen +in love with her. He had long and serious conversations with her on +the most sacred duties of life, on love, on religion, on everything, +and between-whiles he spoke to her of his passion. But she invariably +confounded him with his own arguments. Then he felt ashamed of having +harboured base thoughts of so innocent a girl, and finally his passion +was transformed into admiration for this poor little thing, who had +managed to keep herself unspotted in the midst of temptation. + +He had given up the idea of going into the Church; he determined to +take the doctor's degree and--who knows--perhaps marry Rieke. He read +poetry to her while she did needlework. She let him kiss her as much +as he liked, she allowed him to fondle and caress her; but that was +the limit. + +At last his brother returned from camp. He immediately ordered a +banquet at "The Equerry"; Theodore was invited. But he was made to +play all the time. He was in the middle of a waltz, to which nobody +danced, when he happened to look round; he was alone. He rose and went +into the corridor, passed a long row of doors, and at last came to a +bed-room. There he saw a sight which made him turn round, seize his +hat and disappear into the darkness. + +It was dawn when he reached his own bed-room, alone, annihilated, +robbed of his faith in life, in love, and, of course, in women, for to +him there was but one woman in the world, and that was Rieke from "The +Equerry." On the fifteenth of September he went to Upsala to study +theology. + + * * * * * + +The years passed. His sound common-sense was slowly extinguished by +all the nonsense with which he had to fill his brain daily and hourly. +But at night he was powerless to resist. Nature burst her bonds and +took by force what rebellious man denied her. He lost his health; all +his skull bones were visible in his haggard face, his complexion was +sallow and his skin looked damp and clammy; ugly pimples appeared +between the scanty locks of his beard. His eyes were without lustre, +his hands so emaciated that the joints seemed to poke through the +skin. He looked like the illustration to an essay on human vice, and +yet he lived a perfectly pure life. + +One day the professor of Christian Ethics, a married man with very +strict ideas on morality, called on him and asked him pointblank +whether he had anything on his conscience; if so, he advised him to +make a clean breast of it. Theodore answered that he had nothing to +confess, but that he was unhappy. Thereupon the professor exhorted him +to watch and pray and be strong. + +His brother had written him a long letter, begging him not to take a +certain stupid matter too much to heart. He told him that it was absurd +to take a girl seriously. His philosophy, and he had always found it +answering admirably, was to pay debts incurred and go; to play while +one was young, for the gravity of life made itself felt quite soon enough. +Marriage was nothing but a civil institution for the protection of the +children. There was plenty of time for it. + +Theodore replied at some length in a letter imbued with true Christian +sentiment, which the lieutenant left unanswered. + +After passing his first examination in the spring, Theodore was +obliged to spend a summer at Skfde, in order to undergo the cold +water cure. In the autumn he returned to Upsala. His newly-regained +strength was merely so much fresh fuel to the fire. + +Matters grew worse and worse. His hair had grown so thin that the +scalp was plainly visible. He walked with dragging footsteps and +whenever his fellow students met him in the street, they cut him as if +he were possessed of all the vices. He noticed it and shunned them in +his turn. He only left his rooms in the evening. He did not dare to go +to bed at night. The iron which he had taken to excess, had ruined his +digestion, and in the following summer the doctors sent him to +Karlsbad. + +On his return to Upsala, in the autumn, a rumour got abroad, an ugly +rumour, which hung over the town like a black cloud. It was as if a +drain had been left open and men were suddenly reminded that the town, +that splendid creation of civilisation, was built over a sea of +corruption, which might at any moment burst its bonds and poison the +inhabitants. It was said that Theodore Wennerstroem, in a paroxysm of +passion had assaulted one of his friends, and the rumour did not lie. + +His father went to Upsala and had an interview with the Dean of the +Theological Faculty. The professor of pathology was present. What was +to be done? The doctor remained silent. They pressed him for his +opinion. + +"Since you ask me," he said, "I must give you an answer; but you know +as well as I do that there is but one remedy." + +"And that is?" asked the theologian. + +"Need you ask?" replied the doctor. + +"Yes," said the theologian, who was a married man. "Surely, nature +does not require immorality from a man?" + +The father said that he quite understood the case, but that he was +afraid of making recommendations to his son, on account of the risks +the latter would run. + +"If he can't take care of himself he must be a fool," said the doctor. + +The Dean requested them to continue such an agitating conversation in +a more suitable place.... He himself had nothing more to add. + +This ended the matter. + +Since Theodore was a member of the upper classes the scandal was +hushed up. A few years later he passed his final, and was sent by the +doctor to Spa. The amount of quinine which he had taken had affected +his knees and he walked with two sticks. At Spa he looked so ill that +he was a conspicuous figure even in a crowd of invalids. + +But an unmarried woman of thirty-five, a German, took compassion on +the unhappy man. She spent many hours with him in a lonely summer +arbour in the park, discussing the problems of life. She was a member +of a big evangelical society, whose object was the raising of the +moral standard. She showed him prospectuses for newspapers and +magazines, the principal mission of which was the suppression of +prostitution. + +"Look at me," she said, "I am thirty-five years old and enjoy +excellent health! What fools' talk it is to say that immorality is a +necessary evil. I have watched and fought a good fight for Christ's +sake." + +The young clergyman silently compared her well-developed figure, her +large hips, with his own wasted body. + +"What a difference there is between human beings in this world," was +his unspoken comment. + +In the autumn the Rev. Theodore Wennerstroem and Sophia Leidschtz, +spinster, were engaged to be married. + +"Saved!" sighed the father, when the news reached him in his house at +Stockholm. + +"I wonder how it will end," thought the brother in his barracks. "I'm +afraid that my poor Theodore is 'one of those Asra who die when they +love.'" + +Theodore Wennerstroem was married. Nine months after the wedding his +wife presented him with a boy who suffered from rickets--another +thirteen months and Theodore Wennerstroem had breathed his last. + +The doctor who filled up the certificate of death, looked at the fine +healthy woman, who stood weeping by the small coffin which contained +the skeleton of her young husband of not much over twenty years. + +"The plus was too great, the minus too small," he thought, "and +therefore the plus devoured the minus." + +But the father, who received the news of his son's death on a Sunday, +sat down to read a sermon. When he had finished, he fell into a brown +study. + +"There must be something very wrong with a world where virtue is +rewarded with death," he thought. + +And the virtuous widow, _ne_ Leidschtz, had two more husbands and +eight children, wrote pamphlets on overpopulation and immorality. But +her brother-in-law called her a cursed woman who killed her husbands. + +The anything but virtuous lieutenant married and was father of six +children. He got promotion and lived happily to the end of his life. + + + + +LOVE AND BREAD + + +The assistant had not thought of studying the price of wheat before he +called on the major to ask him for the hand of his daughter; but the +major had studied it. + +"I love her," said the assistant. + +"What's your salary?" said the old man. + +"Well, twelve hundred crowns, at present; but we love one another...." + +"That has nothing to do with me; twelve hundred crowns is not enough." + +"And then I make a little in addition to my salary, and Louisa knows +that my heart...." + +"Don't talk nonsense! How much in addition to your salary?" + +He seized paper and pencil. + +"And my feelings...." + +"How much in addition to your salary?" + +And he drew hieroglyphics on the blotting paper. + +"Oh! We'll get on well enough, if only...." + +"Are you going to answer my question or not? How much in addition to +your salary? Figures! figures, my boy! Facts!" + +"I do translations at ten crowns a sheet; I give French lessons, I am +promised proof-correcting...." + +"Promises aren't facts! Figures, my boy! Figures! Look here, now, I'll +put it down. What are you translating?" + +"What am I translating? I can't tell you straight off." + +"You can't tell me straight off? You are engaged on a translation, you +say; can't you tell me what it is? Don't talk such rubbish!" + +"I am translating Guizot's _History of Civilisation_, twenty-five +sheets." + +"At ten crowns a sheet makes two hundred and fifty crowns. And then?" + +"And then? How can I tell beforehand?" + +"Indeed, can't you tell beforehand? But you ought to know. You seem to +imagine that being married simply means living together and amusing +yourselves! No, my dear boy, there will be children, and children +require feeding and clothing." + +"There needn't be babies directly, if one loves _as we love_ one +another." + +"How the dickens do you love one another?" + +"_As we love_ one another." He put his hand on his waistcoat. + +"And won't there be any children if people love as you love? You must +be mad! But you are a decent, respectable member of society, and +therefore I'll give my consent; but make good use of the time, my boy, +and increase your income, for hard times are coming. The price of +wheat is rising." + +The assistant grew red in the face when he heard the last words, but +his joy at the old man's consent was so great that he seized his hand +and kissed it. Heaven knew how happy he was! When he walked for the +first time down the street with his future bride on his arm, they both +radiated light; it seemed to them that the passers-by stood still and +lined the road in honour of their triumphal march; and they walked +along with proud eyes, squared shoulders and elastic steps. + +In the evening he called at her house; they sat down in the centre of +the room and read proofs; she helped him. "He's a good sort," chuckled +the old man. When they had finished, he took her in his arms and said: +"Now we have earned three crowns," and then he kissed her. On the +following evening they went to the theatre and he took her home in a +cab, and that cost twelve crowns. + +Sometimes, when he ought to have given a lesson in the evening, he (is +there anything a man will not do for love's sake?) cancelled his lesson +and took her out for a walk instead. + +But the wedding-day approached. They were very busy. They had to +choose the furniture. They began with the most important purchases. +Louisa had not intended to be present when he bought the bedroom +furniture, but when it came to the point she went with him. They +bought two beds, which were, of course, to stand side by side. The +furniture had to be walnut, every single piece real walnut. And they +must have spring mattresses covered with red and white striped tick, +and bolsters filled with down; and two eiderdown quilts, exactly +alike. Louisa chose blue, because she was very fair. + +They went to the best stores. They could not do without a red +hanging-lamp and a Venus made of plaster of Paris. Then they bought a +dinner-service; and six dozen differently shaped glasses with cut +edges; and knives and forks, grooved and engraved with their initials. +And then the kitchen utensils! Mama had to accompany them to see to +those. + +And what a lot he had to do besides! There were bills to accept, +journeys to the banks and interviews with tradespeople and artisans; +a flat had to be found and curtains had to be put up. He saw to +everything. Of course he had to neglect his work; but once he was +married, he would soon make up for it. + +They were only going to take two rooms to begin with, for they were +going to be frightfully economical. And as they were only going to +have two rooms, they could afford to furnish them well. He rented two +rooms and a kitchen on the first floor in Government Street, for six +hundred crowns. When Louisa remarked that they might just as well have +taken three rooms and a kitchen on the fourth floor for five hundred +crowns, he was a little embarrassed; but what did it matter if only +they loved one another? Yes, of course, Louisa agreed, but couldn't +they have loved one another just as well in four rooms at a lower +rent, as in three at a higher? Yes, he admitted that he had been +foolish, but what _did_ it matter so long as they loved one another? + +The rooms were furnished. The bed-room looked like a little temple. +The two beds stood side by side, like two carriages. The rays of the +sun fell on the blue eiderdown quilt, the white, white sheets and the +little pillow-slips which an elderly maiden aunt had embroidered with +their monogram; the latter consisted of two huge letters, formed of +flowers, joined together in one single embrace, and kissing here and +there, wherever they touched, at the corners. The bride had her own +little alcove, which was screened off by a Japanese screen. The +drawing-room, which was also dining-room, study and morning-room, +contained her piano, (which had cost twelve hundred crowns) his +writing-table with twelve pigeon-holes, (every single piece of it real +walnut) a pier-glass, armchairs; a sideboard and a dining-table. "It +looks as if nice people lived here," they said, and they could not +understand why people wanted a separate dining-room, which always looked +so cheerless with its cane chairs. + +The wedding took place on a Saturday. Sunday dawned, the first day of +their married life. Oh! what a life it was! Wasn't it lovely to be +married! Wasn't marriage a splendid institution! One was allowed one's +own way in everything, and parents and relations came and congratulated +one into the bargain. + +At nine o'clock in the morning their bedroom was still dark. He +wouldn't open the shutters to let in daylight, but re-lighted the red +lamp which threw its bewitching light on the blue eiderdown, the white +sheets, a little crumpled now, and the Venus made of plaster of Paris, +who stood there rosy-red and without shame. And the red light also +fell on his little wife who nestled in her pillows with a look of +contrition, and yet so refreshed as if she had never slept so well in +all her life. There was no traffic in the street to-day for it was +Sunday, and the church-bells were calling people to the morning +service with exulting, eager voices, as if they wanted all the world +to come to church and praise Him who had created men and women. + +He whispered to his little bride to shut her eyes so that he might get +up and order breakfast. She buried her head in the pillows, while he +slipped on his dressing-gown and went behind the screen to dress. + +A broad radiant path of sunlight lay on the sitting-room floor; he did +not know whether it was spring or summer, autumn or winter; he only +knew that it was Sunday! + +His bachelor life was receding into the background like something ugly +and dark; the sight of his little home stirred his heart with a faint +recollection of the home of his childhood, and at the same time held +out a glorious promise for the future. + +How strong he felt! The future appeared to him like a mountain coming +to meet him. He would breathe on it and the mountain would fall down +at his feet like sand; he would fly away, far above gables and +chimneys, holding his little wife in his arm. + +He collected his clothes which were scattered all over the room; he +found his white neck-tie hanging on a picture frame; it looked like a +big white butterfly. + +He went into the kitchen. How the new copper vessels sparkled, the new +tin kettles shone! And all this belonged to him and to her! He called +the maid who came out of her room in her petticoat. But he did not +notice it, nor did he notice that her shoulders were bare. For him +there was but one woman in all the world. He spoke to the girl as a +father would to his daughter. He told her to go to the restaurant and +order breakfast, at once, a first-rate breakfast. Porter and Burgundy! +The manager knew his taste. She was to give him his regards. + +He went out of the kitchen and knocked at the bed-room door. + +"May I come in?" + +There was a little startled scream. + +"Oh, no, darling, wait a bit!" + +He laid the breakfast table himself. When the breakfast was brought +from the restaurant, he served it on her new breakfast set. He folded +the dinner napkins according to all the rules of art. He wiped the +wine-glasses, and finally took her bridal-bouquet and put it in a vase +before her place. + +When she emerged from her bed-room in her embroidered morning gown and +stepped into the brilliant sunlight, she felt just a tiny bit faint; +he helped her into the armchair, made her drink a little liqueur out +of a liqueur glass and eat a caviare sandwich. + +What fun it all was! One could please oneself when one was married. +What would Mama have said if she had seen her daughter drinking +liqueurs at this hour of the morning! + +He waited on her as if she were still his fiancee. What a breakfast +they were having on the first morning after their wedding! And nobody +had a right to say a word. Everything was perfectly right and proper, +one could enjoy oneself with the very best of consciences, and that +was the most delightful part of it all. It was not for the first time +that he was eating such a breakfast, but what a difference between +then and now! He had been restless and dissatisfied then; he could not +bear to think of it, now. And as he drank a glass of genuine Swedish +porter after the oysters, he felt the deepest contempt for all +bachelors. + +"How stupid of people not to get married! Such selfishness! They ought +to be taxed like dogs." + +"I'm sorry for those poor men who haven't the means to get married," +replied his demure little wife kindly, "for I am sure, if they had the +means they would all get married." + +A little pang shot through the assistant's heart; for a moment he felt +afraid, lest he had been a little too venturesome. All his happiness +rested on the solution of a financial problem, and if, if.... Pooh! A +glass of Burgundy! Now he would work! They should see! + +"Game? With cranberries and cucumbers!" The young wife was a little +startled, but it was really delicious. + +"Lewis, darling," she put a trembling little hand on his arm, "can we +afford it?" + +Fortunately she said "we." + +"Pooh! It doesn't matter for once! Later on we can dine on potatoes +and herrings." + +"Can you eat potatoes and herrings?" + +"I should think so!" + +"When you have been drinking more than is good for you, and expect a +beefsteak after the herring?" + +"Nonsense! Nothing of the kind! Your health, sweetheart! The game is +excellent! So are these artichokes!" + +"No, but you are mad, darling! Artichokes at this time of the year! +What a bill you will have to pay!" + +"Bill! Aren't they good? Don't you think that it is glorious to be +alive? Oh! It's splendid, splendid!" + +At six o'clock in the afternoon a carriage drove up to the front door. +The young wife would have been angry if it had not been so pleasant to +loll luxuriously on the soft cushions, while they were being slowly +driven to the Deer Park. + +"It's just like lying on a couch," whispered Lewis. + +She playfully hit his fingers with her sunshade. Mutual acquaintances +bowed to them from the footpath. Friends waved their hands to him as +if they were saying: + +"Hallo! you rascal, you have come into a fortune!" + +How small the passers-by looked, how smooth the street was, how pleasant +their ride on springs and cushions! + +Life should always be like that. + +It went on for a whole month. Balls, visits, dinners, theatres. +Sometimes, of course, they remained at home. And at home it was more +pleasant than anywhere else. How lovely, for instance, to carry off +one's wife from her parents' house, after supper, without saying as +much as "by your leave," put her into a closed carriage, slam the +door, nod to her people and say: "Now we're off home, to our own four +walls! And there we'll do exactly what we like!" + +And then to have a little supper at home and sit over it, talking and +gossiping until the small hours of the morning. + +Lewis was always very sensible at home, at least in theory. One day +his wife put him to the test by giving him salt salmon, potatoes +boiled in milk and oatmeal soup for dinner. Oh! how he enjoyed it! He +was sick of elaborate menus. + +On the following Friday, when she again suggested salt salmon for +dinner, Lewis came home, carrying two ptarmigans! He called to her +from the threshold: + +"Just imagine, Lou, a most extraordinary thing happened! A most +extraordinary thing!" + +"Well, what is it?" + +"You'll hardly believe me when I tell you that I bought a brace of +ptarmigans, bought them myself at the market for--guess!" + +His little wife seemed more annoyed than curious. + +"Just think! One crown the two!" + +"I have bought ptarmigans at eightpence the brace; but--" she added in +a more conciliatory tone, so as not to upset him altogether, "that was +in a very cold winter." + +"Well, but you must admit that I bought them very cheaply." + +Was there anything she would not admit in order to see him happy? + +She had ordered boiled groats for dinner, as an experiment. But after +Lewis had eaten a ptarmigan, he regretted that he could not eat as +much of the groats as he would have liked, in order to show her that +he was really very fond of groats. He liked groats very much indeed--milk +did not agree with him after his attack of ague. He couldn't take milk, +but groats he would like to see on his table every evening, every blessed +evening of his life, if only she wouldn't be angry with him. + +And groats never again appeared on his table. + +When they had been married for six weeks, the young wife fell ill. She +suffered from headaches and sickness. It could not be anything serious, +just a little cold. But this sickness? Had she eaten anything which had +disagreed with her? Hadn't all the copper vessels new coatings of tin? +He sent for the doctor. The doctor smiled and said it was all right. + +"What was all right? Oh! Nonsense! It wasn't possible. How could it +have been possible? No, surely, the bed-room paper was to blame. It +must contain arsenic. Let us send a piece to the chemist's at once and +have it tested." + +"Entirely free from arsenic," reported the chemist. + +"How strange! No arsenic in the wall papers?" + +The young wife was still ill. He consulted a medical book and whispered +a question in her ear. "There now! a hot bath!" + +Four weeks later the midwife declared that everything was "as it +should be." + +"As it should be? Well, of course! Only it was somewhat premature!" + +But as it could not, be helped, they were delighted. Fancy, a baby! +They would be papa and mama! What should they call him? For, of course, +it would be a boy. No doubt, it would. But now she had a serious +conversation with her husband! There had been no translating or +proof-correcting since their marriage. And his salary alone was not +sufficient. + +"Yes, they had given no thought to the morrow. But, dear me, one was +young only once! Now, however, there would be a change." + +On the following morning the assistant called on an old schoolfriend, +a registrar, to ask him to stand security for a loan. + +"You see, my dear fellow, when one is about to become a father, one +has to consider how to meet increasing expenses." + +"Quite so, old man," answered the registrar, "therefore I have been +unable to get married. But you are fortunate in having the means." + +The assistant hesitated to make his request. How could he have the +audacity to ask this poor bachelor to help him to provide the expenses +for the coming event? This bachelor, who had not the means to found a +family of his own? He could not bring himself to do it. + +When he came home to dinner, his wife told him that two gentlemen had +called to see him. + +"What did they look like? Were they young? Did they wear eye-glasses? +Then there was no doubt, they were two lieutenants, old friends of his +whom he had met at Vaxholm." + +"No, they couldn't have been lieutenants; they were too old for that." + +"Then he knew; they were old college friends from Upsala, probably P. +who was a lecturer, and O. who was a curate, now. They had come to see +how their old pal was shaping as a husband." + +"No, they didn't come from Upsala, they came from Stockholm." + +The maid was called in and cross-examined. She thought the callers had +been shabbily dressed and had carried sticks. + +"Sticks! I can't make out what sort of people they can have been. +Well, we'll know soon enough, as they said they would call again. But +to change the subject, I happened to see a basket of hothouse +strawberries at a really ridiculous price; it really is absurd! Just +imagine, hothouse strawberries at one and sixpence a basket! And at +this time of the year!" + +"But, my darling, what is this extravagance to lead to?" + +"It'll be all right. I have got an order for a translation this very day." + +"But you are in debt, Lewis?" + +"Trifles! Mere nothings! It'll be all right when I take up a big loan, +presently." + +"A loan! But that'll be a new debt!" + +"True! But there'll be easy terms! Don't let's talk business now! Aren't +these strawberries delicious? What? A glass of sherry with them would be +tip-top. Don't you think so? Lina, run round to the stores and fetch a +bottle of sherry, the best they have." + +After his afternoon nap, his wife insisted on a serious conversation. + +"You won't be angry, dear, will you?" + +"Angry? I! Good heavens, no! Is it about household expenses?" + +"Yes! We owe money at the stores! The butcher is pressing for payment; +the man from the livery stables has called for his money; it's most +unpleasant." + +"Is that all? I shall pay them to the last farthing to-morrow. How +dare they worry you about such trifles? They shall be paid to-morrow, +but they shall lose a customer. Now, don't let's talk about it any +more. Come out for a walk. No carriage! Well, we'll take the car to +the Deer Park, it will cheer us up." + +They went to the Deer Park. They asked for a private room at the +restaurant, and people stared at them and whispered. + +"They think we are out on a spree," he laughed. "What fun! What madness!" + +But his wife did not like it. + +They had a big bill to pay. + +"If only we had stayed at home! We might have bought such a lot of things +for the money." + +Months elapsed. The great event was coming nearer and nearer. A cradle +had to be bought and baby-clothes. A number of things were wanted. The +young husband was out on business all day long. The price of wheat had +risen. Hard times were at hand. He could get no translations, no +proof-correcting. Men had become materialists. They didn't spend money +on books, they bought food. What a prosaic period we were living in! +Ideals were melting away, one after the other, and ptarmigans were not +to be had under two crowns the brace. The livery stables would not +provide carriages for nothing for the cab-proprietors had wives and +families to support, just as everybody else; at the stores cash had to +be paid for goods, Oh! what realists they all were! + +The great day had come at last. It was evening. He must run for the +midwife. And while his wife suffered all the pangs of childbirth, he +had to go down into the hall and pacify the creditors. + +At last he held a daughter in his arms. His tears fell on the baby, +for now he realised his responsibility, a responsibility which he was +unable to shoulder. He made new resolutions. But his nerves were +unstrung. He was working at a translation which he seemed unable to +finish, for he had to be constantly out on business. + +He rushed to his father-in-law, who was staying in town, to bring him +the glad news. + +"We have a little daughter!" + +"Well and good," replied his father-in-law; "can you support a child?" + +"Not at present; for heaven's sake, help us, father!" + +"I'll tide you over your present difficulties. I can't do more. My +means are only sufficient to support my own family." + +The patient required chickens which he bought himself at the market, +and wine at six crowns the bottle. It had to be the very best. + +The midwife expected a hundred crowns. + +"Why should we pay her less than others? Hasn't she just received a +cheque for a hundred crowns from the captain?" + +Very soon the young wife was up again. She looked like a girl, as +slender as a willow, a little pale, it was true, but the pallor suited +her. + +The old man called and had a private conversation with his son-in-law. + +"No more children, for the present," he said, "or you'll be ruined." + +"What language from a father! Aren't we married! Don't we love one +another? Aren't we to have a family?" + +"Yes, but not until you can provide for them. It's all very fine to +love one another, but you musn't forget that you have responsibilities." + +His father-in-law, too, had become a materialist. Oh! what a miserable +world it was! A world without ideals! + +The home was undermined, but love survived, for love was strong, and +the hearts of the young couple were soft. The bailiff, on the contrary, +was anything but soft. Distraint was imminent, and bankruptcy threatened. +Well, let them distrain then! + +The father-in-law arrived with a large travelling coach to fetch his +daughter and grand-child. He warned his son-in-law not to show his +face at his house until he could pay his debts and make a home for his +wife and child. He said nothing to his daughter, but it seemed to him +that he was bringing home a girl who had been led astray. It was as if +he had lent his innocent child to a casual admirer and now received +her back "dishonoured." She would have preferred to stay with her +husband, but he had no home to offer her. + +And so the husband of one year's standing was left behind to watch the +pillaging of his home, if he could call it his home, for he had paid +for nothing. The two men with spectacles carted away the beds and +bedclothes; the copper kettles and tin vessels; the dinner set, the +chandelier and the candlesticks; everything, everything! + +He was left alone in the two empty, wretched rooms! If only _she_ had +been left to him! But what should she do here, in these empty rooms? +No, she was better off where she was! She was being taken care of. + +Now the struggle for a livelihood began in bitter earnest. He found +work at a daily paper as a proof-corrector. He had to be at the office +at midnight; at three in the morning his work was done. He did not +lose his berth, for bankruptcy had been avoided, but he had lost all +chance of promotion. + +Later on he is permitted to visit wife and child once a week, but he +is never allowed to see her alone. He spends Saturday night in a tiny +room, close to his father-in-law's bedroom. On Sunday morning he has +to return to town, for the paper appears on Monday morning.... He says +good-bye to his wife and child who are allowed to accompany him as far +as the garden gate, he waves his hand to them once more from the +furthest hillock, and succumbs to his wretchedness, his misery, his +humiliation. And she is no less unhappy. + +He has calculated that it will take him twenty years to pay his debts. +And then? Even then he cannot maintain a wife and child. And his +prospects? He has none! If his father-in-law should die, his wife and +child would be thrown on the street; he cannot venture to look forward +to the death of their only support. + +Oh! How cruel it is of nature to provide food for all her creatures, +leaving the children of men alone to starve! Oh! How cruel, how cruel! +that life has not ptarmigans and strawberries to give to all men. How +cruel! How cruel! + + + + +COMPELLED TO + + +Punctually at half past nine on a winter evening he appears at the +door leading to the glass-roofed verandah of the restaurant. While, +with mathematical precision, he takes off his gloves, he peers over +his dim spectacles, first to the right, then to the left, to find out +whether any of his acquaintances are present. Then he hangs up his +overcoat on its special hook, the one to the right of the fireplace. +Gustav, the waiter, an old pupil of his, flies to his table and, +without waiting for an order, brushes the crumbs off the tablecloth, +stirs up the mustard, smooths the salt in the salt-cellar and turns +over the dinner napkin. Then he fetches, still without any order, a +bottle of Medhamra, opens half a bottle of Union beer and, merely for +appearance sake, hands the schoolmaster the bill of fare. + +"Crabs?" he asks, more as a matter of form than because there is any +need of the question. + +"Female crabs," answers the schoolmaster. + +"Large, female crabs," repeats Gustav, walks to the speaking tube +which communicates with the kitchen, and shouts: "Large female crabs +for Mr. Blom, and plenty of dill." + +He fetches butter and cheese, cuts two very thin slices of rye-bread, +and places them on the schoolmaster's table. The latter has in the +meantime searched the verandah for the evening papers, but has only +found the official _Post_. To make up for this very poor success, he +takes the _Daily Journal_, which he had not had time to finish at +lunch, and after first opening and refolding the _Post_, and putting +it on the top of the bread basket on his left, sits down to read it. +He ornaments the rye-bread with geometrical butter hieroglyphics, cuts +off a piece of cheese in the shape of a rectangle, fills his liqueur +glass three quarters full and raises it to his lips, hesitates as if +the little glass contained physic, throws back his head and says: Ugh! + +He has done this for twelve years and will continue doing it until the +day of his death. + +As soon as the crabs, six of them, have been put before him, he +examines them as to their sex, and everything being as it should be, +makes ready to enjoy himself. He tucks a corner of his dinner napkin +into his collar, places two slices of thin bread and cheese by the +side of his plate and pours out a glass of beer and half a glass of +liqueur. Then he takes the little crab-knife and business begins. He +is the only man in Sweden who knows how to eat a crab, and whenever he +sees anybody else engaged in the same pursuit, he tells him that he +has no idea how to do it. He makes an incision all round the head, and +a hole against which he presses his lips and begins to suck. + +"This," he says, "is the best part of the whole animal." + +He severs the thorax from the lower part, puts his teeth to the body +and drinks deep draughts; he sucks the little legs as if they were +asparagus, eats a bit of dill, and takes a drink of beer and a mouthful +of rye-bread. When he has carefully taken the shell off the claws and +sucked even the tiniest tubes, he eats the flesh; last of all he attacks +the lower part of the body. When he has eaten three crabs, he drinks half +a glass of liqueur and reads the promotions in the _Post_. + +He has done this for twelve years and will continue doing it until he +dies. + +He was just twenty years old when he first began to patronise the +restaurant, now he is thirty-two, and Gustav has been a waiter for ten +years in the same place. Not one of its frequenters has known the +restaurant longer than the school-master, not even the proprietor who +took it over eight years ago. He has watched generations of diners +come and go; some came for a year, some for two, some for five years; +then they disappeared, went to another restaurant, left the town or +got married. He feels very old, although he is only thirty-two! The +restaurant is his home, for his furnished room is nothing but the +place where he sleeps. + +It is ten o'clock. He leaves his table and goes to the back room where +his grog awaits him. This is the time when the bookseller arrives. +They play a game of chess or talk about books. At half-past ten the +second violin from the Dramatic Theatre drops in. He is an old Pole +who, after 1864, escaped to Sweden, and now makes a living by his +former hobby. Both the Pole and the bookseller are over fifty, but +they get on with the schoolmaster as if he were a contemporary. + +The proprietor has his place behind the counter. He is an old sea +captain who fell in love with the proprietress and married her. She +rules in the kitchen, but the sliding panel is always open, so that +she can keep an eye on the old man, lest he should take a glass too +much before closing time. Not until the gas has been turned out, and +the old man is ready to go to bed, is he allowed a nightcap in the +shape of a stiff glass of rum and water. + +At eleven o'clock the young bloods begin to arrive; they approach the +counter diffidently and ask the proprietor in a whisper whether any of +the private rooms upstairs are disengaged, and then there is a rustling +of skirts in the hall and cautious footsteps are creeping upstairs. + +"Well," says the bookseller, who has suddenly found a topic of +conversation, "when are you going to be married, Blom, old man?" + +"I haven't the means to get married," answered the school-master. "Why +don't you take a wife to your bosom yourself?" + +"No woman would have me, now that my head looks like an old, +leather-covered trunk," says the bookseller. "And, moreover, there's +my old Stafva, you know." + +Stafva was a legendary person in whom nobody believed. She was the +incarnation of the bookseller's unrealised dreams. + +"But you, Mr. Potocki?" suggested the schoolmaster. + +"He's been married once, that's enough," replies the bookseller. + +The Pole nods his head like a metrometer. + +"Yes, I was married very happily. Ugh!" he says and finishes his grog. + +"Well," continues the schoolmaster, "if women weren't such fools, one +might consider the matter; but they are infernal fools." + +The Pole nods again and smiles; being a Pole, he doesn't understand +what the word fool means. + +"I have been married very happily, ugh!" + +"And then there is the noise of the children, and children's clothes +always drying near the stove; and servants, and all day long the smells +from the kitchen. No, thank you! And, perhaps, sleepless nights into the +bargain." + +"Ugh!" added the Pole, completing the sentence. + +"Mr. Potocki says 'ugh' with the malice of the bachelor who listens to +the complaints of the married man," remarked the bookseller. + +"What did I say?" asks the astonished widower. "Ugh!" says the +bookseller, mimicking him, and the conversation degenerates into a +universal grinning and a cloud of tobacco smoke. + +It is midnight. The piano upstairs, which has accompanied a mixed +choir of male and female voices, is silent. The waiter has finished +his countless journeys from the speaking tube to the verandah; the +proprietor enters into his daybook the last few bottles of champagne +which have been ordered upstairs. The three friends rise from their +chairs and go home, two to their "virgin couches," and the bookseller +to his Stafva. + +When schoolmaster Blom had reached his twentieth year, he was compelled +to interrupt his studies at Upsala and accept a post as assistant teacher +at Stockholm. As he, in addition, gave private lessons, he made quite a +good income. He did not ask much of life. All he wanted was peace and +cleanliness. An elderly lady let him a furnished room and there he found +more than a bachelor finds as a rule. She looked after him and was kind +to him; she gave him all the tenderness which nature had intended her to +bestow on the new generation that was to spring from her. She mended his +clothes and looked after him generally. He had lost his mother when he +was a little boy and had never been accustomed to gratuitous kindness; +therefore he was inclined to look upon her services as an interference +with his liberty, but he accepted them nevertheless. But all the same +the public house was his real home. There he paid for everything and +ran up no bills. + +He was born in a small town in the interior of Sweden; consequently he +was a stranger in Stockholm. He knew nobody; was not on visiting terms +with any of the families and met his acquaintances nowhere but at the +public-house. He talked to them freely, but never gave them his +confidence, in fact he had no confidence to give. At school he taught +the third class and this gave him a feeling of having been stunted in +his growth. A very long time ago he had been in the third class +himself, had gradually crept up to the seventh, and had spent a few +terms at the University; now he had returned to the third; he had been +there for twelve years without being moved. He taught the second and +third books of Euclid; this was the course of instruction for the +whole year. He saw only a fragment of life; a fragment without +beginning or end; the second and third books. In his spare time he +read the newspapers and books on archaeology. Archaeology is a modern +science, one might almost say a disease of the time. And there is +danger in it, for it proves over and over again that human folly has +pretty nearly always been the same. + +Politics was to him nothing but an interesting game of chess--played +for the king, for he was brought up like everybody else; it was an +article of faith with him that nothing which happened in the world, +concerned him, personally; let those look to it whom God had placed in +a position of power. This way of looking at things filled his soul +with peace and tranquillity; he troubled nobody and nothing troubled +him. When he found, as he did occasionally, that an unusually foolish +event had occurred, he consoled himself with the conviction that it +could not have been helped. His education had made him selfish, and +the catechism had taught him that if everybody did his duty, all +things would be well, whatever happened. He did his duty towards his +pupils in an exemplary fashion; he was never late; never ill. In his +private life, too, he was above reproach; he paid his rent on the day +it fell due, never ran up bills at his restaurant, and spent only one +evening a week on pleasure. His life glided along like a railway train + to the second and, being a clever man, he managed to avoid collisions. +He gave no thought to the future; a truly selfish man never does, for +the simple reason that the future belongs to him for no longer than +twenty or thirty years at the most. + +And thus his days passed. + + * * * * * + +Midsummer morning dawned--radiant and sunny as mid-summer morning +should be. The schoolmaster was still in bed, reading a book on the +Art of Warfare in ancient Egypt, when Miss Augusta came into his room +with his breakfast. She had put on his tray some slices of saffron +bread, in honour of the festival, and on his dinner-napkin lay a spray +of elder blossoms. On the previous night she had decorated his room +with branches of the birch-tree, put clean sand and some cowslips in +the spittoon, and a bunch of lilies-of-the-valley on the dressing +table. + +"Aren't you going to make an excursion to-day, sir?" she asked, glancing +at the decorations, anxious for a word of thanks or approval. + +But Mr. Blom had not even noticed the decorations, and therefore he +answered dryly: + +"Haven't you realised yet that I never make excursions? I hate elbowing +my way through a crowd, and the noise of the children gets on my nerves." + +"But surely you won't stay in town on such a lovely day! You'll at least +go to the Deer Park?" + +"That would be the very last place I should go to, especially to-day, +when it will be crowded. Oh! no, I'm better off in town, and I wish to +goodness that this holiday nuisance would be stopped." + +"There are plenty of people who say that there aren't half enough +holidays these days when everybody has to work so hard," said the old +woman in a conciliatory tone. "But is there anything else you wish, +sir? My sister and I are making an excursion by steamer, and we shan't +be back until ten o'clock to-night." + +"I hope you'll enjoy yourselves, Miss Augusta. I want nothing, and am +quite able to look after myself. The caretaker can do my room when I +have gone out." + +Miss Augusta left him alone with his breakfast. When he had eaten it, +he lit a cigar and remained in bed with his _Egyptian Warfare_. The +open window shook softly in the southern breeze. At eight o'clock the +bells, large and small, of the nearest church began to ring, and those +of the other churches of Stockholm, St. Catherine's, St. Mary's and +St. Jacob's, joined in; they tinkled and jingled, enough to make a +heathen tear his hair in despair. When the church bells stopped, a +military band on the bridge of a steamer began to play a set of +quadrilles from _The Weak Point_. The schoolmaster writhed between his +sheets, and would have got out of bed and shut the window if it had +not been so hot. Next there came a rolling of drums, which was +interrupted by the strains of a brass quintet which played, on another +steamer, the Hunter's Chorus from the _Freischtz_. But the cursed +rolling of drums approached. They were marching at the head of the +Riflemen on their way to camp. Now he was subjected to a medley of +sounds: the Riflemen's march, the signals, the bells and the brass +bands on the steamers, until at last the whole crash and din was +drowned by the throbbing of the screw. + +At ten o'clock he lit his spirit lamp and boiled his shaving water. +His starched shirt lay on his chest of drawers, white and stiff as a +board. It took him a quarter of an hour to push the studs through the +button-holes. He spent half-an-hour in shaving himself. He brushed his +hair as if it were a matter of the utmost importance. When he put on +his trousers, he was careful that the lower ends should not touch the +floor and become dusty. + +His room was simply furnished, extremely plain and tidy. It was +impersonal, neutral, like the room in a hotel. And yet he had spent in +it twelve years of his life. Most people collect no end of trifles +during such a period; presents, little superfluous nothings, ornaments. +Not a single engraving, not a supplement to an illustrated magazine +even, which at some time or other had appealed to him, hung on the walls; +no antimacassar, no rug worked by a loving sister, lay on the chairs; +no photograph of a beloved face stood on his writing-table, no +embroidered pen-wiper lay by the side of the ink-stand. Everything had +been bought as cheaply as possible with a view to avoiding unnecessary +expense which might have hampered the owner's independence. + +He leaned out of the window which gave him a view of the street and, +across Artillery Place, of the harbour. In the house opposite a woman +was dressing. He turned away as if something ugly had met his gaze, or +something which might disturb his peace of mind. The harbour was gay +with the fluttering flags on the steamers and sailing-ships, and the +water glittered in the sunshine. A few old women, prayer-book in hand, +passed his window on their way to church. A sentinel with drawn sword +was walking up and down before the Artillery Barracks, glancing +discontentedly at the clock on the tower every now and then to see how +much longer he would have to wait until the relieving guard arrived. +Otherwise the street lay empty and grey in the hot sunshine. His eyes +wandered back to the woman opposite. She was standing before her +looking-glass, powder puff in hand, intent on powdering the corners of +her nose, with a grimace which made her look like a monkey. He left the +window and sat down in his rocking chair. + +He made his programme for the day, for he had a vague dread of +solitude. On week days he was surrounded by the school-boys, and +although he had no love for those wild beasts whose taming, or rather +whose efficient acquisition of the difficult art of dissembling, was +his life task, yet he felt a certain void when he was not with them. +Now, during the long summer vacations, he had established a holiday +school, but even so he had been compelled to give the boys short summer +holidays, and, with the exception of meal times when he could always +count on the bookseller and the second violin, he had been alone for +several days. + +"At two o'clock," he mused, "when the guard has been relieved, and the +crowds have dispersed, I'll go to my restaurant to dine; then I'll +invite the bookseller to Strmsborg; there won't be a soul to-day; we +can have coffee there and punch, and stay till the evening when we'll +return to town and to Rejner's." (Rejner's was the name of his +restaurant in Berzelius Place.) + +Punctually at two o'clock he took his hat, brushed himself carefully +and went out. + +"I wonder whether there'll be stewed perch to-day," he thought. "And +mightn't one treat oneself to asparagus, as it's midsummer-day?" + +He strolled past the high wall of the Government Bakery. In Berzelius +Park the seats which were usually occupied by the nursemaids of the +rich and their charges, were crowded with the families of the +labourers who had appeared in great numbers with their perambulators. +He saw a mother feeding her baby. She was a large, full-breasted +woman, and the baby's dimpled hand almost disappeared in her bosom. +The schoolmaster turned away with a feeling of loathing. He was +annoyed to see these strangers in _his_ park. It was very much like +the servants using the drawing-room when their master and mistress had +gone out; moreover, he couldn't forgive them their plainness. + +He arrived at the glass verandah, and put his hand on the door handle, +thinking once more of the stewed perch "with lots of parsley," when +his eyes fell on a notice on the door. There was no necessity to read +it, he knew its purport: the restaurant was closed on midsummer-day; +he had forgotten it. He felt as if he had run with his head into a +lamp-post. He was furious; first of all with the proprietor for +closing, then with himself for having forgotten that the restaurant +would be closed. It seemed to him so monstrous that he could have +forgotten an incident of such importance, that he couldn't believe it +and racked his brain to find someone on whom he could lay the blame. +Of course, it was the fault of the proprietor. He had run off the +lines, come into collision. He was done. He sat down on the seat and +almost shed tears of rage. + +Thump! a ball hit him right in the middle of his starched shirt front. +Like an infuriated wasp he rose from his seat to find the criminal; a +plain little girl's face laughed into his; a labourer in his Sunday +clothes and straw hat appeared, took her by the hand and smilingly +expressed a hope that the child had not hurt him; a laughing crowd of +soldiers and servant girls stared at him. He looked round for a +constable for he felt that his rights as a human being had been +encroached upon. But when he saw the constable in familiar conversation +with the child's mother, he dropped the idea of making a scene, went +straight to the nearest cab-stand, hired a cab, and told the driver +to drive him to the bookseller's; he could not bear to be alone any +longer. + +In the safe shelter of the cab he took out his handkerchief and flicked +the dust from his shirt front. + +He dismissed the cab in Goten Street, for he felt sure that he would +find his friend at home. But as he walked upstairs his assurance left +him. Supposing he were out after all! + +He was out. Not one of the tenants was at home. His knock sounded +through an empty house; his footsteps re-echoed on the deserted +stairs. + +When he was again in the street he was at a loss to know what to do. +He did not know Potocki's address, and where was he to find an address +book on a day when all the shops were closed? + +Without knowing where he was going, he went down the street, past the +harbour, across the bridge. He did not meet a single man he knew. The +presence of the crowd which occupied the town during the absence of +their betters annoyed him, for, like the rest of us, the education +which he had received at school had made an aristocrat of him. + +In his first anger he had forgotten his hunger, but now it re-asserted +itself. A new, terrible thought occurred to him, a thought which up to +now he had put away from him out of sheer cowardice: Where was he to +dine? He had started out with plenty of vouchers in his pocket, but +only one crown and fifty re in coin. The vouchers were only used at +Rejner's, for convenience sake, and he had spent a crown on his +cabfare. + +He found himself again in Berzelius Park. Everywhere he met labourers +and their families, eating what they had brought with them in baskets; +hard-boiled eggs, crabs, pancakes. And the police did not interfere. +On the contrary, he saw a policeman with a sandwich in one hand and a +glass of beer in the other. But what irritated him more than anything +else was the fact that these people whom he despised had the advantage +of him. But why couldn't he go into a dairy and appease his hunger? +Yes, why not? The very thought of it made him shudder. + +After some little reflection he went down to the harbour, intending to +cross over to the Deer Park. He was bound to find acquaintances there +from whom he could borrow money (hateful thought!) for his dinner. And +if so, he would dine at "Hazelmount," the best restaurant. + +The steamer was so crowded that schoolmaster Blom had to stand close +to the engine; the heat at his back was intolerable; his morning coat +was being covered with grease spots, while he stood, with his gaze +rivetted on the untidy head of a servant girl and endured the rancid +smell of the hair-oil. But he did not see a single face he knew. + +When he entered the restaurant in the Deer Park, he squared his +shoulders and tried to look as distinguished as possible. + +The space before the restaurant was like the auditorium of a theatre +and seemed to serve the same purpose: that is to say, it was a place +where one met one's friends and showed off. The verandah was occupied +by officers, blue in the face with eating and drinking; with them were +representatives of the foreign Powers, grown old and grey in their +strenuous efforts to protect fellow-countrymen who had got mixed up +with sailors and fishermen in drunken brawls, or assist at Gala +performances, christenings, weddings and funerals. So much for the +aristocracy. In the centre of a large space Mr. Blom suddenly discovered +the chimney sweep of his quarter, the proprietor of a small inn, the +chemist's assistant and others of the same standing. He watched the +game-keeper in his green coat and silver lace, with his gilt staff, +walking up and down and casting contemptuous glances at the assembled +crowd, as if he were wondering why they were here? The schoolmaster felt +self-conscious under the stare of all those eyes which seemed to say: +"Look at him! there he goes, wondering how to get dinner!" But there was +nothing else for it. He went on to the verandah where the people sat +eating perch and asparagus, and drinking Sauternes and Champagne. + +All of a sudden he felt the pressure of a friendly hand on his shoulder, +and as he turned round, he found himself face to face with Gustav, the +waiter, who seized his hand and exclaimed with undisguised pleasure: + +"Is that really you, Mr. Blom? How are you?" + +But Gustav, the waiter, who was so pleased to find himself for a few +moments the equal of his master, held a piece of wood in his warm hand +and met a pair of eyes which pierced his soul like gimlets. And yet +this same hand had given him ten crowns only yesterday, and the owner +of it had thanked him for six months' service and attention in the way +one thanks a friend. The waiter went back to his companions and sat +down amongst them, embarrassed and snubbed. But Mr. Blom left the +verandah with bitter thoughts and pushed his way through the crowd; he +fancied that he could hear a mocking: "He hasn't been able to get +dinner, after all!" + +He came to a large open space. There was a puppet-show, and Jasper was +being beaten by his wife. A little further off a sailor was showing +servant girls, soldiers and apprentices their future husband or wife +in a wheel of fortune. They all had had dinner and were enjoying +themselves; for a moment he believed himself their inferior, but only +for a moment; then he remembered that they had not the vaguest idea of +how an Egyptian camp was fortified. The thought gave him back his +self-respect, and he wondered how it was possible that people could be +so degraded as to find pleasure in such childishness. + +In the meantime he had lost all inclination to try the other restaurants; +he passed the Tivoli and went further into the heart of the park. Young +men and women were dancing on the grass to the strains of a violin: a +little further off a whole family was camping under an old oak; the head +of the family was kneeling down, in his shirt sleeves, with bare head, a +glass of beer in one hand, a sandwich in the other; his fat, jolly, +clean-shaven face beamed with pleasure and good-nature as he invited his +guests, who were evidently his wife, parents-in-law, brothers, +shop-assistants and servants, to eat, drink and be merry, for to-day was +Midsummer day, all day long. And the jovial fellow made such droll remarks +that the whole party writhed on the grass with amusement. After the +pancake had been produced and eaten with the fingers, and the port bottle +been round, the senior shop-assistant made a speech which was at once so +moving and so witty that the ladies at one moment pressed their +handkerchiefs to their eyes, while the head of the family bit his lips, +and at the next interrupted the speaker with loud laughter and cheers. + +The schoolmaster's mood became more and more morose, but instead of +going away he sat down on a stone under a pinetree and watched "the +animals." + +When the speech was finished and father and mother had been toasted +with cheers and a flourish of trumpets, executed on a concertina, +accompanied by the rattling of all cups and saucers that happened to +be empty, the party rose to play "Third Man," while mother and +mother-in-law attended to the babies. + +"Just like the beasts in the field," thought the schoolmaster, turning +away, for all that was natural was ugly in his eyes, and only that +which was unnatural could lay any claim to beauty in his opinion, +except, of course, the paintings of "well-known" masters in the +National Museum. + +He watched the young men taking off their coats, the young girls +slipping off their cuffs and hanging them on the blackthorn bushes; +then they took up their positions and the game began. + +The girls picked up their skirts and threw up their legs so that their +garters, made of blue and red braid such as the grocers sell for tying +up pots, were plainly visible, and whenever the cavalier caught his +lady, he took her in his arms and swung her round so that her skirts +flew; and young and old shrieked so with laughter that the park +re-echoed. + +"Is this innocence or corruption?" wondered the schoolmaster. + +But evidently the party did not know what the learned word "corruption" +meant, and that was the reason why they were so merry. + +By the time they were tired of playing "Third Man" tea was ready. The +schoolmaster was puzzled to know where the cavaliers had learnt their +fine manners, for they moved about on all fours to offer the girls +sugar and cake; and the straps of their waistcoats stood out like +handles. + +"The males showing off before the females!" thought the schoolmaster. +"They don't know what they are in for." + +He noticed how the head of the family, the jolly fellow, waited on +father and mother-in-law, wife, shop-assistants and servant girls: and +whenever one of them begged him to help himself first, he invariably +answered that there was plenty of time for that. + +He watched the father-in-law peeling a willow branch to make a flute +for the little boy; he watched the mother-in-law wash up as if she had +been one of the servants. And he thought that there was something +strange about selfishness, since it could be so cleverly disguised +that it looked as if no one gave more than he received; for it must be +selfishness, it couldn't be anything else. + +They played at forfeits and redeemed every forfeit with kisses, true, +genuine, resounding kisses on the lips; and when the jolly book-keeper +was made to kiss the old oak-tree, his conduct was too absurd for +anything; he embraced and caressed the gnarled trunk as if it had been +a girl whom he had met secretly; everybody shouted with laughter, for +all knew how to do it, although none of them would have liked to be +caught doing it. + +The schoolmaster who had begun by watching the spectacle with critical +eyes, fell more and more under the spell of it; he almost believed +himself to be one of the party. He smiled at the sallies of the +shop-assistants, and before an hour was gone the head of the family +had won his whole sympathy. No one could deny that the man was a +comedian of the first rank. He could play "Skin-the-cat"; he could +"walk backwards," "lie" on the tree-trunks, swallow coins, eat fire, +and imitate all sorts of birds. And when he extracted a saffron cake +from the dress of one of the girls and made it disappear in his right +ear, the schoolmaster laughed until his empty inside ached. + +Then the dancing began. The schoolmaster had read in Rabe's grammar: +Nemo saltat sobrius, nisi forte insanit, and had always looked upon +dancing as a species of insanity. True, he had watched puppies and +calves dancing when they felt frisky, but he did not believe that +Cicero's maxim applied to the animal world, and he was in the habit of +drawing a sharp line between men and animals. Now, as he sat watching +these young people who were quite sober, and neither hungry nor thirsty, +moving round and round to the slow measures of the concertina, he felt +as if his soul were in a swing which was being kept going by his eyes +and ears, and his right foot beat time gently on the springy turf. + +He spent three hours musing and watching, then he rose. He found it +almost difficult to tear himself away; it was just as if he were +leaving a merry party to which he had been invited; but his mood had +changed; he felt more reconciled. He was at peace with the world and +pleasantly tired, as if he had been enjoying himself. + +It was evening. Smart carriages passed him, the lady-occupants lolling +on the back seats and looking in their long, white theatre wraps like +corpses in their shrouds; it was fashionable then to look as if one +had been exhumed. The schoolmaster, whose thoughts were running in +another direction, was sure that the ladies must be bored to death and +felt no trace of envy. Below the dusty highroad, far out on the sea, +the steamers with their flags and brass bands were returning from +their pleasure trips; cheers, strains of music and snatches of song +were wafted by the sea breezes to the mountains and the Deer Park. + +The schoolmaster had never felt so lonely in his life as he did this +evening in the moving throng. He fancied that everybody was looking at +him compassionately as he made his solitary way through the crowd, and +almost gave way to self-pity. He would have liked to talk to the first +comer, for the mere pleasure of hearing his voice, for in his loneliness +he felt as if he were walking by the side of a stranger. And now his +conscience smote him. He remembered the waiter Gustav, who had been +unable to hide his pleasure at meeting him. Now he had arrived at a +point when he would have given worlds if anybody had met him and shown +any pleasure at the fact. But nobody came. + +Yes, somebody did, after all. As he was sitting by himself on the +steamer, a setter, who had lost his master, came to him and put its +head on his knee. The schoolmaster was not particularly fond of dogs, +but he allowed it to stay; he felt it pressing its soft warm body +against his leg, he saw the eyes of the forsaken brute looking at him +in dumb appeal, as if it were asking him to find its master. + +But as soon as they landed, the setter ran away. "It needed me no +longer," thought the schoolmaster, and he walked home and went to bed. + +These trifling incidents of Midsummer day had robbed the schoolmaster +of his assurance. They taught him that all foresight, all precautions, +all the clever calculations in the world availed nothing. He felt a +certain instability in his surroundings. Even the public house, his +home, was not to be counted on. It might be closed any day. Moreover, +a certain reserve on the part of Gustav troubled him. The waiter was +as civil as before, more attentive even, but his friendship was gone; +he had lost confidence. It afforded the schoolmaster food for thought, +and whenever a tough piece of meat, or too small a dish of potatoes +was set before him he thought: + +"Haha! He's paying me out!" + +It was a bad summer for the schoolmaster: the second violin was out of +town and the book-seller frequented "Mosesheight," a garden restaurant +in his own district, situated on a hill. + +On an evening in autumn the bookseller and the second violin were +sitting at their favourite table, drinking a glass of punch, when +the schoolmaster entered, carrying under his arm a parcel which he +carefully hid in an empty hamper in a cupboard used for all sorts of +lumber. He was ill-tempered and unusually irritable. + +"Well, old boy," the bookseller began for the hundredth time, "and +when are you going to be married?" + +"Confound your 'when are you going to be married!' As if a man hadn't +enough trouble without it! Why don't you get married yourself?" +growled the schoolmaster. + +"Oh! because I have my old Stafva," answered the bookseller, who always +had a number of stereotyped answers in readiness. + +"I was married very happily," said the Pole, "but my wife is dead, +now, ugh!" + +"Is she?" mimicked the schoolmaster; "and the gentleman is a widower? +How am I to reconcile these facts?" + +The Pole nodded, for he did not in the least understand what the +schoolmaster was driving at. + +The latter felt bored by his friends; their topic of conversation was +always the same; he knew their replies by heart. + +Presently he went into the corridor for a few moments to fetch his +cigar-case which he had left in the pocket of his overcoat. The +bookseller instantly raided the cupboard and returned with the +mysterious parcel. As it was not sealed, he opened it quickly; it +contained a beautiful American sleeping-suit; he hung it carefully +over the back of the schoolmaster's chair. + +"Ugh!" said the Pole, grinning, as if he were looking at something +unsightly. + +The proprietor of the restaurant who loved a practical joke, bent over +the counter, laughing loudly; the waiter stood rooted to the spot, and +one of the cooks peeped through the door which communicated with the +kitchen. + +When the schoolmaster came back and realised the trick played on him, +he grew pale with anger; he immediately suspected the bookseller; but +when his eyes fell on Gustav who was standing in a corner of the room, +laughing, his old obsession returned to him: "He's paying me out!" +Without a word he seized his property, threw a few coins on the +counter and left the restaurant. + +Henceforth the schoolmaster avoided Rejner's. The bookseller had heard +that he dined at a restaurant in his own district. This was true. But +he was very discontented! The food was not actually bad, but it was +not cooked to his liking. The waiters were not attentive. He often +thought of returning to Rejner's, but his pride would not let him. He +had been turned out of his home; in five minutes a bond of many years' +standing had been severed. + +A short time after fate struck him a fresh blow. Miss Augusta had +inherited a little fortune in the provinces and had decided to leave +Stockholm on the first of October. The schoolmaster had to look out +for new lodgings. + +But he had been spoilt, and there was no pleasing him. He changed his +room every month. There was nothing wrong with the rooms, but they +were not like his old room. It had become such a habit with him to +walk through certain streets, that he often found himself before his +old front door before he realised his mistake. He was like a lost +child. + +Eventually he went to live in a boarding house, a solution which he +had always loathed and dreaded. And then his friends lost sight of him +altogether. + +One evening, as the Pole was sitting alone over his grog, smoking, +drinking, and nodding with the capacity of the oriental to lapse into +complete stupor, the bookseller burst in on him like a thunderstorm, +flung his hat on the table, and shouted: + +"Confound him! Has anybody ever heard anything like it?" + +The Pole roused himself from his brandy-and-tobacco Nirvana, and +rolled his eyes. + +"I say, confound it! Has anybody ever heard anything like it? He's +going to be married!" + +"Who's going to be married?" asked the Pole, startled by the +bookseller's violence and emphatic language. + +"Schoolmaster Blom!" + +The bookseller expected a glass of grog in exchange for his news. The +proprietor left the counter and came to their table to listen. + +"Has she any money?" he asked acutely. + +"I don't think so," replied the bookseller, conscious of his temporary +importance and selling his wares one by one. + +"Is she beautiful?" asked the Pole. "My wife was very beautiful. Ugh!" + +"No, she's not beautiful either," answered the bookseller, "but +nice-looking." + +"Have you seen her?" enquired the proprietor. "Is she old?" His eyes +wandered towards the kitchen door. + +"No, she's young!" + +"And her parents?" continued the proprietor. + +"I heard that her father was a brass founder in Orebro." + +"The rascal! Well, I never!" said the proprietor. + +"Haven't I always said so? The man is a born husband," said the +bookseller. + +"We all of us are," said the proprietor, "and take my word for it, no +one escapes his fate!" + +With this philosophical remark he closed the subject and returned to +the counter. + +When they had settled that the schoolmaster was not marrying for money, +they discussed the problem of "what the young people were going to live +on." The bookseller made a guess at the schoolmaster's salary and "what +he might earn besides by giving private lessons." When that question, +too, had been settled, the proprietor, who had returned to the table, +asked for details. + +"Where had he met her? Was she fair or dark? Was she in love with +him?" + +The last question was by no means out of the way; the bookseller +"thought she was," for he had seen them together, arm in arm, looking +into shop windows. + +"But that he, who was such a stick, could fall in love! It was incredible!" + +"And what a husband he would make!" The proprietor knew that he was +_devilish particular_ about his food, and that, he said, was a mistake +when one was married. + +"And he likes a glass of punch in the evening, and surely a married +man can't drink punch every evening of his life. And he doesn't like +children! It won't turn out well," he whispered. "Take my word for it, +it won't turn out well. And, gentlemen, there's another thing," (he +rose from his seat, looked round and continued in a whisper), "I believe, +I'm hanged if I don't, that the old hypocrite has had a love affair of +some sort. Do you remember that incident, gentlemen, with +the--hihihi--sleeping suit? He's one of those whom you don't find where +you leave them! Take care, Mrs. Blom! Mind what you are about! I'll say +no more!" + +It was certainly a fact that the schoolmaster was engaged to be +married and that the wedding was to take place within two months. + +What happened after, does not belong to this story, and, moreover, it +is difficult to know what goes on behind the convent walls of +domesticity when the vow of silence is being kept. + +It was also a fact that the schoolmaster, after his marriage, was never +again seen at a public house. + +The bookseller, who met him by himself in the street one evening, had +to listen to a long exhortation on getting married. The schoolmaster +had inveighed against all bachelors; he had called them egotists, who +refused to do their duty by the State; in his opinion they ought to be +heavily taxed, for all indirect taxes weighed most cruelly on the +father of a family. He went so far as to say that he wished to see +bachelorhood punished by the law of the land as a "crime against +nature." + +The bookseller had a good memory. He said that he doubted the +advisability of taking a _fool_ into one's house, permanently. But the +schoolmaster replied that _his_ wife was the most intelligent woman he +had ever met. + +Two years after the wedding the Pole saw the schoolmaster and his wife +in the theatre; he thought that they looked happy; "ugh!" + +Another three years went by. On a Midsummer day the proprietor of the +restaurant made a pleasure trip on the Lake of Mlar to Mariafred. +There, before Castle Cripsholm, he saw the schoolmaster, pushing a +perambulator over a green field, and carrying in his disengaged hand a +basket containing food, while a whole crowd of young men and women, +"who looked like country folk," followed in the rear. After dinner the +schoolmaster sang songs and turned somersaults with the youngsters. He +looked ten years younger and had all the ways of a ladies' man. + +The proprietor, who was quite close to the party while they were +having dinner, overheard a little conversation between Mr. and Mrs. +Blom. When the young wife took a dish of crabs from the basket, she +apologised to Albert, because she had not been able to buy a single +female crab in the whole market. Thereupon the schoolmaster put his +arm round her, kissed her and said that it didn't matter in the least, +because male or female crabs, it was all the same to him. And when one +of the babies in the perambulator began to cry, the schoolmaster +lifted it out and hushed it to sleep again. + +Well, all these things are mere details, but how people can get married +and bring up a family when they have not enough for themselves while +they are bachelors, is a riddle to me. It almost looks as if babies +brought their food with them when they come into this world; it really +almost does look as if they did. + + + + +COMPENSATION + + +He was considered a genius at College, and no one doubted that he +would one day distinguish himself. But after passing his examinations, +he was obliged to go to Stockholm and look out for a berth. His +dissertation, which was to win him the doctor's degree, had to be +postponed. As he was very ambitious, but had no private means, he +resolved to marry money, and with this object in view, he visited only +the very best families, both at Upsala where he studied for the bar, and +later on at Stockholm. At Upsala he always fraternised with the new +arrivals, that is to say, when they were members of aristocratic families, +and the freshers felt flattered by the advances made by the older man. +In this way he formed many useful ties, which meant invitations to his +friends' country houses during the summer. + +The country houses were his happy hunting ground. He possessed social +talents, he could sing and play and amuse the ladies, and consequently +he was a great favourite. He dressed beyond his means; but he never +borrowed money from any of his friends or aristocratic acquaintances. +He even went to the length of buying two worthless shares and mentioning +on every possible occasion that he had to attend a General Meeting of +the shareholders. + +For two summers he had paid a great deal of attention to a titled lady +who owned some property, and his prospects were the general topic, +when he suddenly disappeared from high life and became engaged to a +poor girl, the daughter of a cooper, who owned no property whatever. + +His friends were puzzled and could not understand how he could thus +stand in his own light. He had laid his plans so well, he "had but to +stretch out his hand and success was in his grasp"; he had the morsel +firmly stuck on his fork, it was only necessary for him to open his +mouth and swallow it. He himself was at a loss to understand how it +was that the face of a little girl whom he had met but once on a steamer +could have upset all his plans of many years' standing. He was bewitched, +obsessed. + +He asked his friends whether they didn't think her beautiful? + +Frankly speaking they didn't. + +"But she is so clever! Just look into her eyes! What expressive eyes +she has!" + +His friends could see nothing and hear less, for the girl never opened +her lips. + +But he spent evening after evening with the cooper's family; to be +sure, the cooper was a very intelligent man! On his knees before her +(a trick often practised at the country houses) he held her skeins of +wool; he played and sang to her, talked about religion and the drama, +and he always read acquiescence in her eyes. He wrote poetry about +her, and sacrificed at her shrine his laurels, his ambitious dreams, +even his dissertation. + +And then he married her. + +The cooper drank too much at the wedding and made an improper speech +about girls in general. But the son-in-law found the old man so +unsophisticated, so amiable, that he egged him on instead of shutting +him up. He felt at his ease among these simple folk; in their midst he +could be quite himself. + +"That's being in love," said his friends. "Love is a wonderful thing." + +And now they were married. One month--two months. He was unspeakably +happy. Every evening they spent together and he sang a song to her +about the Rose in the Wood, her favourite song. And he talked about +religion and the drama, and she sat and listened eagerly. But she never +expressed an opinion; she listened in silence and went on with her +crochet work. + +In the third month he relapsed into his old habit of taking an afternoon +nap. His wife, who hated being by herself, insisted on sitting by him. +It irritated him, for he felt an overwhelming need to be alone with his +thoughts. + +Sometimes she met him on his way home from his office, and her heart +swelled with pride when he left his colleagues and crossed the street +to join her. She took him home in triumph: he was _her_ husband! + +In the fourth month he grew tired of her favourite song. It was stale +now! He took up a book and read, and neither of them spoke. + +One evening he had to attend a meeting which was followed by a banquet. +It was his first night away from home. He had persuaded his wife to +invite a friend to spend the evening with her, and to go to bed early, +for he did not expect to be home until late. + +The friend came and stayed until nine o'clock. The young wife sat in +the drawing-room, waiting, for she was determined not to go to bed +until her husband had returned. She felt too restless to go to sleep. + +She sat alone in the drawing-room. What could she do to make the time +pass more quickly? The maid had gone to bed; the grandfather's clock +ticked and ticked. But it was only ten o'clock when she put away her +crochet work. She fidgeted, moved the furniture about and felt a little +unstrung. + +So that was what being married meant! One was torn from one's early +surroundings, and shut up in three solitary rooms to wait until one's +husband came home, half intoxicated.--Nonsense! he loved her, and he +was out on business. She was a fool to forget that. But _did_ he love +her still? Hadn't he refused a day or two ago to hold a skein of wool +for her?--a thing he loved to do before they were married. Didn't he +look rather annoyed yesterday when she met him before lunch? And--after +all--if he had to attend a business meeting to-night, there was no +necessity for him to be present at the banquet. + +It was half-past ten when her musing had reached this point. She was +surprised that she hadn't thought of these things before. She relapsed +into her dark mood and the dismal thoughts again passed through her +mind, one by one. But now reinforcements had arrived. He never talked +to her now! He never sang to her, never opened the piano! He had told +her a lie when he had said that he couldn't do without his afternoon +nap, for he was reading French novels all the time. + +He had told her a lie! + +It was only half-past eleven. The silence was oppressive. She opened +the window and looked out into the street. Two men were standing down +below, bargaining with two women. That was men's way! If he should +ever do anything like that! She should drown herself if he did. + +She shut the window and lighted the chandelier in the bedroom. "One +ought to be able to see what one is about," he had once said to her on +a certain occasion.--Everything was still so bright and new! The green +coverlet looked like a mown lawn, and the little pillows reminded her +of two white kittens curled up on the grass. The polish of her +dressing-table reflected the light: the mirror had as yet none of +those ugly stains which are made by the splashing of water. The silver +on the back of her hair-brush, her powder-box, her tooth-brush, all +shone and sparkled. Her bedroom slippers were still so new and pretty +that it was impossible to picture them down-at-heel. Everything looked +new, and yet everything seemed to have lost some of its freshness. She +knew all his songs, all his drawing-room pieces, all his words, all +his thoughts. She knew before-hand what he would say when he sat down +to lunch, what he would talk about when they were alone in the +evening. + +She was sick of it all. Had she been in love with him? Oh, yes! +Certainly! But was this all then? Was she realising all the dreams of +her girlhood? Were things to go on like this until she died? Yes! +But--but--but--surely they would have children! though there was no +sign of it as yet. Then she would no longer be alone! Then he might go +out as often as he liked, for she would always have somebody to talk +to, to play with. Perhaps it was a baby which she wanted to make her +happy. Perhaps matrimony really meant something more than being a +man's legitimate mistress. That must be it! But then, he would have to +love her, and he didn't do that. And she began to cry. + +When her husband came home at one o'clock, he was quite sober. But he +was almost angry with her when he found her still up. + +"Why didn't you go to bed?" were the words with which he greeted her. + +"How can I go to sleep when I am waiting for you?" + +"A fine look out for me! Am I never to go out then? I believe you have +been crying, too?" + +"Yes, I have, and how can I help it if you--don't--love--me--any--more?" + +"Do you mean to say I don't love you because I had to go out on +business?" + +"A banquet isn't business!" + +"Good God! Am I not to be allowed to go out? How can women be so +obtrusive?" + +"Obtrusive? Yes, I noticed that yesterday, when I met you. I'll never +meet you again." + +"But, darling, I was with my chief--" + +"Huhuhu!" + +She burst into tears, her body moved convulsively. + +He had to call the maid and ask her to fetch the hot-water bottle. + +He, too, was weeping. Scalding tears! He wept over himself, his hardness +of heart, his wickedness, his illusions over everything. + +Surely his love for her wasn't an illusion? He did love her! Didn't +he? And she said she loved him, too, as he was kneeling before her +prostrate figure, kissing her eyes. Yes, they loved one another! It +was merely a dark cloud which had passed, now. Ugly thoughts, born of +solitude and loneliness. She would never, never again stay alone. They +fell asleep in each other's arms, her face dimpled with smiles. + +But she did not go to meet him on the following day. He asked no +questions at lunch. He talked a lot, but more for the sake of talking +than to amuse her; it seemed as if he were talking to himself. + +In the evening he entertained her with long descriptions of the life +at Castle Sjstaholm; he mimicked the young ladies talking to the +Baron, and told her the names of the Count's horses. And on the +following day he mentioned his dissertation. + +One afternoon he came home very tired. She was sitting in the +drawing-room, waiting for him. Her ball of cotton had fallen on the +floor. In passing, his foot got entangled in the cotton; at his next +step he pulled her crochet work out of her hand and dragged it along; +then he lost his temper and kicked it aside. + +She exclaimed at his rudeness. + +He retorted that he had no time to bother about her rubbish, and +advised her to spend her time more profitably. He had to think of his +dissertation, if he was to have a career at all. And she ought to +consider the question of how to limit their household expenses. + +Things had gone far indeed! + +On the next day the young wife, her eyes swollen with weeping, was +knitting socks for her husband. He told her he could buy them cheaper +ready-made. She burst into tears. What was she to do? The maid did all +the work of the house, there was not enough work in the kitchen for +two. She always dusted the rooms. Did he want her to send the maid +away? + +"No, no!" + +"What did he want, then?" + +He didn't know himself, but he was sure that something was wrong. Their +expenses were too high. That was all. They couldn't go on living at their +present rate, and then--somehow he could never find time to work at his +dissertation. + +Tears, kisses, and a grand reconciliation! But now he started staying +away from home in the evening several times a week. Business! A man +must show himself! If he stays at home, he will be overlooked and +forgotten! + +A year had passed; there were no signs of the arrival of a baby. "How +like a little liaison I once had in the old days," he thought; "there +is only one difference: this one is duller and costs more." There was +no more conversation, now; they merely talked of household matters. +"She has no brain," he thought. "I am listening to myself when I am +talking to her, and the apparent depths of her eyes is a delusion, due +to the size of her pupils--the unusual size of her pupils.--" + +He talked openly about his former love for her as of something that +was over and done with. And yet, whenever he did so, he felt a pain +in his heart, an irritating, cruel pain, a remorseless pain that could +never die. + +"Everything on earth withers and dies," he mused, "why should her +favourite song alone be an exception to this? When one has heard it +three hundred and sixty-five times, it becomes stale; it can't be +helped. But is my wife right when she says that our love, also, has +died? No, and yet--perhaps she is. Our marriage is no better than a +vulgar liaison, for we have no child." + +One day he made up his mind to talk the matter over with a married +friend, for were they not both members of the "Order of the Married"? + +"How long have you been married?" + +"Six years." + +"And does matrimony bore you?" + +"At first it did; but when the children came, matters improved." + +"Was that so? It's strange that we have no child." + +"Not your fault, old man! Tell your wife to go and see a doctor about +it." + +He had an intimate conversation with her and she went. + +Six weeks after what a change! + +What a bustle and commotion in the house! The drawing-room table was +littered with baby-clothes which were quickly hidden if anybody entered +unexpectedly, and reappeared as quickly if it was only he who had come +in. A name had to be thought of. It would surely be a boy. The midwife +had to be interviewed, medical books had to be bought, and a cradle +and a baby's outfit. + +The baby arrived and it really was a boy! And when he saw the "little +monkey that smelled of butter" clasped to her bosom, which until then +had but been his plaything, he reverently discovered the mother in his +little wife; and "when he saw the big pupils looking at the baby so +intently that they seemed to be looking into the future", he realised +that there were depths in her eyes after all; depths more profound +than he could fathom for all his drama and religion. And now all his +old love, his dear old love, burst into fresh flames, and there was +something new added to it, which he had dimly divined, but never +realised. + +How beautiful she was when she busied herself about the house again! +And how intelligent in all matters concerning the baby! + +As for him, he felt a man. Instead of talking of the Baron's horses +and the Count's cricket matches, he now talked, too much almost, of +his son. + +And when occasionally he was obliged to be out of an evening, he always +longed for his own fireside; not because his wife sat there waiting for +him, like an evil conscience, but because he knew that she was not alone. +And when he came home, both mother and child were asleep. He was almost +jealous of the baby, for there had been a certain charm in the thought +that while he was out, somebody was sitting alone at home, eagerly +awaiting his return. + +Now he was allowed his afternoon nap. And as soon as he had gone back +to town, the piano was opened and the favourite song of the _Rose in +the Wood_ was sung, for it was quite new to Harold, and had regained +all its freshness for poor little Laura who hadn't heard it for so many +days. + +She had no time now for crochet work, but there were plenty of +antimacassars in the house. He, on his part, could not spare the time +for his dissertation. + +"Harold shall write it," said the father, for he knew now that his +life would not be over when he came to die. + +Many an evening they sat together, as before, and gossiped, but now +both took a share in the conversation, for now she understood what +they were talking about. + +She confessed that she was a silly girl who knew nothing about religion +and the drama; but she said that she had always told him so, and that he +had refused to believe it. + +But now he believed it less than ever. + +They sang the old favourite song, and Harold crowed, they danced to the +tune and rocked the baby's cradle to it, and the song always retained +its freshness and charm. + + + + +FRICTIONS + + +His eyes had been opened. He realised the perversity of the world, but +he lacked the power to penetrate the darkness and discover the cause +of this perversity; therefore he gave himself up to despair, a +disillusioned man. Then he fell in love with a girl who married +somebody else. He complained of her conduct to his friends, male and +female, but they only laughed at him. For a little while longer he trod +his solitary path alone and misunderstood. He belonged to "society," +and joined in its pursuits, because it distracted him; but at the bottom +of his heart he had nothing but contempt for its amusements, which he +took no pains to conceal. + +One evening he was present at a ball. He danced with a young woman of +unusual beauty and animation. When the band ceased playing, he remained +standing by her side. He knew he ought to talk to her but he did not +know what to say. After a while the girl broke the silence. + +"You are fond of dancing, Baron?" she said with a cold, smile. + +"Oh no! not at all," he answered. "Are you?" + +"I can't imagine anything more foolish," she replied. + +He had met his man, or rather his woman. + +"Why do you dance, then?" he asked. + +"For the same reason that you do." + +"Can you read my mind?" + +"Easily enough; if two people think alike, the other always knows." + +"H'm! You're a strange woman! Do you believe in love?" + +"No!" + +"Nor do I! You and I ought to get married." + +"I'm beginning to think so myself." + +"Would you marry me?" + +"Why not? At any rate, we shouldn't fight." + +"Horrible idea! But how can you be so sure?" + +"Because we think alike." + +"Yes, but that might become monotonous. We should have nothing to talk +about, because the one would always know what the other is thinking." + +"True; but wouldn't it be even more monotonous if we remained +unmarried and misunderstood?" + +"You are right! Would you like to think it over?" + +"Yes, until the cotillon." + +"No longer?" + +"Why any longer?" + +He took her back to the drawing-room and left her there, drank several +glasses of champagne and watched her during supper. She allowed two +young members of the Diplomatic Corps to wait on her, but made fun of +them all the time and treated them as if they were footmen. + +As soon as the cotillon began, he went to her and offered her a bouquet. + +"Do you accept me?" he asked. + +"Yes," she replied. + +And so they were engaged. + +It's a splendid match, said the world. They are made for one another. +They are equals as far as social position and money are concerned. +They hold the same blas views of life. By blas the world meant that +they cared very little for dances, theatres, bazaars, and other noble +sports without which life is not really worth living. + +They were like carefully wiped twin slates, exactly alike; but utterly +unable to surmise whether or not life would write the same legend on +both. They never asked one another during the tender moments of their +engagement: Do you love me? They knew quite well that it was impossible, +because they did not believe in love. They talked little, but they +understood one another perfectly. + +And they married. + +He was always attentive, always polite, and they were good friends. + +When the baby was born, it had but one effect on their relationship; +they had something to talk about now. + +But by-and-by the husband began to reveal a certain energy. He had a +sense of duty, and moreover, he was sick of being idle. He had a +private income, but was in no way connected with politics or the +Government. Now he looked round for some occupation which would fill +the void in his life. He had heard the first morning call of the +awakening spirits and felt it his duty to do his share of the great +work of research into the causes of human misery. He read much, made a +careful study of politics and eventually wrote an article and sent it +to a paper. The consequence was that he was elected a member of the +Board of Education. This necessitated hard reading in future, for all +questions were to be threshed out thoroughly. + +The Baroness lay on the sofa and read Chateaubriand and Musset. She +had no faith in the improvement of humanity, and this stirring up of +the dust and mould which the centuries had deposited on human +institutions irritated her. Yet she noticed that she did not keep pace +with her husband. They were like two horses at a race. They had been +weighed before the start and been found to be of the same weight; they +had promised to keep side by side during the run; everything was +calculated to make them finish the race and leave the course at the +same time. But already the husband had gained by the length of a neck. +Unless she hurried up, she was bound to be left behind. + +And the latter really happened. In the following year he was made +controller of the budget. He was away for two months. His absence made +the Baroness realise that she loved him; a fact which was brought home +to her by her fear of losing him. + +When he returned home, she was all eagerness; but his mind was filled +with the things he had seen and heard abroad. He realised that they +had come to the parting of the ways, but he would have liked to delay +it, prevent it, if possible. He showed her in great living pictures +the functioning of the colossal gigantic machinery of the State, he +tried to explain to her the working of the wheels, the multifarious +transmissions, regulators and detents, unreliable pendulums and +untrustworthy safety valves. + +She was interested at first, but after a while her interest waned. +Conscious of her mental inferiority, her insignificance, she devoted +herself entirely to her baby, anxious to demonstrate to her husband +that she yet had a value as a model mother. But her husband did not +appreciate this value. He had married her for the sake of companionship, +and he found in her an excellent nurse for his child. But how could it +be helped now? Who could have foreseen such a thing? + +The house was always full of members of Parliament, and politics was +the subject of conversation at dinner. The hostess merely took care +that no fault could be found with the cooking. The Baron never omitted +to have one or two men amongst his guests who could talk to his wife +about music and the drama, but the Baroness wanted to discuss nothing +but the nursery and the bringing up of children. After dessert, as +soon as the health of the hostess was drunk, there was a general +stampede to the smoking-room where the political discussions were +continued. The Baroness left her guests and went to the nursery with a +feeling of bitterness in her heart; she realised that her husband had +so far outdistanced her that she could never again hope to come up +with him. + +He worked much at home in the evening; frequently he was busy at his +writing-table until the small hours of the morning, but always behind +locked doors. When he noticed afterwards, as he sometimes did, that +his wife went about with red eyes, he felt a pain in his heart; but +they had nothing to say to each other. + +Occasionally however, at those times when his work palled, when he +realised that his inner life was growing poorer and poorer, he felt a +void within him, a longing for warmth, for something intimate, something +he had dreamed of long ago, in the early days of his youth. But every +feeling of that sort he suppressed at once as unfaithfulness to his wife, +for he had a very high conception of the duty of a husband. + +To bring a little more variety into her daily life, he suggested one +day that she should invite a cousin of whom she had often spoken, but +whom he had never seen, to spend the winter with them in town. + +This had always been a great wish of the Baroness's, but now that the +realisation of it was within her power, she changed her mind. She did +not want her in the least now. Her husband pressed her for reasons, +but she could not give him any. It roused his curiosity and finally +she confessed that she was afraid of her cousin; afraid that she might +win his heart, that he might fall in love with her. + +"She must be a queer girl, we really must have her here!" + +The Baroness wept and warned, but the Baron laughed and the cousin +arrived. + +One afternoon the Baron came home, tired as usual; he had forgotten +all about the cousin and his curiosity in regard to her. They sat down +to dinner. The Baron asked the cousin if she was fond of the theatre. +She replied that she was not. She preferred reality to make-believe. +At home she had founded a school for black sheep and a society for the +care of discharged prisoners. Indeed! The Baron was much interested in +the administration of prisons. The cousin was able to give him a good +deal of information, and during the rest of the dinner the conversation +was exclusively about prisons. Eventually the cousin promised to treat +the whole question in a paper which the Baron was going to read and work +up. + +What the Baroness had foreseen, happened. The Baron contracted a +spiritual marriage with the cousin, and his wife was left out in the +cold. But the cousin was also beautiful, and when she leaned over the +Baron at his writing-desk, and he felt her soft arm on his shoulder +and her warm breath against his cheek, he could not suppress a +sensation of supreme well-being. Needless to say, their conversation +was not always of prisons. They also discussed love. She believed in +the love of the souls, and she stated as plainly as she could, that +marriage without love was prostitution. The Baron had not taken much +interest in the development of modern ideas on love, and found that +her views on the subject were rather hard, but after all she was +probably quite right. + +But the cousin possessed other qualities, too, invaluable qualifications +for a true spiritual marriage. She had no objection to tobacco smoke for +instance, in fact, she was very fond of a cigarette herself. There was no +reason, therefore, why she should not go into the smoking-room with the +men after dinner and talk about politics. And then she was charming. + +Tortured by little twinges of conscience, the Baron would every now +and then disappear from the smoking-room, go into the nursery, kiss +his wife and child, and ask her how she was getting on? The Baroness +was grateful, but she was not happy. After these little journeys the +Baron always returned to his friends in the best of tempers; one might +have thought that he had faithfully performed a sacred duty. At other +times it irritated and distressed him that his wife did not join the +party in the smoking-room, too, as _his_ wife; this thought was a +burden which weighed quite heavily on him. + +The cousin did not go home in the spring, but accompanied the couple +to a watering-place. There she organised little performances for the +benefit of the poor, in which she and the Baron played the parts of +the lovers. This had the inevitable result that the fire burst into +flames. But the flames were only spiritual flames; mutual interests, +like views, and, perhaps, similar dispositions. + +The Baroness had ample time to consider her position. The day arrived +when she told her husband that since everything was over between them, +the only decent thing to do was to part. But that was more than he had +bargained for; he was miserable; the cousin had better return to her +parents, and he would prove to his wife that he was a man of honour. + +The cousin left. A correspondence between her and the Baron began. He +made the Baroness read every letter, however much she hated doing it. +After a while, however, he gave in and read the letters without showing +them to his wife. + +Finally the cousin returned. Then matters came to a crisis. The Baron +discovered that he could not live without her. + +What were they to do? Separate? It would be death. Go on as at present? +Impossible! Annul the marriage which the Baron had come to look upon as +legal prostitution and marry his beloved? However painful it might be, +it was the only honest course to take. + +But that was against the wishes of the cousin. She did not want it said +of her that she had stolen another woman's husband. And then the scandal! +the scandal! + +"But it was dishonest not to tell his wife everything; it was dishonest +to allow things to go on; one could never tell how the matter would end." + +"What did he mean? How could it end?" + +"Nobody could tell!" + +"Oh! How dared he! What did he think of her?" + +"That she was a woman!" + +And he fell on his knees and worshipped her; he said that he did not +care if the administration of prisons and the school for black sheep +went to the devil; he did not know what manner of woman she was; he +only knew that he loved her. + +She replied that she had nothing but contempt for him, and went helter +skelter to Paris. He followed at her heels. At Hamburg he wrote a +letter to his wife in which he said that they had made a mistake and +that it was immoral not to rectify it. He asked her to divorce him. + +And she divorced him. + +A year after these events the Baron and the cousin were married. They +had a child. But that was a fact which did not interfere with their +happiness. On the contrary! What a wealth of new ideas germinated in +their minds in their voluntary exile! How strong were the winds which +blew here! + +He encouraged her to write a book on "young criminals." The press tore +it to pieces. She was furious and swore that she would never write +another book. He asked her whether she wrote for praise, whether she +was ambitious?--She replied by a question: Why did he write?--A little +quarrel arose. He said it was refreshing to hear her express views +which did not echo his own--always his own.--Always his own? What did +he mean? Didn't she have _views of her own_? She henceforth made it +her business to prove to him on every occasion that she was capable of +forming her own opinions; and to prevent any errors on his part she +took good care that they always differed from his. He told her he did +not care what views she held as long as she loved him.--Love? What about +it? He was no better than other men and, moreover, he had betrayed her. +He did not love her soul, but her body.--No, he loved both, he loved +her, every bit of her!--Oh! How deceitful he had been!--No, he had not +been deceitful, he had merely deceived himself when he believed that he +loved her soul only. + +They were tired of strolling up and down the boulevard, and sat down +before a cafe. She lighted a cigarette. A waiter requested her rather +uncivilly, not to smoke. The Baron demanded an explanation and the +waiter said that the cafe was a first-class establishment and the +management was anxious not to drive away respectable people by serving +_these ladies_. They rose from their seats, paid and went away. The +Baron was furious, the young Baroness had tears in her eyes. + +"There they had a demonstration of the power of prejudice! Smoking was +a foolish act as far as a man was concerned, but in a woman it was a +crime! Let him who was able to do so, destroy this prejudice! Or, let +us say, him who would care to do so! The Baron had no wish that his +wife should be the first victim, even if it were to win for her the +doubtful honour of having cast aside a prejudice. For it was nothing +else. In Russia, ladies belonging to the best society smoked at the +dinner-table during the courses. Customs changed with the latitudes. +And yet those trifles were not without importance, for life consisted +of trifles. If men and women shared bad habits, intercourse between +them would be less stiff and formal: they would make friends more +easily and keep pace with one another. If they had the same education, +they would have the same interests, and cling together more closely +during the whole of their lives." + +The Baron was silent as if he had said something foolish. But she had +not been listening to him; her thoughts had been far away. + +"She had been insulted by a waiter, told that she was not fit to +associate with respectable people. There was more behind that, than +appeared on the surface. She had been recognised. Yes, she was sure of +it, it was not the first time that she had noticed it." + +"What had she noticed?" + +"That she had been treated with little respect at the restaurants. The +people evidently did not think that they were married; because they +were affectionate and civil to one another. She had borne it in silence +for a long time, but now she had come to the end of her tether. And yet +this was nothing compared to what they were saying at home!" + +"Well, what were they saying? And why had she never told him anything +about it before?" + +"Oh! horrible things! The letters she had received! Leaving the +anonymous ones quite out of the question. + +"Well, and what about him? Was he not being treated as if he were a +criminal? And yet he had not committed a crime! He had acted according +to all legal requirements, he had not broken his marriage vows. He had +left the country in compliance with the dictates of the law; the Royal +Consistory has granted his appeal for a divorce; the clergy, Holy Church, +had given him his release from the bonds of his first marriage on stamped +paper; therefore he had not broken them! When a country was conquered, a +whole nation was absolved from its oath of loyalty to its monarch; why +did society look askance at the release from a promise? Had it not +conferred the right on the Consistory to dissolve a marriage? How could +it dare to assume the character of a judge now and condemn its own laws? +Society was at war with itself! He was being treated like a criminal! +Hadn't the secretary of the Embassy, his old friend, on whom he had left +his and his wife's cards, acknowledged them by simply returning one card +only? And was he not overlooked at all public functions?" + +"Oh! She had had to put up with worse things! One of her friends in Paris +had closed her door to her, and several had cut her in the street." + +"Only the wearer of a boot knew where it pinched. The boots which they +were wearing now were real Spanish boots, and they were at war with +society. The upper classes had cut them. The upper classes! This +community of semi-imbeciles, who secretly lived like dogs, but showed +one another respect as long as there was no public scandal; that was to +say as long as one did not honestly revoke an agreement and wait until +it had lapsed before one made use of one's newly-regained freedom! And +these vicious upper classes were the awarders of social position and +respect, according to a scale on which honesty ranked far below zero. +Society was nothing but a tissue of lies! It was inexplicable that it +hadn't been found out long ago! It was high time to examine this fine +structure and inquire into the condition of its foundations." + +They were on friendlier terms on arriving home than they had been for +many years. The Baroness stayed at home with her baby, and was soon +expecting a second one. This struggle against the tide was too hard +for her, and she was already growing tired of it. She was tired of +everything! To write in an elegantly furnished, well-heated room on +the subject of discharged prisoners, offering them, at a proper +distance, a well-gloved hand, was a proceeding society approved of; +but to hold out the hand of friendship to a woman who had married a +legally divorced man was quite another thing. Why should it be so? It +was difficult to find an answer. + +The Baron fought in the thick of the battle. He visited the Chamber of +Deputies, was present at meetings, and everywhere he listened to +passionate diatribes against society. He read papers and magazines, +kept a keen eye on literature, studied the subject deeply. His wife +was threatened by the same fate which had overtaken the first one; to +be left behind! It was strange. She seemed unable to take in all the +details of his investigations, she disapproved of much of the new +doctrine, but she felt that he was right and fighting for a good +cause. He knew that he could always count on her never-flagging +sympathy; that he had a friend at home who would always stand by him. +Their common fate drove them into each other's arms like frightened +birds at the approach of a storm. All the womanliness in her,--however +little it may be appreciated now-a-days,--which is after all nothing +but a memory of the great mother, the force of nature which is woman's +endowment, was roused. It fell on the children like the warm glow of a +fire at eventide; it fell on the husband like a ray of sunshine; it +brought peace to the home. He often wondered how it was that he did +not miss his old comrade, with whom he was wont to discuss everything; +he discovered that his thoughts had gained force and vigour since he +stopped pouring them out as soon as he conceived them; it seemed to +him that he was profiting more by the silent approval, the kindly nod, +the unwavering sympathy. He felt that his strength had increased, that +his views were less under outside control; he was a solitary man, now, +and yet he was less solitary than he had been in the past, for he was +no longer constantly met by contradictions which merely filled his +heart with misgivings. + +It was Christmas Eve in Paris. A large Christmas tree, grown in the +wood of St. Germain, stood in their little chalet on the Cours de la +Reine. They were going out after breakfast to buy Christmas presents +for the children. The Baron was pre-occupied, for he had just published +a little pamphlet, entitled: "Do the Upper Classes constitute Society?" +They were sitting at breakfast in their cosy dining-room, and the doors +which led to the nursery stood wide open. They listened to the nurse +playing with the children, and the Baroness smiled with contentment and +happiness. She had grown very gentle and her happiness was a quiet one. +One of the children suddenly screamed and she rose from the table to see +what was the matter. At the same moment the footman came into the +dining-room with the morning post. The Baron opened two packets of +printed matter. The first was a "big respectable" newspaper. He opened +it and his eyes fell on a headline in fat type: "A Blasphemer!" + +He began to read: "Christmas is upon us again! This festival dear to +all pure hearts, this festival sacred to all Christian nations, which +has brought a message of peace and good-will to all men, which makes +even the murderer sheathe his knife, and the thief respect the sacred +law of property; this festival, which is not only of very ancient +origin, but which is also, especially in the countries of the North, +surrounded by a host of historic associations, etc., etc. And then like +foul fumes arising from a drain, an individual suddenly confronts us +who does not scruple to tear asunder the most sacred bonds, who vomits +malice on all respectable members of society; malice, dictated by the +pettiest vengeance...." He refolded the paper and put it into the +pocket of his dressing-gown. Then he opened the second parcel. It +contained caricatures of himself and his wife. It went the same way as +the first, but he had to be quick, for his wife was re-entering the +dining-room. He finished his breakfast and went into his bed-room to +get ready to go out. They left the house together. + +The sunlight fell on the frosted plane-trees of the Champs Elyses, +and in the heart of the stony desert the Place de la Concorde opened +out like a large oasis. He felt her arm on his, and yet he had the +feeling as if she were supporting him. She talked of the presents +which they were going to buy for the children, and he tried to force +himself to take an interest in the subject. But all at once he +interrupted her conversation and asked her, -propos of nothing: + +"Do you know the difference between vengeance and punishment?" + +"No, I've never thought about it." + +"I wonder whether it isn't this: When an anonymous journalist revenges +himself, it is punishment; but when a well-known writer, who is not a +pressman, fights with an open visor, meting out punishment, then it is +revenge! Let us join the new prophets!" + +She begged him not to spoil Christmas by talking of the newspapers. + +"This festival," he muttered, "on which peace and good-will...." + +They passed through the arcades of the Rue de Rivoli, turned into the +boulevards and made their purchases. They dined at the Grand Hotel. +She was in a sunny frame of mind and tried to cheer him up. But he +remained preoccupied. Suddenly he asked, + +"How is it possible that one can have a bad conscience when one has +acted rightly?" + +She did not know. + +"Is it because the upper classes have so trained us, that our conscience +troubles us whenever we rebel against them? Probably it is so. Why +shouldn't he who has been hurt unjustly, have the right to attack +injustice? Because only he who has been hurt will attack, and the upper +classes hate being attacked. Why did I not strike at the upper classes +in the past, when I belonged to them? Because, of course, I didn't know +them then. One must look at a picture from a distance in order to find +the correct visual point!" + +"One shouldn't talk about such things on Christmas Eve!" + +"True, it is Christmas. This festival of...." + +They returned home. They lit the candles on the Christmas tree; it +radiated peace and happiness; but its dark branches smelt of a funeral +and looked sinister, like the Baron's face. The nurse came in with the +little ones. His face lighted up, for, he thought, when they are grown +up they will reap in joy what we have sown in tears; then their +conscience will only trouble them when they have sinned against the +laws of nature; they won't have to suffer from whims which have been +caned into us at school, drummed into us by the parsons, invented by +the upper classes for their own benefit. + +The Baroness sat down at the piano when the maids and the footmen +entered. She played melancholy old dances, dear to the heart of the +people of the North, while the servants danced gravely with the +children. It was very much like the penitential part of divine +service. + +After that the presents were distributed among the children, and the +servants received their gifts. And then the children were put to bed. + +The Baroness went into the drawing-room and sat down in an arm-chair. +The Baron threw himself on a footstool at her feet. He rested his head +on her knees. It was so heavy--so heavy. She silently stroked his +forehead. "What! was he weeping?" + +"Yes!" + +She had never before seen a man weep. It was a terrible sight. His big +strong frame shook, but he made no sound. + +"Why was he weeping?" + +"Because he was unhappy." + +"Unhappy with her?" + +"No, no, not with her, but still, unhappy." + +"Had anybody treated him badly?" + +"Yes!" + +"Couldn't he tell her all about it?" + +"No, he only wanted to sit at her knees, as he used to sit long ago, +at his mother's." + +She talked to him as if he had been a child. She kissed his eyes and +wiped his face with her handkerchief. She felt so proud, so strong, +there were no tears in her eyes. The sight of her inspired him with +new courage. + +"How weak he had been! That he should have found the machine-made +attacks of his opponents so hard to bear! Did his enemies really +believe what they said?" + +"Terrible thought! Probably they did. One often found stones firmly +grown into pine-trees, why should not opinions grow into the brain in +the same way? But she believed in him, she knew that he was fighting +for a good cause?" + +"Yes, she believed it! But--he must not be angry with her for asking +him such a question--but--did he not miss his child, the first one?" + +"Yes, certainly, but it could not be helped. At least, not yet! But he +and the others who were working for the future would have to find a +remedy for that, too. He did not know, yet, what form that remedy +would take, but stronger brains than his, and many together, would +surely one day solve this problem which at present seemed insolvable." + +"Yes, she hoped it would be so." + +"But their marriage? Was it a marriage in the true sense of the word, +seeing that he couldn't tell her what troubled him? Wasn't it, too, +pro...?" + +"No, it was a true marriage, for they loved one another. There had +been no love between him and his first wife. But he and she did love +one another, could she deny it?" + +"She couldn't, he was her dear love." Then their marriage was a true +marriage before God and before Nature. + + + + +UNNATURAL SELECTION OR THE ORIGIN OF RACE + + +The Baron had read in _The Slaves of Life_ with disgust and indignation +that the children of the aristocracy were bound to perish unless they +took the mothers' milk from the children of the lower classes. He had +read Darwin and believed that the gist of his teaching was that through +selection the children of the aristocracy had come to be more highly +developed representatives of the genus "Man." But the doctrine of +heredity made him look upon the employment of a foster-mother with +aversion; for might not, with the blood of the lower classes, certain +conceptions, ideas and desires be introduced and propagated in the +aristocratic nursling? He was therefore determined that his wife should +nurse her baby herself, and if she should prove incapable of doing so, +the child should be brought up with the bottle. He had a right to the +cows' milk, for they fed on his hay; without it they would starve, or +would not have come into existence at all. The baby was born. It was a +son! The father had been somewhat anxious before he became certain of +his wife's condition, for he was, personally, a poor man; his wife, on +the other hand, was very wealthy, but he had no claim to her fortune +unless their union was blest with a legal heir, (in accordance with the +law of entail chap. 00 par. 00). His joy was therefore great and genuine. +The baby was a transparent little thoroughbred, with blue veins shining +through his waxen skin. Nevertheless his blood was poor. His mother who +possessed the figure of an angel, was brought up on choice food, protected +by rich furs from all the eccentricities of the climate, and had that +aristocratic pallor which denotes the woman of noble descent. + +She nursed the baby herself. There was consequently no need to become +indebted to peasant women for the privilege of enjoying life on this +planet. Nothing but fables, all he had read about it! The baby sucked +and screamed for a fortnight. But all babies scream. It meant nothing. +But it lost flesh. It became terribly emaciated. The doctor was sent +for. He had a private conversation with the father, during which he +declared that the baby would die if the Baroness continued to nurse +him, because she was firstly too highly strung, and secondly had +nothing with which to feed him. He took the trouble to make a +quantitative analysis of the milk, and proved (by equations) that the +child was bound to starve unless there was a change in the method of +his feeding. + +What was to be done? On no account could the baby be allowed to die. + +Bottle or foster mother? The latter was out of the question. Let us +try the bottle! The doctor, however, prescribed a foster mother. + +The best Dutch cow, which had received the gold medal for the district, +was isolated and fed with hay; with dry hay of the finest quality. The +doctor analysed the milk, everything was all right. How simple the system +was! How strange that they had not thought of it before! After all, one +need not engage a foster mother a tyrant before whom one had to cringe, +a loafer one had to fatten; not to mention the fact that she might have +an infectious disease. + +But the baby continued to lose flesh and to scream. It screamed night +and day. There was no doubt it suffered from colic. A new cow was +procured and a fresh analysis made. The milk was mixed with Karlsbad +water, genuine Sprudel, but the baby went on screaming. + +"There's no remedy but to engage a foster mother," said the doctor. + +"Oh! anything but that! One did not want to rob other children, it was +against nature, and, moreover, what about heredity?" + +When the Baron began to talk of things natural and unnatural, the +doctor explained to him that if nature were allowed her own way, all +noble families would die out and their estates fall to the crown. This +was the wisdom of nature, and human civilization was nothing but a +foolish struggle against nature, in which man was bound to be beaten. +The Baron's race was doomed; this was proved by the fact that his wife +was unable to feed the fruit of her womb; in order to live they were +bound to buy or steal the milk of other women. Consequently the race +lived on robbery, down to the smallest detail. + +"Could the purchase of the milk be called robbery? The purchase of +it!" + +"Yes, because the money with which it was bought was produced by labour. +Whose labour? The people's! For the aristocracy didn't work." + +"The doctor was a socialist!" + +"No, a follower of Darwin. However, he didn't care in the least if they +called him a socialist. It made no difference to him." + +"But surely, purchase was not robbery! That was too strong a word!" + +"Well, but if one paid with money one hadn't earned!" + +"That was to say, earned by manual labour?" + +"Yes!" + +"But in that case the doctor was a robber too!" + +"Quite so! Nevertheless he would not hold back with the truth! Didn't +the Baron remember the repenting thief who had spoken such true words?" + +The conversation was interrupted; the Baron sent for a famous professor. +The latter called him a murderer straight out, because he had not +engaged a nurse long ago. + +The Baron had to persuade his wife. He had to retract all his former +arguments and emphasize the one simple fact, namely, the love for his +child, (regulated by the law of entail). + +But where was a foster mother to come from? It was no use thinking of +looking for one in town, for there all people were corrupt. No, it +would have to be a country girl. But the Baroness objected to a girl +because, she argued, a girl with a baby was an immoral person; and her +son might contract a hereditary tendency. + +The doctor retorted that all foster mothers were unmarried women and +that if the young Baron inherited from her a preference for the other +sex, he would grow into a good fellow; tendencies of that sort ought +to be encouraged. It was not likely that any of the farmers' wives +would accept the position, because a farmer who owned land, would +certainly prefer to keep his wife and children with him. + +"But supposing they married a girl to a farm labourer?" + +"It would mean a delay of nine months." + +"But supposing they found a husband for a girl who had a baby?" + +"That wasn't a bad idea!" + +The Baron knew a girl who had a baby just three months old. He knew +her only too well, for he had been engaged for three years and had +been unfaithful to his fiancee by "doctor's orders." He went to her +himself and made his suggestion. She should have a farm of her own if +she would consent to marry Anders, a farm labourer, and come to the +Manor as foster mother to the young Baron. Well, was it strange that +she should accept the proffered settlement in preference to her bearing +her disgrace alone? It was arranged there and then that on the following +Sunday the banns should be read for the first, second and third time, +and that Anders should go home to his own village for two months. + +The Baron looked at her baby with a strange feeling of envy. He was a +big, strong boy. He was not beautiful, but he looked like a guarantee +of many generations to come. The child was born to live but it was not +his fate to fulfil his destination. + +Anna wept when he was taken to the orphanage, but the good food at the +Manor (her dinner was sent up to her from the dining-room, and she had +as much porter and wine as she wanted) consoled her. She was also +allowed to go out driving in the big carriage, with a footman by the +side of the coachman. And she read _A Thousand and One Nights_. Never +in all her life had she been so well off. + +After an absence of two months Anders returned. He had done nothing +but eat, drink, and rest. He took possession of the farm, but he also +wanted his Anna. Couldn't she, at least, come and see him sometimes? +No, the Baroness objected. No nonsense of that sort! + +Anna lost flesh and the little Baron screamed. The doctor was +consulted. + +"Let her go and see her husband," he said. + +"But supposing it did the baby harm?" + +"It won't!" + +But Anders must be "analysed" first. Anders objected. + +Anders received a present of a few sheep and was "analysed." + +The little Baron stopped screaming. + +But now news came from the orphanage that Anna's boy had died of +diphtheria. + +Anna fretted, and the little Baron screamed louder than ever. She was +discharged and sent back to Anders and a new foster mother was +engaged. + +Anders was glad to have his wife with him at last, but she had +contracted expensive habits. She couldn't drink Brazilian coffee, for +instance, it had to be Java. And her health did not permit her to eat +fish six times a week, nor could she work in the fields. Food at the +farm grew scarce. + +Anders would have been obliged to give up the farm after twelve months, +but the Baron had a kindly feeling for him and allowed him to stay on as +a tenant. + +Anna worked daily at the Manor and frequently saw the little Baron; +but he did not recognise her and it was just as well that he did not. +And yet he had lain at her breast! And she had saved his life by +sacrificing the life of her own child. But she was prolific and had +several sons, who grew up and were labourers and railway men; one of +them was a convict. + +But the old Baron looked forward with anxiety to the day on which his +son should marry and have children in his turn. He did not look strong! +He would have been far more reassured if the other little Baron, the +one who had died at the orphanage, had been the heir to the estates. +And when he read _The Slaves of Life_ a second time, he had to admit +that the upper classes live at the mercy of the lower classes, and when +he read Darwin again he could not deny that natural selection, in our +time, was anything but natural. But facts were facts and remained +unalterable, in spite of all the doctor and the socialists might say +to the contrary. + + + + +AN ATTEMPT AT REFORM + + +She had noticed with indignation that girls were solely brought up to +be housekeepers for their future husbands. Therefore she had learnt a +trade which would enable her to keep herself in all circumstances of +life. She made artificial flowers. + +He had noticed with regret that girls simply waited for a husband who +should keep them; he resolved to marry a free and independent woman +who could earn her own living; such a woman would be his equal and a +companion for life, not a housekeeper. + +Fate ordained that they should meet. He was an artist and she, as I +already mentioned, made flowers; they were both living in Paris at the +time when they conceived these ideas. + +There was style in their marriage. They took three rooms at Passy. In +the centre was the studio, to the right of it his room, to the left +hers. This did away with the common bed-room and double bed, that +abomination which has no counterpart in nature and is responsible for +a great deal of dissipation and immorality. It moreover did away with +the inconvenience of having to dress and undress in the same room. It +was far better that each of them should have a separate room and that +the studio should be a neutral, common meeting-place. + +They required no servant; they were going to do the cooking themselves +and employ an old charwoman in the mornings and evenings. It was all +very well thought out and excellent in theory. + +"But supposing you had children?" asked the sceptics. + +"Nonsense, there won't be any!" + +It worked splendidly. He went to the market in the morning and did the +catering. Then he made the coffee. She made the beds and put the rooms +in order. And then they sat down and worked. + +When they were tired of working they gossiped, gave one another good +advice, laughed and were very jolly. + +At twelve o'clock he lit the kitchen fire and she prepared the +vegetables. He cooked the beef, while she ran across the street to +the grocer's; then she laid the table and he dished up the dinner. + +Of course, they loved one another as husbands and wives do. They said +good-night to each other and went into their own rooms, but there was +no lock to keep him out when he knocked at her door; but the +accommodation was small and the morning found them in their own +quarters. Then he knocked at the wall: + +"Good morning, little girlie, how are you to-day?" + +"Very well, darling, and you?" + +Their meeting at breakfast was always like a new experience which never +grew stale. + +They often went out together in the evening and frequently met their +countrymen. She had no objection to the smell of tobacco, and was never +in the way. Everybody said that it was an ideal marriage; no one +had ever known a happier couple. + +But the young wife's parents, who lived a long way off, were always +writing and asking all sorts of indelicate questions; they were longing +to have a grandchild. Louisa ought to remember that the institution of +marriage existed for the benefit of the children, not the parents. +Louisa held that this view was an old-fashioned one. Mama asked her +whether she did not think that the result of the new ideas would be the +complete extirpation of mankind? Louisa had never looked at it in that +light, and moreover the question did not interest her. Both she and her +husband were happy; at last the spectacle of a happy married couple was +presented to the world, and the world was envious. + +Life was very pleasant. Neither of them was master and they shared +expenses. Now he earned more, now she did, but in the end their +contributions to the common fund amounted to the same figure. + +Then she had a birthday! She was awakened in the morning by the entrance +of the charwoman with a bunch of flowers and a letter painted all over +with flowers, and containing the following words: + + "To the lady flower-bud from her dauber, who wishes her many happy + returns of the day and begs her to honour him with her company at an + excellent little breakfast--at once." + +She knocked at his door--come in! + +And they breakfasted, sitting on the bed--his bed; and the charwoman +was kept the whole day to do all the work. It was a lovely birthday! + +Their happiness never palled. It lasted two years. All the prophets +had prophesied falsely. + +It was a model marriage! + +But when two years had passed, the young wife fell ill. She put it +down to some poison contained in the wall-paper; he suggested germs of +some sort. Yes, certainly, germs. But something was wrong. Something +was not as it should be. She must have caught cold. Then she grew +stout. Was she suffering from tumour? Yes, they were afraid she was. + +She consulted a doctor--and came home crying. It was indeed a growth, +but one which would one day see daylight, grow into a flower and bear +fruit. + +The husband did anything but cry. He found style in it, and then the +wretch went to his club and boasted about it to his friends. But the +wife still wept. What would her position be now? She would soon not be +able to earn money with her work and then she would have to live on +him. And they would have to have a servant! Ugh! those servants! + +All their care, their caution, their wariness had been wrecked on the +rock of the inevitable. + +But the mother-in-law wrote enthusiastic letters and repeated over and +over again that marriage was instituted by God for the protection of +the children; the parents' pleasure counted for very little. + +Hugo implored her to forget the fact that she would not be able to +earn anything in future. Didn't she do her full share of the work by +mothering the baby? Wasn't that as good as money? Money was, rightly +understood, nothing but work. Therefore she paid her share in full. + +It took her a long time to get over the fact that he had to keep her. +But when the baby came, she forgot all about it. She remained his wife +and companion as before in addition to being the mother of his child, +and he found that this was worth more than anything else. + + + + +A NATURAL OBSTACLE + + +Her father had insisted on her learning book-keeping, so that she might +escape the common lot of young womanhood; to sit there and wait for a +husband. + +She was now employed as book-keeper in the goods department of the +Railways, and was universally looked upon as a very capable young +woman. She had a way of getting on with people, and her prospects were +excellent. + +Then she met the green forester from the School of Forestry and +married him. They had made up their minds not to have any children; +theirs was to be a true, spiritual marriage, and the world was to be +made to realise that a woman, too, has a soul, and is not merely sex. +Husband and wife met at dinner in the evening. It really was a true +marriage, the union of two souls; it was, of course, also the union of +two bodies, but this is a point one does not discuss. + +One day the wife came home and told her husband that her office hours +had been changed. The directors had decided to run a new night train +to Malmo, and in future she would have to be at her office from six to +nine in the evening. It was a nuisance, for he could not come home +before six. That was quite impossible. + +Henceforth they had to dine separately and meet only at night. He was +dissatisfied. He hated the long evenings. + +He fell into the habit of calling for her. But he found it dull to sit +on a chair in the goods department and have the porters knocking against +him. He was always in the way. And when he tried to talk to her as she +sat at her desk with the penholder behind her ear, she interrupted him +with a curt: + +"Oh! do be quiet until I've done!" + +Then the porters turned away their faces and he could see by their +backs that they were laughing. + +Sometimes one or the other of her colleagues announced him with a: + +"Your husband is waiting for you, Mrs. X." + +"Your husband!" There was something scornful in the very way in which +they pronounced the word. + +But what irritated him more than anything else was the fact that the +desk nearest to her was occupied by a "young ass" who was always +gazing into her eyes and everlastingly consulting the ledger, bending +over her shoulders so that he almost touched her with his chin. +And they talked of invoices and certificates, of things which might +have meant anything for all he knew. And they compared papers and +figures and seemed to be on more familiar terms with one another than +husband and wife were. And that was quite natural, for she saw more of +the young ass than of her husband. It struck him that their marriage +was not a true spiritual marriage after all; in order to be that he, +too, would have had to be employed in the goods department. But as it +happened he was at the School of Forestry. + +One day, or rather one night, she told him that on the following +Saturday a meeting of railway employs, which was to conclude with a +dinner, would be held, and that she would have to be present. Her +husband received the communication with a little air of constraint. + +"Do you want to go?" he asked navely. + +"Of course, I do!" + +"But you will be the only woman amongst so many men, and when men have +had too much to drink, they are apt to become coarse." + +"Don't you attend the meetings of the School of Forestry without me?" + +"Certainly, but I am not the only man amongst a lot of women." + +"Men and women were equals, she was amazed that he, who had always +preached the emancipation of women could have any objection to her +attending the meeting." + +"He admitted that it was nothing but prejudice on his part. He admitted +that she was right and that he was wrong, but all the same he begged her +not to go; he hated the idea. He couldn't get over the fact." + +"He was inconsequent." + +"He admitted that he was inconsequent, but it would take ten generations +to get used to the new conditions." + +"Then he must not go to meetings either?" + +"That was quite a different matter, for his meetings were attended by +men only. He didn't mind her going out without him; what he didn't like +was that she went out alone with so many men." + +"She wouldn't be alone, for the cashier's wife would be present as--" + +"As what?" + +"As the cashier's wife." + +"Then couldn't he be present as her husband?" + +"Why did he want to make himself so cheap by being in the way?" + +"He didn't mind making himself cheap." + +"Was he jealous?" + +"Yes! Why not? He was afraid that something might come between them." + +"What a shame to be jealous! What an insult! What distrust! What did +he think of her?" + +"That she was perfect. He would prove it. She could go alone!" +"Could she really? How condescending of him!" + +She went. She did not come home until the early hours of the morning. +She awakened her husband and told him how well it had all gone off. He +was delighted to hear it. Somebody had made a speech about her; they +had sung quartets and ended with a dance. + +"And how had she come home?" + +"The young ass had accompanied her to the front door." + +"Supposing anybody who knew them had seen her at three o'clock in the +morning in the company of the young ass?" + +"Well, and what then? She was a respectable woman." + +"Yes, but she might easily lose her reputation." + +"Ah! He was jealous, and what was even worse, he was envious. He +grudged her every little bit of fun. That was what being married +meant! To be scolded if one dared to go out and enjoy oneself a +little. What a stupid institution marriage was! But was their union a +true marriage? They met one another at night, just as other married +couples did. Men were all alike. Civil enough until they were married, +but afterwards, oh! Afterwards.... Her husband was no better than +other men: he looked upon her as his property, he thought he had a +right to order her about." + +"It was true. There was a time when he had believed that they belonged +to one another, but he had made a mistake. He belonged to her as a dog +belonged to its master. What was he but her footman, who called for +her at night to see her home? He was 'her husband.' But did she want +to be 'his wife'? Were they equals?" + +"She hadn't come home to quarrel with him. She wanted to be nothing +but his wife, and she did not want him to be anything but her +husband." + +The effect of the champagne, he thought, and turned to the wall. + +She cried and begged him not to be unjust, but to--forgive her. + +He pulled the blankets over his ears. + +She asked him again if he--if he didn't want her to be his wife any +more? + +"Yes, of course, he wanted her! But he had been so dreadfully bored +all the evening, he could never live through another evening like it." + +"Let them forget all about it then!" + +And they forgot all about it and continued loving one another. + +On the following evening, when the green forester came for his wife, +he was told that she had gone to the store rooms. He was alone in the +counting-house and sat down on a chair. Presently a glass door was +opened and the young ass put in his head: "Are you here, Annie?" + +No, it was only her husband! + +He rose and went away. The young ass called his wife Annie, and was +evidently on very familiar terms with her. It was more than he could +bear. + +When she came home they had a scene. She reproached him with the fact +that he did not take his views on the emancipation of women seriously, +otherwise he could not be annoyed at her being on familiar terms with +her fellow-clerks. He made matters worse by admitting that his views +were not to be taken seriously. + +"Surely he didn't mean what he was saying! Had he changed his mind? +How could he!" + +"Yes, he had changed his mind. One could not help modifying one's +views almost daily, because one had to adapt them to the conditions of +life which were always changing. And if he had believed in spiritual +marriages in the days gone by, he had now come to lose faith in +marriages of any sort whatever. That was progress in the direction of +radicalism. And as to the spiritual, she was spiritually married to +the young ass rather than to him, for they exchanged views on the +management of the goods department daily and hourly, while she took no +interest at all in the cultivation of forests. Was there anything +spiritual in their marriage? Was there?" + +"No, not any longer! Her love was dead! He had killed it when he +renounced his splendid faith in--the emancipation of women." + +Matters became more and more unbearable. The green forester began to +look to his fellow-foresters for companionship and gave up thinking of +the goods department and its way of conducting business, matters which +he never understood. + +"You don't understand me," she kept on saying over and over again. + +"No, I don't understand the goods department," he said. + +One night, or rather one morning, he told her that he was going +botanising with a girls' class. He was teaching botany in a girls' +school. + +"Oh! indeed! Why had he never mentioned it before? Big girls?" + +"Oh! very big ones. From sixteen to twenty." + +"H'm! In the morning?" + +"No! In the afternoon! And they would have supper in one of the +outlying little villages." + +"Would they? The head-mistress would be there of course?" + +"Oh! no, she had every confidence in him, since he was a married man. +It was an advantage, sometimes, to be married." + +On the next day she was ill. + +"Surely he hadn't the heart to leave her!" + +"He must consider his work before anything else. Was she very ill?" + +"Oh! terribly ill!" + +In spite of her objections he sent for a doctor. The doctor declared +that there was nothing much the matter; it was quite unnecessary for +the husband to stay at home. The green forester returned towards morning. +He was in high spirits. He had enjoyed himself immensely! He had not had +such a day for a long, long time. + +The storm burst. Huhuhu! This struggle was too much for her! He must +swear a solemn oath never to love any woman but her. Never! + +She had convulsions; he ran for the smelling salts. + +He was too generous to give her details of the supper with the +schoolgirls, but he could not forego the pleasure of mentioning his +former simile anent dogs and possession, and he took the occasion to +draw her attention to the fact that love without the conception of a +right to possession--on both sides--was not thinkable. What was +making her cry? The same thing which had made him swear, when she went +out with twenty men. The fear of losing him! But one can lose only +that which one possesses! Possesses! + +Thus the rent was repaired. But goods department and girls' school +were ready with their scissors to undo the laborious mending. + +The harmony was disturbed. + +The wife fell ill. +She was sure that she had hurt herself in lifting a case which was too +heavy for her. She was so keen on her work that she could not bear to +wait while the porters stood about and did nothing. She was compelled +to lend a hand. Now she must have ruptured herself. + +Yes, indeed, there was something the matter! + +How angry she was! Angry with her husband who alone was to blame. What +were they going to do with the baby? It would have to be boarded out! +Rousseau had done that. It was true, he was a fool, but on this +particular point he was right. + +She was full of fads and fancies. The forester had to resign his lessons +at the girls' school at once. + +She chafed and fretted because she was no longer able to go into the +store rooms, but compelled to stay in the counting-house all day long +and make entries. But the worst blow which befell her was the arrival +of an assistant whose secret mission it was to take her place when she +would be laid up. + +The manner of her colleagues had changed, too. The porters grinned. +She felt ashamed and longed to hide herself. It would be better to +stay at home and cook her husband's dinner than sit here and be stared +at. Oh! What black chasms of prejudice lay concealed in the deceitful +hearts of men! + +She stayed at home for the last month, for the walk to and from her +office four times a day was too much for her. And she was always so +hungry! She had to send out for sandwiches in the morning. And every +now and then she felt faint and had to take a rest. What a life! A +woman's lot was indeed a miserable one. + +The baby was born. + +"Shall we board it out?" asked the father. + +"Had he no heart?" + +"Oh! yes, of course he had!" + +And the baby remained at home. + +Then a very polite letter arrived from the head office, enquiring after +the young mother's health. + +"She was very well and would be back at the office on the day after +to-morrow." + +She was still a little weak and had to take a cab; but she soon picked +up her strength. However, a new difficulty now presented itself. She +must be kept informed of the baby's condition; a messenger boy was +despatched to her home, at first twice a day, then every two hours. + +And when she was told that the baby had been crying, she put on her +hat and rushed home at once. But the assistant was there, ready to +take her place. The head clerk was very civil and made no comment. + +One day the young mother discovered accidentally that the nurse was +unable to feed the baby, but had concealed the fact for fear of losing +her place. She had to take a day off in order to find a new foster mother. +But they were all alike; brutal egoists every one of them, who took no +interest in the children of strangers. No one could ever depend on them. + +"No," agreed the husband, "in a case of this sort one can only depend on +oneself." + +"Do you mean to insinuate that I ought to give up my work?" + +"Oh! You must do as you like about that!" + +"And become your slave!" + +"No, I don't mean that at all!" + +The little one was not at all well; all children are ill occasionally. +He was teething! One day's leave after another! The poor baby suffered +from toothache. She had to soothe him at night, work at the office +during the day, sleepy, tired, anxious, and again take a day off. + +The green forester did his best and carried the baby about in his arms +half the night, but he never said a word about his wife's work at the +goods department. + +Nevertheless she knew what was in his mind. He was waiting for her to +give in; but he was deceitful and so he said nothing! How treacherous +men were! She hated him; she would sooner kill herself than throw up +her work and "be his slave." + +The forester saw quite clearly now that it was impossible for any +woman to emancipate herself from the laws of nature; _under present +circumstances_, he was shrewd enough to add. + +When the baby was five months old, it was plainly evident that the +whole thing would before very long repeat itself. + +What a catastrophe! + +But when that sort of thing once begins.... + +The forester was obliged to resume his lessons at the girls' school to +augment their income, and now--she laid down her arms. + +"I am your slave, now," she groaned, when she came home with her +discharge. + +Nevertheless she is the head of the house, and he gives her every +penny he earns. When he wants to buy a cigar he makes a long speech +before he ventures to ask for the money. She never refuses it to him, +but all the same he finds the asking for it unpleasant. He is allowed +to attend meetings, but no dinners, and all botanising with girls is +strictly forbidden. He does not miss it much, for he prefers playing +with his children. + +His colleagues call him henpecked; but he smiles, and tells them that +he is happy in spite of it, because he has in his wife a very sweet +and sensible companion. + +She, on her part, obstinately maintains that she is nothing but his +slave, whatever he might say to the contrary. It is her one comfort, +poor, little woman! + + + + +A DOLL'S HOUSE + + +They had been married for six years, but they were still more like +lovers than husband and wife. He was a captain in the navy, and every +summer he was obliged to leave her for a few months; twice he had been +away on a long voyage. But his short absences were a blessing in +disguise, for if their relations had grown a little stale during the +winter, the summer trip invariably restored them to their former +freshness and delightfulness. + +During the first summer he wrote veritable love-letters to her and +never passed a sailing ship without signalling: "Will you take +letters?" And when he came in sight of the landmarks of the Stockholm +Archipelago, he did not know how to get to her quickly enough. But she +found a way. She wired him to Landsort that she would meet him at +Dalar. When he anchored, he saw a little blue scarf fluttering on the +verandah of the hotel: then he knew that it was she. But there was so +much to do aboard that it was evening before he could go ashore. He +saw her from his gig on the landing-stage as the bow held out his oar +to fend off; she was every bit as young, as pretty and as strong as +she had been when he left her; it was exactly as if they were +re-living the first spring days of their love. A delicious little +supper waited for him in the two little rooms she had engaged. What a +lot they had to talk about! The voyage, the children, the future! The +wine sparkled in the glasses and his kisses brought the blood to her +cheeks. + +Tattoo went on the ship, but he took no notice of it, for he did not +intend to leave her before one o'clock. + +"What? He was going?" + +"Yes; he must get back aboard, but it would do if he was there for the +morning watch." + +"When did the morning watch begin?" + +"At five o'clock." + +"Oh!... As early as that!" + +"But where was she going to stay the night?" + +"That was her business!" + +He guessed it and wanted to have a look at her room; but she planted +herself firmly on the threshold. He covered her face with kisses, took +her in his arms as if she were a baby and opened the door. + +"What an enormous bed! It was like the long boat. Where did the people +get it from?" + +She blushed crimson. + +"Of course, she had understood from his letter that they would stay at +the hotel together." + +"Well, and so they would, in spite of his having to be back aboard for +the morning watch. What did he care for the stupid morning prayers!" + +"How could he say such a thing!" + +"Hadn't they better have some coffee and a fire? The sheets felt damp! +What a sensible little rogue she was to provide for his staying, too! +Who would have thought that she had so much sense? Where did she get +it from?" + +"She didn't get it from anywhere!" + +"No? Well, he might have known! He might have known everything!" + +"Oh! But he was so stupid!" + +"Indeed, he was stupid, was he?" + +And he slipped his arm round her waist. + +"But he ought to behave himself!" + +"Behave himself? It was easy to talk!" + +"The girl was coming with the wood!" + +When it struck two, and sea and Skerries were flaming in the east, +they were sitting at the open window. + +"They were lovers still, weren't they? And now he must go. But he +would be back at ten, for breakfast, and after that they would go for +a sail." + +He made some coffee on her spirit lamp, and they drank it while the +sun was rising and the seagulls screamed. The gunboat was lying far +out at sea and every now and then he saw the cutlasses of the watch +glinting in the sunlight. It was hard to part, but the certainty of +meeting again in a few hours' time helped them to bear it. He kissed +her for the last time, buckled on his sword and left her. + +When he arrived at the bridge and shouted: "boat ahoy!" she hid +herself behind the window curtains as if she were ashamed to be seen. +He blew kisses to her until the sailors came with the gig. Then a last: +"Sleep well and dream of me" and the gig put off. He watched her +through his glasses, and for a long time he could distinguish a little +figure with black hair. The sunbeams fell on her nightdress and bare +throat and made her look like a mermaid. + +The reveille went. The longdrawn bugle notes rolled out between the +green islands over the shining water and returned from behind the pine +woods. The whole crew assembled on deck and the Lord's Prayer and +"Jesus, at the day's beginning" were read. The little church tower of +Dalar answered with a faint ringing of bells, for it was Sunday. +Cutters came up in the morning breeze: flags were flying, shots +resounded, light summer dresses gleamed on the bridge, the steamer, +leaving a crimson track behind her, steamed up, the fishers hauled in +their nets, and the sun shone on the blue, billowy water and the green +islands. + +At ten o'clock six pairs rowed the gig ashore from the gunboat. They +were together again. And as they sat at breakfast in the large +dining-room, the hotel guests watched and whispered: "Is she his +wife?" He talked to her in an undertone like a lover, and she cast +down her eyes and smiled; or hit his fingers with her dinner napkin. + +The boat lay alongside the bridge; she sat at the helm, he looked +after the foresail. But he could not take his eyes off her finely +shaped figure in the light summer dress, her determined little face +and proud eyes, as she sat looking to windward, while her little hand +in its strong leather glove held the mainsheet. He wanted to talk to +her and was purposely clumsy in tacking; then she scolded him as if he +were a cabin boy, which amused him immensely. + +"Why didn't you bring the baby with you?" he asked her teasingly. + +"Where should I have put it to sleep?" + +"In the long boat, of course?" + +She smiled at him in a way which filled his heart with happiness. + +"Well, and what did the proprietress say this morning?" + +"What should she say?" + +"Did she sleep well last night?" + +"Why shouldn't she sleep well?" + +"I don't know; she might have been kept awake by rats, or perhaps by +the rattling of a window; who can tell what might not disturb the gentle +sleep of an old maid!" + +"If you don't stop talking nonsense, I shall make the sheet fast and +sail you to the bottom of the sea." + +They landed at a small island and ate their luncheon which they had +brought with them in a little basket. After lunch they shot at a +target with a revolver. Then they pretended to fish with rods, but +they caught nothing and sailed out again into the open sea where the +eidergeese were, through a strait where they watched the carp playing +about the rushes. He never tired of looking at her, talking to her, +kissing her. + +In this manner they met for six summers, and always they were just as +young, just as mad and just as happy as before. They spent the winter +in Stockholm in their little cabins. He amused himself by rigging boats +for his little boys or telling them stories of his adventures in China +and the South Sea Islands, while his wife sat by him, listening and +laughing at his funny tales. It was a charming room, that could not be +equalled in the whole world. It was crammed full of Japanese sunshades +and armour, miniature pagodas from India, bows and lances from Australia, +nigger drums and dried flying fish, sugar cane and opium pipes. Papa, +whose hair was growing thin at the top, did not feel very happy outside +his own four walls. Occasionally he played at draughts with his friend, +the auditor, and sometimes they had a game at Boston and drank a glass +of grog. At first his wife had joined in the game, but now that she had +four children, she was too busy; nevertheless, she liked to sit with the +players for a little and look at their cards, and whenever she passed +Papa's chair he caught her round the waist and asked her whether she +thought he ought to be pleased with his hand. + +This time the corvette was to be away for six months. The captain did +not feel easy about it, for the children were growing up and the +responsibility of the big establishment was too much for Mama. The +captain himself was not quite so young and vigorous as he had been, +but--it could not be helped and so he left. + +Directly he arrived at Kronborg he posted a letter to her. + + "My darling Topmast," it began. + + "Wind moderate, S.S.E. by E. + 10 C. 6 bells, watch below. I cannot + express in words what I feel on this voyage during which I shall not + see you. When we kedged out (at 6 p.m. while a strong gale blew from + N.E. by N.) I felt as if a belaying pin were suddenly being driven + into my chest and I actually had a sensation as if a chain had been + drawn through the hawsepipes of my ears. They say that sailors can + feel the approach of misfortune. I don't know whether this is true, + but I shall not feel easy until I have had a letter from you. Nothing + has happened on board, simply because nothing must happen. How are you + all at home? Has Bob had his new boots, and do they fit? I am a + wretched correspondent as you know, so 111 stop now. With a big kiss + right on this x. + + "Your old Pal. + + "P.S. You ought to find a friend (female, of course) and don't forget + to ask the proprietress at Dalaro to take care of the long boat until + my return. The wind is getting up; it will blow from the North to-night." + +Off Portsmouth the captain received the following letter from his +wife: + + "Dear old Pal, + + "It's horrible here without you, believe me. I have had a lot of + worry, too, for little Alice has got a new tooth. The doctor said it + was unusually early, which was a sign of (but I'm not going to tell + you that). Bob's boots fit him very well and he is very proud of them. + + "You say in your letter that I ought to find a friend of my own sex. + Well, I have found one, or, rather, she has found me. Her name is + Ottilia Sandegren, and she was educated at the seminary. She is rather + grave and takes life very seriously, therefore you need not be afraid, + Pal, that your Topmast will be led astray. Moreover, she is religious. + We really ought to take religion a little more seriously, both of us. + She is a splendid woman. She has just arrived and sends you her kind + regards. + + "Your Gurli." + +The captain was not overpleased with this letter. It was too short and +not half as bright as her letters generally were. Seminary, religion, +grave, Ottilia: Ottilia twice! And then Gurli! Why not Gulla as +before? H'm! + +A week later he received a second letter from Bordeaux, a letter which +was accompanied by a book, sent under separate cover. + +"Dear William!"--"H'm! William! No longer Pal!"--"Life is a +struggle"--"What the deuce does she mean? What has that to do with +us?"--"from beginning to end. Gently as a river in Kedron"--"Kedron! +she's quoting the Bible!"--"our life has glided along. Like sleepwalkers +we have been walking on the edge of precipices without being aware of +them"--"The seminary, oh! the seminary!"--"Suddenly we find ourselves +face to face with the ethical"--"The ethical? Ablative!"--"asserting +itself in its higher potencies!"--"Potencies?"--"Now that I am awake +from my long sleep and ask myself: has our marriage been a marriage in +the true sense of the word? I must admit with shame and remorse that +this has not been the case. For love is of divine origin. (St. Matthew +xi. 22, 24.)" + +The captain had to mix himself a glass of rum and water before he felt +able to continue his reading.--"How earthly, how material our love has +been! Have our souls lived in that harmony of which Plato speaks? +(Phaidon, Book vi. Chap. ii. Par. 9). Our answer is bound to be in the +negative. What have I been to you? A housekeeper and, oh! The disgrace! +your mistress! Have our souls understood one another? Again we are bound +to answer 'No.'"--"To Hell with all Ottilias and seminaries! +Has she been my housekeeper? She has been my wife and the mother of my +children!"--"Read the book I have sent you! It will answer all your +questions. It voices that which for centuries has lain hidden in the +hearts of all women! Read it, and then tell me if you think that our +union has been a true marriage. Your Gurli." + +His presentiment of evil had not deceived him. The captain was beside +himself; he could not understand what had happened to his wife. It was +worse than religious hypocrisy. + +He tore off the wrapper and read on the title page of a book in a +paper cover: _Et Dukkehjem af Henrik Ibsen_. A Doll's House? Well, +and--? His home had been a charming doll's house; his wife had been +his little doll and he had been her big doll. They had danced along +the stony path of life and had been happy. What more did they want? +What was wrong? He must read the book at once and find out. + +He finished it in three hours. His brain reeled. How did it concern +him and his wife? Had they forged bills? No! Hadn't they loved one +another? Of course they had! + +He locked himself into his cabin and read the book a second time; he +underlined passages in red and blue, and when the dawn broke, he took +"A well-meant little ablative on the play _A Doll's House_, written by +the old Pal on board the Vanadis in the Atlantic off Bordeaux. (Lat. 45 +Long. 16.) + + "1. She married him because he was in love with her and that was a + deuced clever thing to do. For if she had waited until she had fallen + in love with someone, it might have happened that _he_ would not have + fallen in love with her, and then there would have been the devil to + pay. For it happens very rarely that both parties are equally in love." + + "2. She forges a bill. That was foolish, but it is not true that it + was done for the husband's sake only, for she has never loved him; it + would have been the truth if she had said that she had done it for him, + herself and the children. Is that clear?" + + "3. That he wants to embrace her after the ball is only a proof of his + love for her, and there is no wrong in that; but it should not be done + on the stage. "_Il y a des choses qui se font mais que ne se disent + point_,' as the French say, Moreover, if the poet had been fair, he + would also save shown an opposite case. '_La petite chienne veut, mais + le grand chien ne veut pas_,' says Ollendorf. (Vide the long boat at + Dalar.)" + + "4. That she, when she discovers that her husband is a fool (and that + he is when he offers to condone her offence because it has not leaked + out) decides to leave her children 'not considering herself worthy of + bringing them up,' is a not very clever trick of coquetry. If they have + both been fools (and surely they don't teach at the seminary that it + is right to forge bills) they should pull well together in future in + double harness." + + "Least of all is she justified in leaving her children's education in + the hands of the father whom she despises." + + "5. Nora has consequently every reason for staying with her children + when she discovers what an imbecile her husband is." + + "6. The husband cannot be blamed for not sufficiently appreciating + her, for she doesn't reveal her true character until after the row." + + "7. Nora has undoubtedly been a fool; she herself does not deny it." + + "8. There is every guarantee of their pulling together more happily + in future; he has repented and promised to turn over a new leaf. So + has she. Very well! Here's my hand, let's begin again at the beginning. + Birds of a feather flock together. There's nothing lost, we've both + been fools! You, little Nora, were badly brought up. I, old rascal, + didn't know any better. We are both to be pitied. Pelt our teachers + with rotten eggs, but don't hit me alone on the head. I, though a man, + am every bit as innocent as you are! Perhaps even a little more so, + for I married for love, you for a home. Let us be friends, therefore, + and together teach our children the valuable lesson we have learnt + in the school of life." + + Is that clear? All right then! + + This was written by Captain Pal with his stiff fingers and slow brain! + + And now, my darling dolly, I have read your book and given you my + opinion. But what have we to do with it? Didn't we love one another? + Haven't we educated one another and helped one another to rub off our + sharp corners? Surely you'll remember that we had many a little + encounter in the beginning! What fads of yours are those? To hell with + all Ottilias and seminaries! + + The book you sent me is a queer book. It is like a watercourse with + an insufficient number of buoys, so that one might run aground at any + moment. But I pricked the chart and found calm waters. Only, I + couldn't do it again. The devil may crack these nuts which are rotten + inside when one has managed to break the shell. I wish you peace and + happiness and the recovery of your sound common sense. + + "How are the little ones? You forgot to mention them. Probably you + were thinking too much of Nora's unfortunate kiddies, (which exist + only in a play of that sort). Is my little boy crying? My nightingale + singing, my dolly dancing? She must always do that if she wants to + make her old pal happy. And now may God bless you and prevent evil + thoughts from rising between us. My heart is sadder than I can tell. + And I am expected to sit down and write a critique on a play. God + bless you and the babies; kiss their rosy cheeks for your faithful + old Pal." + +When the captain had sent off his letter, he went into the officers' +mess and drank a glass of punch. The doctor was there, too. + +"Have you noticed a smell of old black breeches?" he asked. "I should +like to hoist myself up to the cat block and let a good old N.W. by N. +blow right through me." + +But the doctor did not understand what he was driving at. + +"Ottilia, Ottilia!... What she wants is a taste of the handspike. Send +the witch to the quarterdeck and let the second mess loose on her behind +closed hatches. One knows what is good for an old maid." + +"What's the matter with you, old chap?" asked the doctor. + +"Plato! Plato! To the devil with Plato! To be six months at sea makes +one sick of Plato. That teaches one ethics! Ethics? I bet a marlinspike +to a large rifle: if Ottilia were married she would cease talking of +Plato." + +"What on earth _is_ the matter?" + +"Nothing. Do you hear? You're a doctor. What's the matter with those +women? Isn't it bad for them to remain unmarried? Doesn't it make +them...? What?" + +The doctor gave him his candid opinion and added that he was sorry +that there were not enough men to go round. + +"In a state of nature the male is mostly polygamous; in most cases +there is no obstacle to this, as there is plenty of food for the young +ones (beasts of prey excepted): abnormalities like unmated females do +not exist in nature. But in civilised countries, where a man is lucky +if he earns enough bread, it is a common occurrence, especially as the +females are in preponderance. One ought to treat unmarried women with +kindness, for their lot is a melancholy one." + +"With kindness! That's all very well; but supposing they are anything +but kind themselves!" + +And he told the doctor the whole story, even confessing that he had +written a critique on a play. + +"Oh! well, no end of nonsense is written," said the doctor, putting +his hand on the lid of the jug which contained the punch. "In the end +science decides all great questions! Science, and nothing else." + +When the six months were over and the captain, who had been in +constant, but not very pleasant, correspondence with his wife, (she +had sharply criticised his critique), at last landed at Dalar, he was +received by his wife, all the children, two servants and Ottilia. His +wife was affectionate, but not cordial. She held up her brow to be +kissed. Ottilia was as tall as a stay, and wore her hair short; seen +from the back she looked like a swab. The supper was dull and they +drank only tea. The long boat took in a cargo of children and the +captain was lodged in one of the attics. + +What a change! Poor old Pal looked old and felt puzzled. + +"To be married and yet not have a wife," he thought, "it's +intolerable!" + +On the following morning he wanted to take his wife for a sail. But +the sea did not agree with Ottilia. She had been ill on the steamer. +And, moreover, it was Sunday. Sunday? That was it! Well, they would go +for a walk. They had a lot to talk about. Of course, they had a lot to +say to each other. But Ottilia was not to come with them! + +They went out together, arm in arm. But they did not talk much; and +what they said were words uttered for the sake of concealing their +thoughts more than for the sake of exchanging ideas. + +They passed the little cholera cemetery and took the road leading to +the Swiss Valley. A faint breeze rustled through the pine trees and +glimpses of the blue sea flashed through the dark branches. + +They sat down on a stone. He threw himself on the turf at her feet. +Now the storm is going to burst, he thought, and it did. + +"Have you thought at all about our marriage?" she began. + +"No," he replied, with every appearance of having fully considered the +matter, "I have merely felt about it. In my opinion love is a matter +of sentiment; one steers by landmarks and makes port; take compass and +chart and you are sure to founder." + +"Yes, but our home has been nothing but a doll's house." + +"Excuse me, but this is not quite true. You have never forged a bill; +you have never shown your ankles to a syphilitic doctor of whom you +wanted to borrow money against security _in natura_; you have never +been so romantically silly as to expect your husband to give himself +up for a crime which his wife had committed from ignorance, and which +was not a crime because there was no plaintiff; and you have never +lied to me. I have treated you every bit as honestly as Helmer treated +his wife when he took her into his full confidence and allowed her to +have a voice in the banking business; tolerated her interference with +the appointment of an employee. We have therefore been husband and +wife according to all conceptions, old and new-fashioned." + +"Yes, but I have been your housekeeper!" + +"Pardon me, you are wrong. You have never had a meal in the kitchen, +you have never received wages, you have never had to account for money +spent. I have never scolded you because one thing or the other was not +to my liking. And do you consider my work: to reckon and to brace, to +ease off and call out 'Present arms,' count herrings and measure rum, +weigh peas and examine flour, more honourable than yours: to look +after the servants, cater for the house and bring up the children?" + +"No, but you are paid for your work! You are your own master! You are +a man!" + +"My dear child, do you want me to give you wages? Do you want to be my +housekeeper in real earnest? That I was born a man is an accident. I +might almost say a pity, for it's very nearly a crime to be a man +now-a-days, but it isn't my fault. The devil take him who has stirred +up the two halves of humanity, one against the other! He has much to +answer for. Am I the master? Don't we both rule? Have I ever decided +any important matter without asking for your advice? What? But you--you +bring up the children exactly as you like! Don't you remember that I +wanted you to stop rocking them to sleep because I said it produced a +sort of intoxication? But you had your own way! Another time I had mine, +and then it was your turn again. There was no compromise possible, +because there was no middle course to steer between rocking and not +rocking. We got on very well until now. But you have thrown me over for +Ottilia's sake!" + +"Ottilia! always Ottilia! Didn't you yourself send her to me?" + +"No, not her personally! But there can be no doubt that it is she who +rules now." + +"You want to separate me from all I care for!" + +"Is Ottilia all you care for? It almost looks like it!" + +"But I can't send her away now that I have engaged her to teach the +girls pedagogics and Latin." + +"Latin! Great Scott! Are the girls to be ruined?" + +"They are to know everything a man knows, so that when the time comes, +their marriage will be a true marriage." + +"But, my love, all husbands don't know Latin! I don't know more than +one single word, and that is 'ablative.' And we have been happy in +spite of it. Moreover, there is a movement to strike off Latin from +the plan of instruction for boys, as a superfluous accomplishment. +Doesn't this teach you a lot? Isn't it enough that the men are ruined, +are the women to be ruined, too? Ottilia, Ottilia, what have I done to +you, that you should treat me like this!" + +"Supposing we dropped that matter.--Our love, William, has not been +what it should be. It has been sensual!" + +"But, my darling, how could we have had children, if it hadn't? And it +has not been sensual only." + +"Can a thing be both black and white? Tell me that!" + +"Of course, it can. There's your sunshade for instance, it is black +outside and white inside." + +"Sophist!" + +"Listen to me, sweetheart, tell me in your own way the thoughts which +are in your heart; don't talk like Ottilia's books. Don't let your head +run away with you; be yourself again, my sweet, darling little wife." + +"Yours, your property, bought with your labour." + +"Just as I am your property, your husband, at whom no other woman is +allowed to look if she wants to keep her eyes in her head; your husband, +who made a present of himself to you, or rather, gave himself to you in +exchange. Are we not quits?" + +"But we have trifled away our lives! Have we ever had any higher +interests, William?" + +"Yes, the very highest, Gurli; we have not always been playing, we +have had grave hours, too. Have we not called into being generations +to come? Have we not both bravely worked and striven for the little +ones, who are to grow up into men and women? Have you not faced death +four times for their sakes? Have you not robbed yourself of your +nights' rest in order to rock their cradle, and of your days' +pleasures, in order to attend to them? Couldn't we now have a large +six-roomed flat in the main street, and a footman to open the door, if +it were not for the children? Wouldn't you be able to wear silk +dresses and pearls? And I, your old Pal, wouldn't have _crows' nests_ +in my knees, if it hadn't been for the kiddies. Are we really no +better than dolls? Are we as selfish as old maids say? Old maids, +rejected by men as no good. Why are so many girls unmarried? They all +boast of proposals and yet they pose as martyrs! Higher interests! +Latin! To dress in low neck dresses for charitable purposes and leave +the children at home, neglected! I believe that my interests are +higher than Ottilia's, when I want strong and healthy children, who +will succeed where we have failed. But Latin won't help them! Goodbye, +Gurli! I have to go back on board. Are you coming?" + +But she remained sitting on the stone and made no answer. He went with +heavy footsteps, very heavy footsteps. And the blue sea grew dark and +the sun ceased shining. + +"Pal, Pal, where is this to lead to?" he sighed, as he stepped over +the fence of the cemetery. "I wish I lay there, with a wooden cross to +mark my place, among the roots of the trees. But I am sure I couldn't +rest, if I were there without her! Oh! Gurli! Gurli! + +"Everything has gone wrong, now, mother," said the captain on a chilly +autumn day to his mother-in-law, to whom he was paying a visit. + +"What's the matter, Willy, dear?" + +"Yesterday they met at our house. On the day before yesterday at the +Princess's. Little Alice was suddenly taken ill. It was unfortunate, +of course, but I didn't dare to send for Gurli, for fear she might +think that it was done on purpose to annoy her! Oh! when once one has +lost faith.... I asked a friend at the Admiralty yesterday whether it +was legal in Sweden to kill one's wife's friends with tobacco smoke. I +was told it wasn't, and that even if it were it was better not to do +it, for fear of doing more harm than good. If only it happened to be +an admirer! I should take him by the neck and throw him out of the +window. What am I to do?" + +"It's a difficult matter, Willy, dear, but we shall be able to think +of a way out of it. You can't go on living like a bachelor." + +"No, of course, I can't." + +"I spoke very plainly to her, a day or two ago. I told her that she +would lose you if she didn't mend her ways." + +"And what did she say?" + +"She said you had a right to do as you liked with your body." + +"Indeed! And she, too? A fine theory! My hair is fast turning grey, +mother!" + +"It's a good old scheme to make a wife jealous. It's generally kill or +cure, for if there is any love left, it brings it out." + +"There is, I know, there is!" + +"Of course, there is. Love doesn't die suddenly; it gets used up in +the course of the years, perhaps. Have a flirtation with Ottilia, and +we shall see!" + +"Flirt with Ottilia? With Ottilia?" + +"Try it. Aren't you up in any of the subjects which interest her?" + +"Well, yes! They are deep in statistics, now. Fallen women, infectious +diseases. If I could lead the conversation to mathematics! I am well +up in that!" + +"There you are! Begin with mathematics--by and by put her shawl round +her shoulders and button her overshoes. Take her home in the evening. +Drink her health and kiss her when Gurli is sure to see it. If necessary, +be a little officious. She won't be angry, believe me. And give her a +big dose of mathematics, so big that Gurli has no option but to sit and +listen to it quietly. Come again in a week's time and tell me the +result." + +The captain went home, read the latest pamphlets on immorality and at +once started to carry out his scheme. + +A week later he called on his mother-in-law, serene and smiling, and +greatly enjoying a glass of good sherry. He was in high spirits. + +"Now tell me all about it," said the old woman, pushing her spectacles +up on her forehead. + +"It was difficult work at first," he began, "for she distrusted me. +She thought I was making fun of her. Then I mentioned the effect which +the computation of probabilities had had on the statistics of morality +in America. I told her that it had simply been epoch-making. She knew +nothing about it, but the subject attracted her. I gave her examples +and proved in figures that it was possible to calculate with a certain +amount of probability the percentage of women who are bound to fall. +She was amazed. I saw that her curiosity was aroused and that she was +eager to provide herself with a trump-card for the next meeting. Gurli +was pleased to see that Ottilia and I were making friends, and did +everything to further my scheme. She pushed her into my room and +closed the door; and there we sat all afternoon, making calculations. +The old witch was happy, for she felt that she was making use of me, +and after three hours' work we were fast friends. At supper my wife +found that such old friends as Ottilia and I ought to call one another +by their Christian names. I brought out my good old sherry to +celebrate the occasion. And then I kissed her on the lips, may God +forgive me for my sins! Gurli looked a little startled, but did not +seem to mind. She was radiant with happiness. The sherry was strong +and Ottilia was weak. I wrapped her in her cloak and took her home. I +gently squeezed her arm and told her the names of the stars. She +became enthusiastic! She had always loved the stars, but had never +been able to remember their names. The poor women were not allowed to +acquire any knowledge. Her enthusiasm grew and we parted as the very +best of friends who had been kept apart through misunderstanding each +other for such a long, long time. + +"On the next day more mathematics. We worked until supper time. Gurli +came in once or twice and gave us an encouraging nod. At supper we +talked of nothing but stars and mathematics, and Gurli sat there, +silently, listening to us. Again I took her home. On my way back I met +a friend. We went to the Grand Hotel and drank a glass of punch. It +was one o'clock when I came home. Gurli was still up waiting for me. + +"'Where have you been all this time, William?' she asked. + +"Then the devil entered into my soul and I replied: + +"'We had such a lot to talk about that I forgot all about the time.' + +"_That_ blow struck home. + +"'I don't think it's nice to run about half the night with a young +woman,' she said. + +"I pretended to be embarrassed and stammered: + +"'If one has so much to say to one another, one forgets sometimes what +is nice and what is not.' + +"'What on earth did you talk about?' asked Gurli, pouting. "'I really +can't remember.' + +"You managed very well, my boy," said the old woman. "Go on!" + +"On the third day," continued the captain, "Gurli came in with her +needlework and remained in the room until the lesson in mathematics +was over. Supper was not quite as merry as usual, but on the other +hand, very astronomical. I assisted the old witch with her overshoes, +a fact which made a great impression on Gurli. When Ottilia said +good-night, she only offered her cheek to be kissed. On the way home I +pressed her arm and talked of the sympathy of souls and of the stars +as the home of the souls. I went to the Grand Hotel, had some punch +and arrived home at two o'clock. Gurli was still up; I saw it, but I +went straight to my room, like the bachelor I was, and Gurli did not +like to follow me and ply me with questions. + +"On the following day I gave Ottilia a lesson in astronomy. Gurli +declared that she was much interested and would like to be present; +but Ottilia said we were already too far advanced and she would +instruct her in the rudiments later on. This annoyed Gurli and she +went away. We had a great deal of sherry for supper. When Ottilia +thanked me for a jolly evening, I put my arm round her waist and +kissed her. Gurli grew pale. When I buttoned her overshoes, I ... +I...." + +"Never mind me," said the old lady, "I am an old woman." + +He laughed. "All the same, mother, she's not so bad, really she isn't. +But when I was going to put on my overcoat, I found to my astonishment +the maid waiting in the hall, ready to accompany Ottilia home. Gurli +made excuses for me; she said I had caught a cold on the previous +evening, and that she was afraid the night air might do me harm. +Ottilia looked self-conscious and left without kissing Gurli. + +"I had promised to show Ottilia some astronomical instruments at the +College at twelve o'clock on the following day. She kept her +appointment, but she was much depressed. She had been to see Gurli, +who had treated her very unkindly, so she said. She could not imagine +why. When I came home to dinner I found a great change in Gurli. She +was cold and mute as a fish. I could see that she was suffering. Now +was the time to apply the knife. + +"'What did you say to Ottilia?' I commenced. 'She was so unhappy.'" + +'What did I say to her? Well, I said to her that she was a flirt. +That's what I said.' + +'How could you say such a thing?' I replied. 'Surely, you're not +jealous!' + +'I! Jealous of her!' she burst out. + +'Yes, that's what puzzles me, for I am sure an intelligent and sensible +person like Ottilia could never have designs on another woman's husband!' + +'No,' (she was coming to the point) 'but another woman's husband might +have designs on her.' + +'Huhuhu!' she went for me tooth and nail. I took Ottilia's part; Gurli +called her an old maid; I continued to champion her. On this afternoon +Ottilia did not turn up. She wrote a chilly letter, making excuses and +winding up by saying she could see that she was not wanted. I protested +and suggested that I should go and fetch her. That made Gurli wild! She +was sure that I was in love with Ottilia and cared no more for herself. +She knew that she was only a silly girl, who didn't know anything, was +no good at anything, and--huhuhu!--could never understand mathematics. +I sent for a sleigh and we went for a ride. In a hotel, overlooking the +sea, we drank mulled wine and had an excellent little supper. It was just +as if we were having our wedding day over again, and then we drove home." + +"And then--?" asked the old woman, looking at him over her spectacles. + +"And then? H'm! May God forgive me for my sins! I seduced my own little +wife. What do you say now, granny?" + +"I say that you did very well, my boy! And then?" + +"And then? Since then everything has been all right, and now we discuss +the education of the children and the emancipation of women from +superstition and old-maidishness, from sentimentality and the devil +and his ablative, but we talk when we are alone together and that is +the best way of avoiding misunderstandings. Don't you think so, old +lady?" + +"Yes, Willy, dear, and now I shall come and pay you a call." + +"Do come! And you will see the dolls dance and the larks and the +woodpeckers sing and chirrup; you will see a home filled with +happiness up to the roof, for there is no one there waiting for +miracles which only happen in fairy tales. You will see a real doll's +house." + + + + +PHOENIX + + +The wild strawberries were getting ripe when he met her for the first +time at the vicarage. He had met many girls before, but when he saw +_her_ he knew; this was she! But he did not dare to tell her so, and +she only teased him for he was still at school. + +He was an undergraduate when he met her for the second time. And as he +put his arms round her and kissed her, he saw showers of rockets, heard +the ringing of bells and bugle calls, and felt the earth trembling under +his feet. + +She was a woman at the age of fourteen. Her young bosom seemed to be +waiting for hungry little mouths and eager baby fists. With her firm +and elastic step, her round and swelling hips, she looked fit to bear +at any moment a baby under her heart. Her hair was of a pale gold, +like clarified honey, and surrounded her face like an aureole; her +eyes were two flames and her skin was as soft as a glove. + +They were engaged to be married and billed and cooed in the wood like +the birds in the garden under the lime trees; life lay before them +like a sunny meadow which the scythe had not yet touched. But he had +to pass his examinations in mining first, and that would take +him,--including the journey abroad--ten years. Ten years! + +He returned to the University. In the summer he came back to the +vicarage and found her every bit as beautiful. Three summers he +came--and the fourth time she was pale. There were tiny red lines in +the corners of her nose and her shoulders drooped a little. When the +summer returned for the sixth time, she was taking iron. In the +seventh she went to a watering-place. In the eighth she suffered from +tooth-ache and her nerves were out of order. Her hair had lost its +gloss, her voice had grown shrill, her nose was covered with little +black specks; she had lost her figure, dragged her feet, and her +cheeks were hollow. In the winter she had an attack of nervous fever, +and her hair had to be cut off. When it grew again, it was a dull +brown. He had fallen in love with a golden-haired girl of +fourteen--brunettes did not attract him--and he married a woman of +twenty-four, with dull brown hair, who refused to wear her dresses open +at the throat. + +But in spite of all this he loved her. His love was less passionate +than it had been; it had become calm and steadfast. And there was +nothing in the little mining-town which could disturb their happiness. + +She bore him two boys, but he was always wishing for a girl. And at +last a fair-haired baby girl arrived. + +She was the apple of his eye, and as she grew up she resembled her +mother more and more. When she was eight years old, she was just what +her mother had been. And the father devoted all his spare time to his +little daughter. + +The housework had coarsened the mother's hands. Her nose had lost its +shape and her temples had fallen in. Constant stooping over the kitchen +range had made her a little round-shouldered. Father and mother met only +at meals and at night. They did not complain, but things had changed. + +But the daughter was the father's delight. It was almost as if he were +in love with her. He saw in her the re-incarnation of her mother, his +first impression of her, as beautiful as it had been fleeting. He was +almost self-conscious in her company and never went into her room when +she was dressing. He worshipped her. + +But one morning the child remained in bed and refused to get up. Mama +put it down to laziness, but papa sent for the doctor. The shadow of +the angel of death lay over the house: the child was suffering from +diphtheria. Either father or mother must take the other children away. +He refused. The mother took them to a little house in one of the suburbs +and the father remained at home to nurse the invalid. There she lay! +The house was disinfected with sulphur which turned the gilded picture +frames black and tarnished the silver on the dressing-table. He walked +through the empty rooms in silent anguish, and at night, alone in his +big bed, he felt like a widower. He bought toys for the little girl, +and she smiled at him as he sat on the edge of the bed trying to amuse +her with a Punch and Judy show, and asked after mama and her little +brothers. And the father had to go and stand in the street before the +house in the suburbs, and nod to his wife who was looking at him from +the window, and blow kisses to the children. And his wife signalled to +him with sheets of blue and red paper. + +But a day came when the little girl took no more pleasure in Punch and +Judy, and ceased smiling; and ceased talking too, for Death had +stretched out his long bony arm and suffocated her. It had been a hard +struggle. + +Then the mother returned, full of remorse because she had deserted her +little daughter. There was great misery in the home, and great +wretchedness. When the doctor wanted to make a post mortem examination, +the father objected. No knife should touch her, for she was not dead to +him; but his resistance was overborne. Then he flew into a passion and +tried to kick and bite the doctor. + +When they had bedded her into the earth, he built a monument over her +grave, and for a whole year he visited it every day. In the second +year he did not go quite so often. His work was heavy and he had little +spare time. He began to feel the burden of the years; his step was less +elastic; his wound was healing. Sometimes he felt ashamed when he +realised that he was mourning less and less for his child as time went +by; and finally he forgot all about it. + +Two more girls were born to him, but it was not the same thing; the +void left by the one who had passed away could never be filled. + +Life was a hard struggle. The young wife who had once been like--like +no other woman on earth, had gradually lost her glamour; the gilding +had worn off the home which had once been so bright and beautiful. The +children had bruised and dented their mother's wedding presents, spoiled +the beds and kicked the legs of the furniture. The stuffing of the sofa +was plainly visible here and there, and the piano had not been opened +for years. The noise made by the children had drowned the music and the +voices had become harsh. The words of endearment had been cast off with +the baby clothes, caresses had deteriorated into a sort of massage. They +were growing old and weary. Papa was no longer on his knees before mama, +he sat in his shabby armchair and asked her for a match when he wanted +to light his pipe. Yes, they were growing old. + +When papa had reached his fiftieth year, mama died. Then the past +awoke and knocked at his heart. When her broken body, which the last +agony had robbed of its few remaining charms, had been laid in its +grave, the picture of his fourteen-year-old sweetheart arose in his +memory. It was for her, whom he had lost so long ago that he mourned +now, and with his yearning for her came remorse. But he had never been +unkind to the old mama; he had been faithful to the fourteen-year-old +vicar's daughter whom he had worshipped on his knees but had never led +to the altar, for he had married an anaemic young woman of twenty-four. +If he were to be quite candid, he would have to confess that it was she +for whom he mourned; it was true, he also missed the good cooking and +unremitting care of the old mama, but that was a different thing. + +He was on more intimate terms with his children, now; some of them had +left the old nest, but others were still at home. + +When he had bored his friends for a whole year with anecdotes of the +deceased, an extraordinary coincidence happened. He met a young girl +of eighteen, with fair hair, and a striking resemblance to his late +wife, as she had been at fourteen. He saw in this coincidence the +finger of a bountiful providence, willing to bestow on him at last the +first one, the well-beloved. He fell in love with her because she +resembled the first one. And he married her. He had got her at last. + +But his children, especially the girls, resented his second marriage. +They found the relationship between their father and step-mother +improper; in their opinion he had been unfaithful to their mother. And +they left his house and went out into the world. + +He was happy! And his pride in his young wife exceeded even his +happiness. + +"Only the aftermath!" said his old friends. + +When a year had gone by, the young wife presented him with a baby. +Papa, of course, was no longer used to a baby's crying, and wanted his +night's rest. He insisted on a separate bed-room for himself, heedless +of his wife's tears; really, women were a nuisance sometimes. And, +moreover, she was jealous of his first wife. He had been fool enough +to tell her of the extraordinary likeness which existed between the +two and had let her read his first wife's love-letters. She brooded +over these facts now that he neglected her. She realised that she had +inherited all the first one's pet names, that she was only her +understudy, as it were. It irritated her and the attempt to win him +for herself led her into all sorts of mischief. But she only succeeded +in boring him, and in silently comparing the two women, his verdict +was entirely in favour of the first one. She had been so much more +gentle than the second who exasperated him. The longing for his +children, whom he had driven from their home increased his regret, and +his sleep was disturbed by bad dreams for he was haunted by the idea +that he had been unfaithful to his first wife. + +His home was no longer a happy one. He had done a deed, which he would +much better have left undone. + +He began to spend a good deal of time at his club. But now his wife +was furious. He had deceived her. He was an old man and he had better +look out! An old man who left his young wife so much alone ran a certain +risk. He might regret it some day! + +"Old? She called him old? He would show her that he was not old!" + +They shared the same room again. But now matters were seven times +worse. He did not want to be bothered with the baby at night. The +proper place for babies was the nursery. No! he hadn't thought so in +the case of the first wife. + +He had to submit to the torture. + +Twice he had believed in the miracle of Phoenix rising from the ashes +of his fourteen year old love, first in his daughter, then in his +second wife. But in his memory lived the first one only, the little +one from the vicarage, whom he had met when the wild strawberries were +ripe, and kissed under the lime trees in the wood, but whom he had +never married. + +But now, as his sun was setting and his days grew short, he saw in his +dark hours only the picture of the old mama, who had been kind to him +and his children, who had never scolded, who was plain, who cooked the +meals and patched the little boys' knickers and the skirts of the little +girls. His flush of victory being over, he was able to see facts clearly. +He wondered whether it was not, after all, the old mama who had been the +real true Phoenix, rising, calm and beautiful, from the ashes of the +fourteen year old bird of paradise, laying its eggs, plucking the +feathers from its breast to line the nest for the young ones, and +nourishing them with its life-blood until it died. + +He wondered ... but when at last he laid his weary head on the pillow, +never again to lift it up, he was convinced that it was so. + + + + +ROMEO AND JULIA + + +One evening the husband came home with a roll of music under his arm +and said to his wife: + +"Let us play duets after supper!" + +"What have you got there?" asked his wife. + +"Romeo and Julia, arranged for the piano. Do you know it?" + +"Yes, of course I do," she replied, "but I don't remember ever having +seen it on the stage." + +"Oh! It's splendid! To me it is like a dream of my youth, but I've +only heard it once, and that was about twenty years ago." + +After supper, when the children had been put to bed and the house lay +silent, the husband lighted the candles on the piano. He looked at the +lithographed title-page and read the title: Romeo and Julia. + +"This is Gounod's most beautiful composition," he said, "and I don't +believe that it will be too difficult for us." + +As usual his wife undertook to play the treble and they began. D major, +common time, _allegro giusto_. + +"It is beautiful, isn't it?" asked the husband, when they had finished +the overture. + +"Y--es," admitted the wife, reluctantly. + +"Now the martial music," said the husband; "it is exceptionally fine. +I can remember the splendid choruses at the Royal Theatre." + +They played a march. + +"Well, wasn't I right?" asked the husband, triumphantly, as if he had +composed "Romeo and Julia" himself. + +"I don't know; it rather sounds like a brass band," answered the wife. + +The husband's honour and good taste were involved; he looked for the +Moonshine Aria in the fourth act. After a little searching he came +across an aria for soprano. That must be it. + +And he began again. + +Tram-tramtram, tram-tramtram, went the bass; it was very easy to play. + +"Do you know," said his wife, when it was over, "I don't think very +much of it." + +The husband, quite depressed, admitted that it reminded him of a barrel +organ. + +"I thought so all along," confessed the wife. + +"And I find it antiquated, too. I am surprised that Gounod should be +out of date, already," he added dejectedly. "Would you like to go on +playing? Let's try the Cavatina and the Trio; I particularly remember +the soprano; she was divine." + +When they stopped playing, the husband looked crestfallen and put the +music away, as if he wanted to shut the door on the past. + +"Let's have a glass of beer," he said. They sat down at the table and +had a glass of beer. + +"It's extraordinary," he began, after a little while, "I never +realised before that we've grown old, for we really must have vied +with Romeo and Julia as to who should age faster. It's twenty years +ago since I heard the opera for the first time. I was a newly fledged +undergraduate then, I had many friends and the future smiled at me. I +was immensely proud of the first down on my upper lip and my little +college cap, and I remember as if it were to-day, the evening when +Fritz, Phil and myself went to hear this opera. We had heard 'Faust' +some years before and were great admirers of Gounod's genius. But +Romeo beat all our expectations. The music roused our wildest +enthusiasm. Now both my friends are dead. Fritz, who was ambitious, +was a private secretary when he died, Phil a medical student; I who +aspired to the position of a minister of state have to content myself +with that of a regimental judge. The years have passed by quickly and +imperceptibly. Of course I have noticed that the lines under my eyes +have grown deeper and that my hair has turned grey at the temples, but +I should never have thought that we had travelled so far on the road +to the grave." + +"Yes, my dear, we've grown old; our children could teach us that. And +you must see it in me too, although you don't say anything." + +"How can you say that!" + +"Oh! I know only too well, my dear," continued the wife, sadly; "I +know that I am beginning to lose my good looks, that my hair is +growing thin, that I shall soon lose my front teeth...." + +"Just consider how quickly everything passes away"--interrupted her +husband. "It seems to me that one grows old much more rapidly now-a-days, +than one used to do. In my father's house Haydn and Mozart were played +a great deal, although they were dead long before he was born. And +now--now Gounod has grown old-fashioned already! How distressing it is +to meet again the ideals of one's youth under these altered +circumstances! And how horrible it is to feel old age approaching!" + +He got up and sat down again at the piano; he took the music and turned +over the pages as if he were looking for keepsakes, locks of hair, +dried flowers and ends of ribbon in the drawer of a writing-table. +His eyes were riveted on the black notes which looked like little birds +climbing up and down a wire fencing; but where were the spring songs, +the passionate protestations, the jubilant avowals of the rosy days of +first love? The notes stared back at him like strangers; as if the +memory of life's spring-time were grown over with weeds. + +Yes, that was it; the strings were covered with dust, the sounding board +was dried up, the felt worn away. + +A heavy sigh echoed through the room, heavy as if it came from a hollow +chest, and then silence fell. + +"But all the same, it is strange," the husband said suddenly, "that +the glorious prologue is missing in this arrangement. I remember +distinctly that there was a prologue with an accompaniment of harps +and a chorus which went like this." + +He softly hummed the tune, which bubbled up like a stream in a +mountain glen; note succeeded note, his face cleared, his lips smiled, +the lines disappeared, his fingers touched the keys, and drew from +them melodies, powerful, caressing and full of eternal youth, while +with a strong and ringing voice he sang the part of the bass. + +His wife started from her melancholy reverie and listened with tears +in her eyes. + +"What are you singing?" she asked, full of amazement. + +"Romeo and Julia! Our Romeo and our Julia!" + +He jumped up from the music stool and pushed the music towards his +astonished wife. + +"Look! This was the Romeo of our uncles and aunts, this was--read +it--Bellini! Oh! We are not old, after all!" + +The wife looked at the thick, glossy hair of her husband, his smooth +brow and flashing eyes, with joy. + +"And you? You look like a young girl. We have allowed old Bellini to +make fools of us. I felt that something was wrong." + +"No, darling, I thought so first." + +"Probably you did; that is because you are younger than I am." + +"No, you...." + +And husband and wife, like a couple of children, laughingly quarrel +over the question of which of them is the elder of the two, and cannot +understand how they could have discovered lines and grey hairs where +there are none. + + + + +PROLIFICACY + + +He was a supernumerary at the Board of Trade and drew a salary of +twelve hundred crowns. He had married a young girl without a penny; +for love, as he himself said, to be no longer compelled to go to +dances and run about the streets, as his friends maintained. But be +that as it may, the life of the newly-wedded couple was happy enough +to begin with. + +"How cheaply married people can live," he said one day, after the +wedding was a thing of the past. The same sum which had been barely +enough to cover the wants of the bachelor now sufficed for husband and +wife. Really, marriage was an excellent institution. One had all one's +requirements within one's four walls: club, cafe, everything; no more +bills of fare, no tips, no inquisitive porter watching one as one went +out with one's wife in the morning. + +Life smiled at him, his strength increased and he worked for two. +Never in all his life had he felt so full of overflowing energy; he +jumped out of bed as soon as he woke up in the morning, buoyantly, and +in the highest spirits, he was rejuvenated. + +When two months had elapsed, long before his new circumstances had +begun to pall, his wife whispered a certain piece of information into +his ear. New joys! New cares! But cares so pleasant to bear! It was +necessary, however, to increase their income at once, so as to receive +the unknown world-citizen in a manner befitting his dignity. He managed +to obtain an order for a translation. + +Baby-clothes lay scattered about all over the furniture, a cradle +stood waiting in the hall, and at last a splendid boy arrived in this +world of sorrows. + +The father was delighted. And yet he could not help a vague feeling of +uneasiness whenever he thought of the future. Income and expenditure +did not balance. Nothing remained but to reduce his dress allowance. + +His frock coat began to look threadbare at the seams; his shirt front +was hidden underneath a large tie, his trousers were frayed. It was an +undeniable fact that the porters at the office looked down on him on +account of his shabbiness. + +In addition to this he was compelled to lengthen his working day. + +"It must be the first and last," he said. But how was it to be done? + +He was at a loss to know. + +Three months later his wife prepared him in carefully chosen words +that his paternal joys would soon be doubled. It would not be true to +say that he rejoiced greatly at the news. But there was no alternative +now; he must travel along the road he had chosen, even if married life +should prove to be anything but cheap. + +"It's true," he thought, his face brightening, "the younger one will +inherit the baby-clothes of his elder brother. This will save a good +deal of expense, and there will be food enough for them--I shall be +able to feed them just as well as others." + +And the second baby was born. + +"You are going it," said a friend of his, who was a married man himself, +but father of one child only. + +"What is a man to do?" + +"Use his common-sense." + +"Use his common-sense? But, my dear fellow, a man gets married in +order to ... I mean to say, not only in order to ... but yet in order +to.... Well, anyhow, we are married and that settles the matter." + +"Not at all. Let me tell you something, my dear boy; if you are at all +hoping for promotion it is absolutely necessary that you should wear +clean linen, trousers which are not frayed at the bottom, and a hat +which is not of a rusty brown." + +And the sensible man whispered sensible words into his ear. As the +result, the poor husband was put on short commons in the midst of +plenty. + +But now his troubles began. + +To start with his nerves went to pieces, he suffered from insomnia and +did his work badly. He consulted a doctor. The prescription cost him +three crowns; and such a prescription! He was to stop working; he had +worked too hard, his brain was overtaxed. To stop work would mean +starvation for all of them, and to work spelt death, too! + +He went on working. + +One day, as he was sitting at his desk, stooping over endless rows of +figures, he had an attack of faintness, slipped off his chair and fell +to the ground. + +A visit to a specialist--eighteen crowns. A new prescription; he must +ask for sick leave at once, take riding exercise every morning and +have steak and a glass of port for breakfast. + +Riding exercise and port! + +But the worst feature of the whole business was a feeling of alienation +from his wife which had sprung up in his heart--he did not know whence +it came. He was afraid to go near her and at the same time he longed for +her presence. He loved her, loved her still, but a certain bitterness +was mingled with his love. + +"You are growing thin," said a friend. + +"Yes, I believe I've grown thinner," said the poor husband. + +"You are playing a dangerous game, old boy!" + +"I don't know what you mean!" + +"A married man in half mourning! Take care, my friend!" + +"I really don't know what you're driving at.". + +"It's impossible to go against the wind for any length of time. Set +all sails and run, old chap, and you will see that everything will +come right. Believe me, I know what I'm talking about. You understand +me." + +He took no notice of the advice for a time, fully aware of the fact +that a man's income does not increase in proportion to his family; at +the same time he had no longer any doubt about the cause of his +malady. + +It was summer again. The family had gone into the country. On a +beautiful evening husband and wife were strolling along the steep +shore, in the shade of the alder trees, resplendent in their young +green. They sat down on the turf, silent and depressed. He was morose +and disheartened; gloomy thoughts revolved behind his aching brow. +Life seemed a great chasm which had opened to engulf all he loved. + +They talked of the probable loss of his appointment; his chief had +been annoyed at his second application for sick leave. He complained +of the conduct of his colleagues, he felt himself deserted by everyone; +but the fact which hurt him more than anything else was the knowledge +that she, too, had grown tired of him. + +"Oh! but she hadn't! She loved him every bit as much as she did in +those happy days when they were first engaged. How could he doubt it?" + +"No, he didn't doubt it; but he had suffered so much, he wasn't master +of his own thoughts." + +He pressed his burning cheek against hers, put his arm round her and +covered her eyes with passionate kisses. + +The gnats danced their nuptial dance above the birch tree without a +thought of the thousands of young ones which their ecstasy would call +into being; the carp laid their eggs in the reed grass, careless of +the millions of their kind to which they gave birth; the swallow made +love in broad daylight, not in the least afraid of the consequences of +their irregular liaisons. + +All of a sudden he sprang to his feet and stretched himself like a +sleeper awakening from a long sleep, which had been haunted by evil +dreams, he drank in the balmy air in deep draughts. + +"What's the matter?" whispered his wife, while a crimson blush spread +over her face. + +"I don't know. All I know is that I live, that I breathe again." + +And radiant, with laughing face and shining eyes, he held out his arms +to her, picked her up as if she were a baby and pressed his lips to +her forehead. The muscles of his legs swelled until they looked like +the muscles of the leg of an antique god, he held his body erect like +a young tree and intoxicated with strength and happiness, he carried +his beloved burden as far as the footpath where he put her down. + +"You will strain yourself, sweetheart," she said, making a vain +attempt to free herself from his encircling arms. + +"Never, you darling! I could carry you to the end of the earth, and I +shall carry you, all of you, no matter how many you are now, or how +many you may yet become." + +And they returned home, arm in arm, their hearts singing with +gladness. + +"If the worst comes to the worst, sweet love, one must admit that it +is very easy to jump that abyss which separates body and soul!" + +"What a thing to say!" + +"If I had only realised it before, I should have been less unhappy. +Oh! those idealists!" + +And they entered their cottage. + +The good old times had returned and had, apparently, come to stay. The +husband went to work to his office as before. They lived again through +love's spring time. No doctor was required and the high spirits never +flagged. + +After the third christening, however, he came to the conclusion that +matters were serious and started playing his old game with the +inevitable results: doctor, sick-leave, riding-exercise, port! But +there must be an end of it, at all costs. Every time the balance-sheet +showed a deficit. + +But when, finally, his whole nervous system went out of joint, he let +nature have her own way. Immediately expenses went up and he was beset +with difficulties. + +He was not a poor man, it is true, but on the other hand he was not +blest with too many of this world's riches. + +"To tell you the truth, old girl," he said to his wife, "it will be +the same old story over again." + +"I am afraid it will, my dear," replied the poor woman, who, in +addition to her duties as a mother, had to do the whole work of the +house now. + +After the birth of her fourth child, the work grew too hard for her +and a nursemaid had to be engaged. + +"Now it must stop," avowed the disconsolate husband. "This must be the +last." + +Poverty looked in at the door. The foundations on which the house was +built were tottering. + +And thus, at the age of thirty, in the very prime of their life, the +young husband and wife found themselves condemned to celibacy. He grew +moody, his complexion became grey and his eyes lost their lustre. Her +rich beauty faded, her fine figure wasted away, and she suffered all +the sorrows of a mother who sees her children growing up in poverty +and rags. + +One day, as she was standing in the kitchen, frying herrings, a +neighbour called in for a friendly chat. + +"How are you?" she began. + +"Thank you, I'm not up to very much. How are you?" + +"Oh! I'm not at all well. Married life is a misery if one has to be +constantly on one's guard." + +"Do you think you are the only one?" + +"What do you mean?" + +"Do you know what my husband said to me the other day? One ought to +spare the draught cattle! And I suffer under it all, I can tell you. +No, there's no happiness in marriage. Either husband or wife is bound +to suffer. It's one or the other!" + +"Or both!" + +"But what about the men of science who grow fat at the expense of the +Government?" + +"They have to think of so many things, and moreover, it is improper to +write about such problems; they must not be discussed openly." + +"But that would be the first necessity!" And the two women fell to +discussing their bitter experiences. + +In the following summer they were compelled to remain in town; they +were living in a basement with a view of the gutter, the smell of +which was so objectionable that it was impossible to keep the windows +open. + +The wife did needlework in the same room in which the children were +playing; the husband, who had lost his appointment on account of his +extreme shabbiness, was copying a manuscript in the adjoining room, +and grumbling at the children's noise. Hard words were bandied through +the open door. + +It was Whitsuntide. In the afternoon the husband was lying on the +ragged leather sofa, gazing at a window on the other side of the +street. He was watching a woman of evil reputation who was dressing +for her evening stroll. A spray of lilac and two oranges were lying by +the side of her looking-glass. + +She was fastening her dress without taking the least notice of his +inquisitive glances. + +"She's not having a bad time," mused the celibate, suddenly kindled +into passion. "One lives but once in this world, and one must live +one's life, happen what will!" + +His wife entered the room and caught sight of the object of his +scrutiny. Her eyes blazed; the last feeble sparks of her dead love +glowed under the ashes and revealed themselves in a temporary flash +of jealousy. + +"Hadn't we better take the children to the Zoo?" she asked. + +"To make a public show of our misery? No, thank you!" + +"But it's so hot in here. I shall have to pull down the blinds." + +"You had better open a window!" + +He divined his wife's thoughts and rose to do it himself. Out there, +on the edge of the pavement, his four little ones were sitting, in +close proximity of the waste pipes. Their feet were in the dry gutter, +and they were playing with orange peels which they had found in the +sweepings of the road. The sight stabbed his heart, and he felt a lump +rising in his throat. But poverty had so blunted his feelings that he +remained standing at the window with his arms crossed. + +All at once two filthy streams gushed from the waste pipes, inundated +the gutter and saturated the feet of the children who screamed, half +suffocated by the stench. + +"Get the children ready as quickly as you can," he called, giving way +at the heart-rending scene. + +The father pushed the perambulator with the baby, the other children +clung to the hands and skirts of the mother. + +They arrived at the cemetery with its dark-stemmed lime-trees, their +usual place of refuge; here the trees grew luxuriantly, as if the soil +were enriched by the bodies which lay buried underneath it. + +The bells were ringing for evening prayers. The inmates of the +poorhouse flocked to the church and sat down in the pews left vacant +by their wealthy owners, who had attended to their souls at the +principal service of the day, and were now driving in their carriages +to the Royal Deer Park. + +The children climbed about the shallow graves, most of which were +decorated with armorial bearings and inscriptions. + +Husband and wife sat down on a seat and placed the perambulator, in +which the baby lay sucking at its bottle, by their side. Two puppies +were disporting themselves on a grave close by, half hidden by the +high grass. + +A young and well dressed couple, leading by the hand a little girl +clothed in silk and velvet, passed the seat on which they sat. The +poor copyist raised his eyes to the young dandy and recognised a +former colleague from the Board of Trade who, however, did not seem to +see him. A feeling of bitter envy seized him with such intensity that +he felt more humiliated by this "ignoble sentiment" than by his +deplorable condition. Was he angry with the other man because he +filled a position which he himself had coveted? Surely not. But +of a sense of justice, and his suffering was all the deeper because +it was shared by the whole class of the disinherited. He was convinced +that the inmates of the poorhouse, bowed down under the yoke of public +charity, envied his wife; and he was quite sure that many of the +aristocrats who slept all around him in their graves, under their coats +of arms, would have envied him his children if it had been their lot to +die without leaving an heir to their estates. Certainly, nobody under +the sun enjoyed complete happiness, but why did the plums always fall +to the lot of those who were already sitting in the lap of luxury? And +how was it that the prizes always fell to the organisers of the great +lottery? The disinherited had to be content with the mass said at +evening prayers; to their share fell morality and those virtues which +the others despised and of which they had no need because the gates of +heaven opened readily enough to their wealth. But what about the good +and just God who had distributed His gifts so unevenly? It would be +better, indeed, to live one's life without this unjust God, who had, +moreover, candidly admitted that the "wind blew where it listed"; had +He not himself confessed, in these words, that He did not interfere in +the concerns of man? But failing the church, where should we look for +comfort? And yet, why ask for comfort? Wouldn't it be far better to +strive to make such arrangements that no comfort was needed? Wouldn't +it? + +His speculations were interrupted by his eldest daughter who asked him +for a leaf of the lime-tree, which she wanted for a sunshade for her +doll. He stepped on the seat and raised his hand to break off a little +twig, when a constable appeared and rudely ordered him not to touch +the trees. A fresh humiliation. At the same time the constable +requested him not to allow his children to play on the graves, which +was against the regulations. + +"We'd better go home," said the distressed father. "How carefully they +guard the interests of the dead, and how indifferent they are to the +interests of the living." + +And they returned home. + +He sat down and began to work. He had to copy the manuscript of an +academical treatise on over-population. + +The subject interested him and he read the contents of the whole book. + +The young author who belonged to what was called the ethical school, +was preaching against vice. + +"What vice?" mused the copyist. "That which is responsible for our +existence? Which the priest orders us to indulge in at every wedding +when he says: Be fruitful and multiply and fill the earth?" + +The manuscript ran on: Propagation, without holy matrimony, is a +destructive vice, because the fate of the children, who do not receive +proper care and nursing, is a sad one. In the case of married couples, +on the other hand, it becomes a sacred duty to indulge one's desires. +This is proved, among other things, by the fact that the law protects +even the female ovum, and it is right that it should be so. + +"Consequently," thought the copyist, "there is a providence for +legitimate children, but not for illegitimate ones Oh! this young +philosopher! And the law which protects the female ovum! What +business, then, have those microscopic things to detach themselves at +every change of the moon? Those sacred objects ought to be most +carefully guarded by the police!" + +All these futilities he had to copy in his best handwriting. + +They overflowed with morality, but contained not a single word of +enlightenment. + +The moral or rather the immoral gist of the whole argument was: There +is a God who feeds and clothes all children born in wedlock; a God in +His heaven, probably, but what about the earth? Certainly, it was said +that He came to earth once and allowed himself to be crucified, after +vainly trying to establish something like order in the confused +affairs of mankind; He did not succeed. + +The philosopher wound up by screaming himself hoarse in trying to +convince his audience that the abundant supply of wheat was an +irrefutable proof that the problem of over-population did not exist; +that the doctrine of Malthus was not only false, but criminal, +socially as well as morally. + +And the poor father of a family who had not tasted wheaten bread for +years, laid down the manuscript and urged his little ones to fill +themselves with gruel made of rye flour and bluish milk, a dish which +satisfied their craving, but contained no nourishment. + +He was wretched, not because he considered water gruel objectionable, +but because he had lost his precious sense of humour, that magician +who can transform the dark rye into golden wheat; almighty love, +emptying his horn of plenty over his poor home, had vanished. The +children had become burdens, and the once beloved wife a secret enemy +despised and despising him. + +And the cause of all this unhappiness? The want of bread! And yet the +large store houses of the new world were breaking down under the weight +of the over-abundant supply of wheat. What a world of contradictions! +The manner in which bread was distributed must be at fault. + +Science, which has replaced religion, has no answer to give; it merely +states facts and allows the children to die of hunger and the parents +of thirst. + + + + +AUTUMN + + +They had been married for ten years. Happily? Well, as happily as +circumstances permitted. They had been running in double harness, like +two young oxen of equal strength, each of which is conscientiously +doing his own share. + +During the first year of their marriage they buried many illusions and +realised that marriage was not perfect bliss. In the second year the +babies began to arrive, and the daily toil left them no time for +brooding. + +He was very domesticated, perhaps too much so; his family was his +world, the centre and pivot of which he was. The children were the +radii. His wife attempted to be a centre, too, but never in the middle +of the circle, for that was exclusively occupied by him, and therefore +the radii fell now on the top of one another, now far apart, and their +life lacked harmony. + +In the tenth year of their marriage he obtained the post of secretary +to the Board of Prisons, and in that capacity he was obliged to travel +about the country. This interfered seriously with his daily routine; +the thought of leaving his world for a whole month upset him. He +wondered whom he would miss more, his wife or his children, and he was +sure he would miss them both. + +On the eve of his departure he sat in the corner of the sofa and +watched his portmanteau being packed. His wife was kneeling on the +She brushed his black suit and folded it carefully, so that it should +take up as little space as possible. He had no idea how to do these +things. + +She had never looked upon herself as his housekeeper, hardly as his +wife, she was above all things mother: a mother to the children, a +mother to him. She darned his socks without the slightest feeling of +degradation, and asked for no thanks. She never even considered him +indebted to her for it, for did he not give her and the children new +stockings whenever they wanted them, and a great many other things +into the bargain? But for him, she would have to go out and earn her +own living, and the children would be left alone all day. + +He sat in the sofa corner and looked at her. Now that the parting was +imminent, he began to feel premature little twinges of longing. He +gazed at her figure. Her shoulders were a little rounded; much bending +over the cradle, ironing board and kitchen range had robbed her back +of its straightness. He, too, stooped a little, the result of his toil +at the writing-table, and he was obliged to wear spectacles. But at +the moment he really was not thinking of himself. He noticed that her +plaits were thinner than they had been and that a faint suggestion of +silver lay on her hair. Had she sacrificed her beauty to him, to him +alone? No, surely not to him, but to the little community which they +formed; for, after all, she had also worked for herself. His hair, +too, had grown thin in the struggle to provide for all of them. He +might have retained his youth a little longer, if there hadn't been so +many mouths to fill, if he had remained a bachelor; but he didn't +regret his marriage for one second. + +"It will be a good thing for you to get away for a bit," said his +wife; "you have been too much at home." + +"I suppose you are glad to get rid of me," he replied, not without +bitterness; "but I--I shall miss you very much." + +"You are like a cat, you'll miss your cosy fireside, but not me; you +know you won't." + +"And the kiddies?" + +"Oh, yes! I daresay you'll miss them when you are away, for all your +scolding when you are with them. No, no, I don't mean that you are +unkind to them, but you do grumble a lot! All the same I won't be +unjust, and I know that you love them." + +At supper he was very tired and depressed. He didn't read the evening +paper, he wanted to talk to his wife. But she was too busy to pay much +attention to him; she had no time to waste; moreover, her ten years' +campaign in kitchen and nursery had taught her self-control. + +He felt more sentimental than he cared to show, and the topsy-turvydom +of the room made him fidgety. Scraps of his daily life lay scattered +all over chairs and chests of drawers; his black portmanteau yawned +wide-open like a coffin; his white linen was carefully laid on the top +of his black suit, which showed slight traces of wear and tear at the +knees and elbows. It seemed to him that he himself was lying there, +wearing a white shirt with a starched front. Presently they would +close the coffin and carry it away. + +On the following morning--it was in August--he rose early and dressed +hurriedly. His nerves were unstrung. He went into the nursery and +kissed the children who stared at him with sleepy eyes. Then he kissed +his wife, got into a cab, and told the driver to drive him to the +station. + +The journey, which he made in the company of his Board, did him good; +it really was a good thing for him to get out of his groove; +domesticity lay behind him like a stuffy bedroom, and on the arrival +of the train at Linkoping he was in high spirits. + +An excellent dinner had been ordered at the best hotel and the +remainder of the day was spent in eating it. They drank the health of +the Lord Lieutenant; no one thought of the prisoners on whose behalf +the journey had been undertaken. + +Dinner over, he had to face a lonely evening in his solitary room. A +bed, two chairs, a table, a washing-stand and a wax candle, which +threw its dim light on bare walls. He couldn't suppress a feeling of +nervousness. He missed all his little comforts,--slippers, +dressing-gown, pipe rack and writing table; all the little details +which played an important part in his daily life. And the kiddies? And +his wife? What were they doing? Were they all right? He became +restless and depressed. When he wanted to wind up his watch, he found +that he had left his watch-key at home. It was hanging on the +watch-stand which his wife had given him before they were married. He +went to bed and lit a cigar. Then he wanted a book out of his +portmanteau and he had to get up again. Everything was packed so +beautifully, it was a pity to disturb it. In looking for the book, he +came across his slippers. She had forgotten nothing. Then he found the +book. But he couldn't read. He lay in bed and thought of the past, of +his wife, as she had been ten years ago. He saw her as she had been +then; the picture of her, as she now was, disappeared in the blue-grey +clouds of smoke which rose in rings and wreaths to the rain-stained +ceiling. An infinite yearning came over him. Every harsh word he had +ever spoken to her now grated on his ears; he thought remorsefully of +every hour of anguish he had caused her. At last he fell asleep. + +The following day brought much work and another banquet with a toast +to the Prison-Governor--the prisoners were still unremembered. In the +evening solitude, emptiness, coldness. He felt a pressing need to talk +to her. He fetched some notepaper and sat down to write. But at the +very outset he was confronted by a difficulty. How was he to address +her? Whenever he had sent her a few lines to say that he would not be +home for dinner, he had always called her "Dear Mother." But now he +was not going to write to the mother, but to his fiance, to his +beloved one. At last he made up his mind and commenced his letter with +"My Darling Lily," as he had done in the old days. At first he wrote +slowly and with difficulty, for so many beautiful words and phrases +seemed to have disappeared from the clumsy, dry language of every-day +life; but as he warmed to his work, they awakened in his memory like +forgotten melodies, valse tunes, fragments of poems, elder-blossoms, +and swallows, sunsets on a mirror-like sea. All his memories of the +springtime of life came dancing along in clouds of gossamer and +enveloped her. He drew a cross at the bottom of the page, as lovers +do, and by the side of it he wrote the words: "Kiss here." + +When the letter was finished and he read it through, his cheeks burnt +and he became self-conscious. He couldn't account for the reason. + +But somehow he felt that he had shown his naked soul to a stranger. + +In spite of this feeling he posted the letter. + +A few days elapsed before he received a reply. While he was waiting +for it, he was a prey to an almost childish bashfulness and +embarrassment. + +At last the answer came. He had struck the right note, and from the +din and clamour of the nursery, and the fumes and smell of the +kitchen, a song arose, clear and beautiful, tender and pure, like +first love. + +Now an exchange of love-letters began. He wrote to her every night, +and sometimes he sent her a postcard as well during the day. His +colleagues didn't know what to think of him. He was so fastidious +about his dress and personal appearance, that they suspected him of a +love affair. And he was in love--in love again. He sent her his +photograph, without the spectacles, and she sent him a lock of her +hair. + +Their language was simple like a child's, and he wrote on coloured +paper ornamented with little doves. Why shouldn't they? They were a +long way off forty yet, even though the struggle for an existence had +made them feel that they were getting old. He had neglected her during +the last twelvemonth, not so much from indifference as from respect--he +always saw in her the mother of his children. + +The tour of inspection was approaching its end. He was conscious of a +certain feeling of apprehension when he thought of their meeting. He +had corresponded with his sweetheart; should he find her in the mother +and housewife? He dreaded a disappointment. He shrank at the thought +of finding her with a kitchen towel in her hand, or the children +clinging to her skirts. Their first meeting must be somewhere else, +and they must meet alone. Should he ask her to join him at Waxholm, in +the Stockholm Archipelago, at the hotel where they had spent so many +happy hours during the period of their engagement? Splendid idea! +There they could, for two whole days, re-live in memory the first +beautiful spring days of their lives, which had flown, never to return +again. + +He sat down and made the suggestion in an impassioned love-letter. She +answered by return agreeing to his proposal, happy that the same idea +had occurred to both of them. + + * * * * * + +Two days later he arrived at Waxholm and engaged rooms at the hotel. +It was a beautiful September day. He dined alone, in the great +dining-room, drank a glass of wine and felt young again. Everything +was so bright and beautiful. There was the blue sea outside; only the +birch trees on the shore had changed their tints. In the garden the +dahlias were still in full splendour, and the perfume of the mignonette +rose from the borders of the flower beds. A few bees still visited the +dying calyces but returned disappointed to their hives. The fishing +boats sailed up the Sound before a faint breeze, and in tacking the +sails fluttered and the sheets shook; the startled seagulls rose into +the air screaming, and circled round the fishermen who were fishing +from their boats for small herring. + +He drank his coffee on the verandah, and began to look out for the +steamer which was due at six o'clock. + +Restlessly, apprehensively, he paced the verandah, anxiously watching +fiord and Sound on the side where Stockholm lay, so as to sight the +steamer as soon as she came into view. + +At last a little cloud of smoke showed like a dark patch on the horizon. +His heart thumped against his ribs and he drank a liqueur. Then he went +down to the shore. + +Now he could see the funnel right in the centre of the Sound, and soon +after he noticed the flag on the fore-topmast.... Was she really on the +steamer, or had she been prevented from keeping the tryst? It was +only necessary for one of the children to be ill, and she wouldn't be +there, and he would have to spend a solitary night at the hotel. The +children, who during the last few weeks had receded into the background, +now stepped between her and him. They had hardly mentioned them in their +last letters, just as if they had been anxious to be rid of all +eyewitnesses and spoil-sports. + +He stamped on the creaking landing-stage and then remained standing +motionless near a bollard staring straight at the steamer which +increased in size as she approached, followed in her wake by a river +of molten gold that spread over the blue, faintly rippled expanse. Now +he could distinguish people on the upper deck, a moving crowd, and +sailors busy with the ropes, now a fluttering speck of white near the +wheel-house. There was no one besides him on the landing-stage, the +moving white speck could only be meant for him, and no one would wave +to him but her. He pulled out his handkerchief and answered her +greeting, and in doing so he noticed that his handkerchief was not a +white one; he had been using coloured ones for years for the sake of +economy. + +The steamer whistled, signalled, the engines stopped, she came +alongside, and now he recognised her. Their eyes met in greeting; the +distance was still too great for words. Now he could see her being +pushed slowly by the crowd across the little bridge. It was she, and +yet it wasn't. + +Ten years stretched between her and the picture of her which he had +had in his mind. Fashion had changed, the cut of the clothes was +different. Ten years ago her delicate face with its olive complexion +was framed by the cap which was then worn, and which left the forehead +free; now her forehead was hidden by a wicked imitation of a bowler +hat. Ten years ago the beautiful lines of her figure were clearly +definable under the artistic draperies of her cloak which playfully +now hid, now emphasised the curve of her shoulders and the movement of +her arms; now her figure was completely disguised by a long driving +coat which followed the lines of her dress but completely concealed +her figure. As she stepped off the landing-bridge, he caught sight of +her little foot with which he had fallen in love, when it was encased +in a buttoned boot, shaped on natural lines; the shoe which she was +now wearing resembled a pointed Chinese slipper, and did not allow her +foot to move in those dancing rhythms which had bewitched him. + +It was she and yet it was not she! He embraced and kissed her. She +enquired after his health and he asked after the children. Then they +walked up the strand. + +Words came slowly and sounded dry and forced. How strange! They were +almost shy in each other's presence, and neither of them mentioned the +letters. + +In the end he took heart of grace and asked: + +"Would you like to go for a walk before sunset?" + +"I should love to," she replied, taking his arm. + +They went along the high-road in the direction of the little town. The +shutters of all the summer residences were closed; the gardens plundered. +Here and there an apple, hidden among the foliage, might still be found +hanging on the trees, but there wasn't a single flower in the flower +beds. The verandahs, stripped of their sunblinds, looked like skeletons; +where there had been bright eyes and gay laughter, silence reigned. + +"How autumnal!" she said. + +"Yes, the forsaken villas look horrible." + +They walked on. + +"Let us go and look at the house where we used to live." + +"Oh, yes! It will be fun." + +They passed the bathing vans. + +Over there, squeezed in between the pilot's and the gardener's cottages, +stood the little house with its red fence, its verandah and its little +garden. + +Memories of past days awoke. There was the bedroom where their first +baby had been born. What rejoicing! What laughter! Oh! youth and gaiety! +The rose-tree which they had planted was still there. And the +strawberry-bed which they had made--no, it existed no longer, grass +had grown over it. In the little plantation traces of the swing which +they had put up were still visible, but the swing itself had +disappeared. + +"Thank you so much for your beautiful letters," she said, gently +pressing his arm. + +He blushed and made no reply. + +Then they returned to the hotel, and he told her anecdotes, in +connection with his tour. + +He had ordered dinner to be served in the large dining-room at the +table where they used to sit. They sat down without saying grace. + +It was a tte--tte dinner. He took the bread-basket and offered her +the bread. She smiled. It was a long time since he had been so +attentive. But dinner at a seaside hotel was a pleasant change and +soon they were engaged in a lively conversation. It was a duet in +which one of them extolled the days that had gone, and the other +revived memories of "once upon a time." They were re-living the past. +Their eyes shone and the little lines in their faces disappeared. Oh! +golden days! Oh! time of roses which comes but once, if it comes at +all, and which is denied to so many of us--so many of us. + +At dessert he whispered a few words into the ear of the waitress; she +disappeared and returned a few seconds later with a bottle of champagne. + +"My dear Axel, what are you thinking of?" + +"I am thinking of the spring that has past, but will return again." + +But he wasn't thinking of it exclusively, for at his wife's reproachful +words there glided through the room, catlike, a dim vision of the nursery +and the porridge bowl. + +However--the atmosphere cleared again; the golden wine stirred their +memories, and again they lost themselves in the intoxicating rapture +of the past. + +He leaned his elbow on the table and shaded his eyes with his hand, as +if he were determined to shut out the present--this very present +which,--after all, had been of his own seeking. + +The hours passed. They left the dining-room and went into the +drawing-room which boasted a piano, ordering their coffee to be +brought there. + +"I wonder how the kiddies are?" said she, awakening to the hard facts +of real life. + +"Sit down and sing to me," he answered, opening the instrument. + +"What would you like me to sing? You know I haven't sung a note for +many days." + +He was well aware of it, but he _did_ want a song. + +She sat down before the piano and began to play. It was a squeaking +instrument that reminded one of the rattling of loose teeth. + +"What shall I sing?" she asked, turning round on the music-stool. + +"You know, darling," he replied, not daring to meet her eyes. + +"Your song! Very well, if I can remember it." And she sang: "Where is +the blessed country where my beloved dwells?" + +But alas! Her voice was thin and shrill and emotion made her sing out +of tune. At times it sounded like a cry from the bottom of a soul +which feels that noon is past and evening approaching. The fingers +which had done hard work strayed on the wrong keys. The instrument, +too, had seen its best days; the cloth on the hammers had worn away; +it sounded as if the springs touched the bare wood. + +When she had finished her song, she sat for a while without turning +round, as if she expected him to come and speak to her. But he didn't +move; not a sound broke the deep silence. When she turned round at +last, she saw him sitting on the sofa, his cheeks wet with tears. She +felt a strong impulse to jump up, take his head between her hands and +kiss him as she had done in days gone by, but she remained where she +was, immovable, with downcast eyes. + +He held a cigar between his thumb and first finger. When the song was +finished, he bit off the end and struck a match. + +"Thank you, Lily," he said, puffing at his cigar, "will you have your +coffee now?" + +They drank their coffee, talked of summer holidays in general and +suggested two or three places where they might go next summer. But +their conversation languished and they repeated themselves. + +At last he yawned openly and said: "I'm off to bed." + +"I'm going, too," she said, getting up. "But I'll get a breath of +fresh air first, on the balcony." + +He went into the bed-room. She lingered for a few moments in the +dining-room, and then talked to the landlady for about half an hour of +spring-onions and woollen underwear. + +When the landlady had left her she went into the bedroom and stood for +a few minutes at the door, listening. No sound came from within. His +boots stood in the corridor. She opened the door gently and went in. +He was asleep. + +He was asleep! + + * * * * * + +At breakfast on the following morning he had a headache, and she +fidgeted. + +"What horrible coffee," he said, with a grimace. + +"Brazilian," she said, shortly. + +"What shall we do to-day?" he asked, looking at his watch. + +"Hadn't you better eat some bread and butter, instead of grumbling at +the coffee?" she said. + +"Perhaps you're right," he answered, "and I'll have a liqueur at the +same time. That champagne last night, ugh!" + +He asked for bread and butter and a liqueur and his temper improved. + +"Let's go to the Pilot's Hill and look at the view." + +They rose from the breakfast table and went out. + +The weather was splendid and the walk did them good. But they walked +slowly; she panted, and his knees were stiff; they drew no more +parallels with the past. + +They walked across the fields. The grass had been cut long ago, there +wasn't a single flower anywhere. They sat down on some large stones. + +He talked of the Board of Prisons and his office. She talked of the +children. + +Then they walked on in silence. He looked at his watch. + +"Three hours yet till dinner time," he said. And he wondered how they +could kill time on the next day. + +They returned to the hotel. He asked for the papers. She sat down by +the side of him with a smile on her lips. + +They talked little during dinner. After dinner she mentioned the +servants. + +"For heaven's sake, leave the servants alone!" he exclaimed. + +"Surely we haven't come here to quarrel!" + +"Am I quarrelling?" + +"Well, I'm not!" + +An awkward pause followed. He wished somebody would come. The children! +Yes! This tte--tte embarrassed him, but he felt a pain in his heart +when he thought of the bright hours of yesterday. + +"Let's go to Oak Hill," she said, "and gather wild strawberries." + +"There are no wild strawberries at this time of the year, it's autumn." + +"Let's go all the same." + +And they went. But conversation was difficult. His eyes searched for +some object on the roadside which would serve for a peg on which to +hang a remark, but there was nothing. There was no subject which they +hadn't discussed. She knew all his views on everything and disagreed +with most of them. She longed to go home, to the children, to her own +fireside. She found it absurd to make a spectacle of herself in this +place and be on the verge of a quarrel with her husband all the time. + +After a while they stopped, for they were tired. He sat down and began +to write in the sand with his walking stick. He hoped she would +provoke a scene. + +"What are you thinking of?" she asked at last. + +"I?" he replied, feeling as if a burden were falling off his shoulders, +"I am thinking that we are getting old, mother: our innings are over, +and we have to be content with what has been. If you are of the same +mind, we'll go home by the night boat." + +"I have thought so all along, old man, but I wanted to please you." + +"Then come along, we'll go home. It's no longer summer, autumn is here." + +They returned to the hotel, much relieved. + +He was a little embarrassed on account of the prosaic ending of the +adventure, and felt an irresistible longing to justify it from a +philosophical standpoint. + +"You see, mother," he said, "my lo--h'm" (the word was too strong) "my +affection for you has undergone a change in the course of time. It has +developed, broadened; at first it was centred on the individual, but +later on, on the family as a whole. It is not now you, personally, +that I love, nor is it the children, but it is the whole.... + +"Yes, as my uncle used to say, children are lightning conductors!" + +After his philosophical explanation he became his old self again. It +was pleasant to take off his frock coat; he felt, as if he were +getting into his dressing-gown. + +When they entered the hotel, she began at once to pack, and there she +was in her element. + +They went downstairs into the saloon as soon as they got on board. For +appearance sake, however, he asked her whether she would like to watch +the sunset; but she declined. + +At supper he helped himself first, and she asked the waitress the +price of black bread. + +When he had finished his supper, he remained sitting at the table, +lingering over a glass of porter. A thought which had amused him for +some time, would no longer be suppressed. + +"Old fool, what?" he said, lifting his glass and smiling at his wife +who happened to look at him at the moment. + +She did not return his smile but her eyes, which had flashed for a +second, assumed so withering an expression of dignity that he felt +crushed. + +The spell was broken, the last trace of his old love had vanished; he +was sitting opposite the mother of his children; he felt small. + +"No need to look down upon me because I have made a fool of myself for +a moment," she said gravely. "But in a man's love there is always a +good deal of contempt; it is strange." + +"And in the love of a woman?" + +"Even more, it is true! But then, she has every cause." + +"It's the same thing--with a difference. Probably both of them are +wrong. That which one values too highly, because it is difficult of +attainment, is easily underrated when one has obtained it." + +"Why does one value it too highly?" + +"Why is it so difficult of attainment?" + +The steam whistle above their heads interrupted their conversation. + +They landed. + +When they had arrived home, and he saw her again among her children, +he realised that his affection for her had undergone a change, and +that her affection for him had been transferred to and divided amongst +all these little screamers. Perhaps her love for him had only been a +means to an end. His part had been a short one, and he felt deposed. +If he had not been required to earn bread and butter, he would +probably have been cast off long ago. + +He went into his study, put on his dressing-gown and slippers, lighted +his pipe and felt at home. + +Outside the wind lashed the rain against the window panes, and whistled +in the chimney. + +When the children had been put to bed, his wife came and sat by him. + +"No weather to gather wild strawberries," she said. + +"No, my dear, the summer is over and autumn is here." + +"Yes, it is autumn," she replied, "but it is not yet winter, there is +comfort in that." + +"Very poor comfort if we consider that we live but once." + +"Twice when one has children; three times if one lives to see one's +grandchildren." + +"And after that, the end." + +"Unless there is a life after death." + +"We cannot be sure of that! Who knows? I believe it, but my faith is +no proof." + +"But it is good to believe it. Let us have faith! Let us believe that +spring will come again! Let us believe it!" + +"Yes, let us believe it," he said, gathering her to his breast. + + + + +COMPULSORY MARRIAGE + + +His father died early and from that time forth he was in the hands of +a mother, two sisters and several aunts. He had no brother. They lived +on an estate in the Swedish province, Soedermanland, and had no +neighbours with whom they _could be_ on friendly terms. When he was +seven years old, a governess was engaged to teach him and his sisters, +and about the same time a girl cousin came to live with them. + +He shared his sisters' bedroom, played their games and went bathing +with them; nobody looked upon him as a member of the other sex. Before +long his sisters took him in hand and became his schoolmasters and +tyrants. + +He was a strong boy to start with, but left to the mercy of so many +doting women, he gradually became a helpless molly-coddle. + +Once he made an attempt to emancipate himself and went to play with +the boys of the cottagers. They spent the day in the woods, climbed +the trees, robbed the birds' nests and threw stones at the squirrels. +Frithiof was as happy as a released prisoner, and did not come home to +dinner. The boys gathered whortle-berries, and bathed in the lake. It +was the first really enjoyable day of his life. + +When he came home in the evening, he found the whole house in great +commotion. His mother though anxious and upset, did not conceal her +joy at his return; Aunt Agatha, however, a spinster, and his mother's +eldest sister, who ruled the house, was furious. She maintained that +it would be a positive crime not to punish him. Frithiof could not +understand why it should be a crime, but his aunt told him that +disobedience was a sin. He protested that he had never been forbidden +to play with the children of the cottagers. She admitted it but said +that, of course, there could never have been two questions about it. +And she remained firm, and regardless of his mother's pleading eyes, +took him away to give him a whipping in her own room. He was eight +years old and fairly big for his age. + +When the aunt touched his waist-belt to unbutton his knickers, a cold +shiver ran down his back; he gasped and his heart thumped against his +ribs. He made no sound, but stared, horror-struck, at the old woman +who asked him, almost caressingly, to be obedient and not to offer any +resistance. But when she laid hands on his shirt, he grew hot with +shame and fury. He sprang from the sofa on which she had pushed him, +hitting out right and left. Something unclean, something dark and +repulsive, seemed to emanate from this woman, and the shame of his sex +rose up in him as against an assailant. + +But the aunt, mad with passion, seized him, threw him on a chair and +beat him. He screamed with rage, pain he did not feel, and with +convulsive kicks tried to release himself; but all of a sudden he lay +still and was silent. + +When the old woman let him go, he remained where he was, motionless. + +"Get up!" she said, in a broken voice. + +He stood up and looked at her. One of her cheeks was pale, the other +crimson. Her eyes glowed strangely and she trembled all over. He looked +at her curiously, as one might examine a wild beast, and all of a +sudden a supercilious smile raised his upper lip; it seemed to him +as if his contempt gave him an advantage over her. "She-devil!" He +flung the word, newly acquired from the children of the cottagers, +into her face, defiantly and scornfully, seized his clothes and flew +downstairs to his mother, who was sitting in the dining-room, weeping. + +He wanted to open his heart to her and complain of his aunt's treatment, +but she had not the courage to comfort him. So he went into the kitchen +where the maids consoled him with a handful of currants. + +From this day on he was no longer allowed to sleep in the nursery with +his sisters, but his mother had his bed removed to her own bedroom. He +found his mother's room stuffy and the new arrangement dull; she +frequently disturbed his sleep by getting up and coming to his bed in +the night to see whether he was covered up; then he flew into a rage +and answered her questions peevishly. + +He was never allowed to go out without being carefully wrapped up by +someone, and he had so many mufflers that he never knew which one to +put on. Whenever he tried to steal out of the house, someone was sure +to see him from the window and call him back to put on an overcoat. + +By and by his sisters' games began to bore him. His strong arms no +longer wanted to play battledore and shuttlecock, they longed to throw +stones. The squabbles over a petty game of croquet, which demanded +neither muscle nor brain, irritated him. + +The governess was another one of his trials. She always spoke to him +in French and he invariably answered her in Swedish. A vague disgust +with his whole life and surroundings began to stir in him. + +The free and easy manner in which everybody behaved in his presence +offended him, and he retaliated by heartily loathing all with whom he +came in contact. His mother was the only one who considered his feelings +to a certain extent: she had a big screen put round his bed. + +Ultimately the kitchen and the servants' hall became his refuge; there +everything he did was approved of. Occasionally, of course, matters +were discussed there which might have aroused a boy's curiosity, but +for him there were no secrets. On one occasion, for instance, he had +accidentally come to the maids' bathing-place. The governess, who was +with him, screamed, he could not understand why, but he stopped and +talked to the girls who were standing or lying about in the water. +Their nudity made no impression upon him. + +He grew up into a youth. An inspector was engaged to teach him farming +for he was, of course, to take over the management of the estate in +due time. They chose an old man who held the orthodox faith. The old +man's society was not exactly calculated to stimulate a young man's +brain, but it was an improvement on the old conditions. It opened +new points of view to him and roused him to activity. But the +inspector received daily and hourly so many instructions from the +ladies, that he ended by being nothing but their mouth-piece. + +At the age of fifteen Frithiof was confirmed, received a present of a +gold watch and was allowed to go out on horseback; he was not +permitted, however, to realise his greatest ambition, namely to go +shooting. True, there was no longer any fear of a whipping from his +arch-enemy, but he dreaded his mother's tears. He always remained a +child, and never managed to throw off the habit of giving way to the +judgment of other people. + +The years passed; he had attained his twentieth year. One day he was +standing in the kitchen watching the cook, who was busy scaling a +perch. She was a pretty young woman with a delicate complexion. He was +teasing her and finally put his hand down her back. + +"Do behave yourself, now, Mr. Frithiof," said the girl. + +"But I am behaving myself," he replied, becoming more and more +familiar. + +"If mistress should see you!" + +"Well supposing she did?" + +At this moment his mother passed the open kitchen door; she instantly +turned away and walked across the yard. + +Frithiof found the situation awkward and slunk away to his bed-room. + +A new gardener entered their service. In their wisdom, anxious to +avoid trouble with the maids, the ladies had chosen a married man. +But, as misfortune would have it, the gardener had been married long +enough to be the father of an exceedingly pretty young daughter. + +Frithiof quickly discovered the sweet blossom among the other roses in +the garden, and poured out all the good-will which lay stored up in +his heart for _that_ half of humanity to which he did not belong, on +this young girl, who was rather well developed and not without +education. + +He spent a good deal of his time in the garden and stopped to talk to +her whenever he found her working at one of the flower-beds or cutting +flowers. She did not respond to his advances, but this only had the +effect of stimulating his passion. + +One day he was riding through the wood, haunted, as usual, by visions +of her loveliness which, in his opinion, reached the very pinnacle of +perfection. He was sick with longing to meet her alone, freed from all +fear of incurring some watcher's displeasure. In his heated +imagination the desire of being near her had assumed such enormous +proportions, that he felt that life without her would be impossible. + +He held the reins loosely in his hand, and the horse picked his way +leisurely while its rider sat on its back wrapped in deep thought. All +of a sudden something light appeared between the trees and the +gardener's daughter emerged from the underwood and stepped out on the +footpath. + +Frithiof dismounted and took off his hat. They walked on, side by +side, talking, while he dragged his horse behind him. He spoke in +vague words of his love for her; but she rejected all his advances. + +"Why should we talk of the impossible?" she asked. + +"What is impossible?" he exclaimed. + +"That a wealthy gentleman like you should marry a poor girl like me." + +There was no denying the aptitude of her remark, and Frithiof felt +that he was worsted. His love for her was boundless, but he could see +no possibility of bringing his doe safely through the pack which +guarded house and home; they would tear her to pieces. + +After this conversation he gave himself up to mute despair. + +In the autumn the gardener gave notice and left the estate without +giving a reason. For six weeks Frithiof was inconsolable, for he had +lost his first and only love; he would never love again. + +In this way the autumn slowly passed and winter stood before the door. +At Christmas a new officer of health came into the neighbourhood. He +had grown-up children, and as the aunts were always ill, friendly +relations were soon established between the two families. Among the +doctor's children was a young girl and before long Frithiof was head +over ears in love with her. He was at first ashamed of his infidelity +to his first love, but he soon came to the conclusion that love was +something impersonal, because it was possible to change the object of +one's tenderness; it was almost like a power of attorney made out on +the holder. + +As soon as his guardians got wind of this new attachment, the mother +asked her son for a private interview. + +"You have now arrived at that age," she began, "when a man begins to +look out for a wife." + +"I have already done that, my dear mother," he replied. + +"I'm afraid you've been too hasty," she said. "The girl of whom, I +suppose, you are thinking, doesn't possess the moral principles which +an educated man should demand." + +"What? Amy's moral principles! Who has anything to say against them?" + +"I won't say a word against the girl herself, but her father, as you +know, is a freethinker." + +"I shall be proud to be related to a man who can think freely, without +considering his material interests." + +"Well, let's leave him out of the question; you are forgetting, my dear +Frithiof, that you are already bound elsewhere." + +"What? Do you mean...." + +"Yes; you have played with Louisa's heart." + +"Are you talking of cousin Louisa?" + +"I am. Haven't you looked upon yourselves as fiancs since your earliest +childhood? Don't you realise that she has put all her faith and trust in +you?" + +"It's you who have played with us, driven us together, not I!" answered +the son. + +"Think of your old mother, think of your sisters, Frithiof. Do you want +to bring a stranger into this house which has always been our home, a +stranger who will have the right to order us about?" + +"Oh! I see; Louisa is the chosen mistress!" + +"There's no chosen mistress, but a mother always has a right to choose +the future wife of her son; nobody is so well fitted to undertake such +a task. Do you doubt my good faith? Can you possibly suspect me, your +mother, of a wish to injure you?" + +"No, no! but I--I don't love Louisa; I like her as a sister, but...." + +"Love? Nothing in all the world is so inconstant as love! It's folly +to rely on it, it passes away like a breath; but friendship, conformity +of views and habits, similar interests and a long acquaintanceship, +these are the surest guarantees of a happy marriage. Louisa is a capable +girl, domesticated and methodical, she will make your home as happy as +you could wish." + +Frithiof's only way of escape was to beg his mother for time to +consider the matter. + +Meanwhile all the ladies of the household had recovered their health, +so that the doctor was no longer required. Still he called one day, +but he was treated like a burglar who had come to spy out the land. He +was a sharp man and saw at once how matters stood. Frithiof returned +his call but was received coldly. This was the end of their friendly +relations. + +Frithiof came of age. + +Frantic attempts were now made to carry the fortress by storm. The +aunts cringed before the new master and tried to prove to him that +they could not be dispensed with, by treating him as if he were a +child. His sisters mothered him more than ever, and Louisa began to +devote a great deal of attention to her dress. She laced herself +tightly and curled her hair. She was by no means a plain girl, but she +had cold eyes and a sharp tongue. + +Frithiof remained indifferent; as far as he was concerned she was +sexless; he had never looked at her with the eyes of a man. But now, +after the conversation with his mother, he could not help a certain +feeling of embarrassment in her presence, especially as she seemed to +seek his society. He met her everywhere; on the stairs, in the garden, +in the stables even. One morning, when he was still in bed, she came +into his room to ask him for a pin; she was wearing a dressing-jacket +and pretended to be very shy. + +He took a dislike to her, but nevertheless she was always in his mind. + +In the meantime the mother had one conversation after another with her +son, and aunt and sisters never ceased hinting at the anticipated +wedding. + +Life was made a burden to him. He saw no way of escape from the net in +which he had been caught. Louisa was no longer his sister and friend, +though he did not like her any the better for it; his constant dwelling +on the thought of marrying her had had the result of making him realise +that she was a woman, an unsympathetic woman, it was true, but still a +woman. His marriage would mean a change in his position, and, perhaps, +delivery from bondage. There were no other girls in the neighbourhood, +and, after all, she was probably as good as any other young woman. + +And so he went one day to his mother and told her that he had made up +his mind. He would marry Louisa on condition that he should have an +establishment of his own in one of the wings of the house, and his own +table. He also insisted that his mother should propose for him, for he +could not bring himself to do it. + +The compromise was accepted and Louisa was called in to receive +Frithiof's embrace and timid kiss. They both wept for reasons which +neither of them understood. They felt ashamed of themselves for the +rest of the day. Afterwards everything went on as before, but the +motherliness of aunts and sisters knew no bounds. They furnished the +wing, arranged the rooms, settled everything; Frithiof was never +consulted in the matter. + +The preparations for the wedding were completed. Old friends, buried +in the provinces, were hunted up and invited to be present at the +ceremony. + +The wedding took place. + +On the morning after his wedding day Frithiof was up early. He left +his bed-room as quickly as possible, pretending that his presence was +necessary in the fields. + +Louisa, who was still sleepy, made no objection. But as he was going +out she called after him: + +"You won't forget breakfast at eleven!" + +It sounded like a command. + +He went to his den, put on a shooting coat and waterproof boots and +took his gun, which he kept concealed in his wardrobe. Then he went +out into the wood. + +It was a beautiful October morning. Everything was covered with hoar +frost. He walked quickly as if he were afraid of being called back, or +as if he were trying to escape from something. The fresh air had the +effect of a bath. He felt a free man, at last, and he used his freedom +to go out for a morning stroll with his gun. But this exhilarating +feeling of bodily freedom soon passed. Up to now he had at least had a +bedroom of his own. He had been master of his thoughts during the day +and his dreams at night. That was over. The thought of that common +bedroom tormented him; there was something unclean about it. Shame was +cast aside like a mask, all delicacy of feeling was dispensed with, +every illusion of the "high origin" of man destroyed; to come into +such close contact with nothing but the beast in man had been too much +for him, for he had been brought up by idealists. He was staggered by +the enormity of the hypocrisy displayed in the intercourse between men +and women; it was a revelation to him to find that the inmost substance +of that indescribable womanliness was nothing but the fear of +consequences. But supposing he had married the doctor's daughter, +or the gardener's little girl? Then to be alone with her would be +bliss, while to be alone with his wife was depressing and unlovely; +then the coarse desire to satisfy a curiosity and a want would be +transformed into an ecstasy more spiritual than carnal. + +He wandered through the wood without a purpose, without an idea of +what he wanted to shoot; be only felt a vague desire to hear a shot +and to kill something; but nothing came before his gun. The birds had +already migrated. Only a squirrel was climbing about the branches of a +pine-tree, staring at him with brilliant eyes. He raised the gun and +pulled the trigger; but the nimble little beast was already on the +other side of the trunk when the shot hit the tree. But the sound +impressed his nerves pleasantly. + +He left the footpath and went through the undergrowth. He stamped on +every fungus that grew on his way. He was in a destructive mood. He +looked for a snake so as to trample on it or kill it with a shot. + +Suddenly he remembered that he ought to go home and that it was the +morning after his wedding day. The mere thought of the curious glances +to which he would be exposed had the effect of making him feel like a +criminal, about to be unmasked and shown up for having committed a +crime against good manners and, what was worse, against nature. Oh! +that he could have left this world behind him! But how was he to do +that? + +His thoughts grew tired at last of revolving round and round the same +problem and he felt a craving for food. + +He decided to return home and have some breakfast. + +On entering the gate which led to the court yard, he saw the whole +house-party standing before the entrance hall. As soon as they caught +sight of him they began to cheer. He crossed the yard with uncertain +footsteps and listened with ill-concealed irritation to the sly +questions after his health. Then he turned away and went into the house, +never noticing his wife, who was standing amongst the group waiting for +him to go up to her and kiss her. + +At the breakfast table he suffered tortures; tortures which he knew +would be burnt into his memory for all times. The insinuations of his +guests offended him and his wife's caresses stung him. His day of +rejoicing was the most miserable day of his life. + +In the course of a few months the young wife, with the assistance of +aunts and sisters, had established her over-rule in the house. Frithiof +remained, what he had always been, the youngest and dullest member of +the household. His advice was sometimes asked for, but never acted +upon; he was looked after as if he were still a child. His wife soon +found it unbearable to dine with him alone, for he kept an obstinate +silence during the meal. Louisa could not stand it; she must have a +lightning conductor; one of the sisters removed into the wing. + +Frithiof made more than one attempt to emancipate himself, but his +attempts were always frustrated by the enemy; they were too many for +him, and they talked and preached until he fled into the wood. + +The evenings held terror for him. He hated the bedroom, and went to it +as to a place of execution. He became morose and avoided everybody. + +They had been married for a year now, and still there was no promise +of a child; his mother took him aside one day to have a talk to him. + +"Wouldn't you like to have a son?" she asked. + +"Of course, I would," he replied. + +"You aren't treating your wife very kindly," said the mother as gently +as possible. + +He lost his temper. + +"What? What do you say? Are you finding fault with me? Do you want me +to toil all day long? H'm! You don't know Louisa! But whose business +is it but mine? Bring your charge against me in such a way that I can +answer it!" + +But the mother was not disposed to do that. + +Lonely and miserable, he made friends with the inspector, a young man, +addicted to wine and cards. He sought his company and spent the evenings +in his room; he went to bed late, as late as possible. + +On coming home one night, he found his wife still awake and waiting +for him. + +"Where have you been?" she asked sharply. + +"That's my business," he replied. + +"To be married and have no husband is anything but pleasant," she +rejoined. "If we had a child, at least!" + +"It isn't my fault that we haven't!" + +"It isn't mine!" + +A quarrel arose as to whose fault it was, and the quarrel lasted for +two years. + +As both of them were too obstinate to take medical advice, the usual +thing happened. The husband cut a ridiculous figure, and the wife a +tragic one. He was told that a childless woman was sacred because, for +some reason or other, "God's" curse rested on her. That "God" could +also stoop to curse a man was beyond the women's comprehension. + +But Frithiof had no doubt that a curse rested on him for his life was +dreary and unhealthy. Nature has created two sexes, which are now +friends, now enemies. He had met the enemy, an overwhelming enemy. + +"What is a capon?" he was asked by one of his sisters one day. She was +busy with her needlework and asked the question propos of nothing. + +He looked at her suspiciously. No, she did not know the meaning of the +word; she had probably listened to a conversation and her curiosity +was aroused. + +But the iron had entered his soul. He was being laughed at. He grew +suspicious. Everything he heard and saw he connected with that charge. +Beside himself with rage, he seduced one of the maids. + +His act had the desired result. In due time he was a father. + +Now Louisa was looked upon as a martyr and he as a blackguard. The +abuse left him indifferent, for he had vindicated his honour--if it +was an honour and not merely a lucky chance to be born without +defects. + +But the incident roused Louisa's jealousy and--it was a strange +thing--awakened in her a sort of love for her husband. It was a love +which irritated him, for it showed itself in unremitting watchfulness +and nervous obtrusiveness; sometimes even in maternal tenderness and +solicitude which knew no bounds. She wanted to look after his gun, see +whether it was charged; she begged him on her knees to wear his overcoat +when he went out.... She kept his home with scrupulous care, tidied +and dusted all day long; every Saturday the rooms were turned inside +out, the carpets beaten and his clothes aired. He had no peace and +never knew when he would be turned out of his room so that it could +be scrubbed. + +There was not sufficient to do to occupy him during the day, for the +women looked after everything. He studied agriculture and attempted to +make improvements, but all his efforts were frustrated. He was not +master in his own house. + +Finally he lost heart. He had grown taciturn because he was always +contradicted. The want of congenial company and fellows-in-misfortune +gradually dulled his brain; his nerves went to pieces; he neglected +his appearance and took to drink. + +He was hardly ever at home now. Frequently he could be found, +intoxicated, at the public house or in the cottages of the farm +labourers. He drank with everybody and all day long. He stimulated his +brain with alcohol for the sake of the relief he found in talking. It +was difficult to decide whether he drank in order to be able to talk +to somebody who did not contradict him, or whether he drank merely in +order to get drunk. + +He sold privileges and farm produce to the cottagers to provide +himself with money, for the women held the cash. Finally he burgled +his own safe and stole the contents. + +There was an orthodox, church-going inspector on the premises now; the +previous one had been dismissed on account of his intemperate habits. +When at last, through the clergyman's influence, the proprietor of the +inn lost his license Frithiof took to drinking with his own farm +labourers. Scandal followed on scandal. + +He developed into a heavy drinker who had epileptic fits whenever he +was deprived of alcohol. + +He was ultimately committed to an institution where he remained as an +incurable patient. + +At lucid intervals, when he was capable of surveying his life, his +heart was filled with compassion for all women who are compelled to +marry without love; his compassion was all the deeper because he had +suffered in his own flesh the curse which lies on every violation of +nature; and yet he was only a man. + +He saw the cause of his unhappiness in the family--the family as a +social institution, which does not permit the child to become an +independent individual at the proper time. + +He brought no charge against his wife, for was she not equally +unhappy, a victim of the same unfortunate conditions which are +honoured by the sacred name of Law? + + + + +CORINNA + + +Her father was a general, her mother died when she was still a baby. +After her mother's death few ladies visited the house; the callers +were mostly men. And her father took her education into his own hands. + +She went out riding with him, was present at the manoeuvres, took an +interest in gymnastics and attended the musters of the reserves. + +Since her father occupied the highest rank in their circle of friends, +everybody treated him with an amount of respect which is rarely shown +to equals, and as she was the general's daughter, she was treated in +the same way. She held the rank of a general and she knew it. + +There was always an orderly sitting in the hall who rose with much +clanking and clashing of steel and stood at attention whenever she +went in or out. At the balls none but the majors dared to ask her for +a dance; she looked upon a captain as a representative of an inferior +race, and a lieutenant as a naughty boy. + +She fell into the habit of appreciating people entirely according to +their rank. She called all civilians "fishes," poorly-clad people +"rascals," and the very poor "the mob." + +The ladies, however, were altogether outside this scale. Her father, +who occupied a position above all men, and who was saluted respectfully +wherever he went, always stood up before a lady, regardless of her age, +kissed the hands of those he knew, and was at the beck and call of every +pretty woman. The result of this was that very early in life she became +very firmly convinced of the superiority of her own sex, and accustomed +herself to look upon a man as a lower being. + +Whenever she went out on horseback, a groom invariably rode behind +her. When she stopped to admire the landscape, he stopped too. He was +her shadow. But she had no idea what he looked like, or whether he was +young or old. If she had been asked about his sex, she would not have +known how to reply; it had never occurred to her that the shadow could +have a sex; when, in mounting, she placed her little riding-boot in +his hand, she remained quite indifferent, and even occasionally raised +her habit a little as if nobody were present. + +These inbred conceptions of the surpassing importance of rank +influenced her whole life. She found it impossible to make friends +with the daughters of a major or a captain, because their fathers were +her father's social inferiors. Once a lieutenant asked her for a dance. +To punish him for his impudence, she refused to talk to him in the +intervals. But when she heard later on that her partner had been one +of the royal princes, she was inconsolable. She who knew every order +and title, and the rank of every officer, had failed to recognise a +prince! It was too terrible! + +She was beautiful, but pride gave her features a certain rigidity +which scared her admirers away. The thought of marriage had never +occurred to her. The young men were not fully qualified, and those to +whose social position there was no objection, were too old. If she, +the daughter of a general, had married a captain, then a major's wife +would have taken precedence of her. Such a degradation would have +killed her. Moreover, she had no wish to be a man's chattel, or an +ornament for his drawing-room. She was accustomed to command, +accustomed to be obeyed; she could obey no man. The freedom and +independence of a man's life appealed to her; it had fostered in her a +loathing for all womanly occupations. + +Her sexual instinct awoke late. As she belonged to an old family which +on her father's side, had squandered its strength in a soulless +militarism, drink and dissipation, and on her mother's had suppressed +fertility to prevent the splitting up of property, Nature seemed to +have hesitated about her sex at the eleventh hour; or perhaps had +lacked strength to determine on the continuation of the race. Her +figure possessed none of those essentially feminine characteristics, +which Nature requires for her purposes, and she scorned to hide her +defects by artificial means. + +The few women friends she had, found her cold and indifferent towards +everything connected with the sex problem. She treated it with +contempt, considered the relationship between the sexes disgusting, +and could not understand how a woman could give herself to a man. In +her opinion Nature was unclean; to wear clean underlinen, starched +petticoats and stockings without holes was to be virtuous; poor was +merely another term for dirt and vice. + +Every summer she spent with her father on their estate in the country. + +She was no great lover of the country. Nature made her feel small; she +found the woods uncanny, the lake made her shudder, there was danger +hidden in the tall meadow-grass. She regarded the peasants as cunning +and rather filthy beasts. They had so many children, and she had no +doubt that both boys and girls were full of vice. Nevertheless they +were always invited to the manor house on Midsummer day and on the +general's birthday, to play the part of the chorus of grand opera, +that is to say, to cheer and dance, and look like the figures in a +painting. + +It was springtime. Helena, on her thoroughbred mare, had penetrated +into the depths of the country. She felt tired and dismounted; she +fastened her mare to a birchtree which grew near an enclosure. Then +she strolled along by the side of a ditch and began to gather wild +orchids. The air was soft and balmy, steam was rising from the ground. +She could hear the frogs jumping into the ditch which was half-full of +water. + +All at once the mare neighed and, stretching her slender neck over the +fence, drew in the air with wide-open nostrils. + +"Alice!" she called out, "be quiet, old girl!" + +And she continued to gather the modest flowers which so cleverly hide +their secrets behind the prettiest and neatest curtains that for all +the world look like printed calico. + +But the mare neighed again. From behind the hazel bushes on the other +side of the enclosure came an answer, a second neighing, deeper and +fuller. The swampy ground of the enclosure shook, powerful hoofs +scattered the stones, to right and left and a black stallion appeared +at full gallop. The tense neck carried a magnificent head, the muscles +lay like ropes under the glossy skin. As he caught sight of the mare, +his eyes began to flash. He stopped and stretched out his neck as if +he were going to yawn, raised his upper lip and showed his teeth. Then +he galloped across the grass and approached the railings. + +Helena picked up her skirt and ran to her mare; she raised her hand to +seize the bridle, but the mare broke away and took the fence. Then the +wooing began. + +She stood at the fence and called, but the excited mare paid no heed. +Inside the enclosure the horses chased one another; the situation was +a critical one. The breath of the stallion came like smoke from his +nostrils and white foam flecked his shoulders. + +Helena longed to escape, for the scene filled her with horror. She had +never witnessed the raging of a natural instinct in a living body. +This uncontrolled outbreak terrified her. + +She wanted to run after her mare and drag her away by force, but she +was afraid of the savage stallion. She wanted to call for help, but +she was loath to attract other eyewitnesses. She turned her back to +the scene and decided to wait. + +The sound of horses' hoofs came from the direction of the highroad; a +carriage appeared in sight. + +There was no escape; although she was ashamed to stay where she was, +it was too late now to run away, for the horses were slowing down and +the carriage stopped a few yards in front of her. + +"How beautiful!" exclaimed one of the occupants of the carriage, a +lady, and raised her golden lorgnette so as to get a better view of +the spectacle. + +"But why are we stopping?" retorted the other, irritably. "Drive on!" + +"Don't you think it beautiful?" asked the elder lady. + +The coachman's smile was lost in his great beard, as he urged the +horses on. + +"You are such a prude, my dear Milly," said the first voice. "To me +this kind of thing is like a thunderstorm, or a heavy sea...." + +Helena could hear no more. She felt crushed with vexation, shame and +horror. + +A farm labourer came shuffling along the highroad. Helena ran to meet +him, so as to prevent him from witnessing the scene, and at the same +time ask his help. But he was already too near. + +"I believe it's the miller's black stallion," he said gravely. "In +that case it will be better to wait until it's all over, for he won't +brook interference. If the lady will leave it to me, I will bring her +mare home later on." + +Glad to have done with the matter, Helena hurried away. + +When she arrived home, she was ill. + +She refused to ride her mare again, for in her eyes the beast had +become unclean. + +This pretty adventure had a greater influence on Helena's psychic +development than might have been expected. The brutal outbreak of a +natural instinct, the undisguised exhibition of which in the community +of men is punished with a term of imprisonment, haunted her as if she +had been present at an execution. It distressed her during the day and +disturbed her dreams at night. It increased her fear of nature and +made her give up her former amazon's life. She remained at home and +gave herself up to study. + +The house boasted a library. But as misfortune would have it, no +additions had been made since her grandfather's death. All books were +therefore a generation too old, and Helena found antiquated ideals. +The first book which fell into her hands was Madame de Stal's _Corinna_ +The way in which the volume lay on the shelf indicated that it had +served a special purpose. Bound in green and gold, a little shabby at +the edges, full of marginal notes and underlined passages, the work of +her late mother, it became a bridge, as it were, between mother and +daughter, which enabled the now grown-up daughter to make the +acquaintance of the dead mother. These pencil notes were the story +of a soul. Displeasure with the prose of life and the brutality of +nature, had inflamed the writer's imagination and inspired it to +construct a dreamworld in which the souls dwelled, disincarnate. It +was essentially an aristocratic world, this dreamworld, for it +required financial independence from its denizens, so that the soul +might be fed with thoughts. This brain-fever, called romance, was +therefore the gospel of the wealthy, and became absurd and pitiful as +soon as it penetrated to the lower classes. + +Corinna became Helena's ideal: the divinely inspired poetess who like +the nun of the middle-ages, had vowed a vow of chastity, so that she +might lead a life of purity, who was, of course, admired by a brilliant +throng, rose to immeasurable heights above the heads of the petty +every-day mortals. It was the old ideal all over again, transposed: +salutes, standing at attention, rolling of drums, the first place +everywhere. Helena was quite ignorant of the fact that Madame de Stal +outlived the Corinna ideal, and did not become a real influence until +she came out of her dreamworld into the world of facts. + +She ceased to take an interest in everyday affairs, she communed with +herself and brooded over her ego. The inheritance which her mother had +left her in posthumous notes began to germinate. She identified herself +with both Corinna and her mother, and spent much time in meditating on +her mission in life. That nature had intended her to become a mother +and do her share in the propagation of the human race, she refused to +admit her mission was to explain to humanity what Madame de Stal's +Corinna had thought fifty years ago; but she imagined the thoughts were +her own, striving to find expression. + +She began to write. One day she attempted verse. She succeeded. The +lines were of equal length and the last words rhymed. A great light +dawned on her: she was a poetess. One thing more remained: she wanted +ideas; well she could take them from _Corinna_. + +In this way quite a number of poems originated. + +But they had also to be bestowed on the world, and this could not be +done unless they were printed. One day she sent a poem entitled +_Sappho_ and signed _Corinna_ to the _Illustrated Newspaper_. With a +beating heart she went out to post the letter herself, and as it +dropped into the pillarbox, she prayed softly to "God." + +A trying fortnight ensued. She ate nothing, hardly closed her eyes, +and spent her days in solitude. + +When Saturday came and the paper was delivered, she trembled as if she +were fever-stricken, and when she found that her verses were neither +printed nor mentioned in "Letters to Correspondents," she almost broke +down. + +On the following Saturday, when she could count on an answer with some +certainty, she slipped the paper into her pocket without unfolding it, +and went into the woods. When she had arrived at a secluded spot and +made sure that no one was watching her, she unfolded the paper and +hastily glanced at the contents. One poem only was printed, entitled +_Bellman's-day_. She turned to "Letters to Correspondents." Her first +glance at the small print made her start violently. Her fingers +clutched the paper, rolled it into a ball and flung it into the +underwood. Then she stared, fascinated, at the ball of white, +glimmering through the green undergrowth. For the first time in her +life she had received an insult. She was completely unnerved. This +unknown journalist had dared what nobody had dared before: he had been +rude to her. She had come out from behind her trenches into the arena +where high birth counts for nothing, but where victory belongs to that +wonderful natural endowment which we call talent, and before which all +powers bow when it can no longer be denied. But the unknown had also +offended the woman in her, for he had said: + +"The Corinna of 1807 would have cooked dinners and rocked cradles if +she had lived after 1870. But you are no Corinna." + +For the first time she had heard the voice of the enemy, the +arch-enemy, man. Cook dinners and rock cradles! They should see! + +She went home. She felt so crushed that her muscles hardly obeyed her +relaxed nerves. + +When she had gone a little way, she suddenly turned round and retraced +her footsteps. Supposing anybody found that paper! It would give her +away. + +She returned to the spot, and breaking off a hazel switch, dragged the +paper out from where it lay and carefully smoothed it. Then she raised +a piece of turf, hid the paper underneath and rolled a stone on the +top. It was a hope that lay buried there, and also a proof--of what? +That she had committed a crime? She felt that she had. She had done a +wrong, she had shown herself naked before the other sex. + +From this day on a struggle went on in her heart. Ambition and fear of +publicity strove within her, and she was unable to come to a decision. + +In the following autumn her father died. As he had been addicted to +gambling, and more often lost than won, he left debts behind him. But +in smart society these things are of no account. There was no +necessity for Helena to earn her living in a shop, for a hitherto +unknown aunt came forward and offered her a home. + +But her father's death wrought a complete change in her position. No +more salutes; the officers of the regiment nodded to her in a friendly +fashion, the lieutenants asked her to dance. She saw plainly that the +respect shown to her had not been shown to her personally, but merely +to her rank. She felt degraded and a lively sympathy for all subalterns +was born in her; she even felt a sort of hatred for all those who +enjoyed her former privileges. Side by side with this feeling grew up +a yearning for personal appreciation, a desire to win a position +surpassing all others, although it might not figure in the Army list. + +She longed to distinguish herself, to win fame, and, (why not?) to +rule. She possessed one talent which she had cultivated to some +extent, although she had never risen above the average; she played the +piano. She began to study harmony and talked of the sonata in G minor +and the symphony in F major as if she had written them herself. And +forthwith she began to patronise musicians. + +Six months after her father's death, the post of a lady-in-waiting was +offered to her. She accepted it. The rolling of drums and military +salutes recommenced, and Helena gradually lost her sympathy with +subalterns. But the mind is as inconstant as fortune, and fresh +experiences again brought about a change of her views. + +She discovered one day, and the day was not long in coming, that she +was nothing but a servant. She was sitting in the Park with the +Duchess. The Duchess was crocheting. + +"I consider those blue stockings perfectly idiotic," said the Duchess. + +Helena turned pale; she stared at her mistress. + +"I don't," she replied. + +"I didn't ask your opinion," replied the Duchess, letting her ball of +wool roll into the dust. + +Helena's knees trembled; her future, her position passed away before +her eyes like a flash of lightning. She went to pick up the wool. It +seemed to her that her back was breaking as she stooped, and her +cheeks flamed when the Duchess took the ball without a word of thanks. + +"You are not angry?" asked the Duchess, staring impertinently at her +victim. + +"Oh, no, Your Royal Highness," was Helena's untruthful reply. + +"They say that you are a blue-stocking yourself," continued the +Duchess. "Is it true?" + +Helena had a feeling as if she were standing nude before her tormentor +and made no reply. + +For the second time the ball rolled into the dust. Helena pretended +not to notice it, and bit her lips to hold back the angry tears which +were welling up in her eyes. "Pick up my wool, please," said the +Duchess. + +Helena drew herself up, looked the autocrat full in the face and said: + +"I won't." + +And with these words she turned and fled. The sand gritted under her +feet, and little clouds of dust followed in the wake of her train. She +almost ran down the stone steps and disappeared. + +Her career at court was ended; but a sting remained. Helena was made +to feel what it means to be in disgrace, and above all things what it +means to throw up one's post. Society does not approve of changes and +nobody would believe that she had voluntarily renounced the sunshine +of the court. No doubt she had been sent away. Yes, it must be so, she +had been sent away. Never before had she felt so humiliated, so +insulted. It seemed to her that she had lost caste; her relations +treated her with coldness, as if they were afraid that her disgrace +might be infectious; her former friends gave her the cold shoulder +when they met her, and limited their conversation to a minimum. + +On the other hand, as she stooped from her former height, the +middle-classes received her with open arms. It was true, at first +their friendliness offended her more than the coldness of her own +class, but in the end she preferred being first down below to being +last up above. She joined a group of Government officials and +professors who hailed her with acclamations. Animated by the +superstitious awe with which the middle classes regard everybody +connected with the court, they at once began to pay her homage. She +became their chosen leader and hastened to form a regiment. A number +of young professors enlisted at once and she arranged lectures for +women. Old academic rubbish was brought out from the lumber-room, +dusted and sold for new wares. In a dining-room, denuded of its +furniture, lectures on Plato and Aristotle were given to an audience +which unfortunately held no key to this shrine of wisdom. + +Helena, in conquering these pseudo-mysteries felt the intellectual +superior of the ignorant aristocracy. This feeling gave her an +assurance which impressed people. The men worshipped her beauty and +aloofness; but she never felt in the least moved in their company. She +accepted their homage as a tribute due to women and found it +impossible to respect these lackeys who jumped up and stood at +attention whenever she passed. + +But in the long run her position as an unmarried woman failed to +satisfy her, and she noted with envious eyes the freedom enjoyed by +her married sisters. They were at liberty to go wherever they liked, +talk to whom they liked, and always had a footman in their husband to +meet them and accompany them on their way home. In addition, married +women had a better social position, and a great deal more influence. +With what condescension for instance, they treated the spinsters! But +whenever she thought of getting married, the incident with her mare +flashed into her mind and terror made her ill. + +In the second year the wife of a professor from Upsala, who combined +with her official position great personal charm, appeared on the +scene. Helena's star paled; all her worshippers left her to worship +the new sun. As she no longer possessed her former social position, +and the savour of the court had vanished like the scent on a +handkerchief, she was beaten in the fight. One single vassal remained +faithful to her, a lecturer on ethics, who had hitherto not dared to +push himself forward. His attentions were well received, for the +severity of his ethics filled her with unlimited confidence. He wooed +her so assiduously that people began to gossip; Helena, however, took +no notice, she was above that. + +One evening, after a lecture on "The Ethical Moment in Conjugal Love" +or "Marriage as a Manifestation of Absolute Identity," for which the +lecturer received nothing but his expenses and a grateful pressure of +hands, they were sitting in the denuded dining-room on their +uncomfortable cane chairs, discussing the subject. + +"You mean to say then," said Helena, "that marriage is a relationship +of co-existence between two identical Egos?" + +"I mean what I said already in my lecture, that only if there exists +such a relationship between two congruous identities, _being_ can +conflow into _becoming_ of higher potentiality." + +"What do you mean by _becoming?_" asked Helena, blushing. + +"The post-existence of two egos in a new ego." + +"What? You mean that the continuity of the ego, which through the +cohabitation of two analogous beings will necessarily incorporate +itself into a becoming...." + +"No, my dear lady, I only meant to say that marriage, in profane +parlance, can only produce a new spiritual ego, which cannot be +differentiated as to sex, when there is compatibility of souls. I mean +to say that the new being born under those conditions will be a +conglomerate of male and female; a new creature to whom both will have +yielded their personality, a unity in multiplicity, to use a +well-known term, an _'hommefemme.'_ The man will cease to be man, the +woman will cease to be woman." + +"That is the union of souls!" exclaimed Helena, glad to have +successfullly navigated the dangerous cliffs. + +"It is the harmony of souls of which Plato speaks. It is true marriage +as I have sometimes visualised it in my dreams, but which, +unfortunately, I shall hardly be able to realise in actuality." + +Helena stared at the ceiling and whispered: + +"Why shouldn't you, one of the elect, realise this dream?" + +"Because she to whom my soul is drawn with irresistible longing does +not believe in--h'm--love." + +"You cannot be sure of that." + +"Even if she did, she would always be tormented by the suspicion that +the feeling was not sincere. Moreover, there is no woman in the world +who would fall in love with me, no, not one." + +"Yes, there is," said Helena, gazing into his glass eye. (He had a +glass eye, but it was so well made, it was impossible to detect it.) + +"Are you sure?" + +"Quite sure," replied Helena. "For you are different to other men. You +realise what spiritual love means, the love of the souls!" + +"Even if the woman did exist, I could never marry her." + +"Why not?" + +"Share a room with her!" + +"That needn't be the case. Madame de Stal merely lived in the same +house as her husband." + +"Did she?" + +"What interesting topic are you two discussing?" asked the professor's +wife, coming out of the drawing-room. + +"We were talking of _Laocoon_," answered Helena, rising, from her +chair. She was offended by the note of condescension in the lady's +voice. And she made up her mind. + +A week later her engagement to the lecturer was publicly announced. +They decided to be married in the autumn and take up their abode at +Upsala. + +A brilliant banquet, in celebration of the close of his bachelor life, +was given to the lecturer on ethics. A great deal of wine had been +consumed and the only artist the town boasted, the professor of +drawing at the Cathedral School, had depicted in bold outlines the +victim's career up to date. It was the great feature of the whole +entertainment. Ethics was a subject of teaching and a milch cow, like +many others, and need not necessarily influence either the life of the +community, or the life of the individual. The lecturer had not been a +saint, but had had his adventures like everybody else; these were +public property, for he had had no reason to keep them dark. With a +careless smile he watched his career, pictured in chalk and colours, +accompanied by witty verses, unfolding itself before his eyes, but +when at last his approaching bliss was portrayed in simple but +powerful sketches, he became deeply embarrassed, and the thought "If +Helena were to see that!" flashed like lightning through his brain. + +After the banquet, at which according to an old, time-honoured custom, +he had drunk eight glasses of brandy, he was so intoxicated that he +could no longer suppress his fears and apprehensions. Among his hosts +was a married man and to him the victim turned for counsel and advice. +Since neither of them was sober, they chose, as the most secluded spot +in the whole room, two chairs right in the centre, immediately under +the chandelier. Consequently they were soon surrounded by an eagerly +listening crowd. + +"Look here! You are a married man," said the lecturer at the top of +his voice, so as not to be heard by the assembly, as he fondly +imagined. "You must give me a word of advice, just one, only one +little word of advice, for I am extremely sensitive to-night, +especially in regard to this particular point." + +"I will, brother," shouted his friend, "just one word, as you say," +and he put his arm round his shoulders that he might whisper to him; +then he continued, screaming loudly: "Every act consists of three +parts, my brother: _Progresses, culmen, regressus_. I will speak to +you of the first, the second is never mentioned. Well, the initiative, +so to speak, that is the man's privilege--your part! You must take the +initiative, you must attack, do you understand?" + +"But supposing the other party does not approve of the initiative?" + +The friend stared at the novice, taken aback; then he rose and +contemptuously turned his back on him. + +"Fool!" he muttered. + +"Thank you!" was all the grateful pupil could reply. + +Now he understood. + +On the following day he was on fire with all the strong drink he had +consumed; he went and took a hot bath, for on the third day was to be +his wedding. + +The wedding guests had departed; the servant had cleared the table; +they were alone. + +Helena was comparatively calm, but he felt exceedingly nervous. The +period of their engagement had been enhanced by conversations on +serious subjects. They had never behaved liked ordinary, every-day +fiancs, had never embraced or kissed. Whenever he had attempted the +smallest familiarity, her cold looks had chilled his ardour. But he +loved her as a man loves a woman, with body and soul. + +They fidgeted about the drawing-room and tried to make conversation. +But an obstinate silence again and again reasserted itself. The +candles in the chandelier had burnt low and the wax fell in greasy +drops on the carpet. The atmosphere was heavy with the smell of food +and the fumes of the wines which mingled with the voluptuous perfume +of carnations and heliotrope, exhaled by Helena's bridal bouquet that +lay on a side-table. + +At last he went up to her, held out his arms, and said in a voice +which he hoped sounded natural: + +"And now you are my wife!" + +"What do you mean?" was Helena's brusque reply. + +Completely taken aback, he allowed his arms to drop to his sides. But +he pulled himself together again, almost immediately, and said with a +self-conscious smile: + +"I mean to say that we are husband and wife." + +Helena looked at him as if she thought that he had taken leave of his +senses. + +"Explain your words!" she said. + +That was just what he couldn't do. Philosophy and ethics failed him; +he was faced by a cold and exceedingly unpleasant reality. + +"It's modesty," he thought. "She's quite right, but I must attack and +do my duty." + +"Have you misunderstood me?" asked Helena and her voice trembled. + +"No, of course not, but, my dear child, h'm--we--h'm...." + +"What language is that? Dear child? What do you take me for? What do +you mean? Albert, Albert!"--she rushed on without waiting for a reply, +which she didn't want--"Be great, be noble, and learn to see in women +something more than sex. Do that, and you will be happy and great!" + +Albert was beaten. Crushed with shame and furious with his false +friend who had counselled him wrongly, he threw himself on his knees +before her and stammered: + +"Forgive me, Helena, you are nobler, purer, better than I; you are +made of finer fibre and you will lift me up when I threaten to perish +in coarse matter." + +"Arise and be strong, Albert," said Helena, with the manner of a +prophetess. "Go in peace and show to the world that love and base +animal passion are two very different things. Good-night!" + +Albert rose from his knees and stared irresolutely after his wife who +went into her room and shut the door behind her. + +Full of the noblest and purest sentiments he also went into his room. +He took off his coat and lighted a cigar. His room was furnished like +a bachelor's room: a bed-sofa, a writing table, some book shelves, a +washstand. + +When he had undressed, he dipped a towel into his ewer and rubbed +himself all over. Then he lay down on his sofa and opened the evening +paper. He wanted to read while he smoked his cigar. He read an article +on Protection. His thoughts began to flow in a more normal channel, +and he considered his position. + +Was he married or was he still a bachelor? He was a bachelor as +before, but there was a difference--he now had a female boarder who +paid nothing for her board. The thought was anything but pleasant, but +it was the truth. The cook kept house, the housemaid attended to the +rooms. Where did Helena come in? She was to develop her individuality! +Oh, rubbish! he thought, I am a fool! Supposing his friend had been +right? Supposing women always behaved in this silly way under these +circumstances? She could not very well come to him--he must go to her. +If he didn't go, she would probably laugh at him to-morrow, or, worse +still, be offended. Women were indeed incomprehensible. He must make +the attempt. + +He jumped up, put on his dressing-gown and went into the drawing-room. +With trembling knees he listened outside Helena's door. + +Not a sound. He took heart of grace, and approached a step or two. +Blue flashes of lightning darted before his eyes as he knocked. + +No answer. He trembled violently and beads of perspiration stood on +his forehead. + +He knocked again. And in a falsetto voice, proceeding from a parched +throat, he said: + +"It's only I." + +No answer. Overwhelmed with shame, he returned to his room, puzzled +and chilled. + +She was in earnest, then. + +He crept between the sheets and again took up the paper. + +He hadn't been reading long when he heard footsteps in the street which +gradually approached and then stopped. Soft music fell on his ear, deep, +strong voices set in: + +"Integer vitae sclerisque purus...." + +He was touched. How beautiful it was! + +Purus! He felt lifted above matter. It was in accordance with the spirit +of the age then, this higher conception of marriage. The current of +ethics which penetrated the epoch was flowing through the youth of the +country.... + +"_Nec venenatis...._" + +Supposing Helena had opened her door! + +He gently beat time and felt himself as great and noble as Helena +desired him to be. + +_"Fusce pharetra!"_ + +Should he open the window and thank the undergraduates in the name of +his wife? + +He got out of bed. + +A fourfold peal of laughter crashed against the windowpanes at the very +moment he lifted his hand to draw up the blind. + +There could be no doubt, they were making fun of him! + +Beside himself with anger he staggered back from the window and +knocked against the writing-table. He was a laughing-stock. A faint +hatred against the woman whom he had to thank for this humiliating +scene, began to stir within him, but his love acquitted her. He was +incensed against the jesters down below, and swore to bring them +before the authorities. + +But again and again he reverted to his unpleasant position, furious +that he had allowed himself to be led by the nose. He paced his room +until dawn broke in the East. Then he threw himself on his bed and +fell asleep, in bitter grief over the dismal ending of his +wedding-day, which ought to have been the happiest day of his life. + +On the following morning he met Helena at the breakfast table. She was +cold and self-possessed as usual. Albert, of course, did not mention +the serenade. Helena made great plans for the future and talked +volumes about the abolition of prostitution. Albert met her half-way +and promised to do all in his power to assist her. Humanity must +become chaste, for only the beasts were unchaste. + +Breakfast over, he went to his lecture. The serenade had roused his +suspicions, and as he watched his audience, he fancied that they were +making signs to each other; his colleagues, too, seemed to congratulate +him in a way which offended him. + +A big, stout colleague, who radiated vigour and _joie de vivre_, stopped +him in the corridor which led to the library, seized him by the collar +and said with a colossal grin on his broad face. + +"Well?" + +"You ought to be ashamed of yourself," was the indignant reply with +which he tore himself away and rushed down stairs. + +When he arrived home, his flat was crowded with his wife's friends. +Women's skirts brushed against his legs, and when he sat down in an +armchair, he seemed to sink out of sight into piles and piles of +women's clothes. + +"I've heard rumours of a serenade last night," said the professor's +wife. + +Albert grew pale, but Helena took up the gauntlet. + +"It was well meant, but they really might have been sober. This +excessive drinking among students is terrible." + +"What did they sing?" asked the professor's wife. + +"Oh! the usual songs: 'My life a sea,' and so on," replied Helena. + +Albert stared at her in amazement, but he couldn't help admiring her. + +The day went with gossip and discussions. Albert felt tired. Been +joyed spending a few hours, after the daily toil was over, in +pleasant conversation with women, but this was really too much. And +moreover, he had to agree to everything they said, for whenever he +attempted to express a contradictory opinion, they were down on him in +a minute. + +Night fell; it was bedtime. Husband and wife wished one another good +night and retired to their separate rooms. + +Again he was attacked by doubt and restlessness. He fancied that he +had seen a tender look on Helena's face, and he wasn't quite sure +whether she hadn't squeezed his hand. He lit a cigar and unfolded his +paper. As soon as he began to read of every-day matters, he seemed to +see clearly. + +"It's sheer madness," he said aloud, throwing the paper aside. + +He slipped on his dressing-gown and went into the drawing-room. + +Somebody was moving in Helena's room. + +He knocked. + +"Is that you, Louise?" asked a voice from inside. + +"No, it's only I," he whispered, hardly able to speak. + +"What's the matter? What do you want?" + +"I want to speak to you, Helena," he answered, hardly knowing what he +was saying. + +The key turned in the lock. Albert could hardly trust his ears. The +door flew open. Helena stood on the threshold, still fully dressed. + +"What is it you want?" she asked. Then she noticed that he was in his +dressing-gown and that his eyes shone strangely. + +She stretched out her hand, pushed him away and slammed the door. + +He heard a thud on the floor and almost simultaneously loud sobs. + +Furious, but abashed, he returned to his room. She was in earnest, +then! But this was certainly anything but normal. + +He lay awake all night, brooding, and on the following morning he +breakfasted alone. + +When he came home for lunch, Helena received him with an expression of +pained resignation. + +"Why do you treat me like that?" she asked. + +He apologised, with as few words as possible. Then he repented his +curtness and climbed down. + +Thus matters stood for six months. He was tossed between doubt, rage +and love, but his chain held. + +His face grew pale and his eyes lost their lustre. His temper had +become uncertain; a sullen fury smouldered beneath his outward calm. + +Helena found him changed, despotic, because he was beginning to oppose +her, and often left the meetings to seek amusement elsewhere. + +One day he was asked to become a candidate for a professorial chair. +He refused, believing that he had no chance, but Helena gave him no +peace until he complied with the conditions. He was elected. He never +knew the reason why, but Helena did. + +A short time after there was a by-election. + +The new professor, who had never dreamed of taking an active interest +in public affairs, was nonplussed when he found himself nominated. His +surprise was even greater when he was elected. He intended to decline, +but Helena's entreaties and her argument that life in a big city was +preferable to an existence in a small provincial town induced him to +accept the mandate. + +They removed to Stockholm. + +During these six months the newly-made professor and member of +Parliament had made himself acquainted with the new ideas which came +from England and purposed to recreate society and the old standards of +morality. At the same time he felt that the moment was not far off +when he would have to break with his "boarder." He recovered his +strength and vigour in Stockholm, where fearless thinkers encouraged +him to profess openly the views which he had long held in secret. + +Helena, on the other hand, scented a favourable opportunity in the +counter-current and threw herself into the arms of the Church Party. +This was too much for Albert and he rebelled. His love had grown cold; +he found compensation elsewhere. He didn't consider himself unfaithful +to his wife for she had never claimed constancy in a relationship +which didn't exist. + +His friendly intercourse with the other sex aroused his manliness and +made him realise his degradation. + +His growing estrangement did not escape Helena. Their home-life became +unpleasant and every moment threatened to bring a catastrophe. + +The opening of Parliament was imminent. Helena became restless and +seemed to have changed her tactics. Her voice was more gentle and she +appeared anxious to please him. She looked after the servants and saw +that the meals were served punctually. + +He grew suspicious and wondered, watched her movements and prepared +for coming events. + +One morning, at breakfast, Helena looked embarrassed and self-conscious. +She played with her dinner napkin and cleared her throat several times. +Then she took her courage in both her hands and made a plunge. + +"Albert," she began, "I can count on you, can't I? You will serve the +Cause to which I have devoted my life?" + +"What cause is that?" he asked curtly, for now he had the upper hand. + +"You will do something for the oppressed women, won't you?" + +"Where are the oppressed women?" + +"What? Have you deserted our great cause? Are you leaving us in the +lurch?" + +"What cause are you talking about?" + +"The Women's Cause!" + +"I know nothing about it." + +"You know nothing about it? Oh, come! You must admit that the position +of the women of the lower classes is deplorable." + +"No, I can't see that their position is any worse than the position of +the men. Deliver the men from their exploiters and the women too will +be free." + +"But the unfortunates who have to sell themselves, and the scoundrels +who--" + +"The scoundrels who pay! Has ever a man taken payment for a pleasure +which both enjoy?" + +"That is not the question! The question is whether it is just that the +law of the land should punish the one and let the other go scotfree." + +"There is no injustice in that. The one has degraded herself until she +has become a source of infection, and therefore the State treats her +as it treats a mad dog. Whenever you find a man, degraded to that +degree, well, put him under police control, too. Oh, you pure angels, +who despise men and look upon them as unclean beasts!..." + +"Well, what is it? What do you want me to do?" + +He noticed that she had taken a manuscript from the sideboard and held +it in her hand. Without waiting for a reply, he took it from her and +began to examine it. "A bill to be introduced into Parliament! I'm to +be the man of straw who introduces it! Is that moral? Strictly speaking, +is it honest?" + +Helena rose from her chair, threw herself on the sofa and burst into +tears. + +He, too, rose and went to her. He took her hand in his and felt her +pulse, afraid lest her attack might be serious. She seized his hand +convulsively, and pressed it against her bosom. + +"Don't leave me," she sobbed, "don't go. Stay, and let me keep faith +in you." + +For the first time in his life he saw her giving way to her emotions. +This delicate body, which he had loved and admired so much, could be +warmed into life! Red, warm blood flowed in those blue veins. Blood +which could distil tears. He gently stroked her brow. + +"Oh!" she sighed, "why aren't you always good to me like that? Why +hasn't it always been so?" + +"Well," he answered, "why hasn't it? Tell me, why not?" + +Helena's eyelids drooped. "Why not?" she breathed, softly. + +She did not withdraw her hand and he felt a gentle warmth radiating +from her velvety skin; his love for her burst into fresh flames, but +this time he felt that there was hope. + +At last she rose to her feet. + +"Don't despise me," she said, "don't despise me, dear." + +And she went into her room. + +What was the matter with her? Albert wondered as he went up to town. +Was she passing through a crisis of some sort? Was she only just +beginning to realise that she was his wife? + +He spent the whole day in town. In the evening he went to the theatre. +They played _Le monde o l'on s'ennuit_. As he sat and watched platonic +love, the union of souls, unmasked and ridiculed, he felt as if a veil +of close meshed lies were being drawn from his reason; he smiled as he +saw the head of the charming beast peeping from underneath the card-board +wings of the stage-angel; he almost shed tears of amusement at his long, +long self-deception; he laughed at his folly. What filth and corruption +lay behind this hypocritical morality, this insane desire for +emancipation from healthy, natural instincts. It was the ascetic +teaching of idealism and Christianity which had implanted this germ +into the nineteenth century. + +He felt ashamed! How could he have allowed himself to be duped all this +time! + +There was still light in Helena's room as he passed her door on tip-toe +so as not to wake her. He heard her cough. + +He went straight to bed, smoked his cigar and read his paper. He was +absorbed in an article on conscription, when all of a sudden Helena's +door was flung open, and footsteps and screams from the drawing-room +fell on his ears. He jumped up and rushed out of his room, believing +that the house was on fire. + +Helena was standing in the drawing-room in her nightgown. + +She screamed when she saw her husband and ran to her room; on the +threshold she hesitated and turned her head. + +"Forgive me, Albert," she stammered, "it's you. I didn't know that you +were still up. I thought there were burglars in the house. Please, +forgive me." + +And she closed her door. + +What did it all mean? Was she in love with him? + +He went into his room and stood before the looking-glass. Could any +woman fall in love with him? He was plain. But one loves with one's +soul and many a plain man had married a beautiful woman. It was true, +though, that in such cases the man had nearly always possessed wealth +and influence.--Was Helena realising that she had placed herself in a +false position? Or had she become aware of his intention to leave her +and was anxious to win him back? + +When they met at the breakfast table on the following morning, Helena +was unusually gentle, and the professor noticed that she was wearing a +new morning-gown trimmed with lace, which suited her admirably. + +As he was helping himself to sugar, his hand accidentally touched hers. + +"I beg your pardon, dear," she said with an expression on her face which + he had never seen before. She looked like a young girl. + +They talked about indifferent things. + +On the same day Parliament opened. + +Helena's yielding mood lasted and she grew more and more affectionate. + +The period allowed for the introduction of new bills drew to a close. + +One evening the professor came home from his club in an unusually gay +frame of mind. He went to bed with his paper and his cigar. After a +while he heard Helena's door creak. Silence, lasting for a few minutes, +followed. Then there came a knock at his door. + +"Who is there?" he shouted. + +"It's I, Albert, do dress and come into the drawing-room, I want to +speak to you." + +He dressed and went into the drawing-room. + +Helena had lighted the chandelier and was sitting on the sofa, dressed +in her lace morning-gown. + +"Do forgive me," she said, "but I can't sleep. My head feels so +strange. Come here and talk to me." + +"You are all unstrung, little girl," said Albert, taking her hand in +his own. "You ought to take some wine." + +He went into the dining-room and returned with a decanter and two +glasses. + +"Your health, darling," he said. + +Helena drank and her cheeks caught fire. + +"What's wrong?" he asked, putting his arm round her waist. + +"I'm not happy," she replied. + +He was conscious that the words sounded dry and artificial, but his +passion was roused and he didn't care. + +"Do you know why you are unhappy?" he asked. + +"No. I only know one thing, and that is that I love you." + +Albert caught her in his arms and kissed her face. + +"Are you my wife, or aren't you?" he whispered hoarsely. + +"I am your wife," breathed Helena, collapsing, as if every nerve in +her body had snapped. + +"Altogether?" he whispered paralysing her with his kisses. + +"Altogether," she moaned, moving convulsively, like a sleeper +struggling with the horrors of a nightmare. + +When Albert awoke, he felt refreshed, his head was clear and he was +fully conscious of what had happened in the night. He could think +vigorously and logically like a man after a deep and restful sleep. +The whole scene stood vividly before his mind. He saw the full +significance of it, unvarnished, undisguised, in the sober light of +the morning. + +She had sold herself! + +At three o'clock in the morning, intoxicated with love, blind to +everything, half insane, he had promised to introduce her bill. + +And the price! She had given herself to him calmly, coldly, unmoved. + +Who was the first woman who found out that she could sell her favour? +And who was the woman who discovered that man is a buyer? Whoever she +was, she was the founder of marriage and prostitution. And they say +that marriages are made in heaven! + +He realised his degradation and hers. She wanted to triumph over her +friends, to be the first woman who had taken an active share in the +making of her country's laws; for the sake of this triumph she had +sold herself. + +Well, he would tear the mask from her face. He would show her what she +really was. He would tell her that prostitution could never be +abolished while women found an advantage in selling themselves. + +With his mind firmly made up, he got out of bed and dressed. + +He had to wait a little for her in the dining-room. He rehearsed the +scene which would follow and pulled himself together to meet her. + +She came in calm, smiling, triumphant, but more beautiful than he had +ever seen her before. A sombre fire burnt in her eyes, and he, who had +expected that she would meet him with blushes and down-cast eyes, was +crushed. She was the triumphant seducer, and he the bashful victim. + +The words he had meant to say refused to come. Disarmed and humble he +went to meet her and kissed her hand. + +She talked as usual without the slightest indication that a new factor +had entered her life. + +He went to the House, fuming, with her bill in his pocket, and only +the vision of the bliss in store for him, calmed his excited nerves. + +But when, in the evening, he knocked quite boldly at her door, it +remained closed. + +It remained closed for three weeks. He cringed before her like a dog, +obeyed every hint, fulfilled all her wishes--it was all in vain. + +Then his indignation got the better of him and he overwhelmed her with +a flood of angry words. She answered him sharply. But when she +realised that she had gone too far, that his chain was wearing thin, +she gave herself to him. + +And he wore his chain. He bit it, strained every nerve to break it, +but it held. + +She soon learned how far she could go, and whenever he became restive, +she yielded. + +He was seized with a fanatical longing to make her a mother. He +thought it might make a woman of her, bring out all that was good and +wholesome in her. But the future seemed to hold no promise on that +score. + +Had ambition, the selfish passion of the individual, destroyed the +source of life? He wondered.... + +One morning she informed him that she was going away for a few days to +stay with her friends. + +When he came home on the evening of the day of her departure and found +the house empty, his soul was tormented by a cruel feeling of loss and +longing. All of a sudden it became clear to him that he loved her with +every fibre of his being. The house seemed desolate; it was just as if +a funeral had taken place. When dinner was served he stared at her +vacant chair and hardly touched his food. + +After supper he lit the chandelier in the drawing-room. He sat down in +her corner of the sofa. He fingered her needlework which she had left +behind--it was a tiny jacket for a stranger's baby in a newly-founded +crche. There was the needle, still sticking in the calico, just as +she had left it. He pricked his finger with it as if to find solace in +the ecstasy of pain. + +Presently he lighted a candle and went into her bedroom. As he stood +on the threshold, he shaded the flame with his hand and looked round +like a man who is about to commit a crime. The room did not betray the +slightest trace of femininity. A narrow bed without curtains; a +writing-table, bookshelves, a smaller table by the side of her bed, a +sofa. Just like his own room. There was no dressing-table, but a +little mirror hung on the wall. + +Her dress was hanging on a nail. The lines of her body were clearly +defined on the thick, heavy serge. He caressed the material and hid +his face in the lace which trimmed the neck; he put his arm round the +waist, but the dress collapsed like a phantom. "They say the soul is a +spirit," he mused, "but then, it ought to be a tangible spirit, at +least." He approached the bed as if he expected to see an apparition. +He touched everything, took everything in his hand. + +At last, as if he were looking for something, something which should +help him to solve the problem, he began to tug at the handles which +ornamented the drawers of her writing-table; all the drawers were +locked. As if by accident he opened the drawer of the little table by +her bedside, and hastily closed it again, but not before he had read +the title on the paper-cover of a small book and caught sight of a few +strange-looking objects, the purpose of which he could guess. + +That was it then! _Facultative Sterility!_ What was intended for a +remedy for the lower classes, who have been robbed of the means of +existence, had become an instrument in the service of selfishness, the +last consequence of idealism. Were the upper classes so degenerate +that they refused to reproduce their species, or were they morally +corrupt? They must be both, for they considered it immoral to bring +illegitimate children into the world, and degrading to bear children +in wedlock. + +But he wanted children! He could afford to have them, and he considered +it a duty as well as a glorious privilege to pour his individuality into +a new being. It was Nature's way from a true and healthy egoism towards +altruism. But she travelled on another road and made jackets for the +babies of strangers. Was that a better, a nobler thing to do? It stood +for so much, and yet was nothing but fear of the burden of motherhood, +and it was cheaper and less fatiguing to sit in the corner of a +comfortable sofa and make little jackets than to bear the toil and broil +of a nursery. It was looked upon as a disgrace to be a woman, to have +a sex, to become a mother. + +That was it. They called it working for Heaven, for higher interests, +for humanity, but it was merely a pandering to vanity, to selfishness, +to a desire for fame or notoriety. + +And he had pitied her, he had suffered remorse because her sterility +had made him angry. She had told him once that he deserved "the contempt +of all good and honest men" because he had failed to speak of sterile +women with the respect due to misfortune; she had told him that they +were sacred, because their sorrow was the bitterest sorrow a woman +could have to bear. + +What, after all, was this woman working for? For progress? For the +salvation of humanity? No, she was working against progress, against +freedom and enlightenment. Hadn't she recently brought forward a motion +to limit religious liberty? Wasn't she the author of a pamphlet on the +intractability of servants? Wasn't she advocating greater severity in +the administration of the military laws? Was she not a supporter of the +party which strives to ruin our girls by giving them the same miserable +education which our boys receive? + +He hated her soul, for he hated her ideas. And yet he loved her? What +was it then that he loved? + +Probably, he reflected, compelled to take refuge in philosophy, +probably the germ of a new being, which she carries in her womb, but +which she is bent on killing. + +What else could it be? + +But what did she love in him? His title, his position, his influence? + +How could these old and worn-out men and women rebuild society? + +He meant to tell her all this when she returned home; but in his +inmost soul he knew all the time that the words would never be said. +He knew that he would grovel before her and whine for her favour; that +he would remain her slave and sell her his soul again and again, just +as she sold him her body. He knew that that was what he would do, for +he was head over ears in love with her. + + + + +UNMARRIED AND MARRIED + + +The young barrister was strolling on a lovely spring evening through +the old Stockholm Hop-Garden. Snatches of song and music came from the +pavilion; light streamed through the large windows and lit up the +shadows cast by the great lime trees which were just bursting into +leaf. + +He went in, sat down at a vacant table near the platform and asked for +a glass of punch. + +A young comedian was singing a pathetic ballad of a _Dead Rat_. Then a +young girl, dressed in pink, appeared and sang the Danish song: _There +is nothing so charming as a moonshine ride._ She was comparatively +innocent looking and she addressed her song to our innocent barrister. +He felt flattered by this mark of distinction, and at once started +negotiations which began with a bottle of wine and ended in a +furnished flat, containing two rooms, a kitchen and all the usual +conveniences. + +It is not within the scope of this little story to analyse the feelings +of the young man, or give a description of the furniture and the other +conveniences. It must suffice if I say that they were very good friends. + +But, imbued with the socialistic tendencies of our time, and desirous +of having his lady-love always under his eyes, the young man decided +to live in the flat himself and make his little friend his house +keeper. She was delighted at the suggestion. + +But the young man had a family, that is to say, his family looked upon +him as one of its members, and since in their opinion he was committing +an offence against morality, and casting a slur on their good name, he +was summoned to appear before the assembled parents, brothers and +sisters in order to be censured. He considered that he was too old for +such treatment and the family tie was ruptured. + +This made him all the more fond of his own little home, and he +developed into a very domesticated husband, excuse me, lover. They +were happy, for they loved one another, and no fetters bound them. +They lived in the happy dread of losing one another and therefore they +did their utmost to keep each other's love. They were indeed one. + +But there was one thing which they lacked: they had no friends. +Society displayed no wish to know them, and the young man was not +asked to the houses of the "Upper Ten." + +It was Christmas Eve, a day of sadness for all those who once had a +family. As he was sitting at breakfast, he received a letter. It was +from his sister, who implored him to spend Christmas at home, with his +parents. The letter touched upon the strings of old feelings and put +him in a bad temper. Was he to leave his little friend alone on +Christmas Eve? Certainly not! Should his place in the house of his +parents remain vacant for the first time on a Christmas Eve? H'm! This +was the position of affairs when he went to the Law Courts. + +During the interval for lunch a colleague came up to him and asked him +as discreetly as possible: + +"Are you going to spend Christmas Eve with your family?" + +He flared up at once. Was his friend aware of his position? Or what +did he mean? + +The other man saw that he had stepped on a corn, and added hastily, +without waiting for a reply: + +"Because if you are not, you might spend it with us. You know, +perhaps, that I have a little friend, a dear little soul." + +It sounded all right and he accepted the invitation on condition that +they should both be invited. Well, but of course, what else did he +think? And this settled the problem of friends and Christmas Eve. + +They met at six o'clock at the friend's flat, and while the two "old +men" had a glass of punch, the women went into the kitchen. + +All four helped to lay the table. The two "old men" knelt on the floor +and tried to lengthen the table by means of boards and wedges. The +women were on the best of terms at once, for they felt bound together +by that very obvious tie which bears the great name of "public opinion." +They respected one another and saved one another's feelings. They +avoided those innuendoes in which husbands and wives are so fond +of indulging when their children are not listening, just as if they +wanted to say: "We have a right to say these things now we are +married." + +When they had eaten the pudding, the barrister made a speech praising +the delights of one's own fireside, that refuge from the world and +from all men: that harbour where one spends one's happiest hours in +the company of one's real friends. + +Mary-Louisa began to cry, and when he urged her to tell him the cause +of her distress, and the reason of her unhappiness, she told him in a +voice broken by sobs that she could see that he was missing his mother +and sisters. + +He replied that he did not miss them in the least, and that he should +wish them far away if they happened to turn up now. + +"But why couldn't he marry her?" + +"Weren't they as good as married?" + +"No, they weren't married properly." + +"By a clergyman? In his opinion a clergyman was nothing but a student +who had passed his examinations, and his incantations were pure +mythology." + +"That was beyond her, but she knew that something was wrong, and the +other people in the house pointed their fingers at her." + +"Let them point!" + +Sophy joined in the conversation. She said she knew that they were not +good enough for his relations; but she didn't mind. Let everybody keep +his own place and be content. + +Anyhow, they had friends now, and lived together in harmony, which is +more than could be said of many properly constituted families. The tie +which held them together remained intact, but they were otherwise +unfettered. They continued being lovers without contracting any bad +matrimonial habits, as, for example, the habit of being rude to one +another. + +After a year or two their union was blest with a son. The mistress had +thereby risen to the rank of a mother, and everything else was +forgotten. The pangs which she had endured at the birth of the baby, +and her care for the newly born infant, had purged her of her old +selfish claims to all the good things of the earth, including the +monopoly of her husband's love. + +In her new role as mother she gave herself superior little airs with +her friend, and showed a little more assurance in her intercourse with +her lover. + +One day the latter came home with a great piece of news. He had met +his eldest sister in the street and had found her well informed on all +their private affairs. She was very anxious to see her little nephew +and had promised to pay them a call. + +Mary-Louisa was surprised, and at once began to sweep and dust the +flat; in addition she insisted on a new dress for the occasion. And +then she waited for a whole week. The curtains were sent to the +laundry, the brass knobs on the doors of the stoves were made to +shine, the furniture was polished. The sister should see that her +brother was living with a decent person. + +And then she made coffee, one morning at eleven o'clock, the time when +the sister would call. + +She came, straight as if she had swallowed a poker, and gave Mary-Louisa +a hand which was as stiff as a batting staff. She examined the bed-room +furniture, but refused to drink coffee, and never once looked her +sister-in-law in the face. But she showed a faint, though genuine, +interest in the baby. Then she went away again. + +Mary-Louisa in the meantime had carefully examined her coat, priced +the material of her dress and conceived a new idea of doing her hair. +She had not expected any great display of cordiality. As a start, the +fact of the visit was quite sufficient in itself, and she soon let the +house know that her sister-in-law had called. + +The boy grew up and by and by a baby sister arrived. +Now Mary-Louisa began to show the most tender solicitude for the future +of the children, and not a day passed but she tried to convince their +father that nothing but a legal marriage with her would safeguard their +interests. + +In addition to this his sister gave him a very plain hint to the +effect that a reconciliation with his parents was within the scope of +possibility, if he would but legalise his liaison. + +After having fought against it day and night for two years, he +consented at last, and resolved that for the children's sake the +mythological ceremony should be allowed to take place. + +But whom should they ask to the wedding? Mary-Louisa insisted on being +married in church. In this case Sophy could not be invited. That was +an impossibility. A girl like her! Mary-Louisa had already learnt to +pronounce the word "girl" with a decidedly moral accent. He reminded +her that Sophy had been a good friend to her, and that ingratitude was +not a very fine quality. Mary-Louisa, however, pointed out that +parents must be prepared to sacrifice private sympathies at the altar +of their children's prospects; and she carried the day. + +The wedding took place. + +The wedding was over. No invitation arrived from his parents, but a +furious letter from Sophy which resulted in a complete rupture. + +Mary-Louisa was a wedded wife, now. But she was more lonely than she +had been before. Embittered by her disappointment, sure of her husband +who was now legally tied to her, she began to take all those liberties +which married people look upon as their right. What she had once +regarded in the light of a voluntary gift, she now considered a +tribute due to her. She entrenched herself behind the honourable title +of "the mother of his children," and from there she made her sallies. + +Simple-minded, as all duped husbands are, he could never grasp what +constituted the sacredness in the fact that she was the mother of +_his_ children. Why his children should be different from other +children, and from himself, was a riddle to him. + +But, with an easy conscience, because his children had a legal mother +now, he commenced to take again an interest in the world which he had +to a certain extent forgotten in the first ecstasy of his love-dream, +and which later on he had neglected because he hated to leave his wife +and children alone. + +These liberties displeased his wife, and since there was no necessity +for her to mince matters now, and she was of an outspoken disposition, +she made no secrets of her thoughts. + +But he had all the lawyer's tricks at his fingers' ends, and was never +at a loss for a reply. + +"Do you think it right," she asked, "to leave the mother of your +children alone at home with them, while you spend your time at a +public house?" + +"I don't believe you missed me," he answered by way of a preliminary. + +"Missed you? If the husband spends the housekeeping money on drink, +the wife will miss a great many things in the house." + +"To start with I don't drink, for I merely have a mouthful of food and +drink a cup of coffee; secondly, I don't spend the housekeeping money +on drink, for you keep it locked up: I have other funds which I spend +'on drink.'" + +Unfortunately women cannot stand satire, and the noose, made in fun, +was at once thrown round his neck. + +"You do admit, then, that you drink?" + +"No, I don't, I used your expression in fun." + +"In fun? You are making fun of your wife? You never used to do that!" + +"You wanted the marriage ceremony. Why are things so different now?" + +"Because we are married, of course." + +"Partly because of that, and partly because intoxication has the +quality of passing off." + +"It was only intoxication in your case, then?" + +"Not only in my case; in your case, too, and in all others as well. It +passes off more or less quickly." + +"And so love is nothing but intoxication as far as a man is +concerned!" + +"As far as a woman is concerned too!" + +"Nothing but intoxication!" + +"Quite so! But there is no reason why one shouldn't remain friends." + +"One need not get married for that!" + +"No; and that's exactly what I meant to point out." + +"You? Wasn't it you who insisted on our marriage?" + +"Only because you worried me about it day and night three long years." + +"But it was your wish, too!" + +"Only because you wished it. Be grateful to me now that you've got +it!" + +"Shall I be grateful because you leave the mother of your children +alone with them while you spend your time at the public-house?" + +"No, not for that, but because I married you!" +"You really think I ought to be grateful for that?" + +"Yes, like all decent people who have got their way!" + +"Well, there is no happiness in a marriage like ours. Your family +doesn't acknowledge me!" + +"What have you got to do with my family? I haven't married yours?" + +"Because you didn't think it good enough!" + +"But mine was good enough for you. If they had been shoemakers, you +wouldn't mind so much." + +"You talk of shoemakers as if they were beneath your notice. Aren't +they human beings like everybody else?" + +"Of course they are, but I don't think you would have run after them." + +"All right! Have your own way." + +But it was not all right, and it was never again all right. Was it due +to the fact of their being married, or was it due to something else? +Mary-Louisa could not help admitting in her heart that the old times +had been better times; they had been "jollier" she said. + +He did not think that it was only owing to the fact that their marriage +had been legalised for he had observed that other marriages, too, were +not happy. And the worst of it all was this: when one day he went to +see his old friend and Sophy, as he sometimes did, behind his wife's +back, he was told that there was an end to that matter. And they had +not been married. So it could not have been marriage which was to blame. + + + + +A DUEL + + +She was plain and therefore the coarse young men who don't know how to +appreciate a beautiful soul in an ugly body took no notice of her. But +she was wealthy, and she knew that men run after women for the sake of +their wealth; whether they do it because all wealth has been created +by men and they therefore claim the capital for their sex, or on other +grounds, was not quite clear to her. As she was a rich woman, she +learned a good many things, and as she distrusted and despised men, +she was considered an intellectual young woman. + +She had reached the age of twenty. Her mother was still alive, but she +had no intention to wait for another five years before she became her +own mistress. Therefore she quite suddenly surprised her friends with +an announcement of her engagement. + +"She is marrying because she wants a husband," said some. + +"She is marrying because she wants a footman and her liberty," said +others. + +"How stupid of her to get married," said the third; "she doesn't know +that she will be even less her own mistress than she is now." + +"Don't be afraid," said the fourth, "she'll hold her own in spite of +her marriage." + +What was he like? Who was he? Where had she found him? + +He was a young lawyer, rather effeminate in appearance, with broad +hips and a shy manner. He was an only son, brought up by his mother +and aunt. He had always been very much afraid of girls, and he detested +the officers on account of their assurance, and because they were the +favourites at all entertainments. That is what he was like. + +They were staying at a watering place and met at a dance. He had come +late and all the girls' programmes were full. A laughing, triumphant +"No!" was flung into his face wherever he asked for a dance, and a +movement of the programme brushed him away as if he were a buzzing +fly. + +Offended and humiliated he left the ball-room and sat down on the +verandah to smoke a cigar. The moon threw her light on the lime-trees +in the Park and the perfume of the mignonette rose from the flower +beds. + +He watched the dancing couples through the windows with the impotent +yearning of the cripple; the voluptuous rhythm of the waltz thrilled +him through and through. + +"All alone and lost in dreams?" said a voice suddenly. "Why aren't you +dancing?" + +"Why aren't you?" he replied, looking up. + +"Because I am plain and nobody asked me to," she answered. + +He looked at her. They had known each other for some time, but he had +never studied her features. She was exquisitely dressed, and in her +eyes lay an expression of infinite pain, the pain of despair and vain +revolt against the injustice of nature; he felt a lively sympathy for +her. + +"I, too, am scorned by everybody," he said. "All the rights belong to +the officers. Whenever it is a question of natural selection, right is +on the side of the strong and the beautiful. Look at their shoulders +and epaulettes...." + +"How can you talk like that!" + +"I beg your pardon! To have to play a losing game makes a man bitter! +Will you give me a dance?" + +"For pity's sake?" + +"Yes! Out of compassion for me!" + +He threw away his cigar. + +"Have you ever known what it means to be marked by the hand of fate, +and rejected? To be always the last?" he began again, passionately. + +"I have known all that! But the last do not always remain the last," +she added, emphatically. "There are other qualities, besides beauty, +which count." + +"What quality do you appreciate most in a man?" + +"Kindness," she exclaimed, without the slightest hesitation. "For this +is a quality very rarely found in a man." + +"Kindness and weakness usually go hand in hand; women admire +strength." + +"What sort of women are you talking about? Rude strength has had its +day; our civilisation has reached a sufficiently high standard to make +us value muscles and rude strength no more highly than a kind heart." + +"It ought to have! And yet--watch the dancing couples!" + +"To my mind true manliness is shown in loftiness of sentiment and +intelligence of the heart." + +"Consequently a man whom the whole world calls weak and cowardly...." + +"What do I care for the world and its opinion!" + +"Do you know that you are a very remarkable woman?" said the young +lawyer, feeling more and more interested. + +"Not in the least remarkable! But you men are accustomed to regard +women as dolls...." + +"What sort of men do you mean? I, dear lady, have from my childhood +looked up to woman as a higher manifestation of the species man, and +from the day on which I fell in love with a woman, and she returned my +love, I should be her slave." + +Adeline looked at him long and searchingly. + +"You are a remarkable man," she said, after a pause. + +After each of the two had declared the other to be a remarkable +specimen of the species man, and made a good many remarks on the +futility of dancing, they began to talk of the melancholy influence of +the moon. Then they returned to the ball-room and took their place in +a set of quadrilles. + +Adeline was a perfect dancer and the lawyer won her heart completely +because he "danced like an innocent girl." + +When the set was over, they went out again on the verandah and sat +down. + +"What is love?" asked Adeline, looking at the moon as if she expected +an answer from heaven. + +"The sympathy of the souls," he replied, and his voice sounded like +the whispering breeze. + +"But sympathy may turn to antipathy; it has happened frequently," +objected Adeline. + +"Then it wasn't genuine! There are materialists who say that there +would be no such thing as love if there weren't two sexes, and they +dare to maintain that sensual love is more lasting than the love of +the soul. Don't you think it low and bestial to see nothing but sex in +the beloved woman?" + +"Don't speak of the materialists!" + +"Yes, I must, so that you may realise the loftiness of my feelings for +a woman, if ever I fell in love. She need not be beautiful; beauty +soon fades. I should look upon her as a dear friend, a chum. I should +never feel shy in her company, as with any ordinary girl. I should +approach her without fear, as I am approaching you, and I should say: +'Will you be my friend for life?' I should be able to speak to her +without the slightest tremor of that nervousness which a lover is +supposed to feel when he proposes to the object of his tenderness, +because his thoughts are not pure." + +Adeline looked at the young man, who had taken her hand in his, with +enraptured eyes. + +"You are an idealist," she said, "and I agree with you from the very +bottom of my heart. You are asking for my friendship, if I understand +you rightly. It shall be yours, but I must put you to the test first. +Will you prove to me that you can pocket your pride for the sake of a +friend?" + +"Speak and I shall obey!" + +Adeline took off a golden chain with a locket which she had been +wearing round her neck. + +"Wear this as a symbol of our friendship." + +"I will wear it," he said, in an uncertain voice; "but it might make +the people think that we are engaged." + +"And do you object?" + +"No, not if you don't! Will you be my wife?" + +"Yes, Axel! I will! For the world looks askance at friendship between +man and woman; the world is so base that it refuses to believe in the +possibility of such a thing." + +And he wore the chain. + +The world, which is very materialistic at heart, repeated the verdict +of her friends: + +"She marries him in order to be married; he marries her because he +wants a wife." + +The world made nasty remarks, too. It said that he was marrying her +for the sake of her money; for hadn't he himself declared that +anything so degrading as love did not exist between them? There was +no need for friends to live together like married couples. + +The wedding took place. The world had received a hint that they would +live together like brother and sister, and the world awaited with a +malicious grin the result of the great reform which should put +matrimony on another basis altogether. + +The newly married couple went abroad. + +When they returned, the young wife was pale and ill-tempered. She +began at once to take riding-lessons. The world scented mischief and +waited. The man looked as if he were guilty of a base act and was +ashamed of himself. It all came out at last. + +"They have _not_ been living like brother and sister," said the world. + +"What? Without loving one another? But that is--well, what is it?" + +"A forbidden relationship!" said the materialists. + +"It is a spiritual marriage!" + +"Or incest," suggested an anarchist. + +Facts remained facts, but the sympathy was on the wane. Real life, +stripped of All make-believe, confronted them and began to take +revenge. + +The lawyer practised his profession, but the wife's profession was +practised by a maid and a nurse. Therefore she had no occupation. The +want of occupation encouraged brooding, and she brooded a great deal +over her position. She found it unsatisfactory. Was it right that an +intellectual woman like her should spend her days in idleness? Once +her husband had ventured to remark that no one compelled her to live +in idleness. He never did it again. + +"She had no profession." + +"True; to be idle was no profession. Why didn't she nurse the baby?" + +"Nurse the baby? She wanted a profession which brought in money." + +"Was she such a miser, then? She had already more than she knew how to +spend; why should she want to earn money?" + +"To be on an equal footing with him." + +"That could never be, for she would always be in a position to which +he could never hope to attain. It was nature's will that the woman was +to be the mother, not the man." + +"A very stupid arrangement!" + +"Very likely! The opposite might have been the case, but that would +have been equally stupid." + +"Yes; but her life was unbearable. It didn't satisfy her to live for +the family only, she wanted to live for others as well." + +"Hadn't she better begin with the family? There was plenty of time to +think of the others." + +The conversation might have continued through all eternity; as it was +it only lasted an hour. + +The lawyer was, of course, away almost all day long, and even when he +was at home he had his consulting hours. It drove Adeline nearly mad. +He was always locked in his consulting-room with other women who +confided information to him which he was bound to keep secret. These +secrets formed a barrier between them, and made her feel that he was +more than a match for her. + +It roused a sullen hatred in her heart; she resented the injustice of +their mutual relationship; she sought for a means to drag him down. +Come down he must, so that they should be on the same level. + +One day she proposed the foundation of a sanatorium. He said all he +could against it, for he was very busy with his practice. But on +further consideration he thought that occupation of some sort might be +the saving of her; perhaps it would help her to settle down. + +The sanatorium was founded; he was one of the directors. + +She was on the Committee and ruled. When she had ruled for six months, +she imagined herself so well up in the art of healing that she +interviewed patients and gave them advice. + +"It's easy enough," she said. + +Then it happened that the house-surgeon made a mistake, and she +straightway lost all confidence in him. It further happened that one +day, in the full consciousness of her superior wisdom, she prescribed +for a patient herself, in the doctor's absence. The patient had the +prescription made up, took it and died. + +This necessitated a removal to another centre of activity. But it +disturbed the equilibrium. A second child, which was born about the +same time, disturbed it still more and, to make matters worse, a +rumour of the fatal accident was spreading through the town. + +The relations between husband and wife were unlovely and sad, for +there had never been any love between them. The healthy, powerful +natural instinct, which does not reflect, was absent; what remained +was an unpleasant liaison founded on the uncertain calculations of a +selfish friendship. + +She never voiced the thoughts hatched behind her burning brow after +she had discovered that she was mistaken in believing that she had a +higher mission, but she made her husband suffer for it. + +Her health failed; she lost her appetite and refused to go out. She +grew thin and seemed to be suffering from a chronic cough. The husband +made her repeatedly undergo medical examinations, but the doctors were +unable to discover the cause of her malady. In the end he became so +accustomed to her constant complaints that he paid no more attention +to them. + +"I know it's unpleasant to have an invalid wife," she said. + +He admitted in his heart that it was anything but pleasant; had he +loved her, he would neither have felt nor admitted it. + +Her emaciation became so alarming, that he could not shut his eyes to +it any longer, and had to consent to her suggestion that she should +consult a famous professor. + +Adeline was examined by the celebrity. "How long have you been ill?" +he asked. + +"I have never been very strong since I left the country," she replied. +"I was born in the country." + +"Then you don't feel well in town?" + +"Well? Who cares whether I feel well or not?" And her face assumed an +expression which left no room for doubt: she was a martyr. + +"Do you think that country air would do you good?" continued the +professor. + +"Candidly, I believe that it is the only thing which could save my +life." + +"Then why don't you live in the country?" + +"My husband couldn't give up his profession for my sake." + +"He has a wealthy wife and we have plenty of lawyers." + +"You think, then, that we ought to live in the country?" + +"Certainly, if you believe that it would do you good. You are not +suffering from any organic disease, but your nerves are unstrung; +country air would no doubt benefit you." + +Adeline returned home to her husband very depressed. + +"Well?" + +"The professor had sentenced her to death if she remained in town." + +The lawyer was much upset. But since the fact that his distress was +mainly caused by the thought of giving up his practice was very +apparent, she held that she had absolute proof that the question of +her health was a matter of no importance to him. + +"What? He didn't believe that it was a matter of life and death? +Didn't he think the professor knew better than he? Was he going to let +her die?" + +He was not going to let her die. He bought an estate in the country +and engaged an inspector to look after it. + +As a sheriff and a district-judge were living on the spot, the lawyer +had no occupation. The days seemed to him as endless as they were +unpleasant. Since his income had stopped with his practice, he was +compelled to live on his wife's money. In the first six months he read +a great deal and played "Fortuna." In the second six months he gave up +reading, as it served no object. In the third he amused himself by +doing needle-work. + +His wife, on the other hand, devoted herself to the farm, pinned up +her skirts to the knees and went into the stables. She came into the +house dirty, and smelling of the cow-shed. She felt well and ordered +the labourers about that it was a pleasure to hear her, for she had +grown up in the country and knew what she was about. + +When her husband complained of having nothing to do, she laughed at +him. + +"Find some occupation in the house. No one need ever be idle in a +house like this." + +He would have liked to suggest some outside occupation, but he had not +the courage. + +He ate, slept, and went for walks. If he happened to enter the barn or +the stables, he was sure to be in the way and be scolded by his wife. + +One day, when he had grumbled more than usual, while the children had +been running about, neglected by the nurse, she said: + +"Why don't you look after the children? That would give you something +to do." + +He stared at her. Did she really mean it? + +"Well, why shouldn't he look after the children? Was there anything +strange in her suggestion?" + +He thought the matter over and found nothing strange in it. Henceforth +he took the children for a walk every day. + +One morning, when he was ready to go out, the children were not +dressed. The lawyer felt angry and went grumbling to his wife; of the +servants he was afraid. + +"Why aren't the children dressed?" he asked. + +"Because Mary is busy with other things. Why don't you dress them? +You've nothing else to do. Do you consider it degrading to dress your +own children?" + +He considered the matter for a while, but could see nothing degrading +in it. He dressed them. + +One day he felt inclined to take his gun and go out by himself, +although he never shot anything. + +His wife met him on his return. + +"Why didn't you take the children for a walk this morning?" she asked +sharply and reproachfully. + +"Because I didn't feel inclined to do so." + +"You didn't feel inclined? Do you think I want to work all day long in +stable and barn? One ought to do _something_ useful during the day, even +if it does go against one's inclination." + +"So as to pay for one's dinner, you mean?" + +"If you like to put it that way! If I were a big man like you, I +should be ashamed to be lying all day long on a sofa, doing nothing." + +He really felt ashamed, and henceforth he established himself the +children's nurse. He never failed in his duties. He saw no disgrace in +it, yet he was unhappy. Something was wrong, somewhere, he thought, +but his wife always managed to carry her point. + +She sat in the office and interviewed inspector and overseer; she +stood in the store-room and weighed out stores for the cottagers. +Everybody who came on the estate asked for the mistress, nobody ever +wanted to see the master. + +One day he took the children past a field in which cattle were +grazing. He wanted to show them the cows and cautiously took them up +to the grazing herd. All at once a black head, raised above the backs +of the other animals, stared at the visitors, bellowing softly. + +The lawyer picked up the children and ran back to the fence as hard as +he could. He threw them over and tried to jump it himself, but was +caught on the top. Noticing some women on the other side, he shouted: + +"The bull! the bull!" + +But the women merely laughed, and went to pull the children, whose +clothes were covered with mud, out of the ditch. + +"Don't you see the bull?" he screamed. + +"It's no bull, sir," replied the eldest of the women, "the bull was +killed a fortnight ago." + +He came home, angry and ashamed and complained of the women to his +wife. But she only laughed. + +In the afternoon, as husband and wife were together in the drawing-room, +there was a knock at the door. + +"Come in!" she called out. + +One of the women who had witnessed the adventure with the bull came +in, holding in her hand the lawyer's gold chain. + +"I believe this belongs to you, M'm," she said hesitatingly. + +Adeline looked first at the woman and then at her husband, who stared +at the chain with wide-open eyes. + +"No, it belongs to your master," she said, taking the proffered chain. +"Thank you! Your master will give you something for finding it." + +He was sitting there, pale and motionless. + +"I have no money, ask my wife to give you something," he said, taking +the necklet. + +Adeline took a crown out of her big purse and handed it to the woman, +who went away, apparently without understanding the scene. + +"You might have spared me this humiliation!" he said, and his voice +plainly betrayed the pain he felt. + +"Are you not man enough to take the responsibility for your words and +actions on your own shoulders? Are you ashamed to wear a present I +gave you, while you expect me to wear yours? You're a coward! And you +imagine yourself to be a man!" + +Henceforth the poor lawyer had no peace. Wherever he went, he met +grinning faces, and farm-labourers and maid-servants from the safe +retreat of sheltered nooks, shouted "the bull! the bull!" whenever he +went past. + +Adeline had resolved to attend an auction and stay away for a week. +She asked her husband to look after the servants in her absence. + +On the first day the cook came and asked him for money for sugar and +coffee. He gave it to her. Three days later she came again and asked +him for the same thing. He expressed surprise at her having already +spent what he had given her. + +"I don't want it all for myself," she replied, "and mistress doesn't +mind." + +He gave her the money. But, wondering whether he had made a mistake, +he opened his wife's account book and began to add up the columns. + +He arrived at a strange result. When he had added up all the pounds +for a month, he found it came to a lispound. + +He continued checking her figures, and the result was everywhere the +same. He took the principal ledger and found that, leaving the high +figures out of the question, very stupid mistakes in the additions had +been made. Evidently his wife knew nothing of denominate quantities or +decimal fractions. This unheard of cheating of the servants must +certainly lead to ruin. + +His wife came home. After having listened to a detailed account of the +auction, he cleared his throat, intending to tell his tale, but his +wife anticipated his report: + +"Well, and how did you get on with the servants?" + +"Oh! very well, but I am certain that they cheat you." + +"Cheat me!" + +"Yes; for instance the amount spent on coffee and sugar is too large." + +"How do you know?" + +"I saw it in your account book." + +"Indeed! You poked your nose into my books?" + +"Poked my nose into your books? No, but I took it upon me to check +your...." + +"What business was it of yours?" + +"And I found that you keep books without having the slightest +knowledge of denominate quantities or decimal fractions." + +"What? You think I don't know?" + +"No, you don't! And therefore the foundations of the establishment are +shaky. Your book-keeping is all humbug, old girl!" + +"My book-keeping concerns no one but myself." + +"Incorrect book-keeping is an offence punishable by law; if you are +not liable, then I am." + +"The law? I care a fig for the law!" + +"I daresay! But we shall get into its clutches, if not you, then most +certainly I! And therefore I am going to be book-keeper in the future." + +"We can engage a man to do it." + +"No, that's not necessary! I have nothing else to do." + +And that settled the matter. + +But once the husband occupied the chair at the desk and the people +came to see _him_, the wife lost all interest in farming and +cattle-breeding. + +A violent reaction set in; she no longer attended to the cows and +calves, but remained in the house. There she sat, hatching fresh +plots. + +But the husband had regained a fresh hold on life. He took an eager +interest in the estate and woke up the people. Now he held the reins; +managed everything, gave orders and paid the bills. + +One day his wife came into the office and asked him for a thousand +crowns to buy a piano. + +"What are you thinking of?" said the husband. "Just when we are going +to re-build the stables! We haven't the means to buy a piano." + +"What do you mean?" she replied. "Why haven't we got the means? Isn't my +money sufficient?" + +"Your money?" + +"Yes, my money, my dowry." + +"That has now become the property of the family." + +"That is to say yours?" + +"No, the family's. The family is a small community, the only one which +possesses common property which, as a rule, is administered by the +husband." + +"Why should he administer it and not the wife?" + +"Because he has more time to give to it, since he does not bear +children." + +"Why couldn't they administer it jointly?" + +"For the same reason that a joint stock company has only one managing +director. If the wife administered as well, the children would claim +the same right, for it is their property, too." + +"This is mere hair-splitting. I think it's hard that I should have to +ask your permission to buy a piano out of my own money." + +"It's no longer your money." + +"But yours?" + +"No, not mine either, but the family's. And you are wrong when you say +that you 'have to ask for my permission'; it's merely wise that you +should consult with the administrator as to whether the position of +affairs warrants your spending such a large sum on a luxury." + +"Do you call a piano a luxury?" + +"A new piano, when there is an old one, must be termed a luxury. The +position of our affairs is anything but satisfactory, and therefore it +doesn't permit you to buy a new piano at present, but _I_, personally, +can or will have nothing to say against it." + +"An expenditure of a thousand crowns doesn't mean ruin." + +"To incur a debt of a thousand crowns at the wrong time may be the +first step towards ruin." + +"All this means that you refuse to buy me a new piano?" + +"No, I won't say that. The uncertain position of affairs...." + +"When, oh! when will the day dawn on which the wife will manage her +own affairs and have no need to go begging to her husband?" + +"When she works herself. A man, your father, has earned your money. +The men have gained all the wealth there is in the world; therefore it +is but just that a sister should inherit less than her brother, +especially as the brother is born with the duty to provide for a +woman, while the sister need not provide for a man. Do you +understand?" + +"And you call that justice? Can you honestly maintain that it is? +Ought we not all to share and share alike?" + +"No, not always. One ought to share according to circumstances and +merit. The idler who lies in the grass and watches the mason building +a house, should have a smaller share than the mason." + +"Do you mean to insinuate that I am lazy?" + +"H'm! I'd rather not say anything about that. But when I used to lie +on the sofa, reading, you considered me a loafer, and I well remember +that you said something to that effect in very plain language." + +"But what am I to do?" + +"Take the children out for walks." + +"I'm not constituted to look after the children." + +"But there was a time when I had to do it. Let me tell you that a +woman who says that she is not constituted to look after children, +isn't a woman. But that fact doesn't make a man of her, by any means. +What is she, then?" + +"Shame on you that you should speak like that of the mother of your +children!" + +"What does the world call a man who will have nothing to do with +women? Isn't it something very ugly?" + +"I won't hear another word!" + +And she left him and locked herself into her room. + +She fell ill. The doctor, the almighty man, who took over the care of +the body when the priest lost the care of the soul, pronounced country +air and solitude to be harmful. + +They were obliged to return to town so that the wife could have proper +medical treatment. + +Town had a splendid effect on her health; the air of the slums gave +colour to her cheeks. + +The lawyer practised his profession and so husband and wife had found +safety-valves for their temperaments which refused to blend. + + + + +HIS SERVANT OR DEBIT AND CREDIT + + +Mr. Blackwood was a wharfinger at Brooklyn and had married Miss +Dankward, who brought him a dowry of modern ideas. To avoid seeing his +beloved wife playing the part of his servant, Mr. Blackwood had taken +rooms in a boarding house. + +The wife, who had nothing whatever to do, spent the day in playing +billiards and practising the piano, and half the night in discussing +Women's Rights and drinking whiskies and sodas. + +The husband had a salary of five thousand dollars. He handed over his +money regularly to his wife who took charge of it. She had, moreover, +a dress allowance of five hundred dollars with which she did as she +liked. + +Then a baby arrived. A nurse was engaged who, for a hundred dollars, +took upon her shoulders the sacred duties of the mother. + +Two more children were born. + +They grew up and the two eldest went to school. But Mrs. Blackwood was +bored and had nothing with which to occupy her mind. + +One morning she appeared at the breakfast table, slightly intoxicated. + +The husband ventured to tell her that her behaviour was unseemly. + +She had hysterics and went to bed, and all the other ladies in the +house called on her and brought her flowers. + +"Why do you drink so much whisky?" asked her husband, as kindly as +possible. "Is there anything which troubles you?" + +"How could I be happy when my whole life is wasted!" + +"What do you mean by wasted? You are the mother of three children and +you might spend your time in educating them." + +"I can't be bothered with children." + +"Then you ought to be bothered with them! You would be benefiting the +whole community and have a splendid object in life, a far more +honourable one, for instance, than that of being a wharfinger." + +"Yes, if I were free!" + +"You are freer than I am. I am under your rule. You decide how my +earnings are to be spent. You have five hundred dollars pin money to +spend as you like; but I have no pin money. I have to make an +application to the cash-box, in other words, to you, whenever I want +to buy tobacco. Don't you think that you are freer than I am?" + +She made no reply; she tried to think the question out. + +The upshot of it was that they decided to have a home of their own. +And they set up house-keeping. + +"My dear friend," Mrs. Blackwood wrote a little later on to a friend +of hers, "I am ill and tired to death. But I must go on suffering, for +there is no solace for an unhappy woman who has no object in life. I +will show the world that I am not the sort of woman who is content to +live on her husband's bounty, and therefore I shall work myself to +death...." + +On the first day she rose at nine o'clock and turned out her husband's +room. Then she dismissed the cook and at eleven o'clock she went out +to do the catering for the day. + +When the husband came home at one o'clock, lunch was not ready. It was +the maid's fault. + +Mrs. Blackwood was dreadfully tired and in tears. The husband could +not find it in his heart to complain. He ate a burnt cutlet and went +back to his work. + +"Don't work so hard, darling," he said, as he was leaving. + +In the evening his wife was so tired that she could not finish her +work and went to bed at ten o'clock. + +On the following morning, as Mr. Blackwood went into his wife's room +to say good morning to her, he was amazed at her healthy complexion. + +"Have you slept well?" he asked. + +"Why do you ask?" + +"Because you are looking so well." + +"I--am--looking--well?" + +"Yes, a little occupation seems to agree with you." + +"A little occupation? You call it little? I should like to know what +you would call much." + +"Never mind, I didn't mean to annoy you." + +"Yes, you did. You meant to imply that I wasn't working hard enough. +And yet I turned out your room yesterday, just as if I were a +house-maid, and stood in the kitchen like a cook. Can you deny that I +am your servant?" + +In going out the husband said to the maid: + +"You had better get up at seven in future and do my room. Your +mistress shouldn't have to do your work." + +In the evening Mr. Blackwood came home in high spirits but his wife +was angry with him. + +"Why am I not to do your room?" she asked. + +"Because I object to your being my servant." + +"Why do you object?" + +"The thought of it makes me unhappy." + +"But it doesn't make you unhappy to think of me cooking your dinner +and attending to your children?" + +This remark set him thinking. + +He pondered the question during the whole of his tram journey to +Brooklyn. + +When he came home in the evening, he had done a good deal of thinking. + +"Now, listen to me, my love," he began, "I've thought a lot about your +position in the house and, of course, I am far from wishing that you +should be my servant. I think the best thing to do is this: You must +look upon me as your boarder and I'll pay for myself. Then you'll be +mistress in the house, and I'll pay you for my dinner." + +"What do you mean?" asked his wife, a little uneasy. + +"What I say. Let's pretend that you keep a boarding-house and that I'm +your boarder. We'll only pretend it, of course." + +"Very well! And what are you going to pay me?" + +"Enough to prevent me from being under an obligation to you. It will +improve my position, too, for then I shall not feel that I am kept out +of kindness." + +"Out of kindness?" + +"Yes; you give me a dinner which is only half-cooked, and then you go +on repeating that you are my servant, that is to say, that you are +working yourself to death for me." + +"What are you driving at?" + +"Is three dollars a day enough for my board? Any boarding-house will +take me for two." + +"Three dollars ought to be plenty." + +"Very well! Let's say a thousand dollars per annum. Here's the money +in advance!" + +He laid a bill on the table. + +It was made out as follows: + + Rent 500 dollars + Nurse's wages 100 " + Cook's wages 150 " + Wife's maintenance 500 " + Wife's pin money 500 " + Nurse's maintenance 300 " + Cook's maintenance 300 " + Children's maintenance 700 " + Children's clothes 500 " + Wood, light, assistance 500 " + + 4.500 dollars + +"Divide this sum by two, since we share expenses equally, that leaves +2025 dollars. Deduct my thousand dollars and give me 1025 dollars. If +you have got the money by you, all the better." + +"Share expenses equally?" was all the wife could say. "Do you expect +me to pay you, then?" + +"Yes, of course, if we are to be on a footing of equality. I pay for +half of your and the children's support. Or do you want me to pay the +whole? Very well, that would mean that I should have to pay you 4050 +dollars plus 1000 dollars for my board. But I pay separately for rent, +food, light, wood and servants' wages. What do I get for my three +dollars a day for board? The preparation of the food? Nothing else but +that for 4050 dollars? Now, if I subtract really half of this sum, +that is to say, my share of the expenses, 2025 dollars, then the +preparation of my food costs me 2025 dollars. But I have already paid +the cook for doing it; how, then, can I be expected to pay 2025 dollars, +plus 1000 dollars for food?" + +"I don't know." + +"Neither do I. But I know that I owe you nothing after paying for the +whole of your support, the children's support and the servants' +support; the servants who do your work, which, in your opinion, is +equal, or superior, to mine. But even if your work should really be +worth more, you must remember that you have another five hundred +dollars in addition to the household expenses, while I have nothing." + +"I repeat that I don't understand your figures!" + +"Neither do I. Perhaps we had better abandon the idea of the +boarding-house. Let's put down the debit and credit of the +establishment. Here's the account, if you'd like to see it." + + To Mrs. Blackwood for assistance in the house, and to Mrs. Blackwood's + cook and nursemaid: + + Rent and maintenance 1000 dollars + Clothes 500 " + Amusements 100 " + Pin money (by cash) 500 " + Her children's maintenance 1200 " + Her children's education 600 " + On account of the maids who do her + work 850 " + + 4570 dollars + + Paid M. Blackwood, _Wharfinger_ + +"Oh! It's too bad of you to worry your wife with bills!" + +"With counter-bills! And even that one you need not pay, for I pay all +bills." + +The wife crumpled up the paper. + +"Am I to pay for your children's education, too?" + +"No, I will, and I shall, and I will also pay for your children's +education. You shall not pay one single farthing for mine. Is that +being on a footing of equality? But I shall deduct the sum for the +maintenance of my children and servants: then you will still have 2100 +dollars for the assistance you give to my servants. Do you want any +more bills?" + +She wanted no more; never again. + + + + +THE BREADWINNER + + +He wakes up in the morning from evil dreams of bills which have become +due and copy which has not been delivered. His hair is damp with cold +perspiration, and his cheeks tremble as he dresses himself. He listens +to the chirruping of the children in the next room and plunges his +burning face into cold water. He drinks the coffee which he has made +himself, so as not to disturb the nursery maid at the early hour of +eight o'clock. Then he makes his bed, brushes his clothes, and sits +down to write. + +The fever attacks him, the fever which is to create hallucinations of +rooms he has never seen, landscapes which never existed, people whose +names cannot be found in the directory. He sits at his writing table +in mortal anguish. His thoughts must be clear, pregnant and +picturesque, his writing legible, the story dramatic; the interest +must never abate, the metaphors must be striking, the dialogue +brilliant. The faces of those automata, the public, whose brains he is +to wind up, are grinning at him; the critics whose good-will he must +enlist, stare at him through the spectacles of envy; he is haunted by +the gloomy face of the publisher, which it is his task to brighten. He +sees the jurymen sitting round the black table in the centre of which +lies a Bible; he hears the sound of the opening of prison doors behind +which free-thinkers are suffering for the crime of having thought bold +thoughts for the benefit of the sluggards; he listens to the noiseless +footfall of the hotel porter who is coming with the bill.... + +And all the while the fever is raging and his pen flies, flies over +the paper without a moment's delay at the vision of publisher or +jurymen, leaving in its track red lines as of congealed blood which +slowly turn to black. + +When he rises from his chair, after a couple of hours, he has only +enough strength left to stumble across the room. He sinks down on his +bed and lies there as if Death held him in his clutches. It is not +invigorating sleep which has closed his eyes, but a stupor, a long +fainting fit during which he remains conscious, tortured by the +horrible thought that his strength is gone, his nervous system +shattered, his brain empty. + +A ring at the bell of the private hotel! _Voil le facteur_! The mail +has arrived. + +He rouses himself and staggers out of his room. A pile of letters is +handed to him. Proofs which must be read at once; a book from a young +author, begging for a candid criticism: a paper containing a +controversial article to which he must reply without delay, a request +for a contribution to an almanac, an admonishing letter from his +publisher. How can an invalid cope with it all? + +In the meantime the children's nurse has got up and dressed the +children, drunk the coffee made for her in the hotel kitchen, and +eaten the rolls spread with honey which have been sent up for her. +After breakfast she takes a stroll in the park. + +At one o'clock the bell rings for luncheon. All the guests are assembled +in the dining-room. He, too, is there, sitting at the table by himself. + +"Where is your wife?" he is asked on all sides. + +"I don't know," he replies. + +"What a brute!" is the comment of the ladies, who are still in their +morning gowns. + +The entrance of his wife interrupts the progress of the meal, and the +hungry guests who have been punctual are kept waiting for the second +course. + +The ladies enquire anxiously whether his, wife has slept well and +feels refreshed? Nobody asks him how he feels. There is no need to +enquire. + +"He looks like a corpse," says one of the ladies. + +And she is right. + +"Dissipation," says another. + +But that is anything but true. +He takes no part in the conversation, for he has nothing to say to +these women. But his wife talks for two. While he swallows his food, +his ears are made to listen to rich praise of all that is base, and +vile abuse of all that is noble and good. + +When luncheon is over he takes his wife aside. + +"I wish you would send Louisa to the tailor's with my coat; a seam has +come undone and I haven't the time to sew it up myself." + +She makes no reply, but instead of sending the coat by Louisa, she +takes it herself and walks to the village where the tailor lives. + +In the garden she meets some of her emancipated friends who ask her +where she is going. + +She replies, truthfully enough, that she is going to the tailor's for +her husband. + +"Fancy sending her to the tailor's! And she allows him to treat her +like a servant!" + +"While he is lying on the bed, taking an after-dinner nap! A nice +husband!" + +It is quite true, he is taking an after dinner nap, for he is +suffering from anaemia. + +At three o'clock the postman rings again; he is expected to answer a +letter from Berlin in German, one from Paris in French, and one from +London in English. + +His wife, who has returned from the tailor's and refreshed herself +with a cognac, asks him whether he feels inclined to make an excursion +with the children. No, he has letters to write. + +When he has finished his letters, he goes out for a stroll before +dinner. He is longing for somebody to talk to. But he is alone. He +goes into the garden and looks for the children. + +The stout nurse is sitting on a garden seat, reading Mrs. Leffler's +_True Women_ which his wife has lent her. The children are bored, they +want to run about or go for a walk. + +"Why don't you take the children for a walk, Louisa?" he asks. + +"Mistress said it was too hot." + +His wife's orders! + +He calls to the children and walks with them towards the high road; +suddenly he notices that their hands and faces are dirty and their +boots in holes. + +"Why are the children allowed to wear such boots?" he asks Louisa. + +"Mistress said...." + +His wife said! + +He goes for a walk by himself. + +It is seven o'clock and dinner-time. The ladies have not yet returned +to the hotel. The two first courses have been served when they arrive +with flushed faces, talking and laughing loudly. + +His wife and her friend are in high spirits and smell of cognac. + +"What have you been doing with yourself all day, daddy?" she asks her +husband. + +"I went for a walk with the children." + +"Wasn't Louisa there?" + +"Oh! yes, but she was otherwise engaged." + +"Well, I don't think it's too much to ask of a man to keep an eye on +his own children," says the friend. + +"No, of course not," answers the husband. "And therefore I scolded +Louisa for allowing the children to run about with dirty faces and +worn-out boots." + +"I never come home but I am scolded," says the wife; "You spoil every +little pleasure I have with your fault-finding." + +And a tiny tear moistens her reddened eyelids. The friend and all the +rest of the ladies cast indignant glances at the husband. + +An attack is imminent and the friend sharpens her tongue. + +"Has anybody here present read Luther's views on the right of a woman?" + +"What right is that?" asks his wife. + +"To look out for another partner if she is dissatisfied with the one +she has." + +There is a pause. + +"A very risky doctrine as far as a woman's interests are concerned," +says the husband, "for it follows that in similar circumstances a man +is justified in doing the same thing. The latter happens much more +frequently than the former." + +"I don't understand what you mean," says the wife. + +"That's neither Luther's fault nor mine," answers the husband. "Just +as it is not necessarily the husband's fault if he doesn't get on with +his wife. Possibly he would get on excellently with another woman." + +A dead silence follows; the diners rise from their chairs. + +The husband retires to his own room. His wife and her friend leave the +dining-room together and sit down in the pavilion. + +"What brutality!" exclaims the friend. "How can you, a sensitive, +intelligent woman, consent to be the servant of that selfish brute?" + +"He has never understood me," sighs the wife. Her satisfaction in being +able to pronounce these damning words is so great, that it drowns the +memory of a reply which her husband has given her again and again: + +"Do you imagine that your thoughts are so profound that I, a man with +a subtle brain, am unable to fathom them? Has it never occurred to you +that it may be your shallowness which prevents you from understanding +me?" + +He sits down in his room, alone. He suffers from remorse, as if he had +struck his mother. But she struck the first blow; she has struck him +blow after blow, for many years, and never once before has he +retaliated. + +This coarse, heartless, cynical woman, in whose keeping he confided +his whole soul with all its thoughts and emotions, was conscious of +his superiority, and therefore she humiliated him, dragged him down, +pulled him by the hair, covered him with abuse. Was it a crime that he +struck back when she publicly taunted him? Yes--he felt as guilty as +if he had murdered his dearest friend. + +The twilight of the warm summer night deepens and the moon rises. + +The sound of music from the drawing-room floats through his window. He +goes into the garden and sits down under a walnut tree. Alone! The +chords of the piano blend with the words of the song: + + When the veil of night was drawn + And crowded earth, mysterious sea + Became one sweet, enchanted ground + For us, until the starless dawn + Dissolved the failing moon--then we + In one long ecstasy were bound. + Now, I, alone in silence and in pain + Weep for the ache of well-remembered bliss, + For you who never can return again, + For you, my spring time, for your love, your kiss. + +He strolls through the garden and looks through the window. There she +sits, his living poem, which he has composed for his own delight. She +sings with tears in her voice. The ladies on the sofas look at one +another significantly. + +But behind the laurel bushes on a garden seat two men are sitting, +smoking, and chatting. He can hear what they say. + +"Nothing but the effect of the cognac." + +"Yes, they say that she drinks." + +"And blame the husband for it." + +"That's a shame! She took to drinking in Julian's studio. She was +going to be an artist, you know, but she didn't succeed. When they +rejected her picture at the exhibition, she threw herself at the head +of this poor devil and married him to hide her defeat." + +"Yes, I know, and made his life a burden until he is but the shadow of +his former self. They started with a home of their own in Paris, and +he kept two maids for her; still she called herself his servant. +Although she was mistress over everything, she insisted that she was +but his slave She neglected the house, the servants robbed them right +and left, and he saw their home threatened with ruin without being +able to move a finger to avert it. She opposed every suggestion he +made; if he wanted black, she wanted white. In this way she broke his +will and shattered, his nerves. He broke up his home and took her to a +boarding-house to save her the trouble of housekeeping and enable her +to devote herself entirely to her art. But she won't touch a brush and +goes out all day long with her friend. She has tried to come between +him and his work, too, and drive him to drink, but she has not managed +it; therefore she hates him, for he is the better of the two." + +"But the husband must be a fool," remarks the other man. + +"He is a fool wherever his wife is concerned, but he is no exception +to the rule. They have been married for twelve years and he is still +in love with her. The worst of it is that he is a strong man, who +commanded the respect of Parliament and Press, is breaking up. I +talked to him this morning; he is ill, to say the least." + +"Yes; I heard that she tried to have him locked up in a asylum, and +that her friend did everything in her power to assist her." + +"And he works himself to death, so that she can enjoy herself." + +"Do you know why she treats him so contemptuously? Because he cannot +give her all the luxury she wants. 'A man who cannot give his wife all +she wants,' she said the other day at dinner, 'ce n'est pas grand' +chose.' I believe that she counted on his booming her as an artist. +Unfortunately his political views prevent him from being on good terms +with the leading papers, and, moreover, he has no friends in artistic +circles; his interests lie elsewhere." + +"I see; she wanted to make use of him for her own ends; when he +resisted she threw him over; but he serves his purpose as a breadwinner." + + Now, I, alone in silence and in pain, + Weep for the ache of well-remembered bliss.... + +comes her voice from the drawing-room. + +"Bang!" the sound came from behind the walnut tree. It was followed by +a snapping of branches and a crunching of sand. + +The talkers jumped to their feet. + +The body of a well-dressed man lay across the road, with his head +against the leg of a chair. + +The song stopped abruptly. The ladies rushed into the garden. The +friend poured a few drops of eau de Cologne which she held in her +hand, on the face of the prostrate man. + +When she realised that it was no fainting fit, she started back. +"Horrible!" she exclaimed, putting her hand up to her face. + +The elder of the two men, who was stooping over; the dead body, looked +up. + +"Be silent, woman!" he exclaimed. + +"What a brute!" said the friend. + +The dead man's wife fainted, but was caught in the arms of her friend +and tenderly nursed by the rest of the women. + +"Send for a doctor!" shouted the elder of the two men. "Run!" + +Nobody took any notice; everybody was busy with the unconscious wife. + +"To bring such grief on his wife! Oh! what a man! What a man!" sobbed +the friend. + +"Has no one a thought for the dying man? All this' fuss because a woman +has fainted! Give her some brandy, that will revive her!" + +"The wretched man has deserved his fate!" said the friend emphatically. + +"He indeed deserved a better fate than to fall into your hands alive. +Shame on you, woman, and all honour to the breadwinner!" + +He let the hand of the dead man go and rose to his, feet. + +"It's all over!" he said. + + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Married, by August Strindberg + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MARRIED *** + +***** This file should be named 7956-8.txt or 7956-8.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/7/9/5/7956/ + +Produced by David Starner, Marc D'Hooghe, Charles Franks +and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team + + +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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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: Married + +Author: August Strindberg + + +Release Date: April, 2005 [EBook #7956] +This file was first posted on June 5, 2003 +Last Updated: October 26, 2016 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MARRIED *** + + + + +Text file produced by David Starner, Marc D'Hooghe, Charles Franks +and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team + +HTML file produced by David Widger + + + + +</pre> + + <div style="height: 8em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h1> + MARRIED + </h1> + <h2> + By August Strindberg + </h2> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <p> + <b>CONTENTS</b> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_BIBL"> BIBLIOGRAPHY </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_INTR"> INTRODUCTION </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0003"> ASRA </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0004"> LOVE AND BREAD </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0005"> COMPELLED TO </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0006"> COMPENSATION </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0007"> FRICTIONS </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0008"> UNNATURAL SELECTION OR THE ORIGIN OF RACE </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0009"> AN ATTEMPT AT REFORM </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0010"> A NATURAL OBSTACLE </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0011"> A DOLL’S HOUSE </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0012"> PHOENIX </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0013"> ROMEO AND JULIA </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0014"> PROLIFICACY </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0015"> AUTUMN </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0016"> COMPULSORY MARRIAGE </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0017"> CORINNA </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0018"> UNMARRIED AND MARRIED </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0019"> A DUEL </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0020"> HIS SERVANT OR DEBIT AND CREDIT </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0021"> THE BREADWINNER </a> + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_BIBL" id="link2H_BIBL"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + BIBLIOGRAPHY + </h2> + <p> + Strindberg’s works in English translation: Plays translated by Edwin + Bjorkman; <i>Master Olof</i>, American Scandinavian Foundation, 1915; <i>The + Dream Play, The Link, The Dance of Death</i>, New York, Charles Scribner’s + Sons, 1912; <i>Swanwhite, Simoon, Debit and Credit, Advent, The + Thunderstorm, After the Fire,</i> the same, 1913; <i>There Are Crimes and + Crimes, Miss Julia, The Stronger, Creditors, Pariah</i>, the same, 1913; + Bridal Crown, <i>The Spook Sonata, The First Warning, Gustavus Vasa</i>, + the same, 1916. Plays translated by Edith and Warner Oland, Boston Luce + & Co., Vol. I (1912), <i>The Father, Countess Julie, The Stronger, The + Outlaw</i>; Vol. II (1912), <i>Facing Death, Easter, Pariah, Comrades</i>; + Vol. III (1914), <i>Swanwhite, Advent, The Storm, Lucky Pehr</i>, tr. by + Velma Swanston Howard, Cincinnati, Stewart & Kidd Co., 1912. <i>The + Red Room</i>, tr. by Ellie Schleussner, New York, Putnam’s, 1913; <i>Confession + of a Fool</i>, tr. by S. Swift, London, F. Palmer, 1912; <i>The German + Lieutenant and Other Stories</i>, Chicago, A. C. McClurg & Co., 1915; + <i>In Midsummer Days and Other Tales</i>, tr. by Ellie Schleussner, + London, H. Latimer, 1913; <i>Motherlove</i>, tr. by Francis J. Ziegler, + Philadelphia, Brown Bros., 2nd ed., 1916, <i>On the Seaboard</i>, tr. by + Elizabeth Clarke Westergren, Cincinnati, Stewart & Kidd Co., 1913; <i>The + Son of a Servant</i>, tr. by. Claud Field, introduction by Henry + Vacher-Burch, New York, Putnam’s, 1913; <i>The Growth of a Soul</i>, tr. + by Claud Field, London, W. Rider & Co., 1913; <i>The Inferno</i>, tr. + by Claud Field, New York, Putnam’s, 1913; <i>Legends, Autobiographical + Sketches</i>, London, A. Melrose, 1912; <i>Zones of the Spirit</i>, tr. by + Claud Field, introduction by Arthur Babillotte, London, G. Allen & Co. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_INTR" id="link2H_INTR"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + INTRODUCTION + </h2> + <p> + These stories originally appeared in two volumes, the first in 1884, the + second in 1886. The latter part of the present edition is thus separated + from the first part by a lapse of two years. + </p> + <p> + Strindberg’s views were continually undergoing changes. Constancy was + never a trait of his. He himself tells us that opinions are but the + reflection of a man’s experiences, changing as his experiences change. In + the two years following the publication of the first volume, Strindberg’s + experiences were such as to exercise a decisive influence on his views on + the woman question and to transmute his early predisposition to + woman-hating from a passive tendency to a positive, active force in his + character and writing. + </p> + <p> + Strindberg’s art in <i>Married</i> is of the propagandist, of the fighter + for a cause. He has a lesson to convey and he makes frankly for his goal + without attempting to conceal his purpose under the gloss of “pure” art. + He chooses the story form in preference to the treatise as a more powerful + medium to drive home his ideas. That the result has proved successful is + due to the happy admixture in Strindberg of thinker and artist. His + artist’s sense never permitted him to distort or misrepresent the truth + for the sake of proving his theories. In fact, he arrived at his theories + not as a scholar through the study of books, but as an artist through the + experience of life. When life had impressed upon him what seemed to him a + truth, he then applied his intellect to it to bolster up that truth. Hence + it is that, however opinionated Strindberg may at times seem, his writings + carry that conviction which we receive only when the author reproduces’ + truths he has obtained first-hand from life. One-sided he may occasionally + be in <i>Married</i>, especially in the later stories, but rarely + unfaithful. His manner is often to throw such a glaring searchlight upon + one spot of life that all the rest of it stays in darkness; but the places + he does show up are never unimportant or trivial. They are well worth + seeing with Strindberg’s brilliant illumination thrown upon them. + </p> + <p> + August Strindberg has left a remarkably rich record of his life in various + works, especially in his autobiographical series of novels. He was born in + 1849 in Stockholm. His was a sad childhood passed in extreme poverty. He + succeeded in entering the University of Upsala in 1867, but was forced for + a time on account of lack of means to interrupt his studies. He tried his + fortune as schoolmaster, actor, and journalist and made an attempt to + study medicine. All the while he was active in a literary way, composing + his first plays in 1869. In 1874 he obtained a position in the Royal + Library, where he devoted himself to scientific studies, learned Chinese + in order to catalogue the Chinese manuscripts, and wrote an erudite + monograph which was read at the Academy of Inscriptions in Paris. + </p> + <p> + His first important literary productions were the drama <i>Master Olof</i> + (1878) and the novel <i>The Red Room</i> (1879). Disheartened by the + failure of <i>Master Olof</i>, he gave up literature for a long time. When + he returned to it, he displayed an amazing productivity. Work followed + work in quick succession—novels, short stories, dramas, histories, + historical studies, and essays. <i>The Swedish People</i> is said to be + the most popular book in Sweden next to the Bible. The mere enumeration of + his writings would occupy more than two pages. His versatility led him to + make researches in physics and chemistry and natural science and to write + on those subjects. + </p> + <p> + Through works like <i>The Red Room</i>, <i>Married</i>, and the dramas <i>The + Father</i> and <i>Miss Julia</i>, Strindberg attached himself to the + naturalistic school of literature. Another period of literary inactivity + followed, during which he passed through a mental crisis akin to insanity. + When he returned to the writing of novels and dramas he was no longer a + naturalist, but a symbolist and mystic. Among the plays he composed in + this style are <i>To Damascus</i>, <i>The Dream Play</i>, and <i>The Great + Highway</i>. + </p> + <p> + Strindberg married three times, divorced his first two wives, but + separated amicably from the third. He died in 1913. The vast demonstration + at his funeral, attended by the laboring classes as well as by the “upper” + classes, proved that, in spite of the antagonisms he had aroused, Sweden + unanimously awarded him the highest place in her literature. + </p> + <p> + THOMAS SELTZER. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0003" id="link2H_4_0003"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + ASRA + </h2> + <p> + He had just completed his thirteenth year when his mother died. He felt + that he had lost a real friend, for during the twelve months of her + illness he had come to know her personally, as it were, and established a + relationship between them which is rare between parents and children. He + was a clever boy and had developed early; he had read a great many books + besides his schoolbooks, for his father, a professor of botany at the + Academy of Science, possessed a very good library. His mother, on the + other hand, was not a well-educated woman; she had merely been head + housekeeper and children’s nurse in her husband’s house. Numerous births + and countless vigils (she had not slept through a single night for the + last sixteen years), had exhausted her strength, and when she became + bedridden, at the age of thirty-nine, and was no longer able to look after + her house, she made the acquaintance of her second son; her eldest boy was + at a military school and only at home during the week ends. Now that her + part as mother of the family was played to the end and nothing remained of + her but a poor invalid, the old-fashioned relationship of strict + discipline, that barrier between parents and children, was superseded. The + thirteen-year-old son was almost constantly at her bedside, reading to her + whenever he was not at school or doing home lessons. She had many + questions to ask and he had a great deal to explain, and therefore all + those distinguishing marks erected by age and position vanished, one after + the other: if there was a superior at all, it was the son. But the mother, + too, had much to teach, for she had learnt her lessons in the school of + life; and so they were alternately teacher and pupil. They discussed all + subjects. With the tact of a mother and the modesty of the other sex she + told her son all he ought to know of the mystery of life. He was still + innocent, but he had heard many things discussed by the boys at school + which had shocked and disgusted him. The mother explained to him all she + could explain; warned him of the greatest danger to a young man, and + exacted a promise from him never to visit a house of ill-fame, not even + out of curiosity, because, as she pointed out, in such a case no man could + ever trust himself. And she implored him to live a temperate life, and + turn to God in prayer whenever temptation assaulted him. + </p> + <p> + His father was entirely devoted to science, which was a sealed book to his + wife. When the mother was already on the point of death, he made a + discovery which he hoped would make his name immortal in the scientific + world. He discovered, on a rubbish heap, outside the gates of Stockholm, a + new kind of goose-foot with curved hairs on the usually straight-haired + calyx. He was in communication with the Berlin Academy of Sciences, and + the latter was even now considering the advisability of including the new + variety in the “Flora Germanica”; he was daily expecting to hear whether + or not the Academy had decided to immortalise his name by calling the + plant Chenopodium Wennerstroemianium. At his wife’s death-bed he was + absentminded, almost unkind, for he had just received an answer in the + affirmative, and he fretted because neither he nor his wife could enjoy + the great news. She thought only of heaven and her children. He could not + help realising that to talk to her now of a calyx with curved hairs would + be the height of absurdity; but, he justified himself, it was not so much + a question of a calyx with straight or curved hairs, as of a scientific + discovery; and, more than that, it was a question of his future and the + future of his children, for their father’s distinction meant bread for + them. + </p> + <p> + When his wife died on the following evening, he cried bitterly; he had not + shed a tear for many years. He was tortured by remorse, remembered even + the tiniest wrong he had ever done her, for he had been, on the whole, an + exemplary husband; his indifference, his absent-mindedness of the previous + day, filled him with shame and regret, and in a moment of blankness he + realised all the pettishness and selfishness of his science which, he had + imagined, was benefiting mankind. But these emotions were short-lived; if + you open a door with a spring behind it, it will close again immediately. + On the following morning, after he had drawn up an announcement of her + death for the papers, he wrote a letter of thanks to the Berlin Academy of + Sciences. After that he resumed his work. + </p> + <p> + When he came home to dinner, he longed for his wife, so that he might tell + her of his success, for she had always been his truest friend, the only + human being who had never been jealous or envious. Now he missed this + loyal companion on whose approval he could count as a matter of course; + never once had she contradicted him, for since he never told her more than + the practical result of his researches, there was no room for argument. + For a moment the thought occurred to him that he might make friends with + his son; but they knew each other too little; their relationship was that + of officer and private soldier. His superior rank did not permit him to + make advances; moreover, he regarded the boy with suspicion, because the + latter possessed a keener intellect and had read a number of new books + which were unknown to him; occasionally it even happened that the father, + the professor, plainly revealed his ignorance to his son, the school-boy. + In such cases the father was either compelled to dismiss the argument, + with a few contemptuous remarks to “these new follies,” or peremptorily + order the school-boy to attend to his lessons. Once or twice, in + self-defence, the son had produced one or other of his school-books; the + professor had lost his temper and wished the new school-books to hell. + </p> + <p> + And so it came about that the father devoted himself to his collections of + dried plants and the son went his own way. + </p> + <p> + They lived in a quiet street to the left of the Observatory, in a small, + one-storey house, built of bricks, and surrounded by a large garden; the + garden was once the property of the Horticultural Society, and had come + into the professor’s possession by inheritance. But since he studied + descriptive botany, and took no interest in the much more interesting + subjects of the physiology and morphology of plants, a science which was + as good as unknown in his youth, he was practically a stranger to living + nature. He allowed the garden with its many splendours to become a + wilderness, and finally let it to a gardener on condition that he and his + children should be allowed certain privileges. The son used the garden as + a park and enjoyed its beauty as he found it, without taking the trouble + to try and understand it scientifically. + </p> + <p> + One might compare the boy’s character to an ill-proportioned compensation + pendulum; it contained too much of the soft metal of the mother, not + enough of the hard metal of the father. Friction and irregular + oscillations were the natural consequences. Now he was full of sentiment, + now hard and sceptical. His mother’s death affected him beyond words. He + mourned her deeply, and she always lived in his memory as the + personification of all that was good and great and beautiful. + </p> + <p> + He wasted the summer following her death in brooding and novel-reading. + Grief, and to no small extent idleness, had shaken his whole nervous + system and quickened his imagination. His tears had been like warm April + showers falling on fruit trees, wakening them to a precocious burgeoning: + but alas! only too often the blossoms are doomed to wither and perish in a + frosty May night, before the fruit has had time to set. + </p> + <p> + He was fifteen years old and had therefore arrived at the age when + civilised man attains to manhood and is ripe to give life to a new + generation, but is prevented from doing so by his inability to maintain a + family. Consequently he was about to begin the ten years’ martyrdom which + a young man is called upon to endure in the struggle against an + overwhelming force of nature, before he is in a position to fulfil her + laws. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <p> + It is a warm afternoon about Whitsuntide. The appletrees are gorgeous in + their white splendour which nature has showered all over them with a + profuse hand. The breeze shakes the crowns and fills the air with pollen; + a part of it fulfils its destination and creates new life, a part sinks to + the ground and dies. What is a handful of pollen more or less in the + inexhaustible store-house of nature! The fertilised blossom casts off its + delicate petals which flutter to the ground and wither; they decay in the + rain and are ground to dust, to rise again through the sap and re-appear + as blossoms, and this time, perhaps, to become fruit. But now the struggle + begins: those which a kind fate has placed on the sunny side, thrive and + prosper; the seed bud swells, and if no frost intervenes, the fruit, in + due time, will set. But those which look towards the North, the poor + things which grow in the shadow of the others and never see the sun, are + predestined to fade and fall off; the gardener rakes them together and + carts them to the pig-sty. + </p> + <p> + Behold the apple-tree now, its branches laden with half-ripe fruit, + little, round, golden apples with rosy cheeks. A fresh struggle begins: if + all remain alive, the branches will not be able to bear their weight, the + tree will perish. A gale shakes the branches. It requires firm stems to + hold on. Woe to the weaklings! they are condemned to destruction. + </p> + <p> + A fresh danger! The apple-weevil appears upon the scene. It, too, has to + maintain life and to fulfil a duty towards its progeny. The grub eats its + way through the fruit to the stem and the apple falls to the ground. But + the dainty beetle chooses the strongest and soundest for its brood, + otherwise too many of the strong ones would be allowed to live, and + competition would become over-keen. + </p> + <p> + The hour of twilight, the gathering dusk, arouses the passionate instincts + of the beast-world. The night-crow crouches on the newly-dug flower-bed to + lure its mate. Which of the eager males shall carry the prize? Let them + decide the question! + </p> + <p> + The cat, sleek and warm, fresh from her evening milk, steals away from her + corner by the hearth and picks her way carefully among daffodils and + lilies, afraid lest the dew make her coat damp and ragged before her lover + joins her. She sniffs at the young lavender and calls. Her call is + answered by the black tom-cat which appears, broad-backed like a marten, + on the neighbour’s fence; but the gardener’s tortoise-shell approaches + from the cow-shed and the fight begins. Handfuls of the rich, black soil + are flying about in all directions, and the newly-planted radishes and + spinach plants are roughly awakened from their quiet sleep and dreams of + the future. The stronger of the two remains in possession of the field, + and the female awaits complacently the frenetic embraces of the victor. + The vanquished flies to engage in a new struggle in which, perhaps, + victory will smile on him. + </p> + <p> + Nature smiles, content, for she knows of no other sin than the sin against + her law; she is on the side of the strong for her desire is for strong + children, even though she should have to kill the “eternal ego” of the + insignificant individual. And there is no prudery, no hesitation, no fear + of consequences, for nature has plenty of food for all her children—except + mankind. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <p> + After supper he went for a walk in the garden while his father sat down at + his bed-room window to smoke a pipe and read the evening paper. He + strolled along the paths, revelling in the delicious odours which a plant + only exhales when it is in full bloom, and which is the finest and + strongest extract of etheric oils, containing in a condensed form the full + strength of the individual, destined to become the representative of the + species. He listened to the nuptial song of the insects above the lime + trees, which rings in our ears like a funeral dirge: he heard the purring + call of the night-crow; the ardent mewing of the cat, which sounds as if + death, and not life, were wooing; the humming note of the dung-beetle, the + fluttering of the large moths, the thin peeping of the bats. + </p> + <p> + He stopped before a bed of narcissus, gathered one of the while, starry + flowers, and inhaled its perfume until he felt the blood hammering in his + temples. He had never examined this flower minutely. But during the last + term they had read Ovid’s story of Narcissus. He had not discovered a + deeper meaning in the legend. What did it mean, this story of a youth who, + from unrequited love, turned his ardour upon himself and was consumed by + the flame when he fell in love with his own likeness seen in a well? As he + stood, examining the white, cup-shaped petals, pale as the cheeks of an + invalid with fine red lines such as one may see in the faces of + consumptives when a pitiless cough forces the blood into the extremest and + tiniest blood-vessels, he thought of a school-fellow, a young aristocrat, + who was a midshipman now; he looked like that. + </p> + <p> + When he had inhaled the scent of the flower for some time, the strong + odour of cloves disappeared and left but a disagreeable, soapy smell which + made him feel sick. + </p> + <p> + He sauntered on to where the path turned to the right and finally lost + itself in an avenue planted on both sides with elm-trees whose branches + had grown together and formed an arch overhead. In the semi-darkness, far + down the perspective, he could see a large green swing, suspended by + ropes, slowly moving backwards and forwards. A girl stood on the back + board, gently swinging herself by bending her knees and throwing her body + forward, while she clung, with arms raised high above her head, to the + ropes at her side. He recognised the gardener’s daughter, a girl who had + been confirmed last Easter and had just begun to wear long skirts. + To-night, however, she was dressed in one of her old dresses which barely + reached to her ankles. + </p> + <p> + The sight of the young man embarrassed her, for she remembered the + shortness of her skirt, but she nevertheless remained on the swing. He + advanced and looked at her. + </p> + <p> + “Go away, Mr. Theodore,” said the girl, giving the swing a vigorous push. + </p> + <p> + “Why should I?” answered the youth, who felt the draught of her fluttering + skirts on his throbbing temples. + </p> + <p> + “Because I want you to,” said the girl. + </p> + <p> + “Let me come up, too, and I’ll swing you, Gussie,” pleaded Theodore, + springing on to the board. + </p> + <p> + Now he was standing on the swing, facing her. And when they rose into the + air, he felt her skirts flapping against his legs, and when they + descended, he bent over her and looked into her eyes which were brilliant + with fear and enjoyment. Her thin cotton blouse fitted tightly and showed + every line of her young figure; her smiling lips were half-open, + displaying two rows of sound white teeth, which looked as if they would + like to bite or kiss him. + </p> + <p> + Higher and higher rose the swing, until it struck the topmost branches of + the maple. The girl screamed and fell forward, into his arms; he was + pushed over, on to the seat. The trembling of the soft warm body which + nestled closely in his arms, sent an electric shock through his whole + nervous system; a black veil descended before his eyes and he would have + let her go if her left shoulder had not been tightly pressed against his + right arm. + </p> + <p> + The speed of the swing slackened. She rose and sat on the seat facing him. + And thus they remained with downcast eyes, not daring to look one another + in the face. + </p> + <p> + When the swing stopped, the girl slipped off the seat and ran away as if + she were answering a call. Theodore was left alone. He felt the blood + surging in his veins. It seemed to him that his strength was redoubled. + But he could not grasp what had happened. He vaguely conceived himself as + an electrophor whose positive electricity, in discharging, had combined + with the negative. It had happened during a quite ordinary, to all + appearances chaste, contact with a young woman. He had never felt the same + emotion in wrestling, for instance, with his school-fellows in the + play-ground. He had come into contact with the opposite polarity of the + female sex and now he knew what it meant to be a man. For he was a man, + not a precocious boy, kicking over the traces; he was a strong, hardy, + healthy youth. + </p> + <p> + As he strolled along, up and down the garden paths, new thoughts formed in + his brain. Life looked at him with graver eyes, he felt conscious of a + sense of duty. But he was only fifteen years old. He was not yet confirmed + and many years would have to elapse before he would be considered an + independent member of the community, before he would be able to earn a + living for himself, let alone maintain a wife and family. He took life + seriously, the thought of light adventures never occurred to him. Women + were to him something sacred, his opposite pole, the supplement and + completion of himself. He was mature now, bodily and mentally, fit to + enter the arena of life and fight his way. What prevented him from doing + so? His education, which had taught him nothing useful; his social + position, which stood between him and a trade he might have learned. The + Church, which had not yet received his vow of loyalty to her priests; the + State, which was still waiting for his oath of allegiance to Bernadotte + and Nassau; the School, which had not yet trained him sufficiently to + consider him ripe for the University; the secret alliance of the upper + against the lower classes. A whole mountain of follies lay on him and his + young strength. Now that he knew himself to be a man, the whole system of + education seemed to him an institution for the mutilation of body and + soul. They must both be mutilated before he could be allowed to enter the + harem of the world, where manhood is considered a danger; he could find no + other excuse for it. And thus he sank back into his former state of + immaturity. He compared himself to a celery plant, tied up and put under a + flower-pot so as to make it as white and soft as possible, unable to put + forth green leaves in the sunshine, flower, and bear seed. + </p> + <p> + Wrapped in these thoughts he remained in the garden until the clock on the + nearest church tower struck ten. Then he turned towards the house, for it + was bed-time. But the front door was locked. The house-maid, a petticoat + thrown over her nightgown, let him in. A glimpse of her bare shoulders + roused him from his sentimental reveries; he tried to put his arm round + her and kiss her, for at the moment he was conscious of nothing but her + sex. But the maid had already disappeared, shutting the door with a bang. + Overwhelmed with shame he opened his window, cooled his head in a basin of + cold water and lighted his lamp. + </p> + <p> + When he had got into bed, he took up a volume of Arndt’s <i>Spiritual + Voices of the Morning</i>, a book which had belonged to his mother; he + read a chapter of it every evening to be on the safe side, for in the + morning his time was short. The book reminded him of the promise of + chastity given to his mother on her death-bed, and he felt a twinge of + conscience. A fly which had singed its wings on his lamp, and was now + buzzing round the little table by his bedside, turned his thoughts into + another channel; he closed the book and lit a cigarette. He heard his + father take off his boots in the room below, knock out his pipe against + the stove, pour out a glass of water and get ready to go to bed. He + thought how lonely he must be since he had become a widower. In days gone + by he had often heard the subdued voices of his parents through the thin + partition, in intimate conversation on matters on which they always + agreed; but now no voice was audible, nothing but the dead sounds which a + man makes in waiting upon himself, sounds which one must put side by side, + like the figures in a rebus, before one can understand their meaning. + </p> + <p> + He finished his cigarette, blew out the lamp and said the Lord’s Prayer in + an undertone, but he got no farther than the fifth petition. Then he fell + asleep. + </p> + <p> + He awoke from a dream in the middle of the night. He had dreamt that he + held the gardener’s daughter in his arms. He could not remember the + circumstances, for he was quite dazed, and fell asleep again directly. + </p> + <p> + On the following morning he was depressed and had a headache. He brooded + over the future which loomed before him threateningly and filled him with + dread. He realised with a pang how quickly the summer was passing, for the + end of the summer meant the degradation of school-life. Every thought of + his own would be stifled by the thoughts of others; there was no advantage + in being able to think independently; it required a fixed number of years + before one could reach one’s goal. It was like a journey on a good’s + train; the engine was bound to remain for a certain time in the stations, + and when the pressure of the steam became too strong, from want of + consumption of energy, a waste-pipe had to be opened. The Board had drawn + up the time-table and the train was not permitted to arrive at the + stations before its appointed time. That was the principal thing which + mattered. + </p> + <p> + The father noticed the boy’s pallor, but he put it down to grief over his + mother’s death. + </p> + <p> + Autumn came and with it the return to school. Theodore, by dint of much + novel-reading during the summer, and coming in this way, as it were, in + constant contact with grown-up people and their problems and struggles, + had come to look upon himself as a grown-up member of society. Now the + masters treated him with familiarity, the boys took liberties which + compelled him to repay them in kind. And this educational institution, + which was to ennoble him and make him fit to take his place in the + community, what did it teach him? How did it ennoble him? The compendiums, + one and all, were written under the control of the upper classes, for the + sole purpose of forcing the lower classes to look up to their betters. The + schoolmasters frequently reproached their pupils with ingratitude and + impressed on them their utter inability to realise, even faintly, the + advantage they enjoyed in receiving an education which so many of their + poorer fellow-creatures would always lack. No, indeed, the boys were not + sophisticated enough to see through the gigantic fraud and its advantages. + </p> + <p> + But did they ever find true joy, real pleasure in the subjects of their + studies for their own sakes? Never! Therefore the teachers had to appeal + incessantly to the lower passions of their pupils, to ambition, + self-interest, material advantages. + </p> + <p> + What a miserable make-believe school was! Not one of the boys believed + that he would reap any benefit from repeating the names and dates of hated + kings in their proper sequence, from learning dead languages, proving + axioms, defining “a matter of course,” and counting the anthers of plants + and the joints on the hindlegs of insects, to knowing the end no more + about them than their Latin names. How many long hours were wasted in the + vain attempt to divide an angle into three equal sections, a thing which + can be done so easily in a minute in an <i>unscientific</i> (that is to + say practical) way by using a graduator. + </p> + <p> + How they scorned everything practical! His sisters, who were taught French + from Ollendorf’s grammar, were able to speak the language after two years’ + study; but the college boys could not say a single sentence after six. + Ollendorf was a name which they pronounced with pity and contempt. It was + the essence of all that was stupid. + </p> + <p> + But when his sister asked for an explanation and enquired whether the + purpose of spoken language was not the expression of human thought, the + young sophist replied with a phrase picked up from one of the masters who + in his turn had borrowed it from Talleyrand. Language was invented to hide + one’s thoughts. This, of course, was beyond the horizon of a young girl + (how well men know how to hide their shortcomings), but henceforth she + believed her brother to be tremendously learned, and stopped arguing with + him. + </p> + <p> + And was there not even a worse stumbling-block in aesthetics, delusive and + deceptive, casting a veil of borrowed splendour and sham beauty over + everything? They sang of “The Knights’ Vigil of Light.” What knights’ + vigil? With patents of nobility and students’ certificates; false + testimonials, as they might have told themselves. Of light? That was to + say of the upper classes who had the greatest interest in keeping the + lower classes in darkness, a task in which they were ably assisted by + church and school. “And onward, onward, on the path of light!” + </p> + <p> + Things were always called by the wrong name. And if it so happened that a + light-bearer arose from the lower classes, everybody was ready and + prepared to extinguish his torch. Oh! youthful, healthy host of fighters! + How healthy they were, all these young men, enervated by idleness, + unsatisfied desires and ambitions, who scorned every man who had not the + means to pay for a University education! What splendid liars they were, + the poets of the upper classes! Were they the deceivers or the deceived? + </p> + <p> + What was the usual subject of the young men’s conversation? Their studies? + Never! Once in a way, perhaps, they would talk of certificates. No, their + conversation was of things obscene; of appointments with women; of + billiards and drink; of certain diseases which they had heard discussed by + their elder brothers. They lounged about in the afternoon and “held the + reviews,” and the best informed of them knew the name of the officer and + could tell the others where his mistress lived. + </p> + <p> + Once two members of the “Knights’ Vigil of Light,” had dined in the + company of two women on the terrace of a high-class restaurant in the + Zoological Gardens. For this offence they were expelled from school. They + were punished for their naïveté, not because their conduct was considered + vicious, for a year after they passed their examinations and went to the + University, gaining in this way a whole year; and when they had completed + their studies at Upsala, they were attached to the Embassy in one of the + capitals of Europe, to represent the United Kingdoms of Sweden and Norway. + </p> + <p> + In these surroundings Theodore spent the best part of his youth. He had + seen through the fraud, but was compelled to acquiesce! Again and again he + asked himself the question: What can I do? There was no answer. And so he + became an accessory and learned to hold his tongue. + </p> + <p> + His confirmation appeared to him to be very much on a level with his + school experience. A young minister, an ardent pietist, was to teach him + in four months Luther’s Catechism, regardless of the fact that he was well + versed in theology, exegesis and dogmatics, besides having read the New + Testament in Greek. Nevertheless the strict pietism, which demanded + absolute truth in thought and action, could not fail to make a great + impression on him. + </p> + <p> + When the catechumens were assembled for the first time, Theodore found + himself quite unexpectedly surrounded by a totally different class of boys + to whom he had been used at school. When he entered the assembly-room he + was met by the stare of something like a hundred inimical eyes. There were + tobacco binders, chimney sweeps, apprentices of all trades. They were on + bad terms and freely abused one another, but this enmity between the + different trades was only superficial; however much they quarrelled, they + yet held together. He seemed to breathe a strangely stifling atmosphere; + the hatred with which they greeted him was not unmixed with contempt, the + reverse of a certain respect or envy. He looked in vain for a friend, for + a companion, like-minded, dressed as he was. There was not a single one. + The parish was poor, the rich people sent their children to the German + church which was then the fashion. It was in the company of the children + of the people, the lower classes, that he was to approach the altar, as + their equal. He asked himself what it was that separated him from these + boys? Were they not, bodily, endowed with the same gifts as he? No doubt, + for every one of them earned his living, and some of them helped to keep + their parents. Were they less gifted, mentally? He did not think so, for + their remarks gave evidence of keen powers of observation; he would have + laughed at many of their witty remarks if he had not been conscious of his + superior caste. There was no definite line of demarcation between him and + the fools who were his school-fellows. But there was a line here Was it + the shabby clothes, the plain faces, the coarse hands, which formed the + barrier? Partly, he thought. Their plainness, especially, repulsed him. + But were they worse than others because they were plain? + </p> + <p> + He was carrying a foil, as he had a fencing lesson later on. He put it in + a corner of the room, hoping that it would escape attention. But it had + been seen already. Nobody knew what kind of a thing it really was, but + everybody recognised it as a weapon of some sort. Some of the boldest + busied themselves about the corner, so as to have a look at it. They + fingered the covering of the handle, scratched the guard with their nails, + bent the blade, handled the small leather ball. They were like hares + sniffing at a gun which had been lost in the wood. They did not understand + its use, but they knew it for something inimical, something with a hidden + meaning. Presently a belt-maker’s apprentice, whose brother was in the + Life Guards, joined the inquisitive throng and at once decided the + question: “Can’t you see that it is a sword, you fools?” he shouted, with + a look at Theodore. It was a respectful look, but a look which also hinted + at a secret understanding between them, which, correctly interpreted, + meant: You and I understand these things! But a young rope-maker, who had + once been a trumpeter in a military band, considered this giving of a + verdict without consulting him a personal slight and declared that he + “would be hanged if it wasn’t a rapier!” The consequence was a fight which + transformed the place into a bear-garden, dense with dust and re-echoing + with screams and yells. + </p> + <p> + The door opened and the minister stood on the threshold. He was a pale + young man, very thin, with watery blue eyes and a face disfigured by a + rash. He shouted at the boys. The wild beasts ceased fighting. He began + talking of the precious blood of Christ and the power of the Evil One over + the human heart. After a little while he succeeded in inducing the hundred + boys to sit down on the forms and chairs. But now he was quite out of + breath and the atmosphere was thick with dust. He glanced at the window + and said in a faint voice: “Open the sash!” This request re-awakened the + only half-subdued passions. Twenty-five boys made a rush for the window + and tried to seize the window cord. + </p> + <p> + “Go to your places at once!” screamed the minister, stretching out his + hand for his cane. + </p> + <p> + There was a momentary silence during which the minister tried to think of + a way of having the sash raised without a fight. + </p> + <p> + “You,” he said at last to a timid little fellow, “go and open the window!” + </p> + <p> + The small boy went to the window and tried to disentangle the window cord. + The others looked on in breathless silence, when suddenly a big lad, in + sailor’s clothes, who had just come home on the brig <i>Carl Johan</i>, + lost patience. + </p> + <p> + “The devil take me if I don’t show you what a lad can do,” he shouted, + throwing off his coat and jumping on the window sill; there was a flash + from his cutlass and the rope was cut. + </p> + <p> + “Cable’s cut!” he laughed, as the minister with a hysterical cry, + literally drove him to his seat. + </p> + <p> + “The rope was so entangled that there was nothing for it but to cut it,” + he assured him, as he sat down. + </p> + <p> + The minister was furious. He had come from a small town in the provinces + and had never conceived the possibility of so much sin, so much wickedness + and immorality. He had never come into contact with lads so far advanced + on the road to damnation. And he talked at great length of the precious + blood of Christ. + </p> + <p> + Not one of them understood what he said, for they did not realise that + they had fallen, since they had never bee different. The boys received his + words with coldness and indifference. + </p> + <p> + The minister rambled on and spoke of Christ’s precious wounds, but not one + of them took his words to heart, for not one of them was conscious of + having wounded Christ. He changed the subject and spoke of the devil, but + that was a topic so familiar to them that it made no impression. At last + he hit on the right thing. He began to talk of their confirmation which + was to take place in the coming spring. He reminded them of their parents, + anxious that their children should play a part in the life of the + community; when he went on to speak of employers who refused to employ + lads who had not been confirmed, his listeners became deeply interested at + once, and every one of them understood the great importance of the coming + ceremony. Now he was sincere, and the young minds grasped what he was + talking about; the noisiest among them became quiet. + </p> + <p> + The registration began. What a number of marriage certificates were + missing! How could the children come to Christ when their parents had not + been legally married? How could they approach the altar when their fathers + had been in prison? Oh! what sinners they were! + </p> + <p> + Theodore was deeply moved by the exhibition of so much shame and disgrace. + He longed to tear his thoughts away from the subject, but was unable to do + so. Now it was his turn to hand in his certificates and the minister read + out: son: Theodore, born on such and such a date; parents: professor and + knight ... a faint smile flickered like a feeble sunbeam over his face, he + gave him a friendly nod and asked: “And how is your dear father?” But when + he saw that the mother was dead (a fact of which he was perfectly well + aware) his face clouded over. “She was a child of God,” he said, as if he + were talking to himself, in a gushing, sympathetic, whining voice, but the + remark conveyed at the same time a certain reproach against the “dear + father,” who was only a professor and knight. After that Theodore could + go. + </p> + <p> + When he left the assembly-room he felt that he had gone through an almost + impossible experience. Were all those lads really depraved because they + used oaths and coarse language, as his companions, his father, his uncle, + and all the upper classes did at times? What did the minister mean when he + talked of immorality? They were more savage than the spoilt children of + the wealthy, but that was because they were more fully alive. It was + unfair to blame them for missing marriage certificates. True, his father + had never committed a theft, but there was no necessity for a man to steal + if he had an income of six thousand crowns and could please himself. The + act would be absurd or abnormal in such a case. + </p> + <p> + Theodore went back to school realising what it meant “to have received an + education”; here nobody was badgered for small faults. As little notice as + possible was taken of one’s own or one’s parent’s weaknesses, one was + among equals and understood one another. + </p> + <p> + After school one “held the reviews,” sneaked into a cafe and drank a + liqueur, and finally went to the fencing-room. He looked at the young + officers who treated him as their equal, observed all those young bloods + with their supple limbs, pleasant manners and smiling faces, every one of + them certain that a good dinner was awaiting him at home, and became + conscious of the existence of two worlds: an upper and an under-world. He + remembered the gloomy assembly-room and the wretched assembly he had just + left with a pang; all their wounds and hidden defects were mercilessly + exposed and examined through a magnifying-glass, so that the lower classes + might acquire that true humility failing which the upper classes cannot + enjoy their amiable weaknesses in peace. And for the first time something + jarring had come into this life. + </p> + <p> + However much Theodore was tossed about between his natural yearning for + the only half-realised temptations of the world, and his newly formed + desire to turn his back on this world and his mind heavenwards, he did not + break the promise given to his mother. The religious teaching which he and + the other catechumens received from the minister in the church, did not + fail to impress him deeply. He was often gloomy and wrapped in thought and + felt that life was not what it ought to be. He had a dim notion that once + upon a time a terrible crime had been committed, which it was now + everybody’s business to hide by practising countless deceptions; he + compared himself to a fly caught in a spider’s web: the more it struggled + to regain its freedom, the more it entangled itself, until at last it died + miserably, strangled by the cruel threads. + </p> + <p> + One evening—the minister scorned no trick likely to produce an + effect on his hard-headed pupils—they were having a lesson in the + choir. It was in January. Two gas jets lighted up the choir, illuminating + and distorting the marble figures on the altar. The whole of the large + church with its two barrel-vaults, which crossed one another, lay in + semi-darkness. In the background the shining organ pipes faintly reflected + the gas flames; above it the angels blowing their trumpets to summon the + sleepers before the judgment seat of their maker, looked merely like + sinister, threatening human figures above life size; the cloisters were + lost in complete darkness. + </p> + <p> + The minister had explained the seventh commandment. He had spoken of + immorality between married and unmarried people. He could not explain to + his pupils what immorality between husband and wife meant, although he was + a married man himself; but on the subject of immorality in all its other + aspects he was well-informed. He went on to the subject of self-abuse. As + he pronounced the word a rustling sound passed through the rows of young + men; they stared at him, with white cheeks and hollow eyes, as if a + phantom had appeared in their midst. As long as he kept to the tortures of + hell fire, they remained fairly indifferent, but when he took up a book + and read to them accounts of youths who had died at the age of twenty-five + of consumption of the spine, they collapsed in their seats, and felt as if + the floor were giving way beneath them! He told them the story of a young + boy who was committed to an asylum at the age of twelve, and died at the + age of fourteen, having found peace in the faith of his Redeemer. They saw + before their shrinking eyes a hundred corpses, washed and shrouded. “There + is but one remedy against this evil,” went on the minister, “the precious + wounds of Christ.” But how this remedy was to be used against sexual + precocity, he did not tell them. He admonished them not to go to dances, + to shun theatres and gaming-houses, and above all things, to avoid women; + that is to say to act in exact contradiction to their inclinations. That + this vice contradicts and utterly confounds he pronouncement of the + community that a man is not mature until he is twenty-one, was passed over + in silence. Whether it could be prevented by early marriages (supposing a + means of providing food for all instead of banquets for a few could be + found) remained an open question. The final issue was that one should + throw oneself into the arms of Christ, that is to say, go to church, and + leave the care of temporal things to the upper classes. + </p> + <p> + After this admonishment the minister requested the first five on the first + form to stay behind. He wished to speak to them in private. The first five + looked as if they had been sentenced to death. Their chests contracted; + they breathed with difficulty, and a careful observer might have noticed + that their hair had risen an inch at the roots and lay over their skulls + in damp strands like the hair of a corpse. Their eyes stared from their + blanched sockets like two round glass bullets set in leather, motionless, + not knowing whether to face the question with a bold front, or hide behind + an impudent lie. + </p> + <p> + After the prayer the hymn of Christ’s wounds was sung; to-night it sounded + like the singing of consumptives; every now and then it died away + altogether, or was interrupted by a dry cough, like the cough of a man who + is dying of thirst. Then they began to file out. One of the five attempted + to steal away, but the minister called him back. + </p> + <p> + It was a terrible moment. Theodore who sat on the first form was one of + the five. He felt sick at heart. Not because he was guilty of the offence + indicated, but because in his heart he considered it an insult to a man + thus to have to lay bare the most secret places of his soul. + </p> + <p> + The other four sat down, as far from each other as they could. The + belt-maker’s apprentice, who was one of them, tried to make a joke, but + the words refused to come. They saw themselves confronted by the + police-court, the prison, the hospital and, in the background, the asylum. + They did not know what was going to happen, but they felt instinctively + that a species of scourging awaited them. Their only comfort in their + distressing situation was the fact that <i>he</i>, Mr. Theodore, was one + of them. It was not clear to them why that fact should be a comfort, but + they knew intuitively that no evil would happen to the son of a professor. + </p> + <p> + “Come along, Wennerstroem,” said the minister, after he had lighted the + gas in the vestry. + </p> + <p> + Wennerstroem went and the door closed behind him. The four remained seated + on their forms, vainly trying to discover a comfortable position for their + limbs. + </p> + <p> + After a while Wennerstroem returned, with red eyes, trembling with + excitement; he immediately went down the corridor and out into the night. + </p> + <p> + When he stood in the churchyard which lay silent under a heavy cover of + snow, he recapitulated all that had happened in the vestry. The minister + had asked him whether he had sinned? No, he had not. Did he have dreams? + Yes! He was told that dreams were equally sinful, because they proved that + the heart was wicked, and God looked at the heart. “He trieth the heart + and reins, and on the last day he will judge every one of us for every + sinful thought, and dreams are thoughts. Christ has said: Give me your + heart, my son! Go to Him! Pray, pray, pray! Whatsoever is chaste, + whatsoever is pure, whatsoever is lovely—that is He. The alpha and + the omega, life and happiness. Chasten the flesh and be strong in prayer. + Go in the name of the Lord and sin no more!” + </p> + <p> + He felt indignant, but he was also crushed. In vain did he struggle to + throw off his depression, he had not been taught sufficient common-sense + at school to use it as a weapon against this Jesuitical sophistry. It was + true, his knowledge of psychology enabled him to modify the statement that + dreams are thoughts; dreams are fancies, he mused, creations of the + imagination; but God has no regard for words! Logic taught him that there + was something unnatural in his premature desires. He could not marry at + the age of sixteen, since he was unable to support a wife; but why he was + unable to support a wife, although he felt himself to be a man, was a + problem which he could not solve. However anxious he might be to get + married, the laws of society which are made by the upper classes and + protected by bayonets, would prevent him. Consequently nature must have + been sinned against in some way, for a man was mature long before he was + able to earn a living. It must be degeneracy. His imagination must be + degenerate; it was for him to purify it by prayer and sacrifice. + </p> + <p> + When he arrived home, he found his father and sisters at supper. He was + ashamed to sit down with them, for he felt degraded. His father asked him, + as usual, whether the date of the confirmation had been fixed. Theodore + did not know. He touched no food, pretending that he was not well; the + truth was that he did not dare to eat any supper. He went into his bedroom + and read an essay by Schartau which the minister had lent him. The subject + was the vanity of reason. And here, just here, where all his hopes of + arriving at a clear understanding were centred, the light failed. Reason + which he had dared to hope would some day guide him out of the darkness + into the light, reason, too, was sin; the greatest of all sins, for it + questioned God’s very existence, tried to understand what was not meant to + be understood. Why <i>it</i> was not meant to be understood, was not + explained; probably it was because if <i>it</i> had been understood the + fraud would have been discovered. + </p> + <p> + He rebelled no longer, but surrendered himself. Before going to bed he + read two <i>Morning Voices</i> from Arndt, recited the Creed, the Lord’s + Prayer and the Blessing. He felt very hungry; a fact which he realised + with a certain spiteful pleasure, for it seemed to him that his enemy was + suffering. + </p> + <p> + With these thoughts he fell asleep. He awoke in the middle of the night. + He had dreamt of a champagne supper in the company of a girl. And the + whole terrible evening arose fresh in his memory. + </p> + <p> + He leapt out of bed with a bound, threw his sheets and blankets on the + floor and lay down to sleep on the bare mattress, covering himself with + nothing but a thin coverlet. He was cold and hungry, but he must subdue + the devil. Again he repeated the Lord’s Prayer, with additions of his own. + By and by his thoughts grew confused, the strained expression of his + features relaxed, a smile softened the expression of his mouth; lovely + figures appeared before him, serene and smiling, he heard subdued voices, + half-stifled laughter, a few bars from a waltz, saw sparkling glasses and + frank and merry faces with candid eyes, which met his own unabashed; + suddenly a curtain was parted in the middle; a charming little face peeped + through the red silk draperies, with smiling lips and dancing eyes; the + slender throat is bare, the beautiful sloping shoulders look as if they + had been modelled by a caressing hand; she holds out her arms and he draws + her to his thumping heart. + </p> + <p> + The clock was striking three. Again he had been worsted in the fight. + </p> + <p> + Determined to win, he picked up the mattress and threw it out of the bed. + Then he knelt on the cold floor and fervently prayed to God for strength, + for he felt that he was indeed wrestling with the devil. When he had + finished his prayer he lay down on the bare frame, and with a feeling of + satisfaction felt the ropes and belting cutting into his arms and shins. + </p> + <p> + He awoke in the morning in a high fever. + </p> + <p> + He was laid up for six weeks. When he arose from his bed of sickness, he + felt better than he had ever felt before. The rest, the good food and the + medicine had increased his strength, and the struggle was now twice as + hard. But he continued to struggle. + </p> + <p> + His confirmation took place in the spring. The moving scene in which the + lower classes promise on oath never to interfere with these things which + the upper classes consider their privilege, made a lasting impression on + him. It didn’t trouble him that the minister offered him wine bought from + the wine-merchant Högstedt at sixty-five öre the pint, and wafers from + Lettstroem, the baker, at one crown a pound, as the flesh and blood of the + great agitator Jesus of Nazareth, who was done to death nineteen hundred + years ago. He didn’t think about it, for one didn’t think in those days, + one had emotions. + </p> + <p> + A year after his confirmation he passed his final examination. The smart + little college cap was a source of great pleasure to him; without being + actually conscious of it, he felt that he, as a member of the upper + classes, had received a charter. They were not a little proud of their + knowledge, too, these young men, for the masters had pronounced them + “mature.” The conceited youths! If at least they had mastered all the + nonsense of which they boasted! If anybody had listened to their + conversation at the banquet given in their honour, it would have been a + revelation to him. They declared openly that they had not acquired five + per cent. of the knowledge which ought to have been in their possession; + they assured everybody who had ears to listen that it was a miracle that + they had passed; the uninitiated would not have believed a word of it. And + some of the young masters, now that the barrier between pupil and teacher + was removed, and simulation was no longer necessary, swore solemnly, with + half-intoxicated gestures, that there was not a single master in the whole + school who would not have been plucked. A sober person could not help + drawing the conclusion that the examination was like a line which could be + drawn at will between upper and lower classes; and then he saw in the + miracle nothing but a gigantic fraud. + </p> + <p> + It was one of the masters who, sipping a glass of punch, maintained that + only an idiot could imagine that a human brain could remember at the same + time: the three thousand dates mentioned in history; the names of the five + thousand towns situated in all parts of the world; the names of six + hundred plants and seven hundred animals; the bones in the human body, the + stones which form the crust of the earth, all theological disputes, one + thousand French words, one thousand English, one thousand German, one + thousand Latin, one thousand Greek, half a million rules and exceptions to + the rules: five hundred mathematical, physical, geometrical, chemical + formulas. He was willing to prove that in order to be capable of such a + feat the brain would have to be as large as the cupola of the Observatory + at Upsala. Humboldt, he went on to say, finally forgot his tables, and the + professor of astronomy at Lund had been unable to divide two whole numbers + of six figures each. The newly-fledged under-graduates imagined that they + knew six languages, and yet they knew no more than five thousand words at + most of the twenty thousand which composed their mother tongue. And hadn’t + he seen how they cheated? Oh! he knew all their tricks! He had seen the + dates written on their finger nails; he had watched them consulting books + under cover of their desks, he had heard them whispering to one another! + But, he concluded, what is one to do? Unless one closes an eye to these + things, the supply of students is bound to come to an end. During the + summer Theodore remained at home, spending much of his time in the garden. + He brooded over the problem of his future; what profession was he to + choose? He had gained so much insight into the methods of the huge + Jesuitical community which, under the name of the upper classes, + constituted society, that he felt dissatisfied with the world and decided + to enter the Church to save himself from despair. And yet the world + beckoned to him. It lay before him, fair and bright, and his young, + fermenting blood yearned for life. He spent himself in the struggle and + his idleness added to his torments. + </p> + <p> + Theodore’s increasing melancholy and waning health began to alarm his + father. He had no doubt about the cause, but he could not bring himself to + talk to his son on such a delicate subject. + </p> + <p> + One Sunday afternoon the Professor’s brother who was an officer in the + Pioneers, called. They were sitting in the garden, sipping their coffee. + </p> + <p> + “Have you noticed the change in Theodore?” asked the Professor. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, his time has come,” answered the Captain. + </p> + <p> + “I believe it has come long ago.” + </p> + <p> + “I wish you’d talk to him, I can’t do it.” + </p> + <p> + “If I were a bachelor, I should play the part of the uncle,” said the + Captain; “as it is, I’ll ask Gustav to do it. The boy must see something + of life, or he’ll go wrong. Hot stuff these Wennerstroems, what?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said the Professor, “I was a man at fifteen, but I had a + school-friend who was never confirmed because he was a father at + thirteen.” + </p> + <p> + “Look at Gustav! Isn’t he a fine fellow? I’m hanged if he isn’t as broad + across the back as an old captain! He’s a handful!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” answered the Professor, “he costs me a lot, but after all, I’d + rather pay than see the boy running any risks. I wish you’d ask Gustav to + take Theodore about with him a little, just to rouse him.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! with pleasure!” answered the Captain. + </p> + <p> + And so the matter was settled. + </p> + <p> + One evening in July, when the summer is in its prime and all the blossoms + which the spring has fertilised ripen into fruit, Theodore was sitting in + his bed-room, waiting. He had pinned a text against his wall. “Come to + Jesus,” it said, and it was intended as a hint to the lieutenant not to + argue with him when he occasionally came home from barracks for a few + minutes. Gustav was of a lively disposition, “a handful,” as his uncle had + said. He wasted no time in brooding. He had promised to call for Theodore + at seven o’clock; they were going to make arrangements for the celebration + of the professor’s birthday. Theodore’s secret plan was to convert his + brother, and Gustav’s equally secret intention was to make his younger + brother take a more reasonable view of life. + </p> + <p> + Punctually at seven o’clock, a cab stopped before the house, (the + lieutenant invariably arrived in a cab) and immediately after Theodore + heard the ringing of his spurs and the rattling of his sword on the + stairs. + </p> + <p> + “Good evening, you old mole,” said the elder brother with a laugh. He was + the picture of health and youth. His highly-polished Hessian boots + revealed a pair of fine legs, his tunic outlined the loins of a + cart-horse; the golden bandolier of his cartridge box made his chest + appear broader and his sword-belt showed off a pair of enormous thighs. + </p> + <p> + He glanced at the text and grinned, but said nothing. + </p> + <p> + “Come along, old man, let’s be off to Bellevue! We’ll call on the gardener + there and make arrangements for the old man’s birthday. Put on your hat, + and come, old chap!” + </p> + <p> + Theodore tried to think of an excuse, but the brother took him by the arm, + put a hat on his head, back to front, pushed a cigarette between his lips + and opened the door. Theodore felt like a fish out of water, but he went + with his brother. + </p> + <p> + “To Bellevue!” said the lieutenant to the cab-driver, “and mind you make + your thoroughbreds fly!” + </p> + <p> + Theodore could not help being amused. It would never have occurred to him + to address an elderly married man, like the cabman, with so much + familiarity. + </p> + <p> + On the way the lieutenant talked of everything under the sun and stared at + every pretty girl they passed. + </p> + <p> + They met a funeral procession on its return from the cemetery. + </p> + <p> + “Did you notice that devilish pretty girl in the last coach?” asked + Gustav. + </p> + <p> + Theodore had not seen her and did not want to see her. + </p> + <p> + They passed an omnibus full of girls of the barmaid type. The lieutenant + stood up, unconcernedly, in the public thoroughfare, and kissed his hands + to them. He really behaved like a madman. + </p> + <p> + The business at Bellevue was soon settled. On their return the cab-driver + drove them, without waiting for an order, to “The Equerry,” a restaurant + where Gustav was evidently well-known. + </p> + <p> + “Let’s go and have something to eat,” said the lieutenant, pushing his + brother out of the cab. + </p> + <p> + Theodore was fascinated. He was no abstainer and saw nothing wrong in + entering a public-house, although it never occurred to him to do so. He + followed, though not without a slight feeling of uneasiness. + </p> + <p> + They were received in the hall by two girls. “Good evening, little doves,” + said the lieutenant, and kissed them both on the lips. “Let me introduce + you to my learned brother; he’s very young and innocent, not at all like + me; what do you say, Jossa?” + </p> + <p> + The girls looked shyly at Theodore, who did not know which way to turn. + His brother’s language appeared to him unutterably impudent. + </p> + <p> + On their way upstairs they met a dark-haired little girl, who had + evidently been crying; she looked quiet and modest and made a good + impression on Theodore. + </p> + <p> + The lieutenant did not kiss her, but he pulled out his handkerchief and + dried her eyes. Then he ordered an extravagant supper. + </p> + <p> + They were in a bright and pretty room, hung with mirrors and containing a + piano, a perfect room for banquetting. The lieutenant opened the piano + with his sword, and before Theodore knew where he was, he was sitting on + the music-stool, and his hands were resting on the keyboard. + </p> + <p> + “Play us a waltz,” commanded the lieutenant, and Theodore played a waltz. + The lieutenant took off his sword and danced with Jossa; Theodore heard + his spurs knocking against the legs of the chairs and tables. Then he + threw himself on the sofa and shouted: + </p> + <p> + “Come here, ye slaves, and fan me!” + </p> + <p> + Theodore began to play softly and presently he was absorbed in the music + of Gounod’s <i>Faust</i>. He did not dare to turn round. + </p> + <p> + “Go and kiss him,” whispered the brother. + </p> + <p> + But the girls felt shy. They were almost afraid of him and his melancholy + music. + </p> + <p> + The boldest of them, however, went up to the piano. + </p> + <p> + “You are playing from the Freischütz, aren’t you?” she asked. + </p> + <p> + “No,” said Theodore, politely, “I’m playing Gounod’s <i>Faust</i>.” + </p> + <p> + “Your brother looks frightfully respectable,” said the little dark one, + whose name was Rieke; “he’s different to you, you old villain.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! well, he’s going into the Church,” whispered the lieutenant. + </p> + <p> + These words made a great impression on the girls, and henceforth they only + kissed the lieutenant when Theodore’s back was turned, and looked at + Theodore shyly and apprehensively, like fowls at a chained mastiff. + </p> + <p> + Supper appeared, a great number of courses. There were eighteen dishes, + not counting the hot ones. + </p> + <p> + Gustav poured out the liqueurs. + </p> + <p> + “Your health, you old hypocrite!” he laughed. + </p> + <p> + Theodore swallowed the liqueur. A delicious warmth ran through his limbs, + a thin, warm veil fell over his eyes, he felt ravenous like a starving + beast. What a banquet it was! The fresh salmon with its peculiar flavour, + and the dill with its narcotic aroma; the radishes which seem to scrape + the throat and call for beer; the small beef-steaks and sweet Portuguese + onions, which made him think of dancing girls; the fried lobster which + smelt of the sea; the chicken stuffed with parsley which reminded him of + the gardener, and the first gerkins with their poisonous flavour of + verdigris which made such a jolly, crackling sound between his crunching + teeth. The porter flowed through his veins like hot streams of lava; they + drank champagne after the strawberries; a waitress brought the foaming + drink which bubbled in the glasses like a fountain. They poured out a + glass for her. And then they talked of all sorts of things. + </p> + <p> + Theodore sat there like a tree in which the sap is rising. He had eaten a + good supper and felt as if a whole volcano was seething in his inside. New + thoughts, new emotions, new ideas, new points of view fluttered round his + brow like butterflies. He went to the piano and played, he himself knew + not what. The ivory keys under his hands were like a heap of bones from + which his spirit drew life and melody. + </p> + <p> + He did not know how long he had been playing, but when he turned, round he + saw his brother entering the room. He looked like a god, radiating life + and strength. Behind him came Rieke with a bowl of punch, and immediately + after all the girls came upstairs. The lieutenant drank to each one of + them separately; Theodore found that everything was as it should be and + finally became so bold that he kissed Rieke on the shoulder. But she + looked annoyed and drew away from him, and he felt ashamed. + </p> + <p> + When Theodore found himself alone in his room, he had a feeling as if the + whole world were turned upside down. He tore the text from the wall, not + because he no longer believed in Jesus, but because its being pinned + against the wall struck him as a species of bragging. He was amazed to + find that religion sat on him as loosely as a Sunday suit, and he asked + himself whether it was not unseemly to go about during the whole week in + Sunday clothes. After all he was but an ordinary, commonplace person with + whom he was well content, and he came to the conclusion that he had a + better chance of living in peace with himself if he lived a simple, + unpretentious, unassuming life. + </p> + <p> + He slept soundly during the night, undisturbed by dreams. + </p> + <p> + When he arose on the following morning, his pale cheeks looked fuller and + there was a new gladness in his heart. He went out for a walk and suddenly + found himself in the country. The thought struck him that he might go to + the restaurant and look up the girls. He went into the large room; there + he found Rieke and Jossa alone, in morning dresses, snubbing gooseberries. + Before he knew what he was doing, he was sitting at the table beside them + with a pair of scissors in his hand, helping them. They talked of + Theodore’s brother and the pleasant evening they had spent together. Not a + single loose remark was made. They were just like a happy family; surely + he had fallen in good hands, he was among friends. + </p> + <p> + When they had finished with the gooseberries, he ordered coffee and + invited the girls to share it with him. Later on the proprietress came and + read the paper to them. He felt at home. + </p> + <p> + He repeated his visit. One afternoon he went upstairs, to look for Rieke. + She was sewing a seam. Theodore asked her whether he was in her way. “Not + at all,” she replied, “on the contrary.” They talked of his brother who + was away at camp, and would be away for another two months. Presently he + ordered some punch and their intimacy grew. + </p> + <p> + On another occasion Theodore met her in the Park. She was gathering + flowers. They both sat down in the grass. She was wearing a light summer + dress, the material of which was so thin that it plainly revealed her + slight girlish figure. He put his arms round her waist and kissed her. She + returned his kisses and he drew her to him in a passionate embrace; but + she tore herself away and told him gravely that if he did not behave + himself she would never meet him again. + </p> + <p> + They went on meeting one another for two months. Theodore had fallen in + love with her. He had long and serious conversations with her on the most + sacred duties of life, on love, on religion, on everything, and + between-whiles he spoke to her of his passion. But she invariably + confounded him with his own arguments. Then he felt ashamed of having + harboured base thoughts of so innocent a girl, and finally his passion was + transformed into admiration for this poor little thing, who had managed to + keep herself unspotted in the midst of temptation. + </p> + <p> + He had given up the idea of going into the Church; he determined to take + the doctor’s degree and—who knows—perhaps marry Rieke. He read + poetry to her while she did needlework. She let him kiss her as much as he + liked, she allowed him to fondle and caress her; but that was the limit. + </p> + <p> + At last his brother returned from camp. He immediately ordered a banquet + at “The Equerry”; Theodore was invited. But he was made to play all the + time. He was in the middle of a waltz, to which nobody danced, when he + happened to look round; he was alone. He rose and went into the corridor, + passed a long row of doors, and at last came to a bed-room. There he saw a + sight which made him turn round, seize his hat and disappear into the + darkness. + </p> + <p> + It was dawn when he reached his own bed-room, alone, annihilated, robbed + of his faith in life, in love, and, of course, in women, for to him there + was but one woman in the world, and that was Rieke from “The Equerry.” On + the fifteenth of September he went to Upsala to study theology. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <p> + The years passed. His sound common-sense was slowly extinguished by all + the nonsense with which he had to fill his brain daily and hourly. But at + night he was powerless to resist. Nature burst her bonds and took by force + what rebellious man denied her. He lost his health; all his skull bones + were visible in his haggard face, his complexion was sallow and his skin + looked damp and clammy; ugly pimples appeared between the scanty locks of + his beard. His eyes were without lustre, his hands so emaciated that the + joints seemed to poke through the skin. He looked like the illustration to + an essay on human vice, and yet he lived a perfectly pure life. + </p> + <p> + One day the professor of Christian Ethics, a married man with very strict + ideas on morality, called on him and asked him pointblank whether he had + anything on his conscience; if so, he advised him to make a clean breast + of it. Theodore answered that he had nothing to confess, but that he was + unhappy. Thereupon the professor exhorted him to watch and pray and be + strong. + </p> + <p> + His brother had written him a long letter, begging him not to take a + certain stupid matter too much to heart. He told him that it was absurd to + take a girl seriously. His philosophy, and he had always found it + answering admirably, was to pay debts incurred and go; to play while one + was young, for the gravity of life made itself felt quite soon enough. + Marriage was nothing but a civil institution for the protection of the + children. There was plenty of time for it. + </p> + <p> + Theodore replied at some length in a letter imbued with true Christian + sentiment, which the lieutenant left unanswered. + </p> + <p> + After passing his first examination in the spring, Theodore was obliged to + spend a summer at Sköfde, in order to undergo the cold water cure. In the + autumn he returned to Upsala. His newly-regained strength was merely so + much fresh fuel to the fire. + </p> + <p> + Matters grew worse and worse. His hair had grown so thin that the scalp + was plainly visible. He walked with dragging footsteps and whenever his + fellow students met him in the street, they cut him as if he were + possessed of all the vices. He noticed it and shunned them in his turn. He + only left his rooms in the evening. He did not dare to go to bed at night. + The iron which he had taken to excess, had ruined his digestion, and in + the following summer the doctors sent him to Karlsbad. + </p> + <p> + On his return to Upsala, in the autumn, a rumour got abroad, an ugly + rumour, which hung over the town like a black cloud. It was as if a drain + had been left open and men were suddenly reminded that the town, that + splendid creation of civilisation, was built over a sea of corruption, + which might at any moment burst its bonds and poison the inhabitants. It + was said that Theodore Wennerstroem, in a paroxysm of passion had + assaulted one of his friends, and the rumour did not lie. + </p> + <p> + His father went to Upsala and had an interview with the Dean of the + Theological Faculty. The professor of pathology was present. What was to + be done? The doctor remained silent. They pressed him for his opinion. + </p> + <p> + “Since you ask me,” he said, “I must give you an answer; but you know as + well as I do that there is but one remedy.” + </p> + <p> + “And that is?” asked the theologian. + </p> + <p> + “Need you ask?” replied the doctor. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said the theologian, who was a married man. “Surely, nature does + not require immorality from a man?” + </p> + <p> + The father said that he quite understood the case, but that he was afraid + of making recommendations to his son, on account of the risks the latter + would run. + </p> + <p> + “If he can’t take care of himself he must be a fool,” said the doctor. + </p> + <p> + The Dean requested them to continue such an agitating conversation in a + more suitable place.... He himself had nothing more to add. + </p> + <p> + This ended the matter. + </p> + <p> + Since Theodore was a member of the upper classes the scandal was hushed + up. A few years later he passed his final, and was sent by the doctor to + Spa. The amount of quinine which he had taken had affected his knees and + he walked with two sticks. At Spa he looked so ill that he was a + conspicuous figure even in a crowd of invalids. + </p> + <p> + But an unmarried woman of thirty-five, a German, took compassion on the + unhappy man. She spent many hours with him in a lonely summer arbour in + the park, discussing the problems of life. She was a member of a big + evangelical society, whose object was the raising of the moral standard. + She showed him prospectuses for newspapers and magazines, the principal + mission of which was the suppression of prostitution. + </p> + <p> + “Look at me,” she said, “I am thirty-five years old and enjoy excellent + health! What fools’ talk it is to say that immorality is a necessary evil. + I have watched and fought a good fight for Christ’s sake.” + </p> + <p> + The young clergyman silently compared her well-developed figure, her large + hips, with his own wasted body. + </p> + <p> + “What a difference there is between human beings in this world,” was his + unspoken comment. + </p> + <p> + In the autumn the Rev. Theodore Wennerstroem and Sophia Leidschütz, + spinster, were engaged to be married. + </p> + <p> + “Saved!” sighed the father, when the news reached him in his house at + Stockholm. + </p> + <p> + “I wonder how it will end,” thought the brother in his barracks. “I’m + afraid that my poor Theodore is ‘one of those Asra who die when they + love.’” + </p> + <p> + Theodore Wennerstroem was married. Nine months after the wedding his wife + presented him with a boy who suffered from rickets—another thirteen + months and Theodore Wennerstroem had breathed his last. + </p> + <p> + The doctor who filled up the certificate of death, looked at the fine + healthy woman, who stood weeping by the small coffin which contained the + skeleton of her young husband of not much over twenty years. + </p> + <p> + “The plus was too great, the minus too small,” he thought, “and therefore + the plus devoured the minus.” + </p> + <p> + But the father, who received the news of his son’s death on a Sunday, sat + down to read a sermon. When he had finished, he fell into a brown study. + </p> + <p> + “There must be something very wrong with a world where virtue is rewarded + with death,” he thought. + </p> + <p> + And the virtuous widow, <i>née</i> Leidschütz, had two more husbands and + eight children, wrote pamphlets on overpopulation and immorality. But her + brother-in-law called her a cursed woman who killed her husbands. + </p> + <p> + The anything but virtuous lieutenant married and was father of six + children. He got promotion and lived happily to the end of his life. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0004" id="link2H_4_0004"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + LOVE AND BREAD + </h2> + <p> + The assistant had not thought of studying the price of wheat before he + called on the major to ask him for the hand of his daughter; but the major + had studied it. + </p> + <p> + “I love her,” said the assistant. + </p> + <p> + “What’s your salary?” said the old man. + </p> + <p> + “Well, twelve hundred crowns, at present; but we love one another....” + </p> + <p> + “That has nothing to do with me; twelve hundred crowns is not enough.” + </p> + <p> + “And then I make a little in addition to my salary, and Louisa knows that + my heart....” + </p> + <p> + “Don’t talk nonsense! How much in addition to your salary?” + </p> + <p> + He seized paper and pencil. + </p> + <p> + “And my feelings....” + </p> + <p> + “How much in addition to your salary?” + </p> + <p> + And he drew hieroglyphics on the blotting paper. + </p> + <p> + “Oh! We’ll get on well enough, if only....” + </p> + <p> + “Are you going to answer my question or not? How much in addition to your + salary? Figures! figures, my boy! Facts!” + </p> + <p> + “I do translations at ten crowns a sheet; I give French lessons, I am + promised proof-correcting....” + </p> + <p> + “Promises aren’t facts! Figures, my boy! Figures! Look here, now, I’ll put + it down. What are you translating?” + </p> + <p> + “What am I translating? I can’t tell you straight off.” + </p> + <p> + “You can’t tell me straight off? You are engaged on a translation, you + say; can’t you tell me what it is? Don’t talk such rubbish!” + </p> + <p> + “I am translating Guizot’s <i>History of Civilisation</i>, twenty-five + sheets.” + </p> + <p> + “At ten crowns a sheet makes two hundred and fifty crowns. And then?” + </p> + <p> + “And then? How can I tell beforehand?” + </p> + <p> + “Indeed, can’t you tell beforehand? But you ought to know. You seem to + imagine that being married simply means living together and amusing + yourselves! No, my dear boy, there will be children, and children require + feeding and clothing.” + </p> + <p> + “There needn’t be babies directly, if one loves <i>as we love</i> one + another.” + </p> + <p> + “How the dickens do you love one another?” + </p> + <p> + “<i>As we love</i> one another.” He put his hand on his waistcoat. + </p> + <p> + “And won’t there be any children if people love as you love? You must be + mad! But you are a decent, respectable member of society, and therefore + I’ll give my consent; but make good use of the time, my boy, and increase + your income, for hard times are coming. The price of wheat is rising.” + </p> + <p> + The assistant grew red in the face when he heard the last words, but his + joy at the old man’s consent was so great that he seized his hand and + kissed it. Heaven knew how happy he was! When he walked for the first time + down the street with his future bride on his arm, they both radiated + light; it seemed to them that the passers-by stood still and lined the + road in honour of their triumphal march; and they walked along with proud + eyes, squared shoulders and elastic steps. + </p> + <p> + In the evening he called at her house; they sat down in the centre of the + room and read proofs; she helped him. “He’s a good sort,” chuckled the old + man. When they had finished, he took her in his arms and said: “Now we + have earned three crowns,” and then he kissed her. On the following + evening they went to the theatre and he took her home in a cab, and that + cost twelve crowns. + </p> + <p> + Sometimes, when he ought to have given a lesson in the evening, he (is + there anything a man will not do for love’s sake?) cancelled his lesson + and took her out for a walk instead. + </p> + <p> + But the wedding-day approached. They were very busy. They had to choose + the furniture. They began with the most important purchases. Louisa had + not intended to be present when he bought the bedroom furniture, but when + it came to the point she went with him. They bought two beds, which were, + of course, to stand side by side. The furniture had to be walnut, every + single piece real walnut. And they must have spring mattresses covered + with red and white striped tick, and bolsters filled with down; and two + eiderdown quilts, exactly alike. Louisa chose blue, because she was very + fair. + </p> + <p> + They went to the best stores. They could not do without a red hanging-lamp + and a Venus made of plaster of Paris. Then they bought a dinner-service; + and six dozen differently shaped glasses with cut edges; and knives and + forks, grooved and engraved with their initials. And then the kitchen + utensils! Mama had to accompany them to see to those. + </p> + <p> + And what a lot he had to do besides! There were bills to accept, journeys + to the banks and interviews with tradespeople and artisans; a flat had to + be found and curtains had to be put up. He saw to everything. Of course he + had to neglect his work; but once he was married, he would soon make up + for it. + </p> + <p> + They were only going to take two rooms to begin with, for they were going + to be frightfully economical. And as they were only going to have two + rooms, they could afford to furnish them well. He rented two rooms and a + kitchen on the first floor in Government Street, for six hundred crowns. + When Louisa remarked that they might just as well have taken three rooms + and a kitchen on the fourth floor for five hundred crowns, he was a little + embarrassed; but what did it matter if only they loved one another? Yes, + of course, Louisa agreed, but couldn’t they have loved one another just as + well in four rooms at a lower rent, as in three at a higher? Yes, he + admitted that he had been foolish, but what <i>did</i> it matter so long + as they loved one another? + </p> + <p> + The rooms were furnished. The bed-room looked like a little temple. The + two beds stood side by side, like two carriages. The rays of the sun fell + on the blue eiderdown quilt, the white, white sheets and the little + pillow-slips which an elderly maiden aunt had embroidered with their + monogram; the latter consisted of two huge letters, formed of flowers, + joined together in one single embrace, and kissing here and there, + wherever they touched, at the corners. The bride had her own little + alcove, which was screened off by a Japanese screen. The drawing-room, + which was also dining-room, study and morning-room, contained her piano, + (which had cost twelve hundred crowns) his writing-table with twelve + pigeon-holes, (every single piece of it real walnut) a pier-glass, + armchairs; a sideboard and a dining-table. “It looks as if nice people + lived here,” they said, and they could not understand why people wanted a + separate dining-room, which always looked so cheerless with its cane + chairs. + </p> + <p> + The wedding took place on a Saturday. Sunday dawned, the first day of + their married life. Oh! what a life it was! Wasn’t it lovely to be + married! Wasn’t marriage a splendid institution! One was allowed one’s own + way in everything, and parents and relations came and congratulated one + into the bargain. + </p> + <p> + At nine o’clock in the morning their bedroom was still dark. He wouldn’t + open the shutters to let in daylight, but re-lighted the red lamp which + threw its bewitching light on the blue eiderdown, the white sheets, a + little crumpled now, and the Venus made of plaster of Paris, who stood + there rosy-red and without shame. And the red light also fell on his + little wife who nestled in her pillows with a look of contrition, and yet + so refreshed as if she had never slept so well in all her life. There was + no traffic in the street to-day for it was Sunday, and the church-bells + were calling people to the morning service with exulting, eager voices, as + if they wanted all the world to come to church and praise Him who had + created men and women. + </p> + <p> + He whispered to his little bride to shut her eyes so that he might get up + and order breakfast. She buried her head in the pillows, while he slipped + on his dressing-gown and went behind the screen to dress. + </p> + <p> + A broad radiant path of sunlight lay on the sitting-room floor; he did not + know whether it was spring or summer, autumn or winter; he only knew that + it was Sunday! + </p> + <p> + His bachelor life was receding into the background like something ugly and + dark; the sight of his little home stirred his heart with a faint + recollection of the home of his childhood, and at the same time held out a + glorious promise for the future. + </p> + <p> + How strong he felt! The future appeared to him like a mountain coming to + meet him. He would breathe on it and the mountain would fall down at his + feet like sand; he would fly away, far above gables and chimneys, holding + his little wife in his arm. + </p> + <p> + He collected his clothes which were scattered all over the room; he found + his white neck-tie hanging on a picture frame; it looked like a big white + butterfly. + </p> + <p> + He went into the kitchen. How the new copper vessels sparkled, the new tin + kettles shone! And all this belonged to him and to her! He called the maid + who came out of her room in her petticoat. But he did not notice it, nor + did he notice that her shoulders were bare. For him there was but one + woman in all the world. He spoke to the girl as a father would to his + daughter. He told her to go to the restaurant and order breakfast, at + once, a first-rate breakfast. Porter and Burgundy! The manager knew his + taste. She was to give him his regards. + </p> + <p> + He went out of the kitchen and knocked at the bed-room door. + </p> + <p> + “May I come in?” + </p> + <p> + There was a little startled scream. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, no, darling, wait a bit!” + </p> + <p> + He laid the breakfast table himself. When the breakfast was brought from + the restaurant, he served it on her new breakfast set. He folded the + dinner napkins according to all the rules of art. He wiped the + wine-glasses, and finally took her bridal-bouquet and put it in a vase + before her place. + </p> + <p> + When she emerged from her bed-room in her embroidered morning gown and + stepped into the brilliant sunlight, she felt just a tiny bit faint; he + helped her into the armchair, made her drink a little liqueur out of a + liqueur glass and eat a caviare sandwich. + </p> + <p> + What fun it all was! One could please oneself when one was married. What + would Mama have said if she had seen her daughter drinking liqueurs at + this hour of the morning! + </p> + <p> + He waited on her as if she were still his fiancee. What a breakfast they + were having on the first morning after their wedding! And nobody had a + right to say a word. Everything was perfectly right and proper, one could + enjoy oneself with the very best of consciences, and that was the most + delightful part of it all. It was not for the first time that he was + eating such a breakfast, but what a difference between then and now! He + had been restless and dissatisfied then; he could not bear to think of it, + now. And as he drank a glass of genuine Swedish porter after the oysters, + he felt the deepest contempt for all bachelors. + </p> + <p> + “How stupid of people not to get married! Such selfishness! They ought to + be taxed like dogs.” + </p> + <p> + “I’m sorry for those poor men who haven’t the means to get married,” + replied his demure little wife kindly, “for I am sure, if they had the + means they would all get married.” + </p> + <p> + A little pang shot through the assistant’s heart; for a moment he felt + afraid, lest he had been a little too venturesome. All his happiness + rested on the solution of a financial problem, and if, if.... Pooh! A + glass of Burgundy! Now he would work! They should see! + </p> + <p> + “Game? With cranberries and cucumbers!” The young wife was a little + startled, but it was really delicious. + </p> + <p> + “Lewis, darling,” she put a trembling little hand on his arm, “can we + afford it?” + </p> + <p> + Fortunately she said “we.” + </p> + <p> + “Pooh! It doesn’t matter for once! Later on we can dine on potatoes and + herrings.” + </p> + <p> + “Can you eat potatoes and herrings?” + </p> + <p> + “I should think so!” + </p> + <p> + “When you have been drinking more than is good for you, and expect a + beefsteak after the herring?” + </p> + <p> + “Nonsense! Nothing of the kind! Your health, sweetheart! The game is + excellent! So are these artichokes!” + </p> + <p> + “No, but you are mad, darling! Artichokes at this time of the year! What a + bill you will have to pay!” + </p> + <p> + “Bill! Aren’t they good? Don’t you think that it is glorious to be alive? + Oh! It’s splendid, splendid!” + </p> + <p> + At six o’clock in the afternoon a carriage drove up to the front door. The + young wife would have been angry if it had not been so pleasant to loll + luxuriously on the soft cushions, while they were being slowly driven to + the Deer Park. + </p> + <p> + “It’s just like lying on a couch,” whispered Lewis. + </p> + <p> + She playfully hit his fingers with her sunshade. Mutual acquaintances + bowed to them from the footpath. Friends waved their hands to him as if + they were saying: + </p> + <p> + “Hallo! you rascal, you have come into a fortune!” + </p> + <p> + How small the passers-by looked, how smooth the street was, how pleasant + their ride on springs and cushions! + </p> + <p> + Life should always be like that. + </p> + <p> + It went on for a whole month. Balls, visits, dinners, theatres. Sometimes, + of course, they remained at home. And at home it was more pleasant than + anywhere else. How lovely, for instance, to carry off one’s wife from her + parents’ house, after supper, without saying as much as “by your leave,” + put her into a closed carriage, slam the door, nod to her people and say: + “Now we’re off home, to our own four walls! And there we’ll do exactly + what we like!” + </p> + <p> + And then to have a little supper at home and sit over it, talking and + gossiping until the small hours of the morning. + </p> + <p> + Lewis was always very sensible at home, at least in theory. One day his + wife put him to the test by giving him salt salmon, potatoes boiled in + milk and oatmeal soup for dinner. Oh! how he enjoyed it! He was sick of + elaborate menus. + </p> + <p> + On the following Friday, when she again suggested salt salmon for dinner, + Lewis came home, carrying two ptarmigans! He called to her from the + threshold: + </p> + <p> + “Just imagine, Lou, a most extraordinary thing happened! A most + extraordinary thing!” + </p> + <p> + “Well, what is it?” + </p> + <p> + “You’ll hardly believe me when I tell you that I bought a brace of + ptarmigans, bought them myself at the market for—guess!” + </p> + <p> + His little wife seemed more annoyed than curious. + </p> + <p> + “Just think! One crown the two!” + </p> + <p> + “I have bought ptarmigans at eightpence the brace; but—” she added + in a more conciliatory tone, so as not to upset him altogether, “that was + in a very cold winter.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, but you must admit that I bought them very cheaply.” + </p> + <p> + Was there anything she would not admit in order to see him happy? + </p> + <p> + She had ordered boiled groats for dinner, as an experiment. But after + Lewis had eaten a ptarmigan, he regretted that he could not eat as much of + the groats as he would have liked, in order to show her that he was really + very fond of groats. He liked groats very much indeed—milk did not + agree with him after his attack of ague. He couldn’t take milk, but groats + he would like to see on his table every evening, every blessed evening of + his life, if only she wouldn’t be angry with him. + </p> + <p> + And groats never again appeared on his table. + </p> + <p> + When they had been married for six weeks, the young wife fell ill. She + suffered from headaches and sickness. It could not be anything serious, + just a little cold. But this sickness? Had she eaten anything which had + disagreed with her? Hadn’t all the copper vessels new coatings of tin? He + sent for the doctor. The doctor smiled and said it was all right. + </p> + <p> + “What was all right? Oh! Nonsense! It wasn’t possible. How could it have + been possible? No, surely, the bed-room paper was to blame. It must + contain arsenic. Let us send a piece to the chemist’s at once and have it + tested.” + </p> + <p> + “Entirely free from arsenic,” reported the chemist. + </p> + <p> + “How strange! No arsenic in the wall papers?” + </p> + <p> + The young wife was still ill. He consulted a medical book and whispered a + question in her ear. “There now! a hot bath!” + </p> + <p> + Four weeks later the midwife declared that everything was “as it should + be.” + </p> + <p> + “As it should be? Well, of course! Only it was somewhat premature!” + </p> + <p> + But as it could not, be helped, they were delighted. Fancy, a baby! They + would be papa and mama! What should they call him? For, of course, it + would be a boy. No doubt, it would. But now she had a serious conversation + with her husband! There had been no translating or proof-correcting since + their marriage. And his salary alone was not sufficient. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, they had given no thought to the morrow. But, dear me, one was young + only once! Now, however, there would be a change.” + </p> + <p> + On the following morning the assistant called on an old schoolfriend, a + registrar, to ask him to stand security for a loan. + </p> + <p> + “You see, my dear fellow, when one is about to become a father, one has to + consider how to meet increasing expenses.” + </p> + <p> + “Quite so, old man,” answered the registrar, “therefore I have been unable + to get married. But you are fortunate in having the means.” + </p> + <p> + The assistant hesitated to make his request. How could he have the + audacity to ask this poor bachelor to help him to provide the expenses for + the coming event? This bachelor, who had not the means to found a family + of his own? He could not bring himself to do it. + </p> + <p> + When he came home to dinner, his wife told him that two gentlemen had + called to see him. + </p> + <p> + “What did they look like? Were they young? Did they wear eye-glasses? Then + there was no doubt, they were two lieutenants, old friends of his whom he + had met at Vaxholm.” + </p> + <p> + “No, they couldn’t have been lieutenants; they were too old for that.” + </p> + <p> + “Then he knew; they were old college friends from Upsala, probably P. who + was a lecturer, and O. who was a curate, now. They had come to see how + their old pal was shaping as a husband.” + </p> + <p> + “No, they didn’t come from Upsala, they came from Stockholm.” + </p> + <p> + The maid was called in and cross-examined. She thought the callers had + been shabbily dressed and had carried sticks. + </p> + <p> + “Sticks! I can’t make out what sort of people they can have been. Well, + we’ll know soon enough, as they said they would call again. But to change + the subject, I happened to see a basket of hothouse strawberries at a + really ridiculous price; it really is absurd! Just imagine, hothouse + strawberries at one and sixpence a basket! And at this time of the year!” + </p> + <p> + “But, my darling, what is this extravagance to lead to?” + </p> + <p> + “It’ll be all right. I have got an order for a translation this very day.” + </p> + <p> + “But you are in debt, Lewis?” + </p> + <p> + “Trifles! Mere nothings! It’ll be all right when I take up a big loan, + presently.” + </p> + <p> + “A loan! But that’ll be a new debt!” + </p> + <p> + “True! But there’ll be easy terms! Don’t let’s talk business now! Aren’t + these strawberries delicious? What? A glass of sherry with them would be + tip-top. Don’t you think so? Lina, run round to the stores and fetch a + bottle of sherry, the best they have.” + </p> + <p> + After his afternoon nap, his wife insisted on a serious conversation. + </p> + <p> + “You won’t be angry, dear, will you?” + </p> + <p> + “Angry? I! Good heavens, no! Is it about household expenses?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes! We owe money at the stores! The butcher is pressing for payment; the + man from the livery stables has called for his money; it’s most + unpleasant.” + </p> + <p> + “Is that all? I shall pay them to the last farthing to-morrow. How dare + they worry you about such trifles? They shall be paid to-morrow, but they + shall lose a customer. Now, don’t let’s talk about it any more. Come out + for a walk. No carriage! Well, we’ll take the car to the Deer Park, it + will cheer us up.” + </p> + <p> + They went to the Deer Park. They asked for a private room at the + restaurant, and people stared at them and whispered. + </p> + <p> + “They think we are out on a spree,” he laughed. “What fun! What madness!” + </p> + <p> + But his wife did not like it. + </p> + <p> + They had a big bill to pay. + </p> + <p> + “If only we had stayed at home! We might have bought such a lot of things + for the money.” + </p> + <p> + Months elapsed. The great event was coming nearer and nearer. A cradle had + to be bought and baby-clothes. A number of things were wanted. The young + husband was out on business all day long. The price of wheat had risen. + Hard times were at hand. He could get no translations, no + proof-correcting. Men had become materialists. They didn’t spend money on + books, they bought food. What a prosaic period we were living in! Ideals + were melting away, one after the other, and ptarmigans were not to be had + under two crowns the brace. The livery stables would not provide carriages + for nothing for the cab-proprietors had wives and families to support, + just as everybody else; at the stores cash had to be paid for goods, Oh! + what realists they all were! + </p> + <p> + The great day had come at last. It was evening. He must run for the + midwife. And while his wife suffered all the pangs of childbirth, he had + to go down into the hall and pacify the creditors. + </p> + <p> + At last he held a daughter in his arms. His tears fell on the baby, for + now he realised his responsibility, a responsibility which he was unable + to shoulder. He made new resolutions. But his nerves were unstrung. He was + working at a translation which he seemed unable to finish, for he had to + be constantly out on business. + </p> + <p> + He rushed to his father-in-law, who was staying in town, to bring him the + glad news. + </p> + <p> + “We have a little daughter!” + </p> + <p> + “Well and good,” replied his father-in-law; “can you support a child?” + </p> + <p> + “Not at present; for heaven’s sake, help us, father!” + </p> + <p> + “I’ll tide you over your present difficulties. I can’t do more. My means + are only sufficient to support my own family.” + </p> + <p> + The patient required chickens which he bought himself at the market, and + wine at six crowns the bottle. It had to be the very best. + </p> + <p> + The midwife expected a hundred crowns. + </p> + <p> + “Why should we pay her less than others? Hasn’t she just received a cheque + for a hundred crowns from the captain?” + </p> + <p> + Very soon the young wife was up again. She looked like a girl, as slender + as a willow, a little pale, it was true, but the pallor suited her. + </p> + <p> + The old man called and had a private conversation with his son-in-law. + </p> + <p> + “No more children, for the present,” he said, “or you’ll be ruined.” + </p> + <p> + “What language from a father! Aren’t we married! Don’t we love one + another? Aren’t we to have a family?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, but not until you can provide for them. It’s all very fine to love + one another, but you musn’t forget that you have responsibilities.” + </p> + <p> + His father-in-law, too, had become a materialist. Oh! what a miserable + world it was! A world without ideals! + </p> + <p> + The home was undermined, but love survived, for love was strong, and the + hearts of the young couple were soft. The bailiff, on the contrary, was + anything but soft. Distraint was imminent, and bankruptcy threatened. + Well, let them distrain then! + </p> + <p> + The father-in-law arrived with a large travelling coach to fetch his + daughter and grand-child. He warned his son-in-law not to show his face at + his house until he could pay his debts and make a home for his wife and + child. He said nothing to his daughter, but it seemed to him that he was + bringing home a girl who had been led astray. It was as if he had lent his + innocent child to a casual admirer and now received her back + “dishonoured.” She would have preferred to stay with her husband, but he + had no home to offer her. + </p> + <p> + And so the husband of one year’s standing was left behind to watch the + pillaging of his home, if he could call it his home, for he had paid for + nothing. The two men with spectacles carted away the beds and bedclothes; + the copper kettles and tin vessels; the dinner set, the chandelier and the + candlesticks; everything, everything! + </p> + <p> + He was left alone in the two empty, wretched rooms! If only <i>she</i> had + been left to him! But what should she do here, in these empty rooms? No, + she was better off where she was! She was being taken care of. + </p> + <p> + Now the struggle for a livelihood began in bitter earnest. He found work + at a daily paper as a proof-corrector. He had to be at the office at + midnight; at three in the morning his work was done. He did not lose his + berth, for bankruptcy had been avoided, but he had lost all chance of + promotion. + </p> + <p> + Later on he is permitted to visit wife and child once a week, but he is + never allowed to see her alone. He spends Saturday night in a tiny room, + close to his father-in-law’s bedroom. On Sunday morning he has to return + to town, for the paper appears on Monday morning.... He says good-bye to + his wife and child who are allowed to accompany him as far as the garden + gate, he waves his hand to them once more from the furthest hillock, and + succumbs to his wretchedness, his misery, his humiliation. And she is no + less unhappy. + </p> + <p> + He has calculated that it will take him twenty years to pay his debts. And + then? Even then he cannot maintain a wife and child. And his prospects? He + has none! If his father-in-law should die, his wife and child would be + thrown on the street; he cannot venture to look forward to the death of + their only support. + </p> + <p> + Oh! How cruel it is of nature to provide food for all her creatures, + leaving the children of men alone to starve! Oh! How cruel, how cruel! + that life has not ptarmigans and strawberries to give to all men. How + cruel! How cruel! + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0005" id="link2H_4_0005"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + COMPELLED TO + </h2> + <p> + Punctually at half past nine on a winter evening he appears at the door + leading to the glass-roofed verandah of the restaurant. While, with + mathematical precision, he takes off his gloves, he peers over his dim + spectacles, first to the right, then to the left, to find out whether any + of his acquaintances are present. Then he hangs up his overcoat on its + special hook, the one to the right of the fireplace. Gustav, the waiter, + an old pupil of his, flies to his table and, without waiting for an order, + brushes the crumbs off the tablecloth, stirs up the mustard, smooths the + salt in the salt-cellar and turns over the dinner napkin. Then he fetches, + still without any order, a bottle of Medhamra, opens half a bottle of + Union beer and, merely for appearance sake, hands the schoolmaster the + bill of fare. + </p> + <p> + “Crabs?” he asks, more as a matter of form than because there is any need + of the question. + </p> + <p> + “Female crabs,” answers the schoolmaster. + </p> + <p> + “Large, female crabs,” repeats Gustav, walks to the speaking tube which + communicates with the kitchen, and shouts: “Large female crabs for Mr. + Blom, and plenty of dill.” + </p> + <p> + He fetches butter and cheese, cuts two very thin slices of rye-bread, and + places them on the schoolmaster’s table. The latter has in the meantime + searched the verandah for the evening papers, but has only found the + official <i>Post</i>. To make up for this very poor success, he takes the + <i>Daily Journal</i>, which he had not had time to finish at lunch, and + after first opening and refolding the <i>Post</i>, and putting it on the + top of the bread basket on his left, sits down to read it. He ornaments + the rye-bread with geometrical butter hieroglyphics, cuts off a piece of + cheese in the shape of a rectangle, fills his liqueur glass three quarters + full and raises it to his lips, hesitates as if the little glass contained + physic, throws back his head and says: Ugh! + </p> + <p> + He has done this for twelve years and will continue doing it until the day + of his death. + </p> + <p> + As soon as the crabs, six of them, have been put before him, he examines + them as to their sex, and everything being as it should be, makes ready to + enjoy himself. He tucks a corner of his dinner napkin into his collar, + places two slices of thin bread and cheese by the side of his plate and + pours out a glass of beer and half a glass of liqueur. Then he takes the + little crab-knife and business begins. He is the only man in Sweden who + knows how to eat a crab, and whenever he sees anybody else engaged in the + same pursuit, he tells him that he has no idea how to do it. He makes an + incision all round the head, and a hole against which he presses his lips + and begins to suck. + </p> + <p> + “This,” he says, “is the best part of the whole animal.” + </p> + <p> + He severs the thorax from the lower part, puts his teeth to the body and + drinks deep draughts; he sucks the little legs as if they were asparagus, + eats a bit of dill, and takes a drink of beer and a mouthful of rye-bread. + When he has carefully taken the shell off the claws and sucked even the + tiniest tubes, he eats the flesh; last of all he attacks the lower part of + the body. When he has eaten three crabs, he drinks half a glass of liqueur + and reads the promotions in the <i>Post</i>. + </p> + <p> + He has done this for twelve years and will continue doing it until he + dies. + </p> + <p> + He was just twenty years old when he first began to patronise the + restaurant, now he is thirty-two, and Gustav has been a waiter for ten + years in the same place. Not one of its frequenters has known the + restaurant longer than the school-master, not even the proprietor who took + it over eight years ago. He has watched generations of diners come and go; + some came for a year, some for two, some for five years; then they + disappeared, went to another restaurant, left the town or got married. He + feels very old, although he is only thirty-two! The restaurant is his + home, for his furnished room is nothing but the place where he sleeps. + </p> + <p> + It is ten o’clock. He leaves his table and goes to the back room where his + grog awaits him. This is the time when the bookseller arrives. They play a + game of chess or talk about books. At half-past ten the second violin from + the Dramatic Theatre drops in. He is an old Pole who, after 1864, escaped + to Sweden, and now makes a living by his former hobby. Both the Pole and + the bookseller are over fifty, but they get on with the schoolmaster as if + he were a contemporary. + </p> + <p> + The proprietor has his place behind the counter. He is an old sea captain + who fell in love with the proprietress and married her. She rules in the + kitchen, but the sliding panel is always open, so that she can keep an eye + on the old man, lest he should take a glass too much before closing time. + Not until the gas has been turned out, and the old man is ready to go to + bed, is he allowed a nightcap in the shape of a stiff glass of rum and + water. + </p> + <p> + At eleven o’clock the young bloods begin to arrive; they approach the + counter diffidently and ask the proprietor in a whisper whether any of the + private rooms upstairs are disengaged, and then there is a rustling of + skirts in the hall and cautious footsteps are creeping upstairs. + </p> + <p> + “Well,” says the bookseller, who has suddenly found a topic of + conversation, “when are you going to be married, Blom, old man?” + </p> + <p> + “I haven’t the means to get married,” answered the school-master. “Why + don’t you take a wife to your bosom yourself?” + </p> + <p> + “No woman would have me, now that my head looks like an old, + leather-covered trunk,” says the bookseller. “And, moreover, there’s my + old Stafva, you know.” + </p> + <p> + Stafva was a legendary person in whom nobody believed. She was the + incarnation of the bookseller’s unrealised dreams. + </p> + <p> + “But you, Mr. Potocki?” suggested the schoolmaster. + </p> + <p> + “He’s been married once, that’s enough,” replies the bookseller. + </p> + <p> + The Pole nods his head like a metrometer. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I was married very happily. Ugh!” he says and finishes his grog. + </p> + <p> + “Well,” continues the schoolmaster, “if women weren’t such fools, one + might consider the matter; but they are infernal fools.” + </p> + <p> + The Pole nods again and smiles; being a Pole, he doesn’t understand what + the word fool means. + </p> + <p> + “I have been married very happily, ugh!” + </p> + <p> + “And then there is the noise of the children, and children’s clothes + always drying near the stove; and servants, and all day long the smells + from the kitchen. No, thank you! And, perhaps, sleepless nights into the + bargain.” + </p> + <p> + “Ugh!” added the Pole, completing the sentence. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Potocki says ‘ugh’ with the malice of the bachelor who listens to the + complaints of the married man,” remarked the bookseller. + </p> + <p> + “What did I say?” asks the astonished widower. “Ugh!” says the bookseller, + mimicking him, and the conversation degenerates into a universal grinning + and a cloud of tobacco smoke. + </p> + <p> + It is midnight. The piano upstairs, which has accompanied a mixed choir of + male and female voices, is silent. The waiter has finished his countless + journeys from the speaking tube to the verandah; the proprietor enters + into his daybook the last few bottles of champagne which have been ordered + upstairs. The three friends rise from their chairs and go home, two to + their “virgin couches,” and the bookseller to his Stafva. + </p> + <p> + When schoolmaster Blom had reached his twentieth year, he was compelled to + interrupt his studies at Upsala and accept a post as assistant teacher at + Stockholm. As he, in addition, gave private lessons, he made quite a good + income. He did not ask much of life. All he wanted was peace and + cleanliness. An elderly lady let him a furnished room and there he found + more than a bachelor finds as a rule. She looked after him and was kind to + him; she gave him all the tenderness which nature had intended her to + bestow on the new generation that was to spring from her. She mended his + clothes and looked after him generally. He had lost his mother when he was + a little boy and had never been accustomed to gratuitous kindness; + therefore he was inclined to look upon her services as an interference + with his liberty, but he accepted them nevertheless. But all the same the + public house was his real home. There he paid for everything and ran up no + bills. + </p> + <p> + He was born in a small town in the interior of Sweden; consequently he was + a stranger in Stockholm. He knew nobody; was not on visiting terms with + any of the families and met his acquaintances nowhere but at the + public-house. He talked to them freely, but never gave them his + confidence, in fact he had no confidence to give. At school he taught the + third class and this gave him a feeling of having been stunted in his + growth. A very long time ago he had been in the third class himself, had + gradually crept up to the seventh, and had spent a few terms at the + University; now he had returned to the third; he had been there for twelve + years without being moved. He taught the second and third books of Euclid; + this was the course of instruction for the whole year. He saw only a + fragment of life; a fragment without beginning or end; the second and + third books. In his spare time he read the newspapers and books on + archaeology. Archaeology is a modern science, one might almost say a + disease of the time. And there is danger in it, for it proves over and + over again that human folly has pretty nearly always been the same. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +Politics was to him nothing but an interesting game of chess—played +for the king, for he was brought up like everybody else; it was an +article of faith with him that nothing which happened in the world, +concerned him, personally; let those look to it whom God had placed in +a position of power. This way of looking at things filled his soul +with peace and tranquillity; he troubled nobody and nothing troubled +him. When he found, as he did occasionally, that an unusually foolish +event had occurred, he consoled himself with the conviction that it +could not have been helped. His education had made him selfish, and +the catechism had taught him that if everybody did his duty, all +things would be well, whatever happened. He did his duty towards his +pupils in an exemplary fashion; he was never late; never ill. In his +private life, too, he was above reproach; he paid his rent on the day +it fell due, never ran up bills at his restaurant, and spent only one +evening a week on pleasure. His life glided along like a railway train + to the second and, being a clever man, he managed to avoid collisions. +He gave no thought to the future; a truly selfish man never does, for +the simple reason that the future belongs to him for no longer than +twenty or thirty years at the most. +</pre> + <p> + And thus his days passed. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <p> + Midsummer morning dawned—radiant and sunny as mid-summer morning + should be. The schoolmaster was still in bed, reading a book on the Art of + Warfare in ancient Egypt, when Miss Augusta came into his room with his + breakfast. She had put on his tray some slices of saffron bread, in honour + of the festival, and on his dinner-napkin lay a spray of elder blossoms. + On the previous night she had decorated his room with branches of the + birch-tree, put clean sand and some cowslips in the spittoon, and a bunch + of lilies-of-the-valley on the dressing table. + </p> + <p> + “Aren’t you going to make an excursion to-day, sir?” she asked, glancing + at the decorations, anxious for a word of thanks or approval. + </p> + <p> + But Mr. Blom had not even noticed the decorations, and therefore he + answered dryly: + </p> + <p> + “Haven’t you realised yet that I never make excursions? I hate elbowing my + way through a crowd, and the noise of the children gets on my nerves.” + </p> + <p> + “But surely you won’t stay in town on such a lovely day! You’ll at least + go to the Deer Park?” + </p> + <p> + “That would be the very last place I should go to, especially to-day, when + it will be crowded. Oh! no, I’m better off in town, and I wish to goodness + that this holiday nuisance would be stopped.” + </p> + <p> + “There are plenty of people who say that there aren’t half enough holidays + these days when everybody has to work so hard,” said the old woman in a + conciliatory tone. “But is there anything else you wish, sir? My sister + and I are making an excursion by steamer, and we shan’t be back until ten + o’clock to-night.” + </p> + <p> + “I hope you’ll enjoy yourselves, Miss Augusta. I want nothing, and am + quite able to look after myself. The caretaker can do my room when I have + gone out.” + </p> + <p> + Miss Augusta left him alone with his breakfast. When he had eaten it, he + lit a cigar and remained in bed with his <i>Egyptian Warfare</i>. The open + window shook softly in the southern breeze. At eight o’clock the bells, + large and small, of the nearest church began to ring, and those of the + other churches of Stockholm, St. Catherine’s, St. Mary’s and St. Jacob’s, + joined in; they tinkled and jingled, enough to make a heathen tear his + hair in despair. When the church bells stopped, a military band on the + bridge of a steamer began to play a set of quadrilles from <i>The Weak + Point</i>. The schoolmaster writhed between his sheets, and would have got + out of bed and shut the window if it had not been so hot. Next there came + a rolling of drums, which was interrupted by the strains of a brass + quintet which played, on another steamer, the Hunter’s Chorus from the <i>Freischütz</i>. + But the cursed rolling of drums approached. They were marching at the head + of the Riflemen on their way to camp. Now he was subjected to a medley of + sounds: the Riflemen’s march, the signals, the bells and the brass bands + on the steamers, until at last the whole crash and din was drowned by the + throbbing of the screw. + </p> + <p> + At ten o’clock he lit his spirit lamp and boiled his shaving water. His + starched shirt lay on his chest of drawers, white and stiff as a board. It + took him a quarter of an hour to push the studs through the button-holes. + He spent half-an-hour in shaving himself. He brushed his hair as if it + were a matter of the utmost importance. When he put on his trousers, he + was careful that the lower ends should not touch the floor and become + dusty. + </p> + <p> + His room was simply furnished, extremely plain and tidy. It was + impersonal, neutral, like the room in a hotel. And yet he had spent in it + twelve years of his life. Most people collect no end of trifles during + such a period; presents, little superfluous nothings, ornaments. Not a + single engraving, not a supplement to an illustrated magazine even, which + at some time or other had appealed to him, hung on the walls; no + antimacassar, no rug worked by a loving sister, lay on the chairs; no + photograph of a beloved face stood on his writing-table, no embroidered + pen-wiper lay by the side of the ink-stand. Everything had been bought as + cheaply as possible with a view to avoiding unnecessary expense which + might have hampered the owner’s independence. + </p> + <p> + He leaned out of the window which gave him a view of the street and, + across Artillery Place, of the harbour. In the house opposite a woman was + dressing. He turned away as if something ugly had met his gaze, or + something which might disturb his peace of mind. The harbour was gay with + the fluttering flags on the steamers and sailing-ships, and the water + glittered in the sunshine. A few old women, prayer-book in hand, passed + his window on their way to church. A sentinel with drawn sword was walking + up and down before the Artillery Barracks, glancing discontentedly at the + clock on the tower every now and then to see how much longer he would have + to wait until the relieving guard arrived. Otherwise the street lay empty + and grey in the hot sunshine. His eyes wandered back to the woman + opposite. She was standing before her looking-glass, powder puff in hand, + intent on powdering the corners of her nose, with a grimace which made her + look like a monkey. He left the window and sat down in his rocking chair. + </p> + <p> + He made his programme for the day, for he had a vague dread of solitude. + On week days he was surrounded by the school-boys, and although he had no + love for those wild beasts whose taming, or rather whose efficient + acquisition of the difficult art of dissembling, was his life task, yet he + felt a certain void when he was not with them. Now, during the long summer + vacations, he had established a holiday school, but even so he had been + compelled to give the boys short summer holidays, and, with the exception + of meal times when he could always count on the bookseller and the second + violin, he had been alone for several days. + </p> + <p> + “At two o’clock,” he mused, “when the guard has been relieved, and the + crowds have dispersed, I’ll go to my restaurant to dine; then I’ll invite + the bookseller to Strömsborg; there won’t be a soul to-day; we can have + coffee there and punch, and stay till the evening when we’ll return to + town and to Rejner’s.” (Rejner’s was the name of his restaurant in + Berzelius Place.) + </p> + <p> + Punctually at two o’clock he took his hat, brushed himself carefully and + went out. + </p> + <p> + “I wonder whether there’ll be stewed perch to-day,” he thought. “And + mightn’t one treat oneself to asparagus, as it’s midsummer-day?” + </p> + <p> + He strolled past the high wall of the Government Bakery. In Berzelius Park + the seats which were usually occupied by the nursemaids of the rich and + their charges, were crowded with the families of the labourers who had + appeared in great numbers with their perambulators. He saw a mother + feeding her baby. She was a large, full-breasted woman, and the baby’s + dimpled hand almost disappeared in her bosom. The schoolmaster turned away + with a feeling of loathing. He was annoyed to see these strangers in <i>his</i> + park. It was very much like the servants using the drawing-room when their + master and mistress had gone out; moreover, he couldn’t forgive them their + plainness. + </p> + <p> + He arrived at the glass verandah, and put his hand on the door handle, + thinking once more of the stewed perch “with lots of parsley,” when his + eyes fell on a notice on the door. There was no necessity to read it, he + knew its purport: the restaurant was closed on midsummer-day; he had + forgotten it. He felt as if he had run with his head into a lamp-post. He + was furious; first of all with the proprietor for closing, then with + himself for having forgotten that the restaurant would be closed. It + seemed to him so monstrous that he could have forgotten an incident of + such importance, that he couldn’t believe it and racked his brain to find + someone on whom he could lay the blame. Of course, it was the fault of the + proprietor. He had run off the lines, come into collision. He was done. He + sat down on the seat and almost shed tears of rage. + </p> + <p> + Thump! a ball hit him right in the middle of his starched shirt front. + Like an infuriated wasp he rose from his seat to find the criminal; a + plain little girl’s face laughed into his; a labourer in his Sunday + clothes and straw hat appeared, took her by the hand and smilingly + expressed a hope that the child had not hurt him; a laughing crowd of + soldiers and servant girls stared at him. He looked round for a constable + for he felt that his rights as a human being had been encroached upon. But + when he saw the constable in familiar conversation with the child’s + mother, he dropped the idea of making a scene, went straight to the + nearest cab-stand, hired a cab, and told the driver to drive him to the + bookseller’s; he could not bear to be alone any longer. + </p> + <p> + In the safe shelter of the cab he took out his handkerchief and flicked + the dust from his shirt front. + </p> + <p> + He dismissed the cab in Goten Street, for he felt sure that he would find + his friend at home. But as he walked upstairs his assurance left him. + Supposing he were out after all! + </p> + <p> + He was out. Not one of the tenants was at home. His knock sounded through + an empty house; his footsteps re-echoed on the deserted stairs. + </p> + <p> + When he was again in the street he was at a loss to know what to do. He + did not know Potocki’s address, and where was he to find an address book + on a day when all the shops were closed? + </p> + <p> + Without knowing where he was going, he went down the street, past the + harbour, across the bridge. He did not meet a single man he knew. The + presence of the crowd which occupied the town during the absence of their + betters annoyed him, for, like the rest of us, the education which he had + received at school had made an aristocrat of him. + </p> + <p> + In his first anger he had forgotten his hunger, but now it re-asserted + itself. A new, terrible thought occurred to him, a thought which up to now + he had put away from him out of sheer cowardice: Where was he to dine? He + had started out with plenty of vouchers in his pocket, but only one crown + and fifty öre in coin. The vouchers were only used at Rejner’s, for + convenience sake, and he had spent a crown on his cabfare. + </p> + <p> + He found himself again in Berzelius Park. Everywhere he met labourers and + their families, eating what they had brought with them in baskets; + hard-boiled eggs, crabs, pancakes. And the police did not interfere. On + the contrary, he saw a policeman with a sandwich in one hand and a glass + of beer in the other. But what irritated him more than anything else was + the fact that these people whom he despised had the advantage of him. But + why couldn’t he go into a dairy and appease his hunger? Yes, why not? The + very thought of it made him shudder. + </p> + <p> + After some little reflection he went down to the harbour, intending to + cross over to the Deer Park. He was bound to find acquaintances there from + whom he could borrow money (hateful thought!) for his dinner. And if so, + he would dine at “Hazelmount,” the best restaurant. + </p> + <p> + The steamer was so crowded that schoolmaster Blom had to stand close to + the engine; the heat at his back was intolerable; his morning coat was + being covered with grease spots, while he stood, with his gaze rivetted on + the untidy head of a servant girl and endured the rancid smell of the + hair-oil. But he did not see a single face he knew. + </p> + <p> + When he entered the restaurant in the Deer Park, he squared his shoulders + and tried to look as distinguished as possible. + </p> + <p> + The space before the restaurant was like the auditorium of a theatre and + seemed to serve the same purpose: that is to say, it was a place where one + met one’s friends and showed off. The verandah was occupied by officers, + blue in the face with eating and drinking; with them were representatives + of the foreign Powers, grown old and grey in their strenuous efforts to + protect fellow-countrymen who had got mixed up with sailors and fishermen + in drunken brawls, or assist at Gala performances, christenings, weddings + and funerals. So much for the aristocracy. In the centre of a large space + Mr. Blom suddenly discovered the chimney sweep of his quarter, the + proprietor of a small inn, the chemist’s assistant and others of the same + standing. He watched the game-keeper in his green coat and silver lace, + with his gilt staff, walking up and down and casting contemptuous glances + at the assembled crowd, as if he were wondering why they were here? The + schoolmaster felt self-conscious under the stare of all those eyes which + seemed to say: “Look at him! there he goes, wondering how to get dinner!” + But there was nothing else for it. He went on to the verandah where the + people sat eating perch and asparagus, and drinking Sauternes and + Champagne. + </p> + <p> + All of a sudden he felt the pressure of a friendly hand on his shoulder, + and as he turned round, he found himself face to face with Gustav, the + waiter, who seized his hand and exclaimed with undisguised pleasure: + </p> + <p> + “Is that really you, Mr. Blom? How are you?” + </p> + <p> + But Gustav, the waiter, who was so pleased to find himself for a few + moments the equal of his master, held a piece of wood in his warm hand and + met a pair of eyes which pierced his soul like gimlets. And yet this same + hand had given him ten crowns only yesterday, and the owner of it had + thanked him for six months’ service and attention in the way one thanks a + friend. The waiter went back to his companions and sat down amongst them, + embarrassed and snubbed. But Mr. Blom left the verandah with bitter + thoughts and pushed his way through the crowd; he fancied that he could + hear a mocking: “He hasn’t been able to get dinner, after all!” + </p> + <p> + He came to a large open space. There was a puppet-show, and Jasper was + being beaten by his wife. A little further off a sailor was showing + servant girls, soldiers and apprentices their future husband or wife in a + wheel of fortune. They all had had dinner and were enjoying themselves; + for a moment he believed himself their inferior, but only for a moment; + then he remembered that they had not the vaguest idea of how an Egyptian + camp was fortified. The thought gave him back his self-respect, and he + wondered how it was possible that people could be so degraded as to find + pleasure in such childishness. + </p> + <p> + In the meantime he had lost all inclination to try the other restaurants; + he passed the Tivoli and went further into the heart of the park. Young + men and women were dancing on the grass to the strains of a violin: a + little further off a whole family was camping under an old oak; the head + of the family was kneeling down, in his shirt sleeves, with bare head, a + glass of beer in one hand, a sandwich in the other; his fat, jolly, + clean-shaven face beamed with pleasure and good-nature as he invited his + guests, who were evidently his wife, parents-in-law, brothers, + shop-assistants and servants, to eat, drink and be merry, for to-day was + Midsummer day, all day long. And the jovial fellow made such droll remarks + that the whole party writhed on the grass with amusement. After the + pancake had been produced and eaten with the fingers, and the port bottle + been round, the senior shop-assistant made a speech which was at once so + moving and so witty that the ladies at one moment pressed their + handkerchiefs to their eyes, while the head of the family bit his lips, + and at the next interrupted the speaker with loud laughter and cheers. + </p> + <p> + The schoolmaster’s mood became more and more morose, but instead of going + away he sat down on a stone under a pinetree and watched “the animals.” + </p> + <p> + When the speech was finished and father and mother had been toasted with + cheers and a flourish of trumpets, executed on a concertina, accompanied + by the rattling of all cups and saucers that happened to be empty, the + party rose to play “Third Man,” while mother and mother-in-law attended to + the babies. + </p> + <p> + “Just like the beasts in the field,” thought the schoolmaster, turning + away, for all that was natural was ugly in his eyes, and only that which + was unnatural could lay any claim to beauty in his opinion, except, of + course, the paintings of “well-known” masters in the National Museum. + </p> + <p> + He watched the young men taking off their coats, the young girls slipping + off their cuffs and hanging them on the blackthorn bushes; then they took + up their positions and the game began. + </p> + <p> + The girls picked up their skirts and threw up their legs so that their + garters, made of blue and red braid such as the grocers sell for tying up + pots, were plainly visible, and whenever the cavalier caught his lady, he + took her in his arms and swung her round so that her skirts flew; and + young and old shrieked so with laughter that the park re-echoed. + </p> + <p> + “Is this innocence or corruption?” wondered the schoolmaster. + </p> + <p> + But evidently the party did not know what the learned word “corruption” + meant, and that was the reason why they were so merry. + </p> + <p> + By the time they were tired of playing “Third Man” tea was ready. The + schoolmaster was puzzled to know where the cavaliers had learnt their fine + manners, for they moved about on all fours to offer the girls sugar and + cake; and the straps of their waistcoats stood out like handles. + </p> + <p> + “The males showing off before the females!” thought the schoolmaster. + “They don’t know what they are in for.” + </p> + <p> + He noticed how the head of the family, the jolly fellow, waited on father + and mother-in-law, wife, shop-assistants and servant girls: and whenever + one of them begged him to help himself first, he invariably answered that + there was plenty of time for that. + </p> + <p> + He watched the father-in-law peeling a willow branch to make a flute for + the little boy; he watched the mother-in-law wash up as if she had been + one of the servants. And he thought that there was something strange about + selfishness, since it could be so cleverly disguised that it looked as if + no one gave more than he received; for it must be selfishness, it couldn’t + be anything else. + </p> + <p> + They played at forfeits and redeemed every forfeit with kisses, true, + genuine, resounding kisses on the lips; and when the jolly book-keeper was + made to kiss the old oak-tree, his conduct was too absurd for anything; he + embraced and caressed the gnarled trunk as if it had been a girl whom he + had met secretly; everybody shouted with laughter, for all knew how to do + it, although none of them would have liked to be caught doing it. + </p> + <p> + The schoolmaster who had begun by watching the spectacle with critical + eyes, fell more and more under the spell of it; he almost believed himself + to be one of the party. He smiled at the sallies of the shop-assistants, + and before an hour was gone the head of the family had won his whole + sympathy. No one could deny that the man was a comedian of the first rank. + He could play “Skin-the-cat”; he could “walk backwards,” “lie” on the + tree-trunks, swallow coins, eat fire, and imitate all sorts of birds. And + when he extracted a saffron cake from the dress of one of the girls and + made it disappear in his right ear, the schoolmaster laughed until his + empty inside ached. + </p> + <p> + Then the dancing began. The schoolmaster had read in Rabe’s grammar: Nemo + saltat sobrius, nisi forte insanit, and had always looked upon dancing as + a species of insanity. True, he had watched puppies and calves dancing + when they felt frisky, but he did not believe that Cicero’s maxim applied + to the animal world, and he was in the habit of drawing a sharp line + between men and animals. Now, as he sat watching these young people who + were quite sober, and neither hungry nor thirsty, moving round and round + to the slow measures of the concertina, he felt as if his soul were in a + swing which was being kept going by his eyes and ears, and his right foot + beat time gently on the springy turf. + </p> + <p> + He spent three hours musing and watching, then he rose. He found it almost + difficult to tear himself away; it was just as if he were leaving a merry + party to which he had been invited; but his mood had changed; he felt more + reconciled. He was at peace with the world and pleasantly tired, as if he + had been enjoying himself. + </p> + <p> + It was evening. Smart carriages passed him, the lady-occupants lolling on + the back seats and looking in their long, white theatre wraps like corpses + in their shrouds; it was fashionable then to look as if one had been + exhumed. The schoolmaster, whose thoughts were running in another + direction, was sure that the ladies must be bored to death and felt no + trace of envy. Below the dusty highroad, far out on the sea, the steamers + with their flags and brass bands were returning from their pleasure trips; + cheers, strains of music and snatches of song were wafted by the sea + breezes to the mountains and the Deer Park. + </p> + <p> + The schoolmaster had never felt so lonely in his life as he did this + evening in the moving throng. He fancied that everybody was looking at him + compassionately as he made his solitary way through the crowd, and almost + gave way to self-pity. He would have liked to talk to the first comer, for + the mere pleasure of hearing his voice, for in his loneliness he felt as + if he were walking by the side of a stranger. And now his conscience smote + him. He remembered the waiter Gustav, who had been unable to hide his + pleasure at meeting him. Now he had arrived at a point when he would have + given worlds if anybody had met him and shown any pleasure at the fact. + But nobody came. + </p> + <p> + Yes, somebody did, after all. As he was sitting by himself on the steamer, + a setter, who had lost his master, came to him and put its head on his + knee. The schoolmaster was not particularly fond of dogs, but he allowed + it to stay; he felt it pressing its soft warm body against his leg, he saw + the eyes of the forsaken brute looking at him in dumb appeal, as if it + were asking him to find its master. + </p> + <p> + But as soon as they landed, the setter ran away. “It needed me no longer,” + thought the schoolmaster, and he walked home and went to bed. + </p> + <p> + These trifling incidents of Midsummer day had robbed the schoolmaster of + his assurance. They taught him that all foresight, all precautions, all + the clever calculations in the world availed nothing. He felt a certain + instability in his surroundings. Even the public house, his home, was not + to be counted on. It might be closed any day. Moreover, a certain reserve + on the part of Gustav troubled him. The waiter was as civil as before, + more attentive even, but his friendship was gone; he had lost confidence. + It afforded the schoolmaster food for thought, and whenever a tough piece + of meat, or too small a dish of potatoes was set before him he thought: + </p> + <p> + “Haha! He’s paying me out!” + </p> + <p> + It was a bad summer for the schoolmaster: the second violin was out of + town and the book-seller frequented “Mosesheight,” a garden restaurant in + his own district, situated on a hill. + </p> + <p> + On an evening in autumn the bookseller and the second violin were sitting + at their favourite table, drinking a glass of punch, when the schoolmaster + entered, carrying under his arm a parcel which he carefully hid in an + empty hamper in a cupboard used for all sorts of lumber. He was + ill-tempered and unusually irritable. + </p> + <p> + “Well, old boy,” the bookseller began for the hundredth time, “and when + are you going to be married?” + </p> + <p> + “Confound your ‘when are you going to be married!’ As if a man hadn’t + enough trouble without it! Why don’t you get married yourself?” growled + the schoolmaster. + </p> + <p> + “Oh! because I have my old Stafva,” answered the bookseller, who always + had a number of stereotyped answers in readiness. + </p> + <p> + “I was married very happily,” said the Pole, “but my wife is dead, now, + ugh!” + </p> + <p> + “Is she?” mimicked the schoolmaster; “and the gentleman is a widower? How + am I to reconcile these facts?” + </p> + <p> + The Pole nodded, for he did not in the least understand what the + schoolmaster was driving at. + </p> + <p> + The latter felt bored by his friends; their topic of conversation was + always the same; he knew their replies by heart. + </p> + <p> + Presently he went into the corridor for a few moments to fetch his + cigar-case which he had left in the pocket of his overcoat. The bookseller + instantly raided the cupboard and returned with the mysterious parcel. As + it was not sealed, he opened it quickly; it contained a beautiful American + sleeping-suit; he hung it carefully over the back of the schoolmaster’s + chair. + </p> + <p> + “Ugh!” said the Pole, grinning, as if he were looking at something + unsightly. + </p> + <p> + The proprietor of the restaurant who loved a practical joke, bent over the + counter, laughing loudly; the waiter stood rooted to the spot, and one of + the cooks peeped through the door which communicated with the kitchen. + </p> + <p> + When the schoolmaster came back and realised the trick played on him, he + grew pale with anger; he immediately suspected the bookseller; but when + his eyes fell on Gustav who was standing in a corner of the room, + laughing, his old obsession returned to him: “He’s paying me out!” Without + a word he seized his property, threw a few coins on the counter and left + the restaurant. + </p> + <p> + Henceforth the schoolmaster avoided Rejner’s. The bookseller had heard + that he dined at a restaurant in his own district. This was true. But he + was very discontented! The food was not actually bad, but it was not + cooked to his liking. The waiters were not attentive. He often thought of + returning to Rejner’s, but his pride would not let him. He had been turned + out of his home; in five minutes a bond of many years’ standing had been + severed. + </p> + <p> + A short time after fate struck him a fresh blow. Miss Augusta had + inherited a little fortune in the provinces and had decided to leave + Stockholm on the first of October. The schoolmaster had to look out for + new lodgings. + </p> + <p> + But he had been spoilt, and there was no pleasing him. He changed his room + every month. There was nothing wrong with the rooms, but they were not + like his old room. It had become such a habit with him to walk through + certain streets, that he often found himself before his old front door + before he realised his mistake. He was like a lost child. + </p> + <p> + Eventually he went to live in a boarding house, a solution which he had + always loathed and dreaded. And then his friends lost sight of him + altogether. + </p> + <p> + One evening, as the Pole was sitting alone over his grog, smoking, + drinking, and nodding with the capacity of the oriental to lapse into + complete stupor, the bookseller burst in on him like a thunderstorm, flung + his hat on the table, and shouted: + </p> + <p> + “Confound him! Has anybody ever heard anything like it?” + </p> + <p> + The Pole roused himself from his brandy-and-tobacco Nirvana, and rolled + his eyes. + </p> + <p> + “I say, confound it! Has anybody ever heard anything like it? He’s going + to be married!” + </p> + <p> + “Who’s going to be married?” asked the Pole, startled by the bookseller’s + violence and emphatic language. + </p> + <p> + “Schoolmaster Blom!” + </p> + <p> + The bookseller expected a glass of grog in exchange for his news. The + proprietor left the counter and came to their table to listen. + </p> + <p> + “Has she any money?” he asked acutely. + </p> + <p> + “I don’t think so,” replied the bookseller, conscious of his temporary + importance and selling his wares one by one. + </p> + <p> + “Is she beautiful?” asked the Pole. “My wife was very beautiful. Ugh!” + </p> + <p> + “No, she’s not beautiful either,” answered the bookseller, “but + nice-looking.” + </p> + <p> + “Have you seen her?” enquired the proprietor. “Is she old?” His eyes + wandered towards the kitchen door. + </p> + <p> + “No, she’s young!” + </p> + <p> + “And her parents?” continued the proprietor. + </p> + <p> + “I heard that her father was a brass founder in Orebro.” + </p> + <p> + “The rascal! Well, I never!” said the proprietor. + </p> + <p> + “Haven’t I always said so? The man is a born husband,” said the + bookseller. + </p> + <p> + “We all of us are,” said the proprietor, “and take my word for it, no one + escapes his fate!” + </p> + <p> + With this philosophical remark he closed the subject and returned to the + counter. + </p> + <p> + When they had settled that the schoolmaster was not marrying for money, + they discussed the problem of “what the young people were going to live + on.” The bookseller made a guess at the schoolmaster’s salary and “what he + might earn besides by giving private lessons.” When that question, too, + had been settled, the proprietor, who had returned to the table, asked for + details. + </p> + <p> + “Where had he met her? Was she fair or dark? Was she in love with him?” + </p> + <p> + The last question was by no means out of the way; the bookseller “thought + she was,” for he had seen them together, arm in arm, looking into shop + windows. + </p> + <p> + “But that he, who was such a stick, could fall in love! It was + incredible!” + </p> + <p> + “And what a husband he would make!” The proprietor knew that he was <i>devilish + particular</i> about his food, and that, he said, was a mistake when one + was married. + </p> + <p> + “And he likes a glass of punch in the evening, and surely a married man + can’t drink punch every evening of his life. And he doesn’t like children! + It won’t turn out well,” he whispered. “Take my word for it, it won’t turn + out well. And, gentlemen, there’s another thing,” (he rose from his seat, + looked round and continued in a whisper), “I believe, I’m hanged if I + don’t, that the old hypocrite has had a love affair of some sort. Do you + remember that incident, gentlemen, with the—hihihi—sleeping + suit? He’s one of those whom you don’t find where you leave them! Take + care, Mrs. Blom! Mind what you are about! I’ll say no more!” + </p> + <p> + It was certainly a fact that the schoolmaster was engaged to be married + and that the wedding was to take place within two months. + </p> + <p> + What happened after, does not belong to this story, and, moreover, it is + difficult to know what goes on behind the convent walls of domesticity + when the vow of silence is being kept. + </p> + <p> + It was also a fact that the schoolmaster, after his marriage, was never + again seen at a public house. + </p> + <p> + The bookseller, who met him by himself in the street one evening, had to + listen to a long exhortation on getting married. The schoolmaster had + inveighed against all bachelors; he had called them egotists, who refused + to do their duty by the State; in his opinion they ought to be heavily + taxed, for all indirect taxes weighed most cruelly on the father of a + family. He went so far as to say that he wished to see bachelorhood + punished by the law of the land as a “crime against nature.” + </p> + <p> + The bookseller had a good memory. He said that he doubted the advisability + of taking a <i>fool</i> into one’s house, permanently. But the + schoolmaster replied that <i>his</i> wife was the most intelligent woman + he had ever met. + </p> + <p> + Two years after the wedding the Pole saw the schoolmaster and his wife in + the theatre; he thought that they looked happy; “ugh!” + </p> + <p> + Another three years went by. On a Midsummer day the proprietor of the + restaurant made a pleasure trip on the Lake of Mälar to Mariafred. There, + before Castle Cripsholm, he saw the schoolmaster, pushing a perambulator + over a green field, and carrying in his disengaged hand a basket + containing food, while a whole crowd of young men and women, “who looked + like country folk,” followed in the rear. After dinner the schoolmaster + sang songs and turned somersaults with the youngsters. He looked ten years + younger and had all the ways of a ladies’ man. + </p> + <p> + The proprietor, who was quite close to the party while they were having + dinner, overheard a little conversation between Mr. and Mrs. Blom. When + the young wife took a dish of crabs from the basket, she apologised to + Albert, because she had not been able to buy a single female crab in the + whole market. Thereupon the schoolmaster put his arm round her, kissed her + and said that it didn’t matter in the least, because male or female crabs, + it was all the same to him. And when one of the babies in the perambulator + began to cry, the schoolmaster lifted it out and hushed it to sleep again. + </p> + <p> + Well, all these things are mere details, but how people can get married + and bring up a family when they have not enough for themselves while they + are bachelors, is a riddle to me. It almost looks as if babies brought + their food with them when they come into this world; it really almost does + look as if they did. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0006" id="link2H_4_0006"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + COMPENSATION + </h2> + <p> + He was considered a genius at College, and no one doubted that he would + one day distinguish himself. But after passing his examinations, he was + obliged to go to Stockholm and look out for a berth. His dissertation, + which was to win him the doctor’s degree, had to be postponed. As he was + very ambitious, but had no private means, he resolved to marry money, and + with this object in view, he visited only the very best families, both at + Upsala where he studied for the bar, and later on at Stockholm. At Upsala + he always fraternised with the new arrivals, that is to say, when they + were members of aristocratic families, and the freshers felt flattered by + the advances made by the older man. In this way he formed many useful + ties, which meant invitations to his friends’ country houses during the + summer. + </p> + <p> + The country houses were his happy hunting ground. He possessed social + talents, he could sing and play and amuse the ladies, and consequently he + was a great favourite. He dressed beyond his means; but he never borrowed + money from any of his friends or aristocratic acquaintances. He even went + to the length of buying two worthless shares and mentioning on every + possible occasion that he had to attend a General Meeting of the + shareholders. + </p> + <p> + For two summers he had paid a great deal of attention to a titled lady who + owned some property, and his prospects were the general topic, when he + suddenly disappeared from high life and became engaged to a poor girl, the + daughter of a cooper, who owned no property whatever. + </p> + <p> + His friends were puzzled and could not understand how he could thus stand + in his own light. He had laid his plans so well, he “had but to stretch + out his hand and success was in his grasp”; he had the morsel firmly stuck + on his fork, it was only necessary for him to open his mouth and swallow + it. He himself was at a loss to understand how it was that the face of a + little girl whom he had met but once on a steamer could have upset all his + plans of many years’ standing. He was bewitched, obsessed. + </p> + <p> + He asked his friends whether they didn’t think her beautiful? + </p> + <p> + Frankly speaking they didn’t. + </p> + <p> + “But she is so clever! Just look into her eyes! What expressive eyes she + has!” + </p> + <p> + His friends could see nothing and hear less, for the girl never opened her + lips. + </p> + <p> + But he spent evening after evening with the cooper’s family; to be sure, + the cooper was a very intelligent man! On his knees before her (a trick + often practised at the country houses) he held her skeins of wool; he + played and sang to her, talked about religion and the drama, and he always + read acquiescence in her eyes. He wrote poetry about her, and sacrificed + at her shrine his laurels, his ambitious dreams, even his dissertation. + </p> + <p> + And then he married her. + </p> + <p> + The cooper drank too much at the wedding and made an improper speech about + girls in general. But the son-in-law found the old man so unsophisticated, + so amiable, that he egged him on instead of shutting him up. He felt at + his ease among these simple folk; in their midst he could be quite + himself. + </p> + <p> + “That’s being in love,” said his friends. “Love is a wonderful thing.” + </p> + <p> + And now they were married. One month—two months. He was unspeakably + happy. Every evening they spent together and he sang a song to her about + the Rose in the Wood, her favourite song. And he talked about religion and + the drama, and she sat and listened eagerly. But she never expressed an + opinion; she listened in silence and went on with her crochet work. + </p> + <p> + In the third month he relapsed into his old habit of taking an afternoon + nap. His wife, who hated being by herself, insisted on sitting by him. It + irritated him, for he felt an overwhelming need to be alone with his + thoughts. + </p> + <p> + Sometimes she met him on his way home from his office, and her heart + swelled with pride when he left his colleagues and crossed the street to + join her. She took him home in triumph: he was <i>her</i> husband! + </p> + <p> + In the fourth month he grew tired of her favourite song. It was stale now! + He took up a book and read, and neither of them spoke. + </p> + <p> + One evening he had to attend a meeting which was followed by a banquet. It + was his first night away from home. He had persuaded his wife to invite a + friend to spend the evening with her, and to go to bed early, for he did + not expect to be home until late. + </p> + <p> + The friend came and stayed until nine o’clock. The young wife sat in the + drawing-room, waiting, for she was determined not to go to bed until her + husband had returned. She felt too restless to go to sleep. + </p> + <p> + She sat alone in the drawing-room. What could she do to make the time pass + more quickly? The maid had gone to bed; the grandfather’s clock ticked and + ticked. But it was only ten o’clock when she put away her crochet work. + She fidgeted, moved the furniture about and felt a little unstrung. + </p> + <p> + So that was what being married meant! One was torn from one’s early + surroundings, and shut up in three solitary rooms to wait until one’s + husband came home, half intoxicated.—Nonsense! he loved her, and he + was out on business. She was a fool to forget that. But <i>did</i> he love + her still? Hadn’t he refused a day or two ago to hold a skein of wool for + her?—a thing he loved to do before they were married. Didn’t he look + rather annoyed yesterday when she met him before lunch? And—after + all—if he had to attend a business meeting to-night, there was no + necessity for him to be present at the banquet. + </p> + <p> + It was half-past ten when her musing had reached this point. She was + surprised that she hadn’t thought of these things before. She relapsed + into her dark mood and the dismal thoughts again passed through her mind, + one by one. But now reinforcements had arrived. He never talked to her + now! He never sang to her, never opened the piano! He had told her a lie + when he had said that he couldn’t do without his afternoon nap, for he was + reading French novels all the time. + </p> + <p> + He had told her a lie! + </p> + <p> + It was only half-past eleven. The silence was oppressive. She opened the + window and looked out into the street. Two men were standing down below, + bargaining with two women. That was men’s way! If he should ever do + anything like that! She should drown herself if he did. + </p> + <p> + She shut the window and lighted the chandelier in the bedroom. “One ought + to be able to see what one is about,” he had once said to her on a certain + occasion.—Everything was still so bright and new! The green coverlet + looked like a mown lawn, and the little pillows reminded her of two white + kittens curled up on the grass. The polish of her dressing-table reflected + the light: the mirror had as yet none of those ugly stains which are made + by the splashing of water. The silver on the back of her hair-brush, her + powder-box, her tooth-brush, all shone and sparkled. Her bedroom slippers + were still so new and pretty that it was impossible to picture them + down-at-heel. Everything looked new, and yet everything seemed to have + lost some of its freshness. She knew all his songs, all his drawing-room + pieces, all his words, all his thoughts. She knew before-hand what he + would say when he sat down to lunch, what he would talk about when they + were alone in the evening. + </p> + <p> + She was sick of it all. Had she been in love with him? Oh, yes! Certainly! + But was this all then? Was she realising all the dreams of her girlhood? + Were things to go on like this until she died? Yes! But—but—but—surely + they would have children! though there was no sign of it as yet. Then she + would no longer be alone! Then he might go out as often as he liked, for + she would always have somebody to talk to, to play with. Perhaps it was a + baby which she wanted to make her happy. Perhaps matrimony really meant + something more than being a man’s legitimate mistress. That must be it! + But then, he would have to love her, and he didn’t do that. And she began + to cry. + </p> + <p> + When her husband came home at one o’clock, he was quite sober. But he was + almost angry with her when he found her still up. + </p> + <p> + “Why didn’t you go to bed?” were the words with which he greeted her. + </p> + <p> + “How can I go to sleep when I am waiting for you?” + </p> + <p> + “A fine look out for me! Am I never to go out then? I believe you have + been crying, too?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I have, and how can I help it if you—don’t—love—me—any—more?” + </p> + <p> + “Do you mean to say I don’t love you because I had to go out on business?” + </p> + <p> + “A banquet isn’t business!” + </p> + <p> + “Good God! Am I not to be allowed to go out? How can women be so + obtrusive?” + </p> + <p> + “Obtrusive? Yes, I noticed that yesterday, when I met you. I’ll never meet + you again.” + </p> + <p> + “But, darling, I was with my chief—” + </p> + <p> + “Huhuhu!” + </p> + <p> + She burst into tears, her body moved convulsively. + </p> + <p> + He had to call the maid and ask her to fetch the hot-water bottle. + </p> + <p> + He, too, was weeping. Scalding tears! He wept over himself, his hardness + of heart, his wickedness, his illusions over everything. + </p> + <p> + Surely his love for her wasn’t an illusion? He did love her! Didn’t he? + And she said she loved him, too, as he was kneeling before her prostrate + figure, kissing her eyes. Yes, they loved one another! It was merely a + dark cloud which had passed, now. Ugly thoughts, born of solitude and + loneliness. She would never, never again stay alone. They fell asleep in + each other’s arms, her face dimpled with smiles. + </p> + <p> + But she did not go to meet him on the following day. He asked no questions + at lunch. He talked a lot, but more for the sake of talking than to amuse + her; it seemed as if he were talking to himself. + </p> + <p> + In the evening he entertained her with long descriptions of the life at + Castle Sjöstaholm; he mimicked the young ladies talking to the Baron, and + told her the names of the Count’s horses. And on the following day he + mentioned his dissertation. + </p> + <p> + One afternoon he came home very tired. She was sitting in the + drawing-room, waiting for him. Her ball of cotton had fallen on the floor. + In passing, his foot got entangled in the cotton; at his next step he + pulled her crochet work out of her hand and dragged it along; then he lost + his temper and kicked it aside. + </p> + <p> + She exclaimed at his rudeness. + </p> + <p> + He retorted that he had no time to bother about her rubbish, and advised + her to spend her time more profitably. He had to think of his + dissertation, if he was to have a career at all. And she ought to consider + the question of how to limit their household expenses. + </p> + <p> + Things had gone far indeed! + </p> + <p> + On the next day the young wife, her eyes swollen with weeping, was + knitting socks for her husband. He told her he could buy them cheaper + ready-made. She burst into tears. What was she to do? The maid did all the + work of the house, there was not enough work in the kitchen for two. She + always dusted the rooms. Did he want her to send the maid away? + </p> + <p> + “No, no!” + </p> + <p> + “What did he want, then?” + </p> + <p> + He didn’t know himself, but he was sure that something was wrong. Their + expenses were too high. That was all. They couldn’t go on living at their + present rate, and then—somehow he could never find time to work at + his dissertation. + </p> + <p> + Tears, kisses, and a grand reconciliation! But now he started staying away + from home in the evening several times a week. Business! A man must show + himself! If he stays at home, he will be overlooked and forgotten! + </p> + <p> + A year had passed; there were no signs of the arrival of a baby. “How like + a little liaison I once had in the old days,” he thought; “there is only + one difference: this one is duller and costs more.” There was no more + conversation, now; they merely talked of household matters. “She has no + brain,” he thought. “I am listening to myself when I am talking to her, + and the apparent depths of her eyes is a delusion, due to the size of her + pupils—the unusual size of her pupils.—” + </p> + <p> + He talked openly about his former love for her as of something that was + over and done with. And yet, whenever he did so, he felt a pain in his + heart, an irritating, cruel pain, a remorseless pain that could never die. + </p> + <p> + “Everything on earth withers and dies,” he mused, “why should her + favourite song alone be an exception to this? When one has heard it three + hundred and sixty-five times, it becomes stale; it can’t be helped. But is + my wife right when she says that our love, also, has died? No, and yet—perhaps + she is. Our marriage is no better than a vulgar liaison, for we have no + child.” + </p> + <p> + One day he made up his mind to talk the matter over with a married friend, + for were they not both members of the “Order of the Married”? + </p> + <p> + “How long have you been married?” + </p> + <p> + “Six years.” + </p> + <p> + “And does matrimony bore you?” + </p> + <p> + “At first it did; but when the children came, matters improved.” + </p> + <p> + “Was that so? It’s strange that we have no child.” + </p> + <p> + “Not your fault, old man! Tell your wife to go and see a doctor about it.” + </p> + <p> + He had an intimate conversation with her and she went. + </p> + <p> + Six weeks after what a change! + </p> + <p> + What a bustle and commotion in the house! The drawing-room table was + littered with baby-clothes which were quickly hidden if anybody entered + unexpectedly, and reappeared as quickly if it was only he who had come in. + A name had to be thought of. It would surely be a boy. The midwife had to + be interviewed, medical books had to be bought, and a cradle and a baby’s + outfit. + </p> + <p> + The baby arrived and it really was a boy! And when he saw the “little + monkey that smelled of butter” clasped to her bosom, which until then had + but been his plaything, he reverently discovered the mother in his little + wife; and “when he saw the big pupils looking at the baby so intently that + they seemed to be looking into the future”, he realised that there were + depths in her eyes after all; depths more profound than he could fathom + for all his drama and religion. And now all his old love, his dear old + love, burst into fresh flames, and there was something new added to it, + which he had dimly divined, but never realised. + </p> + <p> + How beautiful she was when she busied herself about the house again! And + how intelligent in all matters concerning the baby! + </p> + <p> + As for him, he felt a man. Instead of talking of the Baron’s horses and + the Count’s cricket matches, he now talked, too much almost, of his son. + </p> + <p> + And when occasionally he was obliged to be out of an evening, he always + longed for his own fireside; not because his wife sat there waiting for + him, like an evil conscience, but because he knew that she was not alone. + And when he came home, both mother and child were asleep. He was almost + jealous of the baby, for there had been a certain charm in the thought + that while he was out, somebody was sitting alone at home, eagerly + awaiting his return. + </p> + <p> + Now he was allowed his afternoon nap. And as soon as he had gone back to + town, the piano was opened and the favourite song of the <i>Rose in the + Wood</i> was sung, for it was quite new to Harold, and had regained all + its freshness for poor little Laura who hadn’t heard it for so many days. + </p> + <p> + She had no time now for crochet work, but there were plenty of + antimacassars in the house. He, on his part, could not spare the time for + his dissertation. + </p> + <p> + “Harold shall write it,” said the father, for he knew now that his life + would not be over when he came to die. + </p> + <p> + Many an evening they sat together, as before, and gossiped, but now both + took a share in the conversation, for now she understood what they were + talking about. + </p> + <p> + She confessed that she was a silly girl who knew nothing about religion + and the drama; but she said that she had always told him so, and that he + had refused to believe it. + </p> + <p> + But now he believed it less than ever. + </p> + <p> + They sang the old favourite song, and Harold crowed, they danced to the + tune and rocked the baby’s cradle to it, and the song always retained its + freshness and charm. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0007" id="link2H_4_0007"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + FRICTIONS + </h2> + <p> + His eyes had been opened. He realised the perversity of the world, but he + lacked the power to penetrate the darkness and discover the cause of this + perversity; therefore he gave himself up to despair, a disillusioned man. + Then he fell in love with a girl who married somebody else. He complained + of her conduct to his friends, male and female, but they only laughed at + him. For a little while longer he trod his solitary path alone and + misunderstood. He belonged to “society,” and joined in its pursuits, + because it distracted him; but at the bottom of his heart he had nothing + but contempt for its amusements, which he took no pains to conceal. + </p> + <p> + One evening he was present at a ball. He danced with a young woman of + unusual beauty and animation. When the band ceased playing, he remained + standing by her side. He knew he ought to talk to her but he did not know + what to say. After a while the girl broke the silence. + </p> + <p> + “You are fond of dancing, Baron?” she said with a cold, smile. + </p> + <p> + “Oh no! not at all,” he answered. “Are you?” + </p> + <p> + “I can’t imagine anything more foolish,” she replied. + </p> + <p> + He had met his man, or rather his woman. + </p> + <p> + “Why do you dance, then?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “For the same reason that you do.” + </p> + <p> + “Can you read my mind?” + </p> + <p> + “Easily enough; if two people think alike, the other always knows.” + </p> + <p> + “H’m! You’re a strange woman! Do you believe in love?” + </p> + <p> + “No!” + </p> + <p> + “Nor do I! You and I ought to get married.” + </p> + <p> + “I’m beginning to think so myself.” + </p> + <p> + “Would you marry me?” + </p> + <p> + “Why not? At any rate, we shouldn’t fight.” + </p> + <p> + “Horrible idea! But how can you be so sure?” + </p> + <p> + “Because we think alike.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, but that might become monotonous. We should have nothing to talk + about, because the one would always know what the other is thinking.” + </p> + <p> + “True; but wouldn’t it be even more monotonous if we remained unmarried + and misunderstood?” + </p> + <p> + “You are right! Would you like to think it over?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, until the cotillon.” + </p> + <p> + “No longer?” + </p> + <p> + “Why any longer?” + </p> + <p> + He took her back to the drawing-room and left her there, drank several + glasses of champagne and watched her during supper. She allowed two young + members of the Diplomatic Corps to wait on her, but made fun of them all + the time and treated them as if they were footmen. + </p> + <p> + As soon as the cotillon began, he went to her and offered her a bouquet. + </p> + <p> + “Do you accept me?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” she replied. + </p> + <p> + And so they were engaged. + </p> + <p> + It’s a splendid match, said the world. They are made for one another. They + are equals as far as social position and money are concerned. They hold + the same blasé views of life. By blasé the world meant that they cared + very little for dances, theatres, bazaars, and other noble sports without + which life is not really worth living. + </p> + <p> + They were like carefully wiped twin slates, exactly alike; but utterly + unable to surmise whether or not life would write the same legend on both. + They never asked one another during the tender moments of their + engagement: Do you love me? They knew quite well that it was impossible, + because they did not believe in love. They talked little, but they + understood one another perfectly. + </p> + <p> + And they married. + </p> + <p> + He was always attentive, always polite, and they were good friends. + </p> + <p> + When the baby was born, it had but one effect on their relationship; they + had something to talk about now. + </p> + <p> + But by-and-by the husband began to reveal a certain energy. He had a sense + of duty, and moreover, he was sick of being idle. He had a private income, + but was in no way connected with politics or the Government. Now he looked + round for some occupation which would fill the void in his life. He had + heard the first morning call of the awakening spirits and felt it his duty + to do his share of the great work of research into the causes of human + misery. He read much, made a careful study of politics and eventually + wrote an article and sent it to a paper. The consequence was that he was + elected a member of the Board of Education. This necessitated hard reading + in future, for all questions were to be threshed out thoroughly. + </p> + <p> + The Baroness lay on the sofa and read Chateaubriand and Musset. She had no + faith in the improvement of humanity, and this stirring up of the dust and + mould which the centuries had deposited on human institutions irritated + her. Yet she noticed that she did not keep pace with her husband. They + were like two horses at a race. They had been weighed before the start and + been found to be of the same weight; they had promised to keep side by + side during the run; everything was calculated to make them finish the + race and leave the course at the same time. But already the husband had + gained by the length of a neck. Unless she hurried up, she was bound to be + left behind. + </p> + <p> + And the latter really happened. In the following year he was made + controller of the budget. He was away for two months. His absence made the + Baroness realise that she loved him; a fact which was brought home to her + by her fear of losing him. + </p> + <p> + When he returned home, she was all eagerness; but his mind was filled with + the things he had seen and heard abroad. He realised that they had come to + the parting of the ways, but he would have liked to delay it, prevent it, + if possible. He showed her in great living pictures the functioning of the + colossal gigantic machinery of the State, he tried to explain to her the + working of the wheels, the multifarious transmissions, regulators and + detents, unreliable pendulums and untrustworthy safety valves. + </p> + <p> + She was interested at first, but after a while her interest waned. + Conscious of her mental inferiority, her insignificance, she devoted + herself entirely to her baby, anxious to demonstrate to her husband that + she yet had a value as a model mother. But her husband did not appreciate + this value. He had married her for the sake of companionship, and he found + in her an excellent nurse for his child. But how could it be helped now? + Who could have foreseen such a thing? + </p> + <p> + The house was always full of members of Parliament, and politics was the + subject of conversation at dinner. The hostess merely took care that no + fault could be found with the cooking. The Baron never omitted to have one + or two men amongst his guests who could talk to his wife about music and + the drama, but the Baroness wanted to discuss nothing but the nursery and + the bringing up of children. After dessert, as soon as the health of the + hostess was drunk, there was a general stampede to the smoking-room where + the political discussions were continued. The Baroness left her guests and + went to the nursery with a feeling of bitterness in her heart; she + realised that her husband had so far outdistanced her that she could never + again hope to come up with him. + </p> + <p> + He worked much at home in the evening; frequently he was busy at his + writing-table until the small hours of the morning, but always behind + locked doors. When he noticed afterwards, as he sometimes did, that his + wife went about with red eyes, he felt a pain in his heart; but they had + nothing to say to each other. + </p> + <p> + Occasionally however, at those times when his work palled, when he + realised that his inner life was growing poorer and poorer, he felt a void + within him, a longing for warmth, for something intimate, something he had + dreamed of long ago, in the early days of his youth. But every feeling of + that sort he suppressed at once as unfaithfulness to his wife, for he had + a very high conception of the duty of a husband. + </p> + <p> + To bring a little more variety into her daily life, he suggested one day + that she should invite a cousin of whom she had often spoken, but whom he + had never seen, to spend the winter with them in town. + </p> + <p> + This had always been a great wish of the Baroness’s, but now that the + realisation of it was within her power, she changed her mind. She did not + want her in the least now. Her husband pressed her for reasons, but she + could not give him any. It roused his curiosity and finally she confessed + that she was afraid of her cousin; afraid that she might win his heart, + that he might fall in love with her. + </p> + <p> + “She must be a queer girl, we really must have her here!” + </p> + <p> + The Baroness wept and warned, but the Baron laughed and the cousin + arrived. + </p> + <p> + One afternoon the Baron came home, tired as usual; he had forgotten all + about the cousin and his curiosity in regard to her. They sat down to + dinner. The Baron asked the cousin if she was fond of the theatre. She + replied that she was not. She preferred reality to make-believe. At home + she had founded a school for black sheep and a society for the care of + discharged prisoners. Indeed! The Baron was much interested in the + administration of prisons. The cousin was able to give him a good deal of + information, and during the rest of the dinner the conversation was + exclusively about prisons. Eventually the cousin promised to treat the + whole question in a paper which the Baron was going to read and work up. + </p> + <p> + What the Baroness had foreseen, happened. The Baron contracted a spiritual + marriage with the cousin, and his wife was left out in the cold. But the + cousin was also beautiful, and when she leaned over the Baron at his + writing-desk, and he felt her soft arm on his shoulder and her warm breath + against his cheek, he could not suppress a sensation of supreme + well-being. Needless to say, their conversation was not always of prisons. + They also discussed love. She believed in the love of the souls, and she + stated as plainly as she could, that marriage without love was + prostitution. The Baron had not taken much interest in the development of + modern ideas on love, and found that her views on the subject were rather + hard, but after all she was probably quite right. + </p> + <p> + But the cousin possessed other qualities, too, invaluable qualifications + for a true spiritual marriage. She had no objection to tobacco smoke for + instance, in fact, she was very fond of a cigarette herself. There was no + reason, therefore, why she should not go into the smoking-room with the + men after dinner and talk about politics. And then she was charming. + </p> + <p> + Tortured by little twinges of conscience, the Baron would every now and + then disappear from the smoking-room, go into the nursery, kiss his wife + and child, and ask her how she was getting on? The Baroness was grateful, + but she was not happy. After these little journeys the Baron always + returned to his friends in the best of tempers; one might have thought + that he had faithfully performed a sacred duty. At other times it + irritated and distressed him that his wife did not join the party in the + smoking-room, too, as <i>his</i> wife; this thought was a burden which + weighed quite heavily on him. + </p> + <p> + The cousin did not go home in the spring, but accompanied the couple to a + watering-place. There she organised little performances for the benefit of + the poor, in which she and the Baron played the parts of the lovers. This + had the inevitable result that the fire burst into flames. But the flames + were only spiritual flames; mutual interests, like views, and, perhaps, + similar dispositions. + </p> + <p> + The Baroness had ample time to consider her position. The day arrived when + she told her husband that since everything was over between them, the only + decent thing to do was to part. But that was more than he had bargained + for; he was miserable; the cousin had better return to her parents, and he + would prove to his wife that he was a man of honour. + </p> + <p> + The cousin left. A correspondence between her and the Baron began. He made + the Baroness read every letter, however much she hated doing it. After a + while, however, he gave in and read the letters without showing them to + his wife. + </p> + <p> + Finally the cousin returned. Then matters came to a crisis. The Baron + discovered that he could not live without her. + </p> + <p> + What were they to do? Separate? It would be death. Go on as at present? + Impossible! Annul the marriage which the Baron had come to look upon as + legal prostitution and marry his beloved? However painful it might be, it + was the only honest course to take. + </p> + <p> + But that was against the wishes of the cousin. She did not want it said of + her that she had stolen another woman’s husband. And then the scandal! the + scandal! + </p> + <p> + “But it was dishonest not to tell his wife everything; it was dishonest to + allow things to go on; one could never tell how the matter would end.” + </p> + <p> + “What did he mean? How could it end?” + </p> + <p> + “Nobody could tell!” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! How dared he! What did he think of her?” + </p> + <p> + “That she was a woman!” + </p> + <p> + And he fell on his knees and worshipped her; he said that he did not care + if the administration of prisons and the school for black sheep went to + the devil; he did not know what manner of woman she was; he only knew that + he loved her. + </p> + <p> + She replied that she had nothing but contempt for him, and went helter + skelter to Paris. He followed at her heels. At Hamburg he wrote a letter + to his wife in which he said that they had made a mistake and that it was + immoral not to rectify it. He asked her to divorce him. + </p> + <p> + And she divorced him. + </p> + <p> + A year after these events the Baron and the cousin were married. They had + a child. But that was a fact which did not interfere with their happiness. + On the contrary! What a wealth of new ideas germinated in their minds in + their voluntary exile! How strong were the winds which blew here! + </p> + <p> + He encouraged her to write a book on “young criminals.” The press tore it + to pieces. She was furious and swore that she would never write another + book. He asked her whether she wrote for praise, whether she was + ambitious?—She replied by a question: Why did he write?—A + little quarrel arose. He said it was refreshing to hear her express views + which did not echo his own—always his own.—Always his own? + What did he mean? Didn’t she have <i>views of her own</i>? She henceforth + made it her business to prove to him on every occasion that she was + capable of forming her own opinions; and to prevent any errors on his part + she took good care that they always differed from his. He told her he did + not care what views she held as long as she loved him.—Love? What + about it? He was no better than other men and, moreover, he had betrayed + her. He did not love her soul, but her body.—No, he loved both, he + loved her, every bit of her!—Oh! How deceitful he had been!—No, + he had not been deceitful, he had merely deceived himself when he believed + that he loved her soul only. + </p> + <p> + They were tired of strolling up and down the boulevard, and sat down + before a cafe. She lighted a cigarette. A waiter requested her rather + uncivilly, not to smoke. The Baron demanded an explanation and the waiter + said that the cafe was a first-class establishment and the management was + anxious not to drive away respectable people by serving <i>these ladies</i>. + They rose from their seats, paid and went away. The Baron was furious, the + young Baroness had tears in her eyes. + </p> + <p> + “There they had a demonstration of the power of prejudice! Smoking was a + foolish act as far as a man was concerned, but in a woman it was a crime! + Let him who was able to do so, destroy this prejudice! Or, let us say, him + who would care to do so! The Baron had no wish that his wife should be the + first victim, even if it were to win for her the doubtful honour of having + cast aside a prejudice. For it was nothing else. In Russia, ladies + belonging to the best society smoked at the dinner-table during the + courses. Customs changed with the latitudes. And yet those trifles were + not without importance, for life consisted of trifles. If men and women + shared bad habits, intercourse between them would be less stiff and + formal: they would make friends more easily and keep pace with one + another. If they had the same education, they would have the same + interests, and cling together more closely during the whole of their + lives.” + </p> + <p> + The Baron was silent as if he had said something foolish. But she had not + been listening to him; her thoughts had been far away. + </p> + <p> + “She had been insulted by a waiter, told that she was not fit to associate + with respectable people. There was more behind that, than appeared on the + surface. She had been recognised. Yes, she was sure of it, it was not the + first time that she had noticed it.” + </p> + <p> + “What had she noticed?” + </p> + <p> + “That she had been treated with little respect at the restaurants. The + people evidently did not think that they were married; because they were + affectionate and civil to one another. She had borne it in silence for a + long time, but now she had come to the end of her tether. And yet this was + nothing compared to what they were saying at home!” + </p> + <p> + “Well, what were they saying? And why had she never told him anything + about it before?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! horrible things! The letters she had received! Leaving the anonymous + ones quite out of the question. + </p> + <p> + “Well, and what about him? Was he not being treated as if he were a + criminal? And yet he had not committed a crime! He had acted according to + all legal requirements, he had not broken his marriage vows. He had left + the country in compliance with the dictates of the law; the Royal + Consistory has granted his appeal for a divorce; the clergy, Holy Church, + had given him his release from the bonds of his first marriage on stamped + paper; therefore he had not broken them! When a country was conquered, a + whole nation was absolved from its oath of loyalty to its monarch; why did + society look askance at the release from a promise? Had it not conferred + the right on the Consistory to dissolve a marriage? How could it dare to + assume the character of a judge now and condemn its own laws? Society was + at war with itself! He was being treated like a criminal! Hadn’t the + secretary of the Embassy, his old friend, on whom he had left his and his + wife’s cards, acknowledged them by simply returning one card only? And was + he not overlooked at all public functions?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! She had had to put up with worse things! One of her friends in Paris + had closed her door to her, and several had cut her in the street.” + </p> + <p> + “Only the wearer of a boot knew where it pinched. The boots which they + were wearing now were real Spanish boots, and they were at war with + society. The upper classes had cut them. The upper classes! This community + of semi-imbeciles, who secretly lived like dogs, but showed one another + respect as long as there was no public scandal; that was to say as long as + one did not honestly revoke an agreement and wait until it had lapsed + before one made use of one’s newly-regained freedom! And these vicious + upper classes were the awarders of social position and respect, according + to a scale on which honesty ranked far below zero. Society was nothing but + a tissue of lies! It was inexplicable that it hadn’t been found out long + ago! It was high time to examine this fine structure and inquire into the + condition of its foundations.” + </p> + <p> + They were on friendlier terms on arriving home than they had been for many + years. The Baroness stayed at home with her baby, and was soon expecting a + second one. This struggle against the tide was too hard for her, and she + was already growing tired of it. She was tired of everything! To write in + an elegantly furnished, well-heated room on the subject of discharged + prisoners, offering them, at a proper distance, a well-gloved hand, was a + proceeding society approved of; but to hold out the hand of friendship to + a woman who had married a legally divorced man was quite another thing. + Why should it be so? It was difficult to find an answer. + </p> + <p> + The Baron fought in the thick of the battle. He visited the Chamber of + Deputies, was present at meetings, and everywhere he listened to + passionate diatribes against society. He read papers and magazines, kept a + keen eye on literature, studied the subject deeply. His wife was + threatened by the same fate which had overtaken the first one; to be left + behind! It was strange. She seemed unable to take in all the details of + his investigations, she disapproved of much of the new doctrine, but she + felt that he was right and fighting for a good cause. He knew that he + could always count on her never-flagging sympathy; that he had a friend at + home who would always stand by him. Their common fate drove them into each + other’s arms like frightened birds at the approach of a storm. All the + womanliness in her,—however little it may be appreciated now-a-days,—which + is after all nothing but a memory of the great mother, the force of nature + which is woman’s endowment, was roused. It fell on the children like the + warm glow of a fire at eventide; it fell on the husband like a ray of + sunshine; it brought peace to the home. He often wondered how it was that + he did not miss his old comrade, with whom he was wont to discuss + everything; he discovered that his thoughts had gained force and vigour + since he stopped pouring them out as soon as he conceived them; it seemed + to him that he was profiting more by the silent approval, the kindly nod, + the unwavering sympathy. He felt that his strength had increased, that his + views were less under outside control; he was a solitary man, now, and yet + he was less solitary than he had been in the past, for he was no longer + constantly met by contradictions which merely filled his heart with + misgivings. + </p> + <p> + It was Christmas Eve in Paris. A large Christmas tree, grown in the wood + of St. Germain, stood in their little chalet on the Cours de la Reine. + They were going out after breakfast to buy Christmas presents for the + children. The Baron was pre-occupied, for he had just published a little + pamphlet, entitled: “Do the Upper Classes constitute Society?” They were + sitting at breakfast in their cosy dining-room, and the doors which led to + the nursery stood wide open. They listened to the nurse playing with the + children, and the Baroness smiled with contentment and happiness. She had + grown very gentle and her happiness was a quiet one. One of the children + suddenly screamed and she rose from the table to see what was the matter. + At the same moment the footman came into the dining-room with the morning + post. The Baron opened two packets of printed matter. The first was a “big + respectable” newspaper. He opened it and his eyes fell on a headline in + fat type: “A Blasphemer!” + </p> + <p> + He began to read: “Christmas is upon us again! This festival dear to all + pure hearts, this festival sacred to all Christian nations, which has + brought a message of peace and good-will to all men, which makes even the + murderer sheathe his knife, and the thief respect the sacred law of + property; this festival, which is not only of very ancient origin, but + which is also, especially in the countries of the North, surrounded by a + host of historic associations, etc., etc. And then like foul fumes arising + from a drain, an individual suddenly confronts us who does not scruple to + tear asunder the most sacred bonds, who vomits malice on all respectable + members of society; malice, dictated by the pettiest vengeance....” He + refolded the paper and put it into the pocket of his dressing-gown. Then + he opened the second parcel. It contained caricatures of himself and his + wife. It went the same way as the first, but he had to be quick, for his + wife was re-entering the dining-room. He finished his breakfast and went + into his bed-room to get ready to go out. They left the house together. + </p> + <p> + The sunlight fell on the frosted plane-trees of the Champs Elysées, and in + the heart of the stony desert the Place de la Concorde opened out like a + large oasis. He felt her arm on his, and yet he had the feeling as if she + were supporting him. She talked of the presents which they were going to + buy for the children, and he tried to force himself to take an interest in + the subject. But all at once he interrupted her conversation and asked + her, à-propos of nothing: + </p> + <p> + “Do you know the difference between vengeance and punishment?” + </p> + <p> + “No, I’ve never thought about it.” + </p> + <p> + “I wonder whether it isn’t this: When an anonymous journalist revenges + himself, it is punishment; but when a well-known writer, who is not a + pressman, fights with an open visor, meting out punishment, then it is + revenge! Let us join the new prophets!” + </p> + <p> + She begged him not to spoil Christmas by talking of the newspapers. + </p> + <p> + “This festival,” he muttered, “on which peace and good-will....” + </p> + <p> + They passed through the arcades of the Rue de Rivoli, turned into the + boulevards and made their purchases. They dined at the Grand Hotel. She + was in a sunny frame of mind and tried to cheer him up. But he remained + preoccupied. Suddenly he asked, + </p> + <p> + “How is it possible that one can have a bad conscience when one has acted + rightly?” + </p> + <p> + She did not know. + </p> + <p> + “Is it because the upper classes have so trained us, that our conscience + troubles us whenever we rebel against them? Probably it is so. Why + shouldn’t he who has been hurt unjustly, have the right to attack + injustice? Because only he who has been hurt will attack, and the upper + classes hate being attacked. Why did I not strike at the upper classes in + the past, when I belonged to them? Because, of course, I didn’t know them + then. One must look at a picture from a distance in order to find the + correct visual point!” + </p> + <p> + “One shouldn’t talk about such things on Christmas Eve!” + </p> + <p> + “True, it is Christmas. This festival of....” + </p> + <p> + They returned home. They lit the candles on the Christmas tree; it + radiated peace and happiness; but its dark branches smelt of a funeral and + looked sinister, like the Baron’s face. The nurse came in with the little + ones. His face lighted up, for, he thought, when they are grown up they + will reap in joy what we have sown in tears; then their conscience will + only trouble them when they have sinned against the laws of nature; they + won’t have to suffer from whims which have been caned into us at school, + drummed into us by the parsons, invented by the upper classes for their + own benefit. + </p> + <p> + The Baroness sat down at the piano when the maids and the footmen entered. + She played melancholy old dances, dear to the heart of the people of the + North, while the servants danced gravely with the children. It was very + much like the penitential part of divine service. + </p> + <p> + After that the presents were distributed among the children, and the + servants received their gifts. And then the children were put to bed. + </p> + <p> + The Baroness went into the drawing-room and sat down in an arm-chair. The + Baron threw himself on a footstool at her feet. He rested his head on her + knees. It was so heavy—so heavy. She silently stroked his forehead. + “What! was he weeping?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes!” + </p> + <p> + She had never before seen a man weep. It was a terrible sight. His big + strong frame shook, but he made no sound. + </p> + <p> + “Why was he weeping?” + </p> + <p> + “Because he was unhappy.” + </p> + <p> + “Unhappy with her?” + </p> + <p> + “No, no, not with her, but still, unhappy.” + </p> + <p> + “Had anybody treated him badly?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes!” + </p> + <p> + “Couldn’t he tell her all about it?” + </p> + <p> + “No, he only wanted to sit at her knees, as he used to sit long ago, at + his mother’s.” + </p> + <p> + She talked to him as if he had been a child. She kissed his eyes and wiped + his face with her handkerchief. She felt so proud, so strong, there were + no tears in her eyes. The sight of her inspired him with new courage. + </p> + <p> + “How weak he had been! That he should have found the machine-made attacks + of his opponents so hard to bear! Did his enemies really believe what they + said?” + </p> + <p> + “Terrible thought! Probably they did. One often found stones firmly grown + into pine-trees, why should not opinions grow into the brain in the same + way? But she believed in him, she knew that he was fighting for a good + cause?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, she believed it! But—he must not be angry with her for asking + him such a question—but—did he not miss his child, the first + one?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, certainly, but it could not be helped. At least, not yet! But he and + the others who were working for the future would have to find a remedy for + that, too. He did not know, yet, what form that remedy would take, but + stronger brains than his, and many together, would surely one day solve + this problem which at present seemed insolvable.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, she hoped it would be so.” + </p> + <p> + “But their marriage? Was it a marriage in the true sense of the word, + seeing that he couldn’t tell her what troubled him? Wasn’t it, too, + pro...?” + </p> + <p> + “No, it was a true marriage, for they loved one another. There had been no + love between him and his first wife. But he and she did love one another, + could she deny it?” + </p> + <p> + “She couldn’t, he was her dear love.” Then their marriage was a true + marriage before God and before Nature. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0008" id="link2H_4_0008"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + UNNATURAL SELECTION OR THE ORIGIN OF RACE + </h2> + <p> + The Baron had read in <i>The Slaves of Life</i> with disgust and + indignation that the children of the aristocracy were bound to perish + unless they took the mothers’ milk from the children of the lower classes. + He had read Darwin and believed that the gist of his teaching was that + through selection the children of the aristocracy had come to be more + highly developed representatives of the genus “Man.” But the doctrine of + heredity made him look upon the employment of a foster-mother with + aversion; for might not, with the blood of the lower classes, certain + conceptions, ideas and desires be introduced and propagated in the + aristocratic nursling? He was therefore determined that his wife should + nurse her baby herself, and if she should prove incapable of doing so, the + child should be brought up with the bottle. He had a right to the cows’ + milk, for they fed on his hay; without it they would starve, or would not + have come into existence at all. The baby was born. It was a son! The + father had been somewhat anxious before he became certain of his wife’s + condition, for he was, personally, a poor man; his wife, on the other + hand, was very wealthy, but he had no claim to her fortune unless their + union was blest with a legal heir, (in accordance with the law of entail + chap. 00 par. 00). His joy was therefore great and genuine. The baby was a + transparent little thoroughbred, with blue veins shining through his waxen + skin. Nevertheless his blood was poor. His mother who possessed the figure + of an angel, was brought up on choice food, protected by rich furs from + all the eccentricities of the climate, and had that aristocratic pallor + which denotes the woman of noble descent. + </p> + <p> + She nursed the baby herself. There was consequently no need to become + indebted to peasant women for the privilege of enjoying life on this + planet. Nothing but fables, all he had read about it! The baby sucked and + screamed for a fortnight. But all babies scream. It meant nothing. But it + lost flesh. It became terribly emaciated. The doctor was sent for. He had + a private conversation with the father, during which he declared that the + baby would die if the Baroness continued to nurse him, because she was + firstly too highly strung, and secondly had nothing with which to feed + him. He took the trouble to make a quantitative analysis of the milk, and + proved (by equations) that the child was bound to starve unless there was + a change in the method of his feeding. + </p> + <p> + What was to be done? On no account could the baby be allowed to die. + </p> + <p> + Bottle or foster mother? The latter was out of the question. Let us try + the bottle! The doctor, however, prescribed a foster mother. + </p> + <p> + The best Dutch cow, which had received the gold medal for the district, + was isolated and fed with hay; with dry hay of the finest quality. The + doctor analysed the milk, everything was all right. How simple the system + was! How strange that they had not thought of it before! After all, one + need not engage a foster mother a tyrant before whom one had to cringe, a + loafer one had to fatten; not to mention the fact that she might have an + infectious disease. + </p> + <p> + But the baby continued to lose flesh and to scream. It screamed night and + day. There was no doubt it suffered from colic. A new cow was procured and + a fresh analysis made. The milk was mixed with Karlsbad water, genuine + Sprudel, but the baby went on screaming. + </p> + <p> + “There’s no remedy but to engage a foster mother,” said the doctor. + </p> + <p> + “Oh! anything but that! One did not want to rob other children, it was + against nature, and, moreover, what about heredity?” + </p> + <p> + When the Baron began to talk of things natural and unnatural, the doctor + explained to him that if nature were allowed her own way, all noble + families would die out and their estates fall to the crown. This was the + wisdom of nature, and human civilization was nothing but a foolish + struggle against nature, in which man was bound to be beaten. The Baron’s + race was doomed; this was proved by the fact that his wife was unable to + feed the fruit of her womb; in order to live they were bound to buy or + steal the milk of other women. Consequently the race lived on robbery, + down to the smallest detail. + </p> + <p> + “Could the purchase of the milk be called robbery? The purchase of it!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, because the money with which it was bought was produced by labour. + Whose labour? The people’s! For the aristocracy didn’t work.” + </p> + <p> + “The doctor was a socialist!” + </p> + <p> + “No, a follower of Darwin. However, he didn’t care in the least if they + called him a socialist. It made no difference to him.” + </p> + <p> + “But surely, purchase was not robbery! That was too strong a word!” + </p> + <p> + “Well, but if one paid with money one hadn’t earned!” + </p> + <p> + “That was to say, earned by manual labour?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes!” + </p> + <p> + “But in that case the doctor was a robber too!” + </p> + <p> + “Quite so! Nevertheless he would not hold back with the truth! Didn’t the + Baron remember the repenting thief who had spoken such true words?” + </p> + <p> + The conversation was interrupted; the Baron sent for a famous professor. + The latter called him a murderer straight out, because he had not engaged + a nurse long ago. + </p> + <p> + The Baron had to persuade his wife. He had to retract all his former + arguments and emphasize the one simple fact, namely, the love for his + child, (regulated by the law of entail). + </p> + <p> + But where was a foster mother to come from? It was no use thinking of + looking for one in town, for there all people were corrupt. No, it would + have to be a country girl. But the Baroness objected to a girl because, + she argued, a girl with a baby was an immoral person; and her son might + contract a hereditary tendency. + </p> + <p> + The doctor retorted that all foster mothers were unmarried women and that + if the young Baron inherited from her a preference for the other sex, he + would grow into a good fellow; tendencies of that sort ought to be + encouraged. It was not likely that any of the farmers’ wives would accept + the position, because a farmer who owned land, would certainly prefer to + keep his wife and children with him. + </p> + <p> + “But supposing they married a girl to a farm labourer?” + </p> + <p> + “It would mean a delay of nine months.” + </p> + <p> + “But supposing they found a husband for a girl who had a baby?” + </p> + <p> + “That wasn’t a bad idea!” + </p> + <p> + The Baron knew a girl who had a baby just three months old. He knew her + only too well, for he had been engaged for three years and had been + unfaithful to his fiancee by “doctor’s orders.” He went to her himself and + made his suggestion. She should have a farm of her own if she would + consent to marry Anders, a farm labourer, and come to the Manor as foster + mother to the young Baron. Well, was it strange that she should accept the + proffered settlement in preference to her bearing her disgrace alone? It + was arranged there and then that on the following Sunday the banns should + be read for the first, second and third time, and that Anders should go + home to his own village for two months. + </p> + <p> + The Baron looked at her baby with a strange feeling of envy. He was a big, + strong boy. He was not beautiful, but he looked like a guarantee of many + generations to come. The child was born to live but it was not his fate to + fulfil his destination. + </p> + <p> + Anna wept when he was taken to the orphanage, but the good food at the + Manor (her dinner was sent up to her from the dining-room, and she had as + much porter and wine as she wanted) consoled her. She was also allowed to + go out driving in the big carriage, with a footman by the side of the + coachman. And she read <i>A Thousand and One Nights</i>. Never in all her + life had she been so well off. + </p> + <p> + After an absence of two months Anders returned. He had done nothing but + eat, drink, and rest. He took possession of the farm, but he also wanted + his Anna. Couldn’t she, at least, come and see him sometimes? No, the + Baroness objected. No nonsense of that sort! + </p> + <p> + Anna lost flesh and the little Baron screamed. The doctor was consulted. + </p> + <p> + “Let her go and see her husband,” he said. + </p> + <p> + “But supposing it did the baby harm?” + </p> + <p> + “It won’t!” + </p> + <p> + But Anders must be “analysed” first. Anders objected. + </p> + <p> + Anders received a present of a few sheep and was “analysed.” + </p> + <p> + The little Baron stopped screaming. + </p> + <p> + But now news came from the orphanage that Anna’s boy had died of + diphtheria. + </p> + <p> + Anna fretted, and the little Baron screamed louder than ever. She was + discharged and sent back to Anders and a new foster mother was engaged. + </p> + <p> + Anders was glad to have his wife with him at last, but she had contracted + expensive habits. She couldn’t drink Brazilian coffee, for instance, it + had to be Java. And her health did not permit her to eat fish six times a + week, nor could she work in the fields. Food at the farm grew scarce. + </p> + <p> + Anders would have been obliged to give up the farm after twelve months, + but the Baron had a kindly feeling for him and allowed him to stay on as a + tenant. + </p> + <p> + Anna worked daily at the Manor and frequently saw the little Baron; but he + did not recognise her and it was just as well that he did not. And yet he + had lain at her breast! And she had saved his life by sacrificing the life + of her own child. But she was prolific and had several sons, who grew up + and were labourers and railway men; one of them was a convict. + </p> + <p> + But the old Baron looked forward with anxiety to the day on which his son + should marry and have children in his turn. He did not look strong! He + would have been far more reassured if the other little Baron, the one who + had died at the orphanage, had been the heir to the estates. And when he + read <i>The Slaves of Life</i> a second time, he had to admit that the + upper classes live at the mercy of the lower classes, and when he read + Darwin again he could not deny that natural selection, in our time, was + anything but natural. But facts were facts and remained unalterable, in + spite of all the doctor and the socialists might say to the contrary. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0009" id="link2H_4_0009"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + AN ATTEMPT AT REFORM + </h2> + <p> + She had noticed with indignation that girls were solely brought up to be + housekeepers for their future husbands. Therefore she had learnt a trade + which would enable her to keep herself in all circumstances of life. She + made artificial flowers. + </p> + <p> + He had noticed with regret that girls simply waited for a husband who + should keep them; he resolved to marry a free and independent woman who + could earn her own living; such a woman would be his equal and a companion + for life, not a housekeeper. + </p> + <p> + Fate ordained that they should meet. He was an artist and she, as I + already mentioned, made flowers; they were both living in Paris at the + time when they conceived these ideas. + </p> + <p> + There was style in their marriage. They took three rooms at Passy. In the + centre was the studio, to the right of it his room, to the left hers. This + did away with the common bed-room and double bed, that abomination which + has no counterpart in nature and is responsible for a great deal of + dissipation and immorality. It moreover did away with the inconvenience of + having to dress and undress in the same room. It was far better that each + of them should have a separate room and that the studio should be a + neutral, common meeting-place. + </p> + <p> + They required no servant; they were going to do the cooking themselves and + employ an old charwoman in the mornings and evenings. It was all very well + thought out and excellent in theory. + </p> + <p> + “But supposing you had children?” asked the sceptics. + </p> + <p> + “Nonsense, there won’t be any!” + </p> + <p> + It worked splendidly. He went to the market in the morning and did the + catering. Then he made the coffee. She made the beds and put the rooms in + order. And then they sat down and worked. + </p> + <p> + When they were tired of working they gossiped, gave one another good + advice, laughed and were very jolly. + </p> + <p> + At twelve o’clock he lit the kitchen fire and she prepared the vegetables. + He cooked the beef, while she ran across the street to the grocer’s; then + she laid the table and he dished up the dinner. + </p> + <p> + Of course, they loved one another as husbands and wives do. They said + good-night to each other and went into their own rooms, but there was no + lock to keep him out when he knocked at her door; but the accommodation + was small and the morning found them in their own quarters. Then he + knocked at the wall: + </p> + <p> + “Good morning, little girlie, how are you to-day?” + </p> + <p> + “Very well, darling, and you?” + </p> + <p> + Their meeting at breakfast was always like a new experience which never + grew stale. + </p> + <p> + They often went out together in the evening and frequently met their + countrymen. She had no objection to the smell of tobacco, and was never in + the way. Everybody said that it was an ideal marriage; no one had ever + known a happier couple. + </p> + <p> + But the young wife’s parents, who lived a long way off, were always + writing and asking all sorts of indelicate questions; they were longing to + have a grandchild. Louisa ought to remember that the institution of + marriage existed for the benefit of the children, not the parents. Louisa + held that this view was an old-fashioned one. Mama asked her whether she + did not think that the result of the new ideas would be the complete + extirpation of mankind? Louisa had never looked at it in that light, and + moreover the question did not interest her. Both she and her husband were + happy; at last the spectacle of a happy married couple was presented to + the world, and the world was envious. + </p> + <p> + Life was very pleasant. Neither of them was master and they shared + expenses. Now he earned more, now she did, but in the end their + contributions to the common fund amounted to the same figure. + </p> + <p> + Then she had a birthday! She was awakened in the morning by the entrance + of the charwoman with a bunch of flowers and a letter painted all over + with flowers, and containing the following words: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “To the lady flower-bud from her dauber, who wishes her many happy + returns of the day and begs her to honour him with her company at an + excellent little breakfast—at once.” + </pre> + <p> + She knocked at his door—come in! + </p> + <p> + And they breakfasted, sitting on the bed—his bed; and the charwoman + was kept the whole day to do all the work. It was a lovely birthday! + </p> + <p> + Their happiness never palled. It lasted two years. All the prophets had + prophesied falsely. + </p> + <p> + It was a model marriage! + </p> + <p> + But when two years had passed, the young wife fell ill. She put it down to + some poison contained in the wall-paper; he suggested germs of some sort. + Yes, certainly, germs. But something was wrong. Something was not as it + should be. She must have caught cold. Then she grew stout. Was she + suffering from tumour? Yes, they were afraid she was. + </p> + <p> + She consulted a doctor—and came home crying. It was indeed a growth, + but one which would one day see daylight, grow into a flower and bear + fruit. + </p> + <p> + The husband did anything but cry. He found style in it, and then the + wretch went to his club and boasted about it to his friends. But the wife + still wept. What would her position be now? She would soon not be able to + earn money with her work and then she would have to live on him. And they + would have to have a servant! Ugh! those servants! + </p> + <p> + All their care, their caution, their wariness had been wrecked on the rock + of the inevitable. + </p> + <p> + But the mother-in-law wrote enthusiastic letters and repeated over and + over again that marriage was instituted by God for the protection of the + children; the parents’ pleasure counted for very little. + </p> + <p> + Hugo implored her to forget the fact that she would not be able to earn + anything in future. Didn’t she do her full share of the work by mothering + the baby? Wasn’t that as good as money? Money was, rightly understood, + nothing but work. Therefore she paid her share in full. + </p> + <p> + It took her a long time to get over the fact that he had to keep her. But + when the baby came, she forgot all about it. She remained his wife and + companion as before in addition to being the mother of his child, and he + found that this was worth more than anything else. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0010" id="link2H_4_0010"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + A NATURAL OBSTACLE + </h2> + <p> + Her father had insisted on her learning book-keeping, so that she might + escape the common lot of young womanhood; to sit there and wait for a + husband. + </p> + <p> + She was now employed as book-keeper in the goods department of the + Railways, and was universally looked upon as a very capable young woman. + She had a way of getting on with people, and her prospects were excellent. + </p> + <p> + Then she met the green forester from the School of Forestry and married + him. They had made up their minds not to have any children; theirs was to + be a true, spiritual marriage, and the world was to be made to realise + that a woman, too, has a soul, and is not merely sex. Husband and wife met + at dinner in the evening. It really was a true marriage, the union of two + souls; it was, of course, also the union of two bodies, but this is a + point one does not discuss. + </p> + <p> + One day the wife came home and told her husband that her office hours had + been changed. The directors had decided to run a new night train to Malmo, + and in future she would have to be at her office from six to nine in the + evening. It was a nuisance, for he could not come home before six. That + was quite impossible. + </p> + <p> + Henceforth they had to dine separately and meet only at night. He was + dissatisfied. He hated the long evenings. + </p> + <p> + He fell into the habit of calling for her. But he found it dull to sit on + a chair in the goods department and have the porters knocking against him. + He was always in the way. And when he tried to talk to her as she sat at + her desk with the penholder behind her ear, she interrupted him with a + curt: + </p> + <p> + “Oh! do be quiet until I’ve done!” + </p> + <p> + Then the porters turned away their faces and he could see by their backs + that they were laughing. + </p> + <p> + Sometimes one or the other of her colleagues announced him with a: + </p> + <p> + “Your husband is waiting for you, Mrs. X.” + </p> + <p> + “Your husband!” There was something scornful in the very way in which they + pronounced the word. + </p> + <p> + But what irritated him more than anything else was the fact that the desk + nearest to her was occupied by a “young ass” who was always gazing into + her eyes and everlastingly consulting the ledger, bending over her + shoulders so that he almost touched her with his chin. And they talked of + invoices and certificates, of things which might have meant anything for + all he knew. And they compared papers and figures and seemed to be on more + familiar terms with one another than husband and wife were. And that was + quite natural, for she saw more of the young ass than of her husband. It + struck him that their marriage was not a true spiritual marriage after + all; in order to be that he, too, would have had to be employed in the + goods department. But as it happened he was at the School of Forestry. + </p> + <p> + One day, or rather one night, she told him that on the following Saturday + a meeting of railway employés, which was to conclude with a dinner, would + be held, and that she would have to be present. Her husband received the + communication with a little air of constraint. + </p> + <p> + “Do you want to go?” he asked naïvely. + </p> + <p> + “Of course, I do!” + </p> + <p> + “But you will be the only woman amongst so many men, and when men have had + too much to drink, they are apt to become coarse.” + </p> + <p> + “Don’t you attend the meetings of the School of Forestry without me?” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly, but I am not the only man amongst a lot of women.” + </p> + <p> + “Men and women were equals, she was amazed that he, who had always + preached the emancipation of women could have any objection to her + attending the meeting.” + </p> + <p> + “He admitted that it was nothing but prejudice on his part. He admitted + that she was right and that he was wrong, but all the same he begged her + not to go; he hated the idea. He couldn’t get over the fact.” + </p> + <p> + “He was inconsequent.” + </p> + <p> + “He admitted that he was inconsequent, but it would take ten generations + to get used to the new conditions.” + </p> + <p> + “Then he must not go to meetings either?” + </p> + <p> + “That was quite a different matter, for his meetings were attended by men + only. He didn’t mind her going out without him; what he didn’t like was + that she went out alone with so many men.” + </p> + <p> + “She wouldn’t be alone, for the cashier’s wife would be present as—” + </p> + <p> + “As what?” + </p> + <p> + “As the cashier’s wife.” + </p> + <p> + “Then couldn’t he be present as her husband?” + </p> + <p> + “Why did he want to make himself so cheap by being in the way?” + </p> + <p> + “He didn’t mind making himself cheap.” + </p> + <p> + “Was he jealous?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes! Why not? He was afraid that something might come between them.” + </p> + <p> + “What a shame to be jealous! What an insult! What distrust! What did he + think of her?” + </p> + <p> + “That she was perfect. He would prove it. She could go alone!” “Could she + really? How condescending of him!” + </p> + <p> + She went. She did not come home until the early hours of the morning. She + awakened her husband and told him how well it had all gone off. He was + delighted to hear it. Somebody had made a speech about her; they had sung + quartets and ended with a dance. + </p> + <p> + “And how had she come home?” + </p> + <p> + “The young ass had accompanied her to the front door.” + </p> + <p> + “Supposing anybody who knew them had seen her at three o’clock in the + morning in the company of the young ass?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, and what then? She was a respectable woman.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, but she might easily lose her reputation.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah! He was jealous, and what was even worse, he was envious. He grudged + her every little bit of fun. That was what being married meant! To be + scolded if one dared to go out and enjoy oneself a little. What a stupid + institution marriage was! But was their union a true marriage? They met + one another at night, just as other married couples did. Men were all + alike. Civil enough until they were married, but afterwards, oh! + Afterwards.... Her husband was no better than other men: he looked upon + her as his property, he thought he had a right to order her about.” + </p> + <p> + “It was true. There was a time when he had believed that they belonged to + one another, but he had made a mistake. He belonged to her as a dog + belonged to its master. What was he but her footman, who called for her at + night to see her home? He was ‘her husband.’ But did she want to be ‘his + wife’? Were they equals?” + </p> + <p> + “She hadn’t come home to quarrel with him. She wanted to be nothing but + his wife, and she did not want him to be anything but her husband.” + </p> + <p> + The effect of the champagne, he thought, and turned to the wall. + </p> + <p> + She cried and begged him not to be unjust, but to—forgive her. + </p> + <p> + He pulled the blankets over his ears. + </p> + <p> + She asked him again if he—if he didn’t want her to be his wife any + more? + </p> + <p> + “Yes, of course, he wanted her! But he had been so dreadfully bored all + the evening, he could never live through another evening like it.” + </p> + <p> + “Let them forget all about it then!” + </p> + <p> + And they forgot all about it and continued loving one another. + </p> + <p> + On the following evening, when the green forester came for his wife, he + was told that she had gone to the store rooms. He was alone in the + counting-house and sat down on a chair. Presently a glass door was opened + and the young ass put in his head: “Are you here, Annie?” + </p> + <p> + No, it was only her husband! + </p> + <p> + He rose and went away. The young ass called his wife Annie, and was + evidently on very familiar terms with her. It was more than he could bear. + </p> + <p> + When she came home they had a scene. She reproached him with the fact that + he did not take his views on the emancipation of women seriously, + otherwise he could not be annoyed at her being on familiar terms with her + fellow-clerks. He made matters worse by admitting that his views were not + to be taken seriously. + </p> + <p> + “Surely he didn’t mean what he was saying! Had he changed his mind? How + could he!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, he had changed his mind. One could not help modifying one’s views + almost daily, because one had to adapt them to the conditions of life + which were always changing. And if he had believed in spiritual marriages + in the days gone by, he had now come to lose faith in marriages of any + sort whatever. That was progress in the direction of radicalism. And as to + the spiritual, she was spiritually married to the young ass rather than to + him, for they exchanged views on the management of the goods department + daily and hourly, while she took no interest at all in the cultivation of + forests. Was there anything spiritual in their marriage? Was there?” + </p> + <p> + “No, not any longer! Her love was dead! He had killed it when he renounced + his splendid faith in—the emancipation of women.” + </p> + <p> + Matters became more and more unbearable. The green forester began to look + to his fellow-foresters for companionship and gave up thinking of the + goods department and its way of conducting business, matters which he + never understood. + </p> + <p> + “You don’t understand me,” she kept on saying over and over again. + </p> + <p> + “No, I don’t understand the goods department,” he said. + </p> + <p> + One night, or rather one morning, he told her that he was going botanising + with a girls’ class. He was teaching botany in a girls’ school. + </p> + <p> + “Oh! indeed! Why had he never mentioned it before? Big girls?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! very big ones. From sixteen to twenty.” + </p> + <p> + “H’m! In the morning?” + </p> + <p> + “No! In the afternoon! And they would have supper in one of the outlying + little villages.” + </p> + <p> + “Would they? The head-mistress would be there of course?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! no, she had every confidence in him, since he was a married man. It + was an advantage, sometimes, to be married.” + </p> + <p> + On the next day she was ill. + </p> + <p> + “Surely he hadn’t the heart to leave her!” + </p> + <p> + “He must consider his work before anything else. Was she very ill?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! terribly ill!” + </p> + <p> + In spite of her objections he sent for a doctor. The doctor declared that + there was nothing much the matter; it was quite unnecessary for the + husband to stay at home. The green forester returned towards morning. He + was in high spirits. He had enjoyed himself immensely! He had not had such + a day for a long, long time. + </p> + <p> + The storm burst. Huhuhu! This struggle was too much for her! He must swear + a solemn oath never to love any woman but her. Never! + </p> + <p> + She had convulsions; he ran for the smelling salts. + </p> + <p> + He was too generous to give her details of the supper with the + schoolgirls, but he could not forego the pleasure of mentioning his former + simile anent dogs and possession, and he took the occasion to draw her + attention to the fact that love without the conception of a right to + possession—on both sides—was not thinkable. What was making + her cry? The same thing which had made him swear, when she went out with + twenty men. The fear of losing him! But one can lose only that which one + possesses! Possesses! + </p> + <p> + Thus the rent was repaired. But goods department and girls’ school were + ready with their scissors to undo the laborious mending. + </p> + <p> + The harmony was disturbed. + </p> + <p> + The wife fell ill. She was sure that she had hurt herself in lifting a + case which was too heavy for her. She was so keen on her work that she + could not bear to wait while the porters stood about and did nothing. She + was compelled to lend a hand. Now she must have ruptured herself. + </p> + <p> + Yes, indeed, there was something the matter! + </p> + <p> + How angry she was! Angry with her husband who alone was to blame. What + were they going to do with the baby? It would have to be boarded out! + Rousseau had done that. It was true, he was a fool, but on this particular + point he was right. + </p> + <p> + She was full of fads and fancies. The forester had to resign his lessons + at the girls’ school at once. + </p> + <p> + She chafed and fretted because she was no longer able to go into the store + rooms, but compelled to stay in the counting-house all day long and make + entries. But the worst blow which befell her was the arrival of an + assistant whose secret mission it was to take her place when she would be + laid up. + </p> + <p> + The manner of her colleagues had changed, too. The porters grinned. She + felt ashamed and longed to hide herself. It would be better to stay at + home and cook her husband’s dinner than sit here and be stared at. Oh! + What black chasms of prejudice lay concealed in the deceitful hearts of + men! + </p> + <p> + She stayed at home for the last month, for the walk to and from her office + four times a day was too much for her. And she was always so hungry! She + had to send out for sandwiches in the morning. And every now and then she + felt faint and had to take a rest. What a life! A woman’s lot was indeed a + miserable one. + </p> + <p> + The baby was born. + </p> + <p> + “Shall we board it out?” asked the father. + </p> + <p> + “Had he no heart?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! yes, of course he had!” + </p> + <p> + And the baby remained at home. + </p> + <p> + Then a very polite letter arrived from the head office, enquiring after + the young mother’s health. + </p> + <p> + “She was very well and would be back at the office on the day after + to-morrow.” + </p> + <p> + She was still a little weak and had to take a cab; but she soon picked up + her strength. However, a new difficulty now presented itself. She must be + kept informed of the baby’s condition; a messenger boy was despatched to + her home, at first twice a day, then every two hours. + </p> + <p> + And when she was told that the baby had been crying, she put on her hat + and rushed home at once. But the assistant was there, ready to take her + place. The head clerk was very civil and made no comment. + </p> + <p> + One day the young mother discovered accidentally that the nurse was unable + to feed the baby, but had concealed the fact for fear of losing her place. + She had to take a day off in order to find a new foster mother. But they + were all alike; brutal egoists every one of them, who took no interest in + the children of strangers. No one could ever depend on them. + </p> + <p> + “No,” agreed the husband, “in a case of this sort one can only depend on + oneself.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you mean to insinuate that I ought to give up my work?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! You must do as you like about that!” + </p> + <p> + “And become your slave!” + </p> + <p> + “No, I don’t mean that at all!” + </p> + <p> + The little one was not at all well; all children are ill occasionally. He + was teething! One day’s leave after another! The poor baby suffered from + toothache. She had to soothe him at night, work at the office during the + day, sleepy, tired, anxious, and again take a day off. + </p> + <p> + The green forester did his best and carried the baby about in his arms + half the night, but he never said a word about his wife’s work at the + goods department. + </p> + <p> + Nevertheless she knew what was in his mind. He was waiting for her to give + in; but he was deceitful and so he said nothing! How treacherous men were! + She hated him; she would sooner kill herself than throw up her work and + “be his slave.” + </p> + <p> + The forester saw quite clearly now that it was impossible for any woman to + emancipate herself from the laws of nature; <i>under present circumstances</i>, + he was shrewd enough to add. + </p> + <p> + When the baby was five months old, it was plainly evident that the whole + thing would before very long repeat itself. + </p> + <p> + What a catastrophe! + </p> + <p> + But when that sort of thing once begins.... + </p> + <p> + The forester was obliged to resume his lessons at the girls’ school to + augment their income, and now—she laid down her arms. + </p> + <p> + “I am your slave, now,” she groaned, when she came home with her + discharge. + </p> + <p> + Nevertheless she is the head of the house, and he gives her every penny he + earns. When he wants to buy a cigar he makes a long speech before he + ventures to ask for the money. She never refuses it to him, but all the + same he finds the asking for it unpleasant. He is allowed to attend + meetings, but no dinners, and all botanising with girls is strictly + forbidden. He does not miss it much, for he prefers playing with his + children. + </p> + <p> + His colleagues call him henpecked; but he smiles, and tells them that he + is happy in spite of it, because he has in his wife a very sweet and + sensible companion. + </p> + <p> + She, on her part, obstinately maintains that she is nothing but his slave, + whatever he might say to the contrary. It is her one comfort, poor, little + woman! + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0011" id="link2H_4_0011"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + A DOLL’S HOUSE + </h2> + <p> + They had been married for six years, but they were still more like lovers + than husband and wife. He was a captain in the navy, and every summer he + was obliged to leave her for a few months; twice he had been away on a + long voyage. But his short absences were a blessing in disguise, for if + their relations had grown a little stale during the winter, the summer + trip invariably restored them to their former freshness and + delightfulness. + </p> + <p> + During the first summer he wrote veritable love-letters to her and never + passed a sailing ship without signalling: “Will you take letters?” And + when he came in sight of the landmarks of the Stockholm Archipelago, he + did not know how to get to her quickly enough. But she found a way. She + wired him to Landsort that she would meet him at Dalarö. When he anchored, + he saw a little blue scarf fluttering on the verandah of the hotel: then + he knew that it was she. But there was so much to do aboard that it was + evening before he could go ashore. He saw her from his gig on the + landing-stage as the bow held out his oar to fend off; she was every bit + as young, as pretty and as strong as she had been when he left her; it was + exactly as if they were re-living the first spring days of their love. A + delicious little supper waited for him in the two little rooms she had + engaged. What a lot they had to talk about! The voyage, the children, the + future! The wine sparkled in the glasses and his kisses brought the blood + to her cheeks. + </p> + <p> + Tattoo went on the ship, but he took no notice of it, for he did not + intend to leave her before one o’clock. + </p> + <p> + “What? He was going?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; he must get back aboard, but it would do if he was there for the + morning watch.” + </p> + <p> + “When did the morning watch begin?” + </p> + <p> + “At five o’clock.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh!... As early as that!” + </p> + <p> + “But where was she going to stay the night?” + </p> + <p> + “That was her business!” + </p> + <p> + He guessed it and wanted to have a look at her room; but she planted + herself firmly on the threshold. He covered her face with kisses, took her + in his arms as if she were a baby and opened the door. + </p> + <p> + “What an enormous bed! It was like the long boat. Where did the people get + it from?” + </p> + <p> + She blushed crimson. + </p> + <p> + “Of course, she had understood from his letter that they would stay at the + hotel together.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, and so they would, in spite of his having to be back aboard for the + morning watch. What did he care for the stupid morning prayers!” + </p> + <p> + “How could he say such a thing!” + </p> + <p> + “Hadn’t they better have some coffee and a fire? The sheets felt damp! + What a sensible little rogue she was to provide for his staying, too! Who + would have thought that she had so much sense? Where did she get it from?” + </p> + <p> + “She didn’t get it from anywhere!” + </p> + <p> + “No? Well, he might have known! He might have known everything!” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! But he was so stupid!” + </p> + <p> + “Indeed, he was stupid, was he?” + </p> + <p> + And he slipped his arm round her waist. + </p> + <p> + “But he ought to behave himself!” + </p> + <p> + “Behave himself? It was easy to talk!” + </p> + <p> + “The girl was coming with the wood!” + </p> + <p> + When it struck two, and sea and Skerries were flaming in the east, they + were sitting at the open window. + </p> + <p> + “They were lovers still, weren’t they? And now he must go. But he would be + back at ten, for breakfast, and after that they would go for a sail.” + </p> + <p> + He made some coffee on her spirit lamp, and they drank it while the sun + was rising and the seagulls screamed. The gunboat was lying far out at sea + and every now and then he saw the cutlasses of the watch glinting in the + sunlight. It was hard to part, but the certainty of meeting again in a few + hours’ time helped them to bear it. He kissed her for the last time, + buckled on his sword and left her. + </p> + <p> + When he arrived at the bridge and shouted: “boat ahoy!” she hid herself + behind the window curtains as if she were ashamed to be seen. He blew + kisses to her until the sailors came with the gig. Then a last: “Sleep + well and dream of me” and the gig put off. He watched her through his + glasses, and for a long time he could distinguish a little figure with + black hair. The sunbeams fell on her nightdress and bare throat and made + her look like a mermaid. + </p> + <p> + The reveille went. The longdrawn bugle notes rolled out between the green + islands over the shining water and returned from behind the pine woods. + The whole crew assembled on deck and the Lord’s Prayer and “Jesus, at the + day’s beginning” were read. The little church tower of Dalarö answered + with a faint ringing of bells, for it was Sunday. Cutters came up in the + morning breeze: flags were flying, shots resounded, light summer dresses + gleamed on the bridge, the steamer, leaving a crimson track behind her, + steamed up, the fishers hauled in their nets, and the sun shone on the + blue, billowy water and the green islands. + </p> + <p> + At ten o’clock six pairs rowed the gig ashore from the gunboat. They were + together again. And as they sat at breakfast in the large dining-room, the + hotel guests watched and whispered: “Is she his wife?” He talked to her in + an undertone like a lover, and she cast down her eyes and smiled; or hit + his fingers with her dinner napkin. + </p> + <p> + The boat lay alongside the bridge; she sat at the helm, he looked after + the foresail. But he could not take his eyes off her finely shaped figure + in the light summer dress, her determined little face and proud eyes, as + she sat looking to windward, while her little hand in its strong leather + glove held the mainsheet. He wanted to talk to her and was purposely + clumsy in tacking; then she scolded him as if he were a cabin boy, which + amused him immensely. + </p> + <p> + “Why didn’t you bring the baby with you?” he asked her teasingly. + </p> + <p> + “Where should I have put it to sleep?” + </p> + <p> + “In the long boat, of course?” + </p> + <p> + She smiled at him in a way which filled his heart with happiness. + </p> + <p> + “Well, and what did the proprietress say this morning?” + </p> + <p> + “What should she say?” + </p> + <p> + “Did she sleep well last night?” + </p> + <p> + “Why shouldn’t she sleep well?” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t know; she might have been kept awake by rats, or perhaps by the + rattling of a window; who can tell what might not disturb the gentle sleep + of an old maid!” + </p> + <p> + “If you don’t stop talking nonsense, I shall make the sheet fast and sail + you to the bottom of the sea.” + </p> + <p> + They landed at a small island and ate their luncheon which they had + brought with them in a little basket. After lunch they shot at a target + with a revolver. Then they pretended to fish with rods, but they caught + nothing and sailed out again into the open sea where the eidergeese were, + through a strait where they watched the carp playing about the rushes. He + never tired of looking at her, talking to her, kissing her. + </p> + <p> + In this manner they met for six summers, and always they were just as + young, just as mad and just as happy as before. They spent the winter in + Stockholm in their little cabins. He amused himself by rigging boats for + his little boys or telling them stories of his adventures in China and the + South Sea Islands, while his wife sat by him, listening and laughing at + his funny tales. It was a charming room, that could not be equalled in the + whole world. It was crammed full of Japanese sunshades and armour, + miniature pagodas from India, bows and lances from Australia, nigger drums + and dried flying fish, sugar cane and opium pipes. Papa, whose hair was + growing thin at the top, did not feel very happy outside his own four + walls. Occasionally he played at draughts with his friend, the auditor, + and sometimes they had a game at Boston and drank a glass of grog. At + first his wife had joined in the game, but now that she had four children, + she was too busy; nevertheless, she liked to sit with the players for a + little and look at their cards, and whenever she passed Papa’s chair he + caught her round the waist and asked her whether she thought he ought to + be pleased with his hand. + </p> + <p> + This time the corvette was to be away for six months. The captain did not + feel easy about it, for the children were growing up and the + responsibility of the big establishment was too much for Mama. The captain + himself was not quite so young and vigorous as he had been, but—it + could not be helped and so he left. + </p> + <p> + Directly he arrived at Kronborg he posted a letter to her. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “My darling Topmast,” it began. + + “Wind moderate, S.S.E. by E. + 10° C. 6 bells, watch below. I cannot + express in words what I feel on this voyage during which I shall not + see you. When we kedged out (at 6 p.m. while a strong gale blew from + N.E. by N.) I felt as if a belaying pin were suddenly being driven + into my chest and I actually had a sensation as if a chain had been + drawn through the hawsepipes of my ears. They say that sailors can + feel the approach of misfortune. I don’t know whether this is true, + but I shall not feel easy until I have had a letter from you. Nothing + has happened on board, simply because nothing must happen. How are you + all at home? Has Bob had his new boots, and do they fit? I am a + wretched correspondent as you know, so 111 stop now. With a big kiss + right on this x. + + “Your old Pal. + + “P.S. You ought to find a friend (female, of course) and don’t forget + to ask the proprietress at Dalaro to take care of the long boat until + my return. The wind is getting up; it will blow from the North to-night.” + </pre> + <p> + Off Portsmouth the captain received the following letter from his wife: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “Dear old Pal, + + “It’s horrible here without you, believe me. I have had a lot of + worry, too, for little Alice has got a new tooth. The doctor said it + was unusually early, which was a sign of (but I’m not going to tell + you that). Bob’s boots fit him very well and he is very proud of them. + + “You say in your letter that I ought to find a friend of my own sex. + Well, I have found one, or, rather, she has found me. Her name is + Ottilia Sandegren, and she was educated at the seminary. She is rather + grave and takes life very seriously, therefore you need not be afraid, + Pal, that your Topmast will be led astray. Moreover, she is religious. + We really ought to take religion a little more seriously, both of us. + She is a splendid woman. She has just arrived and sends you her kind + regards. + + “Your Gurli.” + </pre> + <p> + The captain was not overpleased with this letter. It was too short and not + half as bright as her letters generally were. Seminary, religion, grave, + Ottilia: Ottilia twice! And then Gurli! Why not Gulla as before? H’m! + </p> + <p> + A week later he received a second letter from Bordeaux, a letter which was + accompanied by a book, sent under separate cover. + </p> + <p> + “Dear William!”—“H’m! William! No longer Pal!”—“Life is a + struggle”—“What the deuce does she mean? What has that to do with + us?”—“from beginning to end. Gently as a river in Kedron”—“Kedron! + she’s quoting the Bible!”—“our life has glided along. Like + sleepwalkers we have been walking on the edge of precipices without being + aware of them”—“The seminary, oh! the seminary!”—“Suddenly we + find ourselves face to face with the ethical”—“The ethical? + Ablative!”—“asserting itself in its higher potencies!”—“Potencies?”—“Now + that I am awake from my long sleep and ask myself: has our marriage been a + marriage in the true sense of the word? I must admit with shame and + remorse that this has not been the case. For love is of divine origin. + (St. Matthew xi. 22, 24.)” + </p> + <p> + The captain had to mix himself a glass of rum and water before he felt + able to continue his reading.—“How earthly, how material our love + has been! Have our souls lived in that harmony of which Plato speaks? + (Phaidon, Book vi. Chap. ii. Par. 9). Our answer is bound to be in the + negative. What have I been to you? A housekeeper and, oh! The disgrace! + your mistress! Have our souls understood one another? Again we are bound + to answer ‘No.’”—“To Hell with all Ottilias and seminaries! Has she + been my housekeeper? She has been my wife and the mother of my children!”—“Read + the book I have sent you! It will answer all your questions. It voices + that which for centuries has lain hidden in the hearts of all women! Read + it, and then tell me if you think that our union has been a true marriage. + Your Gurli.” + </p> + <p> + His presentiment of evil had not deceived him. The captain was beside + himself; he could not understand what had happened to his wife. It was + worse than religious hypocrisy. + </p> + <p> + He tore off the wrapper and read on the title page of a book in a paper + cover: <i>Et Dukkehjem af Henrik Ibsen</i>. A Doll’s House? Well, and—? + His home had been a charming doll’s house; his wife had been his little + doll and he had been her big doll. They had danced along the stony path of + life and had been happy. What more did they want? What was wrong? He must + read the book at once and find out. + </p> + <p> + He finished it in three hours. His brain reeled. How did it concern him + and his wife? Had they forged bills? No! Hadn’t they loved one another? Of + course they had! + </p> + <p> + He locked himself into his cabin and read the book a second time; he + underlined passages in red and blue, and when the dawn broke, he took “A + well-meant little ablative on the play <i>A Doll’s House</i>, written by + the old Pal on board the Vanadis in the Atlantic off Bordeaux. (Lat. 45° + Long. 16°.) + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “1. She married him because he was in love with her and that was a + deuced clever thing to do. For if she had waited until she had fallen + in love with someone, it might have happened that <i>he</i> would not have + fallen in love with her, and then there would have been the devil to + pay. For it happens very rarely that both parties are equally in love.” + + “2. She forges a bill. That was foolish, but it is not true that it + was done for the husband’s sake only, for she has never loved him; it + would have been the truth if she had said that she had done it for him, + herself and the children. Is that clear?” + + “3. That he wants to embrace her after the ball is only a proof of his + love for her, and there is no wrong in that; but it should not be done + on the stage. “<i>Il y a des choses qui se font mais que ne se disent + point</i>,’ as the French say, Moreover, if the poet had been fair, he + would also save shown an opposite case. ‘<i>La petite chienne veut, mais + le grand chien ne veut pas</i>,’ says Ollendorf. (Vide the long boat at + Dalarö.)” + + “4. That she, when she discovers that her husband is a fool (and that + he is when he offers to condone her offence because it has not leaked + out) decides to leave her children ‘not considering herself worthy of + bringing them up,’ is a not very clever trick of coquetry. If they have + both been fools (and surely they don’t teach at the seminary that it + is right to forge bills) they should pull well together in future in + double harness.” + + “Least of all is she justified in leaving her children’s education in + the hands of the father whom she despises.” + + “5. Nora has consequently every reason for staying with her children + when she discovers what an imbecile her husband is.” + + “6. The husband cannot be blamed for not sufficiently appreciating + her, for she doesn’t reveal her true character until after the row.” + + “7. Nora has undoubtedly been a fool; she herself does not deny it.” + + “8. There is every guarantee of their pulling together more happily + in future; he has repented and promised to turn over a new leaf. So + has she. Very well! Here’s my hand, let’s begin again at the beginning. + Birds of a feather flock together. There’s nothing lost, we’ve both + been fools! You, little Nora, were badly brought up. I, old rascal, + didn’t know any better. We are both to be pitied. Pelt our teachers + with rotten eggs, but don’t hit me alone on the head. I, though a man, + am every bit as innocent as you are! Perhaps even a little more so, + for I married for love, you for a home. Let us be friends, therefore, + and together teach our children the valuable lesson we have learnt + in the school of life.” + + Is that clear? All right then! + + This was written by Captain Pal with his stiff fingers and slow brain! + + And now, my darling dolly, I have read your book and given you my + opinion. But what have we to do with it? Didn’t we love one another? + Haven’t we educated one another and helped one another to rub off our + sharp corners? Surely you’ll remember that we had many a little + encounter in the beginning! What fads of yours are those? To hell with + all Ottilias and seminaries! + + The book you sent me is a queer book. It is like a watercourse with + an insufficient number of buoys, so that one might run aground at any + moment. But I pricked the chart and found calm waters. Only, I + couldn’t do it again. The devil may crack these nuts which are rotten + inside when one has managed to break the shell. I wish you peace and + happiness and the recovery of your sound common sense. + + “How are the little ones? You forgot to mention them. Probably you + were thinking too much of Nora’s unfortunate kiddies, (which exist + only in a play of that sort). Is my little boy crying? My nightingale + singing, my dolly dancing? She must always do that if she wants to + make her old pal happy. And now may God bless you and prevent evil + thoughts from rising between us. My heart is sadder than I can tell. + And I am expected to sit down and write a critique on a play. God + bless you and the babies; kiss their rosy cheeks for your faithful + old Pal.” + </pre> + <p> + When the captain had sent off his letter, he went into the officers’ mess + and drank a glass of punch. The doctor was there, too. + </p> + <p> + “Have you noticed a smell of old black breeches?” he asked. “I should like + to hoist myself up to the cat block and let a good old N.W. by N. blow + right through me.” + </p> + <p> + But the doctor did not understand what he was driving at. + </p> + <p> + “Ottilia, Ottilia!... What she wants is a taste of the handspike. Send the + witch to the quarterdeck and let the second mess loose on her behind + closed hatches. One knows what is good for an old maid.” + </p> + <p> + “What’s the matter with you, old chap?” asked the doctor. + </p> + <p> + “Plato! Plato! To the devil with Plato! To be six months at sea makes one + sick of Plato. That teaches one ethics! Ethics? I bet a marlinspike to a + large rifle: if Ottilia were married she would cease talking of Plato.” + </p> + <p> + “What on earth <i>is</i> the matter?” + </p> + <p> + “Nothing. Do you hear? You’re a doctor. What’s the matter with those + women? Isn’t it bad for them to remain unmarried? Doesn’t it make them...? + What?” + </p> + <p> + The doctor gave him his candid opinion and added that he was sorry that + there were not enough men to go round. + </p> + <p> + “In a state of nature the male is mostly polygamous; in most cases there + is no obstacle to this, as there is plenty of food for the young ones + (beasts of prey excepted): abnormalities like unmated females do not exist + in nature. But in civilised countries, where a man is lucky if he earns + enough bread, it is a common occurrence, especially as the females are in + preponderance. One ought to treat unmarried women with kindness, for their + lot is a melancholy one.” + </p> + <p> + “With kindness! That’s all very well; but supposing they are anything but + kind themselves!” + </p> + <p> + And he told the doctor the whole story, even confessing that he had + written a critique on a play. + </p> + <p> + “Oh! well, no end of nonsense is written,” said the doctor, putting his + hand on the lid of the jug which contained the punch. “In the end science + decides all great questions! Science, and nothing else.” + </p> + <p> + When the six months were over and the captain, who had been in constant, + but not very pleasant, correspondence with his wife, (she had sharply + criticised his critique), at last landed at Dalarö, he was received by his + wife, all the children, two servants and Ottilia. His wife was + affectionate, but not cordial. She held up her brow to be kissed. Ottilia + was as tall as a stay, and wore her hair short; seen from the back she + looked like a swab. The supper was dull and they drank only tea. The long + boat took in a cargo of children and the captain was lodged in one of the + attics. + </p> + <p> + What a change! Poor old Pal looked old and felt puzzled. + </p> + <p> + “To be married and yet not have a wife,” he thought, “it’s intolerable!” + </p> + <p> + On the following morning he wanted to take his wife for a sail. But the + sea did not agree with Ottilia. She had been ill on the steamer. And, + moreover, it was Sunday. Sunday? That was it! Well, they would go for a + walk. They had a lot to talk about. Of course, they had a lot to say to + each other. But Ottilia was not to come with them! + </p> + <p> + They went out together, arm in arm. But they did not talk much; and what + they said were words uttered for the sake of concealing their thoughts + more than for the sake of exchanging ideas. + </p> + <p> + They passed the little cholera cemetery and took the road leading to the + Swiss Valley. A faint breeze rustled through the pine trees and glimpses + of the blue sea flashed through the dark branches. + </p> + <p> + They sat down on a stone. He threw himself on the turf at her feet. Now + the storm is going to burst, he thought, and it did. + </p> + <p> + “Have you thought at all about our marriage?” she began. + </p> + <p> + “No,” he replied, with every appearance of having fully considered the + matter, “I have merely felt about it. In my opinion love is a matter of + sentiment; one steers by landmarks and makes port; take compass and chart + and you are sure to founder.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, but our home has been nothing but a doll’s house.” + </p> + <p> + “Excuse me, but this is not quite true. You have never forged a bill; you + have never shown your ankles to a syphilitic doctor of whom you wanted to + borrow money against security <i>in natura</i>; you have never been so + romantically silly as to expect your husband to give himself up for a + crime which his wife had committed from ignorance, and which was not a + crime because there was no plaintiff; and you have never lied to me. I + have treated you every bit as honestly as Helmer treated his wife when he + took her into his full confidence and allowed her to have a voice in the + banking business; tolerated her interference with the appointment of an + employee. We have therefore been husband and wife according to all + conceptions, old and new-fashioned.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, but I have been your housekeeper!” + </p> + <p> + “Pardon me, you are wrong. You have never had a meal in the kitchen, you + have never received wages, you have never had to account for money spent. + I have never scolded you because one thing or the other was not to my + liking. And do you consider my work: to reckon and to brace, to ease off + and call out ‘Present arms,’ count herrings and measure rum, weigh peas + and examine flour, more honourable than yours: to look after the servants, + cater for the house and bring up the children?” + </p> + <p> + “No, but you are paid for your work! You are your own master! You are a + man!” + </p> + <p> + “My dear child, do you want me to give you wages? Do you want to be my + housekeeper in real earnest? That I was born a man is an accident. I might + almost say a pity, for it’s very nearly a crime to be a man now-a-days, + but it isn’t my fault. The devil take him who has stirred up the two + halves of humanity, one against the other! He has much to answer for. Am I + the master? Don’t we both rule? Have I ever decided any important matter + without asking for your advice? What? But you—you bring up the + children exactly as you like! Don’t you remember that I wanted you to stop + rocking them to sleep because I said it produced a sort of intoxication? + But you had your own way! Another time I had mine, and then it was your + turn again. There was no compromise possible, because there was no middle + course to steer between rocking and not rocking. We got on very well until + now. But you have thrown me over for Ottilia’s sake!” + </p> + <p> + “Ottilia! always Ottilia! Didn’t you yourself send her to me?” + </p> + <p> + “No, not her personally! But there can be no doubt that it is she who + rules now.” + </p> + <p> + “You want to separate me from all I care for!” + </p> + <p> + “Is Ottilia all you care for? It almost looks like it!” + </p> + <p> + “But I can’t send her away now that I have engaged her to teach the girls + pedagogics and Latin.” + </p> + <p> + “Latin! Great Scott! Are the girls to be ruined?” + </p> + <p> + “They are to know everything a man knows, so that when the time comes, + their marriage will be a true marriage.” + </p> + <p> + “But, my love, all husbands don’t know Latin! I don’t know more than one + single word, and that is ‘ablative.’ And we have been happy in spite of + it. Moreover, there is a movement to strike off Latin from the plan of + instruction for boys, as a superfluous accomplishment. Doesn’t this teach + you a lot? Isn’t it enough that the men are ruined, are the women to be + ruined, too? Ottilia, Ottilia, what have I done to you, that you should + treat me like this!” + </p> + <p> + “Supposing we dropped that matter.—Our love, William, has not been + what it should be. It has been sensual!” + </p> + <p> + “But, my darling, how could we have had children, if it hadn’t? And it has + not been sensual only.” + </p> + <p> + “Can a thing be both black and white? Tell me that!” + </p> + <p> + “Of course, it can. There’s your sunshade for instance, it is black + outside and white inside.” + </p> + <p> + “Sophist!” + </p> + <p> + “Listen to me, sweetheart, tell me in your own way the thoughts which are + in your heart; don’t talk like Ottilia’s books. Don’t let your head run + away with you; be yourself again, my sweet, darling little wife.” + </p> + <p> + “Yours, your property, bought with your labour.” + </p> + <p> + “Just as I am your property, your husband, at whom no other woman is + allowed to look if she wants to keep her eyes in her head; your husband, + who made a present of himself to you, or rather, gave himself to you in + exchange. Are we not quits?” + </p> + <p> + “But we have trifled away our lives! Have we ever had any higher + interests, William?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, the very highest, Gurli; we have not always been playing, we have + had grave hours, too. Have we not called into being generations to come? + Have we not both bravely worked and striven for the little ones, who are + to grow up into men and women? Have you not faced death four times for + their sakes? Have you not robbed yourself of your nights’ rest in order to + rock their cradle, and of your days’ pleasures, in order to attend to + them? Couldn’t we now have a large six-roomed flat in the main street, and + a footman to open the door, if it were not for the children? Wouldn’t you + be able to wear silk dresses and pearls? And I, your old Pal, wouldn’t + have <i>crows’ nests</i> in my knees, if it hadn’t been for the kiddies. + Are we really no better than dolls? Are we as selfish as old maids say? + Old maids, rejected by men as no good. Why are so many girls unmarried? + They all boast of proposals and yet they pose as martyrs! Higher + interests! Latin! To dress in low neck dresses for charitable purposes and + leave the children at home, neglected! I believe that my interests are + higher than Ottilia’s, when I want strong and healthy children, who will + succeed where we have failed. But Latin won’t help them! Goodbye, Gurli! I + have to go back on board. Are you coming?” + </p> + <p> + But she remained sitting on the stone and made no answer. He went with + heavy footsteps, very heavy footsteps. And the blue sea grew dark and the + sun ceased shining. + </p> + <p> + “Pal, Pal, where is this to lead to?” he sighed, as he stepped over the + fence of the cemetery. “I wish I lay there, with a wooden cross to mark my + place, among the roots of the trees. But I am sure I couldn’t rest, if I + were there without her! Oh! Gurli! Gurli! + </p> + <p> + “Everything has gone wrong, now, mother,” said the captain on a chilly + autumn day to his mother-in-law, to whom he was paying a visit. + </p> + <p> + “What’s the matter, Willy, dear?” + </p> + <p> + “Yesterday they met at our house. On the day before yesterday at the + Princess’s. Little Alice was suddenly taken ill. It was unfortunate, of + course, but I didn’t dare to send for Gurli, for fear she might think that + it was done on purpose to annoy her! Oh! when once one has lost faith.... + I asked a friend at the Admiralty yesterday whether it was legal in Sweden + to kill one’s wife’s friends with tobacco smoke. I was told it wasn’t, and + that even if it were it was better not to do it, for fear of doing more + harm than good. If only it happened to be an admirer! I should take him by + the neck and throw him out of the window. What am I to do?” + </p> + <p> + “It’s a difficult matter, Willy, dear, but we shall be able to think of a + way out of it. You can’t go on living like a bachelor.” + </p> + <p> + “No, of course, I can’t.” + </p> + <p> + “I spoke very plainly to her, a day or two ago. I told her that she would + lose you if she didn’t mend her ways.” + </p> + <p> + “And what did she say?” + </p> + <p> + “She said you had a right to do as you liked with your body.” + </p> + <p> + “Indeed! And she, too? A fine theory! My hair is fast turning grey, + mother!” + </p> + <p> + “It’s a good old scheme to make a wife jealous. It’s generally kill or + cure, for if there is any love left, it brings it out.” + </p> + <p> + “There is, I know, there is!” + </p> + <p> + “Of course, there is. Love doesn’t die suddenly; it gets used up in the + course of the years, perhaps. Have a flirtation with Ottilia, and we shall + see!” + </p> + <p> + “Flirt with Ottilia? With Ottilia?” + </p> + <p> + “Try it. Aren’t you up in any of the subjects which interest her?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, yes! They are deep in statistics, now. Fallen women, infectious + diseases. If I could lead the conversation to mathematics! I am well up in + that!” + </p> + <p> + “There you are! Begin with mathematics—by and by put her shawl round + her shoulders and button her overshoes. Take her home in the evening. + Drink her health and kiss her when Gurli is sure to see it. If necessary, + be a little officious. She won’t be angry, believe me. And give her a big + dose of mathematics, so big that Gurli has no option but to sit and listen + to it quietly. Come again in a week’s time and tell me the result.” + </p> + <p> + The captain went home, read the latest pamphlets on immorality and at once + started to carry out his scheme. + </p> + <p> + A week later he called on his mother-in-law, serene and smiling, and + greatly enjoying a glass of good sherry. He was in high spirits. + </p> + <p> + “Now tell me all about it,” said the old woman, pushing her spectacles up + on her forehead. + </p> + <p> + “It was difficult work at first,” he began, “for she distrusted me. She + thought I was making fun of her. Then I mentioned the effect which the + computation of probabilities had had on the statistics of morality in + America. I told her that it had simply been epoch-making. She knew nothing + about it, but the subject attracted her. I gave her examples and proved in + figures that it was possible to calculate with a certain amount of + probability the percentage of women who are bound to fall. She was amazed. + I saw that her curiosity was aroused and that she was eager to provide + herself with a trump-card for the next meeting. Gurli was pleased to see + that Ottilia and I were making friends, and did everything to further my + scheme. She pushed her into my room and closed the door; and there we sat + all afternoon, making calculations. The old witch was happy, for she felt + that she was making use of me, and after three hours’ work we were fast + friends. At supper my wife found that such old friends as Ottilia and I + ought to call one another by their Christian names. I brought out my good + old sherry to celebrate the occasion. And then I kissed her on the lips, + may God forgive me for my sins! Gurli looked a little startled, but did + not seem to mind. She was radiant with happiness. The sherry was strong + and Ottilia was weak. I wrapped her in her cloak and took her home. I + gently squeezed her arm and told her the names of the stars. She became + enthusiastic! She had always loved the stars, but had never been able to + remember their names. The poor women were not allowed to acquire any + knowledge. Her enthusiasm grew and we parted as the very best of friends + who had been kept apart through misunderstanding each other for such a + long, long time. + </p> + <p> + “On the next day more mathematics. We worked until supper time. Gurli came + in once or twice and gave us an encouraging nod. At supper we talked of + nothing but stars and mathematics, and Gurli sat there, silently, + listening to us. Again I took her home. On my way back I met a friend. We + went to the Grand Hotel and drank a glass of punch. It was one o’clock + when I came home. Gurli was still up waiting for me. + </p> + <p> + “‘Where have you been all this time, William?’ she asked. + </p> + <p> + “Then the devil entered into my soul and I replied: + </p> + <p> + “‘We had such a lot to talk about that I forgot all about the time.’ + </p> + <p> + “<i>That</i> blow struck home. + </p> + <p> + “‘I don’t think it’s nice to run about half the night with a young woman,’ + she said. + </p> + <p> + “I pretended to be embarrassed and stammered: + </p> + <p> + “‘If one has so much to say to one another, one forgets sometimes what is + nice and what is not.’ + </p> + <p> + “‘What on earth did you talk about?’ asked Gurli, pouting. “‘I really + can’t remember.’ + </p> + <p> + “You managed very well, my boy,” said the old woman. “Go on!” + </p> + <p> + “On the third day,” continued the captain, “Gurli came in with her + needlework and remained in the room until the lesson in mathematics was + over. Supper was not quite as merry as usual, but on the other hand, very + astronomical. I assisted the old witch with her overshoes, a fact which + made a great impression on Gurli. When Ottilia said good-night, she only + offered her cheek to be kissed. On the way home I pressed her arm and + talked of the sympathy of souls and of the stars as the home of the souls. + I went to the Grand Hotel, had some punch and arrived home at two o’clock. + Gurli was still up; I saw it, but I went straight to my room, like the + bachelor I was, and Gurli did not like to follow me and ply me with + questions. + </p> + <p> + “On the following day I gave Ottilia a lesson in astronomy. Gurli declared + that she was much interested and would like to be present; but Ottilia + said we were already too far advanced and she would instruct her in the + rudiments later on. This annoyed Gurli and she went away. We had a great + deal of sherry for supper. When Ottilia thanked me for a jolly evening, I + put my arm round her waist and kissed her. Gurli grew pale. When I + buttoned her overshoes, I ... I....” + </p> + <p> + “Never mind me,” said the old lady, “I am an old woman.” + </p> + <p> + He laughed. “All the same, mother, she’s not so bad, really she isn’t. But + when I was going to put on my overcoat, I found to my astonishment the + maid waiting in the hall, ready to accompany Ottilia home. Gurli made + excuses for me; she said I had caught a cold on the previous evening, and + that she was afraid the night air might do me harm. Ottilia looked + self-conscious and left without kissing Gurli. + </p> + <p> + “I had promised to show Ottilia some astronomical instruments at the + College at twelve o’clock on the following day. She kept her appointment, + but she was much depressed. She had been to see Gurli, who had treated her + very unkindly, so she said. She could not imagine why. When I came home to + dinner I found a great change in Gurli. She was cold and mute as a fish. I + could see that she was suffering. Now was the time to apply the knife. + </p> + <p> + “‘What did you say to Ottilia?’ I commenced. ‘She was so unhappy.’” + </p> + <p> + ‘What did I say to her? Well, I said to her that she was a flirt. That’s + what I said.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘How could you say such a thing?’ I replied. ‘Surely, you’re not jealous!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I! Jealous of her!’ she burst out. + </p> + <p> + ‘Yes, that’s what puzzles me, for I am sure an intelligent and sensible + person like Ottilia could never have designs on another woman’s husband!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘No,’ (she was coming to the point) ‘but another woman’s husband might + have designs on her.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Huhuhu!’ she went for me tooth and nail. I took Ottilia’s part; Gurli + called her an old maid; I continued to champion her. On this afternoon + Ottilia did not turn up. She wrote a chilly letter, making excuses and + winding up by saying she could see that she was not wanted. I protested + and suggested that I should go and fetch her. That made Gurli wild! She + was sure that I was in love with Ottilia and cared no more for herself. + She knew that she was only a silly girl, who didn’t know anything, was no + good at anything, and—huhuhu!—could never understand + mathematics. I sent for a sleigh and we went for a ride. In a hotel, + overlooking the sea, we drank mulled wine and had an excellent little + supper. It was just as if we were having our wedding day over again, and + then we drove home.” + </p> + <p> + “And then—?” asked the old woman, looking at him over her + spectacles. + </p> + <p> + “And then? H’m! May God forgive me for my sins! I seduced my own little + wife. What do you say now, granny?” + </p> + <p> + “I say that you did very well, my boy! And then?” + </p> + <p> + “And then? Since then everything has been all right, and now we discuss + the education of the children and the emancipation of women from + superstition and old-maidishness, from sentimentality and the devil and + his ablative, but we talk when we are alone together and that is the best + way of avoiding misunderstandings. Don’t you think so, old lady?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, Willy, dear, and now I shall come and pay you a call.” + </p> + <p> + “Do come! And you will see the dolls dance and the larks and the + woodpeckers sing and chirrup; you will see a home filled with happiness up + to the roof, for there is no one there waiting for miracles which only + happen in fairy tales. You will see a real doll’s house.” + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0012" id="link2H_4_0012"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + PHOENIX + </h2> + <p> + The wild strawberries were getting ripe when he met her for the first time + at the vicarage. He had met many girls before, but when he saw <i>her</i> + he knew; this was she! But he did not dare to tell her so, and she only + teased him for he was still at school. + </p> + <p> + He was an undergraduate when he met her for the second time. And as he put + his arms round her and kissed her, he saw showers of rockets, heard the + ringing of bells and bugle calls, and felt the earth trembling under his + feet. + </p> + <p> + She was a woman at the age of fourteen. Her young bosom seemed to be + waiting for hungry little mouths and eager baby fists. With her firm and + elastic step, her round and swelling hips, she looked fit to bear at any + moment a baby under her heart. Her hair was of a pale gold, like clarified + honey, and surrounded her face like an aureole; her eyes were two flames + and her skin was as soft as a glove. + </p> + <p> + They were engaged to be married and billed and cooed in the wood like the + birds in the garden under the lime trees; life lay before them like a + sunny meadow which the scythe had not yet touched. But he had to pass his + examinations in mining first, and that would take him,—including the + journey abroad—ten years. Ten years! + </p> + <p> + He returned to the University. In the summer he came back to the vicarage + and found her every bit as beautiful. Three summers he came—and the + fourth time she was pale. There were tiny red lines in the corners of her + nose and her shoulders drooped a little. When the summer returned for the + sixth time, she was taking iron. In the seventh she went to a + watering-place. In the eighth she suffered from tooth-ache and her nerves + were out of order. Her hair had lost its gloss, her voice had grown + shrill, her nose was covered with little black specks; she had lost her + figure, dragged her feet, and her cheeks were hollow. In the winter she + had an attack of nervous fever, and her hair had to be cut off. When it + grew again, it was a dull brown. He had fallen in love with a + golden-haired girl of fourteen—brunettes did not attract him—and + he married a woman of twenty-four, with dull brown hair, who refused to + wear her dresses open at the throat. + </p> + <p> + But in spite of all this he loved her. His love was less passionate than + it had been; it had become calm and steadfast. And there was nothing in + the little mining-town which could disturb their happiness. + </p> + <p> + She bore him two boys, but he was always wishing for a girl. And at last a + fair-haired baby girl arrived. + </p> + <p> + She was the apple of his eye, and as she grew up she resembled her mother + more and more. When she was eight years old, she was just what her mother + had been. And the father devoted all his spare time to his little + daughter. + </p> + <p> + The housework had coarsened the mother’s hands. Her nose had lost its + shape and her temples had fallen in. Constant stooping over the kitchen + range had made her a little round-shouldered. Father and mother met only + at meals and at night. They did not complain, but things had changed. + </p> + <p> + But the daughter was the father’s delight. It was almost as if he were in + love with her. He saw in her the re-incarnation of her mother, his first + impression of her, as beautiful as it had been fleeting. He was almost + self-conscious in her company and never went into her room when she was + dressing. He worshipped her. + </p> + <p> + But one morning the child remained in bed and refused to get up. Mama put + it down to laziness, but papa sent for the doctor. The shadow of the angel + of death lay over the house: the child was suffering from diphtheria. + Either father or mother must take the other children away. He refused. The + mother took them to a little house in one of the suburbs and the father + remained at home to nurse the invalid. There she lay! The house was + disinfected with sulphur which turned the gilded picture frames black and + tarnished the silver on the dressing-table. He walked through the empty + rooms in silent anguish, and at night, alone in his big bed, he felt like + a widower. He bought toys for the little girl, and she smiled at him as he + sat on the edge of the bed trying to amuse her with a Punch and Judy show, + and asked after mama and her little brothers. And the father had to go and + stand in the street before the house in the suburbs, and nod to his wife + who was looking at him from the window, and blow kisses to the children. + And his wife signalled to him with sheets of blue and red paper. + </p> + <p> + But a day came when the little girl took no more pleasure in Punch and + Judy, and ceased smiling; and ceased talking too, for Death had stretched + out his long bony arm and suffocated her. It had been a hard struggle. + </p> + <p> + Then the mother returned, full of remorse because she had deserted her + little daughter. There was great misery in the home, and great + wretchedness. When the doctor wanted to make a post mortem examination, + the father objected. No knife should touch her, for she was not dead to + him; but his resistance was overborne. Then he flew into a passion and + tried to kick and bite the doctor. + </p> + <p> + When they had bedded her into the earth, he built a monument over her + grave, and for a whole year he visited it every day. In the second year he + did not go quite so often. His work was heavy and he had little spare + time. He began to feel the burden of the years; his step was less elastic; + his wound was healing. Sometimes he felt ashamed when he realised that he + was mourning less and less for his child as time went by; and finally he + forgot all about it. + </p> + <p> + Two more girls were born to him, but it was not the same thing; the void + left by the one who had passed away could never be filled. + </p> + <p> + Life was a hard struggle. The young wife who had once been like—like + no other woman on earth, had gradually lost her glamour; the gilding had + worn off the home which had once been so bright and beautiful. The + children had bruised and dented their mother’s wedding presents, spoiled + the beds and kicked the legs of the furniture. The stuffing of the sofa + was plainly visible here and there, and the piano had not been opened for + years. The noise made by the children had drowned the music and the voices + had become harsh. The words of endearment had been cast off with the baby + clothes, caresses had deteriorated into a sort of massage. They were + growing old and weary. Papa was no longer on his knees before mama, he sat + in his shabby armchair and asked her for a match when he wanted to light + his pipe. Yes, they were growing old. + </p> + <p> + When papa had reached his fiftieth year, mama died. Then the past awoke + and knocked at his heart. When her broken body, which the last agony had + robbed of its few remaining charms, had been laid in its grave, the + picture of his fourteen-year-old sweetheart arose in his memory. It was + for her, whom he had lost so long ago that he mourned now, and with his + yearning for her came remorse. But he had never been unkind to the old + mama; he had been faithful to the fourteen-year-old vicar’s daughter whom + he had worshipped on his knees but had never led to the altar, for he had + married an anaemic young woman of twenty-four. If he were to be quite + candid, he would have to confess that it was she for whom he mourned; it + was true, he also missed the good cooking and unremitting care of the old + mama, but that was a different thing. + </p> + <p> + He was on more intimate terms with his children, now; some of them had + left the old nest, but others were still at home. + </p> + <p> + When he had bored his friends for a whole year with anecdotes of the + deceased, an extraordinary coincidence happened. He met a young girl of + eighteen, with fair hair, and a striking resemblance to his late wife, as + she had been at fourteen. He saw in this coincidence the finger of a + bountiful providence, willing to bestow on him at last the first one, the + well-beloved. He fell in love with her because she resembled the first + one. And he married her. He had got her at last. + </p> + <p> + But his children, especially the girls, resented his second marriage. They + found the relationship between their father and step-mother improper; in + their opinion he had been unfaithful to their mother. And they left his + house and went out into the world. + </p> + <p> + He was happy! And his pride in his young wife exceeded even his happiness. + </p> + <p> + “Only the aftermath!” said his old friends. + </p> + <p> + When a year had gone by, the young wife presented him with a baby. Papa, + of course, was no longer used to a baby’s crying, and wanted his night’s + rest. He insisted on a separate bed-room for himself, heedless of his + wife’s tears; really, women were a nuisance sometimes. And, moreover, she + was jealous of his first wife. He had been fool enough to tell her of the + extraordinary likeness which existed between the two and had let her read + his first wife’s love-letters. She brooded over these facts now that he + neglected her. She realised that she had inherited all the first one’s pet + names, that she was only her understudy, as it were. It irritated her and + the attempt to win him for herself led her into all sorts of mischief. But + she only succeeded in boring him, and in silently comparing the two women, + his verdict was entirely in favour of the first one. She had been so much + more gentle than the second who exasperated him. The longing for his + children, whom he had driven from their home increased his regret, and his + sleep was disturbed by bad dreams for he was haunted by the idea that he + had been unfaithful to his first wife. + </p> + <p> + His home was no longer a happy one. He had done a deed, which he would + much better have left undone. + </p> + <p> + He began to spend a good deal of time at his club. But now his wife was + furious. He had deceived her. He was an old man and he had better look + out! An old man who left his young wife so much alone ran a certain risk. + He might regret it some day! + </p> + <p> + “Old? She called him old? He would show her that he was not old!” + </p> + <p> + They shared the same room again. But now matters were seven times worse. + He did not want to be bothered with the baby at night. The proper place + for babies was the nursery. No! he hadn’t thought so in the case of the + first wife. + </p> + <p> + He had to submit to the torture. + </p> + <p> + Twice he had believed in the miracle of Phoenix rising from the ashes of + his fourteen year old love, first in his daughter, then in his second + wife. But in his memory lived the first one only, the little one from the + vicarage, whom he had met when the wild strawberries were ripe, and kissed + under the lime trees in the wood, but whom he had never married. + </p> + <p> + But now, as his sun was setting and his days grew short, he saw in his + dark hours only the picture of the old mama, who had been kind to him and + his children, who had never scolded, who was plain, who cooked the meals + and patched the little boys’ knickers and the skirts of the little girls. + His flush of victory being over, he was able to see facts clearly. He + wondered whether it was not, after all, the old mama who had been the real + true Phoenix, rising, calm and beautiful, from the ashes of the fourteen + year old bird of paradise, laying its eggs, plucking the feathers from its + breast to line the nest for the young ones, and nourishing them with its + life-blood until it died. + </p> + <p> + He wondered ... but when at last he laid his weary head on the pillow, + never again to lift it up, he was convinced that it was so. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0013" id="link2H_4_0013"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + ROMEO AND JULIA + </h2> + <p> + One evening the husband came home with a roll of music under his arm and + said to his wife: + </p> + <p> + “Let us play duets after supper!” + </p> + <p> + “What have you got there?” asked his wife. + </p> + <p> + “Romeo and Julia, arranged for the piano. Do you know it?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, of course I do,” she replied, “but I don’t remember ever having seen + it on the stage.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! It’s splendid! To me it is like a dream of my youth, but I’ve only + heard it once, and that was about twenty years ago.” + </p> + <p> + After supper, when the children had been put to bed and the house lay + silent, the husband lighted the candles on the piano. He looked at the + lithographed title-page and read the title: Romeo and Julia. + </p> + <p> + “This is Gounod’s most beautiful composition,” he said, “and I don’t + believe that it will be too difficult for us.” + </p> + <p> + As usual his wife undertook to play the treble and they began. D major, + common time, <i>allegro giusto</i>. + </p> + <p> + “It is beautiful, isn’t it?” asked the husband, when they had finished the + overture. + </p> + <p> + “Y—es,” admitted the wife, reluctantly. + </p> + <p> + “Now the martial music,” said the husband; “it is exceptionally fine. I + can remember the splendid choruses at the Royal Theatre.” + </p> + <p> + They played a march. + </p> + <p> + “Well, wasn’t I right?” asked the husband, triumphantly, as if he had + composed “Romeo and Julia” himself. + </p> + <p> + “I don’t know; it rather sounds like a brass band,” answered the wife. + </p> + <p> + The husband’s honour and good taste were involved; he looked for the + Moonshine Aria in the fourth act. After a little searching he came across + an aria for soprano. That must be it. + </p> + <p> + And he began again. + </p> + <p> + Tram-tramtram, tram-tramtram, went the bass; it was very easy to play. + </p> + <p> + “Do you know,” said his wife, when it was over, “I don’t think very much + of it.” + </p> + <p> + The husband, quite depressed, admitted that it reminded him of a barrel + organ. + </p> + <p> + “I thought so all along,” confessed the wife. + </p> + <p> + “And I find it antiquated, too. I am surprised that Gounod should be out + of date, already,” he added dejectedly. “Would you like to go on playing? + Let’s try the Cavatina and the Trio; I particularly remember the soprano; + she was divine.” + </p> + <p> + When they stopped playing, the husband looked crestfallen and put the + music away, as if he wanted to shut the door on the past. + </p> + <p> + “Let’s have a glass of beer,” he said. They sat down at the table and had + a glass of beer. + </p> + <p> + “It’s extraordinary,” he began, after a little while, “I never realised + before that we’ve grown old, for we really must have vied with Romeo and + Julia as to who should age faster. It’s twenty years ago since I heard the + opera for the first time. I was a newly fledged undergraduate then, I had + many friends and the future smiled at me. I was immensely proud of the + first down on my upper lip and my little college cap, and I remember as if + it were to-day, the evening when Fritz, Phil and myself went to hear this + opera. We had heard ‘Faust’ some years before and were great admirers of + Gounod’s genius. But Romeo beat all our expectations. The music roused our + wildest enthusiasm. Now both my friends are dead. Fritz, who was + ambitious, was a private secretary when he died, Phil a medical student; I + who aspired to the position of a minister of state have to content myself + with that of a regimental judge. The years have passed by quickly and + imperceptibly. Of course I have noticed that the lines under my eyes have + grown deeper and that my hair has turned grey at the temples, but I should + never have thought that we had travelled so far on the road to the grave.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, my dear, we’ve grown old; our children could teach us that. And you + must see it in me too, although you don’t say anything.” + </p> + <p> + “How can you say that!” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! I know only too well, my dear,” continued the wife, sadly; “I know + that I am beginning to lose my good looks, that my hair is growing thin, + that I shall soon lose my front teeth....” + </p> + <p> + “Just consider how quickly everything passes away”—interrupted her + husband. “It seems to me that one grows old much more rapidly now-a-days, + than one used to do. In my father’s house Haydn and Mozart were played a + great deal, although they were dead long before he was born. And now—now + Gounod has grown old-fashioned already! How distressing it is to meet + again the ideals of one’s youth under these altered circumstances! And how + horrible it is to feel old age approaching!” + </p> + <p> + He got up and sat down again at the piano; he took the music and turned + over the pages as if he were looking for keepsakes, locks of hair, dried + flowers and ends of ribbon in the drawer of a writing-table. His eyes were + riveted on the black notes which looked like little birds climbing up and + down a wire fencing; but where were the spring songs, the passionate + protestations, the jubilant avowals of the rosy days of first love? The + notes stared back at him like strangers; as if the memory of life’s + spring-time were grown over with weeds. + </p> + <p> + Yes, that was it; the strings were covered with dust, the sounding board + was dried up, the felt worn away. + </p> + <p> + A heavy sigh echoed through the room, heavy as if it came from a hollow + chest, and then silence fell. + </p> + <p> + “But all the same, it is strange,” the husband said suddenly, “that the + glorious prologue is missing in this arrangement. I remember distinctly + that there was a prologue with an accompaniment of harps and a chorus + which went like this.” + </p> + <p> + He softly hummed the tune, which bubbled up like a stream in a mountain + glen; note succeeded note, his face cleared, his lips smiled, the lines + disappeared, his fingers touched the keys, and drew from them melodies, + powerful, caressing and full of eternal youth, while with a strong and + ringing voice he sang the part of the bass. + </p> + <p> + His wife started from her melancholy reverie and listened with tears in + her eyes. + </p> + <p> + “What are you singing?” she asked, full of amazement. + </p> + <p> + “Romeo and Julia! Our Romeo and our Julia!” + </p> + <p> + He jumped up from the music stool and pushed the music towards his + astonished wife. + </p> + <p> + “Look! This was the Romeo of our uncles and aunts, this was—read it—Bellini! + Oh! We are not old, after all!” + </p> + <p> + The wife looked at the thick, glossy hair of her husband, his smooth brow + and flashing eyes, with joy. + </p> + <p> + “And you? You look like a young girl. We have allowed old Bellini to make + fools of us. I felt that something was wrong.” + </p> + <p> + “No, darling, I thought so first.” + </p> + <p> + “Probably you did; that is because you are younger than I am.” + </p> + <p> + “No, you....” + </p> + <p> + And husband and wife, like a couple of children, laughingly quarrel over + the question of which of them is the elder of the two, and cannot + understand how they could have discovered lines and grey hairs where there + are none. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0014" id="link2H_4_0014"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + PROLIFICACY + </h2> + <p> + He was a supernumerary at the Board of Trade and drew a salary of twelve + hundred crowns. He had married a young girl without a penny; for love, as + he himself said, to be no longer compelled to go to dances and run about + the streets, as his friends maintained. But be that as it may, the life of + the newly-wedded couple was happy enough to begin with. + </p> + <p> + “How cheaply married people can live,” he said one day, after the wedding + was a thing of the past. The same sum which had been barely enough to + cover the wants of the bachelor now sufficed for husband and wife. Really, + marriage was an excellent institution. One had all one’s requirements + within one’s four walls: club, cafe, everything; no more bills of fare, no + tips, no inquisitive porter watching one as one went out with one’s wife + in the morning. + </p> + <p> + Life smiled at him, his strength increased and he worked for two. Never in + all his life had he felt so full of overflowing energy; he jumped out of + bed as soon as he woke up in the morning, buoyantly, and in the highest + spirits, he was rejuvenated. + </p> + <p> + When two months had elapsed, long before his new circumstances had begun + to pall, his wife whispered a certain piece of information into his ear. + New joys! New cares! But cares so pleasant to bear! It was necessary, + however, to increase their income at once, so as to receive the unknown + world-citizen in a manner befitting his dignity. He managed to obtain an + order for a translation. + </p> + <p> + Baby-clothes lay scattered about all over the furniture, a cradle stood + waiting in the hall, and at last a splendid boy arrived in this world of + sorrows. + </p> + <p> + The father was delighted. And yet he could not help a vague feeling of + uneasiness whenever he thought of the future. Income and expenditure did + not balance. Nothing remained but to reduce his dress allowance. + </p> + <p> + His frock coat began to look threadbare at the seams; his shirt front was + hidden underneath a large tie, his trousers were frayed. It was an + undeniable fact that the porters at the office looked down on him on + account of his shabbiness. + </p> + <p> + In addition to this he was compelled to lengthen his working day. + </p> + <p> + “It must be the first and last,” he said. But how was it to be done? + </p> + <p> + He was at a loss to know. + </p> + <p> + Three months later his wife prepared him in carefully chosen words that + his paternal joys would soon be doubled. It would not be true to say that + he rejoiced greatly at the news. But there was no alternative now; he must + travel along the road he had chosen, even if married life should prove to + be anything but cheap. + </p> + <p> + “It’s true,” he thought, his face brightening, “the younger one will + inherit the baby-clothes of his elder brother. This will save a good deal + of expense, and there will be food enough for them—I shall be able + to feed them just as well as others.” + </p> + <p> + And the second baby was born. + </p> + <p> + “You are going it,” said a friend of his, who was a married man himself, + but father of one child only. + </p> + <p> + “What is a man to do?” + </p> + <p> + “Use his common-sense.” + </p> + <p> + “Use his common-sense? But, my dear fellow, a man gets married in order to + ... I mean to say, not only in order to ... but yet in order to.... Well, + anyhow, we are married and that settles the matter.” + </p> + <p> + “Not at all. Let me tell you something, my dear boy; if you are at all + hoping for promotion it is absolutely necessary that you should wear clean + linen, trousers which are not frayed at the bottom, and a hat which is not + of a rusty brown.” + </p> + <p> + And the sensible man whispered sensible words into his ear. As the result, + the poor husband was put on short commons in the midst of plenty. + </p> + <p> + But now his troubles began. + </p> + <p> + To start with his nerves went to pieces, he suffered from insomnia and did + his work badly. He consulted a doctor. The prescription cost him three + crowns; and such a prescription! He was to stop working; he had worked too + hard, his brain was overtaxed. To stop work would mean starvation for all + of them, and to work spelt death, too! + </p> + <p> + He went on working. + </p> + <p> + One day, as he was sitting at his desk, stooping over endless rows of + figures, he had an attack of faintness, slipped off his chair and fell to + the ground. + </p> + <p> + A visit to a specialist—eighteen crowns. A new prescription; he must + ask for sick leave at once, take riding exercise every morning and have + steak and a glass of port for breakfast. + </p> + <p> + Riding exercise and port! + </p> + <p> + But the worst feature of the whole business was a feeling of alienation + from his wife which had sprung up in his heart—he did not know + whence it came. He was afraid to go near her and at the same time he + longed for her presence. He loved her, loved her still, but a certain + bitterness was mingled with his love. + </p> + <p> + “You are growing thin,” said a friend. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I believe I’ve grown thinner,” said the poor husband. + </p> + <p> + “You are playing a dangerous game, old boy!” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t know what you mean!” + </p> + <p> + “A married man in half mourning! Take care, my friend!” + </p> + <p> + “I really don’t know what you’re driving at.”. + </p> + <p> + “It’s impossible to go against the wind for any length of time. Set all + sails and run, old chap, and you will see that everything will come right. + Believe me, I know what I’m talking about. You understand me.” + </p> + <p> + He took no notice of the advice for a time, fully aware of the fact that a + man’s income does not increase in proportion to his family; at the same + time he had no longer any doubt about the cause of his malady. + </p> + <p> + It was summer again. The family had gone into the country. On a beautiful + evening husband and wife were strolling along the steep shore, in the + shade of the alder trees, resplendent in their young green. They sat down + on the turf, silent and depressed. He was morose and disheartened; gloomy + thoughts revolved behind his aching brow. Life seemed a great chasm which + had opened to engulf all he loved. + </p> + <p> + They talked of the probable loss of his appointment; his chief had been + annoyed at his second application for sick leave. He complained of the + conduct of his colleagues, he felt himself deserted by everyone; but the + fact which hurt him more than anything else was the knowledge that she, + too, had grown tired of him. + </p> + <p> + “Oh! but she hadn’t! She loved him every bit as much as she did in those + happy days when they were first engaged. How could he doubt it?” + </p> + <p> + “No, he didn’t doubt it; but he had suffered so much, he wasn’t master of + his own thoughts.” + </p> + <p> + He pressed his burning cheek against hers, put his arm round her and + covered her eyes with passionate kisses. + </p> + <p> + The gnats danced their nuptial dance above the birch tree without a + thought of the thousands of young ones which their ecstasy would call into + being; the carp laid their eggs in the reed grass, careless of the + millions of their kind to which they gave birth; the swallow made love in + broad daylight, not in the least afraid of the consequences of their + irregular liaisons. + </p> + <p> + All of a sudden he sprang to his feet and stretched himself like a sleeper + awakening from a long sleep, which had been haunted by evil dreams, he + drank in the balmy air in deep draughts. + </p> + <p> + “What’s the matter?” whispered his wife, while a crimson blush spread over + her face. + </p> + <p> + “I don’t know. All I know is that I live, that I breathe again.” + </p> + <p> + And radiant, with laughing face and shining eyes, he held out his arms to + her, picked her up as if she were a baby and pressed his lips to her + forehead. The muscles of his legs swelled until they looked like the + muscles of the leg of an antique god, he held his body erect like a young + tree and intoxicated with strength and happiness, he carried his beloved + burden as far as the footpath where he put her down. + </p> + <p> + “You will strain yourself, sweetheart,” she said, making a vain attempt to + free herself from his encircling arms. + </p> + <p> + “Never, you darling! I could carry you to the end of the earth, and I + shall carry you, all of you, no matter how many you are now, or how many + you may yet become.” + </p> + <p> + And they returned home, arm in arm, their hearts singing with gladness. + </p> + <p> + “If the worst comes to the worst, sweet love, one must admit that it is + very easy to jump that abyss which separates body and soul!” + </p> + <p> + “What a thing to say!” + </p> + <p> + “If I had only realised it before, I should have been less unhappy. Oh! + those idealists!” + </p> + <p> + And they entered their cottage. + </p> + <p> + The good old times had returned and had, apparently, come to stay. The + husband went to work to his office as before. They lived again through + love’s spring time. No doctor was required and the high spirits never + flagged. + </p> + <p> + After the third christening, however, he came to the conclusion that + matters were serious and started playing his old game with the inevitable + results: doctor, sick-leave, riding-exercise, port! But there must be an + end of it, at all costs. Every time the balance-sheet showed a deficit. + </p> + <p> + But when, finally, his whole nervous system went out of joint, he let + nature have her own way. Immediately expenses went up and he was beset + with difficulties. + </p> + <p> + He was not a poor man, it is true, but on the other hand he was not blest + with too many of this world’s riches. + </p> + <p> + “To tell you the truth, old girl,” he said to his wife, “it will be the + same old story over again.” + </p> + <p> + “I am afraid it will, my dear,” replied the poor woman, who, in addition + to her duties as a mother, had to do the whole work of the house now. + </p> + <p> + After the birth of her fourth child, the work grew too hard for her and a + nursemaid had to be engaged. + </p> + <p> + “Now it must stop,” avowed the disconsolate husband. “This must be the + last.” + </p> + <p> + Poverty looked in at the door. The foundations on which the house was + built were tottering. + </p> + <p> + And thus, at the age of thirty, in the very prime of their life, the young + husband and wife found themselves condemned to celibacy. He grew moody, + his complexion became grey and his eyes lost their lustre. Her rich beauty + faded, her fine figure wasted away, and she suffered all the sorrows of a + mother who sees her children growing up in poverty and rags. + </p> + <p> + One day, as she was standing in the kitchen, frying herrings, a neighbour + called in for a friendly chat. + </p> + <p> + “How are you?” she began. + </p> + <p> + “Thank you, I’m not up to very much. How are you?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! I’m not at all well. Married life is a misery if one has to be + constantly on one’s guard.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you think you are the only one?” + </p> + <p> + “What do you mean?” + </p> + <p> + “Do you know what my husband said to me the other day? One ought to spare + the draught cattle! And I suffer under it all, I can tell you. No, there’s + no happiness in marriage. Either husband or wife is bound to suffer. It’s + one or the other!” + </p> + <p> + “Or both!” + </p> + <p> + “But what about the men of science who grow fat at the expense of the + Government?” + </p> + <p> + “They have to think of so many things, and moreover, it is improper to + write about such problems; they must not be discussed openly.” + </p> + <p> + “But that would be the first necessity!” And the two women fell to + discussing their bitter experiences. + </p> + <p> + In the following summer they were compelled to remain in town; they were + living in a basement with a view of the gutter, the smell of which was so + objectionable that it was impossible to keep the windows open. + </p> + <p> + The wife did needlework in the same room in which the children were + playing; the husband, who had lost his appointment on account of his + extreme shabbiness, was copying a manuscript in the adjoining room, and + grumbling at the children’s noise. Hard words were bandied through the + open door. + </p> + <p> + It was Whitsuntide. In the afternoon the husband was lying on the ragged + leather sofa, gazing at a window on the other side of the street. He was + watching a woman of evil reputation who was dressing for her evening + stroll. A spray of lilac and two oranges were lying by the side of her + looking-glass. + </p> + <p> + She was fastening her dress without taking the least notice of his + inquisitive glances. + </p> + <p> + “She’s not having a bad time,” mused the celibate, suddenly kindled into + passion. “One lives but once in this world, and one must live one’s life, + happen what will!” + </p> + <p> + His wife entered the room and caught sight of the object of his scrutiny. + Her eyes blazed; the last feeble sparks of her dead love glowed under the + ashes and revealed themselves in a temporary flash of jealousy. + </p> + <p> + “Hadn’t we better take the children to the Zoo?” she asked. + </p> + <p> + “To make a public show of our misery? No, thank you!” + </p> + <p> + “But it’s so hot in here. I shall have to pull down the blinds.” + </p> + <p> + “You had better open a window!” + </p> + <p> + He divined his wife’s thoughts and rose to do it himself. Out there, on + the edge of the pavement, his four little ones were sitting, in close + proximity of the waste pipes. Their feet were in the dry gutter, and they + were playing with orange peels which they had found in the sweepings of + the road. The sight stabbed his heart, and he felt a lump rising in his + throat. But poverty had so blunted his feelings that he remained standing + at the window with his arms crossed. + </p> + <p> + All at once two filthy streams gushed from the waste pipes, inundated the + gutter and saturated the feet of the children who screamed, half + suffocated by the stench. + </p> + <p> + “Get the children ready as quickly as you can,” he called, giving way at + the heart-rending scene. + </p> + <p> + The father pushed the perambulator with the baby, the other children clung + to the hands and skirts of the mother. + </p> + <p> + They arrived at the cemetery with its dark-stemmed lime-trees, their usual + place of refuge; here the trees grew luxuriantly, as if the soil were + enriched by the bodies which lay buried underneath it. + </p> + <p> + The bells were ringing for evening prayers. The inmates of the poorhouse + flocked to the church and sat down in the pews left vacant by their + wealthy owners, who had attended to their souls at the principal service + of the day, and were now driving in their carriages to the Royal Deer + Park. + </p> + <p> + The children climbed about the shallow graves, most of which were + decorated with armorial bearings and inscriptions. + </p> + <p> + Husband and wife sat down on a seat and placed the perambulator, in which + the baby lay sucking at its bottle, by their side. Two puppies were + disporting themselves on a grave close by, half hidden by the high grass. + </p> + <p> + A young and well dressed couple, leading by the hand a little girl clothed + in silk and velvet, passed the seat on which they sat. The poor copyist + raised his eyes to the young dandy and recognised a former colleague from + the Board of Trade who, however, did not seem to see him. A feeling of + bitter envy seized him with such intensity that he felt more humiliated by + this “ignoble sentiment” than by his deplorable condition. Was he angry + with the other man because he filled a position which he himself had + coveted? Surely not. But of a sense of justice, and his suffering was all + the deeper because it was shared by the whole class of the disinherited. + He was convinced that the inmates of the poorhouse, bowed down under the + yoke of public charity, envied his wife; and he was quite sure that many + of the aristocrats who slept all around him in their graves, under their + coats of arms, would have envied him his children if it had been their lot + to die without leaving an heir to their estates. Certainly, nobody under + the sun enjoyed complete happiness, but why did the plums always fall to + the lot of those who were already sitting in the lap of luxury? And how + was it that the prizes always fell to the organisers of the great lottery? + The disinherited had to be content with the mass said at evening prayers; + to their share fell morality and those virtues which the others despised + and of which they had no need because the gates of heaven opened readily + enough to their wealth. But what about the good and just God who had + distributed His gifts so unevenly? It would be better, indeed, to live + one’s life without this unjust God, who had, moreover, candidly admitted + that the “wind blew where it listed”; had He not himself confessed, in + these words, that He did not interfere in the concerns of man? But failing + the church, where should we look for comfort? And yet, why ask for + comfort? Wouldn’t it be far better to strive to make such arrangements + that no comfort was needed? Wouldn’t it? + </p> + <p> + His speculations were interrupted by his eldest daughter who asked him for + a leaf of the lime-tree, which she wanted for a sunshade for her doll. He + stepped on the seat and raised his hand to break off a little twig, when a + constable appeared and rudely ordered him not to touch the trees. A fresh + humiliation. At the same time the constable requested him not to allow his + children to play on the graves, which was against the regulations. + </p> + <p> + “We’d better go home,” said the distressed father. “How carefully they + guard the interests of the dead, and how indifferent they are to the + interests of the living.” + </p> + <p> + And they returned home. + </p> + <p> + He sat down and began to work. He had to copy the manuscript of an + academical treatise on over-population. + </p> + <p> + The subject interested him and he read the contents of the whole book. + </p> + <p> + The young author who belonged to what was called the ethical school, was + preaching against vice. + </p> + <p> + “What vice?” mused the copyist. “That which is responsible for our + existence? Which the priest orders us to indulge in at every wedding when + he says: Be fruitful and multiply and fill the earth?” + </p> + <p> + The manuscript ran on: Propagation, without holy matrimony, is a + destructive vice, because the fate of the children, who do not receive + proper care and nursing, is a sad one. In the case of married couples, on + the other hand, it becomes a sacred duty to indulge one’s desires. This is + proved, among other things, by the fact that the law protects even the + female ovum, and it is right that it should be so. + </p> + <p> + “Consequently,” thought the copyist, “there is a providence for legitimate + children, but not for illegitimate ones Oh! this young philosopher! And + the law which protects the female ovum! What business, then, have those + microscopic things to detach themselves at every change of the moon? Those + sacred objects ought to be most carefully guarded by the police!” + </p> + <p> + All these futilities he had to copy in his best handwriting. + </p> + <p> + They overflowed with morality, but contained not a single word of + enlightenment. + </p> + <p> + The moral or rather the immoral gist of the whole argument was: There is a + God who feeds and clothes all children born in wedlock; a God in His + heaven, probably, but what about the earth? Certainly, it was said that He + came to earth once and allowed himself to be crucified, after vainly + trying to establish something like order in the confused affairs of + mankind; He did not succeed. + </p> + <p> + The philosopher wound up by screaming himself hoarse in trying to convince + his audience that the abundant supply of wheat was an irrefutable proof + that the problem of over-population did not exist; that the doctrine of + Malthus was not only false, but criminal, socially as well as morally. + </p> + <p> + And the poor father of a family who had not tasted wheaten bread for + years, laid down the manuscript and urged his little ones to fill + themselves with gruel made of rye flour and bluish milk, a dish which + satisfied their craving, but contained no nourishment. + </p> + <p> + He was wretched, not because he considered water gruel objectionable, but + because he had lost his precious sense of humour, that magician who can + transform the dark rye into golden wheat; almighty love, emptying his horn + of plenty over his poor home, had vanished. The children had become + burdens, and the once beloved wife a secret enemy despised and despising + him. + </p> + <p> + And the cause of all this unhappiness? The want of bread! And yet the + large store houses of the new world were breaking down under the weight of + the over-abundant supply of wheat. What a world of contradictions! The + manner in which bread was distributed must be at fault. + </p> + <p> + Science, which has replaced religion, has no answer to give; it merely + states facts and allows the children to die of hunger and the parents of + thirst. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0015" id="link2H_4_0015"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + AUTUMN + </h2> + <p> + They had been married for ten years. Happily? Well, as happily as + circumstances permitted. They had been running in double harness, like two + young oxen of equal strength, each of which is conscientiously doing his + own share. + </p> + <p> + During the first year of their marriage they buried many illusions and + realised that marriage was not perfect bliss. In the second year the + babies began to arrive, and the daily toil left them no time for brooding. + </p> + <p> + He was very domesticated, perhaps too much so; his family was his world, + the centre and pivot of which he was. The children were the radii. His + wife attempted to be a centre, too, but never in the middle of the circle, + for that was exclusively occupied by him, and therefore the radii fell now + on the top of one another, now far apart, and their life lacked harmony. + </p> + <p> + In the tenth year of their marriage he obtained the post of secretary to + the Board of Prisons, and in that capacity he was obliged to travel about + the country. This interfered seriously with his daily routine; the thought + of leaving his world for a whole month upset him. He wondered whom he + would miss more, his wife or his children, and he was sure he would miss + them both. + </p> + <p> + On the eve of his departure he sat in the corner of the sofa and watched + his portmanteau being packed. His wife was kneeling on the She brushed his + black suit and folded it carefully, so that it should take up as little + space as possible. He had no idea how to do these things. + </p> + <p> + She had never looked upon herself as his housekeeper, hardly as his wife, + she was above all things mother: a mother to the children, a mother to + him. She darned his socks without the slightest feeling of degradation, + and asked for no thanks. She never even considered him indebted to her for + it, for did he not give her and the children new stockings whenever they + wanted them, and a great many other things into the bargain? But for him, + she would have to go out and earn her own living, and the children would + be left alone all day. + </p> + <p> + He sat in the sofa corner and looked at her. Now that the parting was + imminent, he began to feel premature little twinges of longing. He gazed + at her figure. Her shoulders were a little rounded; much bending over the + cradle, ironing board and kitchen range had robbed her back of its + straightness. He, too, stooped a little, the result of his toil at the + writing-table, and he was obliged to wear spectacles. But at the moment he + really was not thinking of himself. He noticed that her plaits were + thinner than they had been and that a faint suggestion of silver lay on + her hair. Had she sacrificed her beauty to him, to him alone? No, surely + not to him, but to the little community which they formed; for, after all, + she had also worked for herself. His hair, too, had grown thin in the + struggle to provide for all of them. He might have retained his youth a + little longer, if there hadn’t been so many mouths to fill, if he had + remained a bachelor; but he didn’t regret his marriage for one second. + </p> + <p> + “It will be a good thing for you to get away for a bit,” said his wife; + “you have been too much at home.” + </p> + <p> + “I suppose you are glad to get rid of me,” he replied, not without + bitterness; “but I—I shall miss you very much.” + </p> + <p> + “You are like a cat, you’ll miss your cosy fireside, but not me; you know + you won’t.” + </p> + <p> + “And the kiddies?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes! I daresay you’ll miss them when you are away, for all your + scolding when you are with them. No, no, I don’t mean that you are unkind + to them, but you do grumble a lot! All the same I won’t be unjust, and I + know that you love them.” + </p> + <p> + At supper he was very tired and depressed. He didn’t read the evening + paper, he wanted to talk to his wife. But she was too busy to pay much + attention to him; she had no time to waste; moreover, her ten years’ + campaign in kitchen and nursery had taught her self-control. + </p> + <p> + He felt more sentimental than he cared to show, and the topsy-turvydom of + the room made him fidgety. Scraps of his daily life lay scattered all over + chairs and chests of drawers; his black portmanteau yawned wide-open like + a coffin; his white linen was carefully laid on the top of his black suit, + which showed slight traces of wear and tear at the knees and elbows. It + seemed to him that he himself was lying there, wearing a white shirt with + a starched front. Presently they would close the coffin and carry it away. + </p> + <p> + On the following morning—it was in August—he rose early and + dressed hurriedly. His nerves were unstrung. He went into the nursery and + kissed the children who stared at him with sleepy eyes. Then he kissed his + wife, got into a cab, and told the driver to drive him to the station. + </p> + <p> + The journey, which he made in the company of his Board, did him good; it + really was a good thing for him to get out of his groove; domesticity lay + behind him like a stuffy bedroom, and on the arrival of the train at + Linkoping he was in high spirits. + </p> + <p> + An excellent dinner had been ordered at the best hotel and the remainder + of the day was spent in eating it. They drank the health of the Lord + Lieutenant; no one thought of the prisoners on whose behalf the journey + had been undertaken. + </p> + <p> + Dinner over, he had to face a lonely evening in his solitary room. A bed, + two chairs, a table, a washing-stand and a wax candle, which threw its dim + light on bare walls. He couldn’t suppress a feeling of nervousness. He + missed all his little comforts,—slippers, dressing-gown, pipe rack + and writing table; all the little details which played an important part + in his daily life. And the kiddies? And his wife? What were they doing? + Were they all right? He became restless and depressed. When he wanted to + wind up his watch, he found that he had left his watch-key at home. It was + hanging on the watch-stand which his wife had given him before they were + married. He went to bed and lit a cigar. Then he wanted a book out of his + portmanteau and he had to get up again. Everything was packed so + beautifully, it was a pity to disturb it. In looking for the book, he came + across his slippers. She had forgotten nothing. Then he found the book. + But he couldn’t read. He lay in bed and thought of the past, of his wife, + as she had been ten years ago. He saw her as she had been then; the + picture of her, as she now was, disappeared in the blue-grey clouds of + smoke which rose in rings and wreaths to the rain-stained ceiling. An + infinite yearning came over him. Every harsh word he had ever spoken to + her now grated on his ears; he thought remorsefully of every hour of + anguish he had caused her. At last he fell asleep. + </p> + <p> + The following day brought much work and another banquet with a toast to + the Prison-Governor—the prisoners were still unremembered. In the + evening solitude, emptiness, coldness. He felt a pressing need to talk to + her. He fetched some notepaper and sat down to write. But at the very + outset he was confronted by a difficulty. How was he to address her? + Whenever he had sent her a few lines to say that he would not be home for + dinner, he had always called her “Dear Mother.” But now he was not going + to write to the mother, but to his fiancée, to his beloved one. At last he + made up his mind and commenced his letter with “My Darling Lily,” as he + had done in the old days. At first he wrote slowly and with difficulty, + for so many beautiful words and phrases seemed to have disappeared from + the clumsy, dry language of every-day life; but as he warmed to his work, + they awakened in his memory like forgotten melodies, valse tunes, + fragments of poems, elder-blossoms, and swallows, sunsets on a mirror-like + sea. All his memories of the springtime of life came dancing along in + clouds of gossamer and enveloped her. He drew a cross at the bottom of the + page, as lovers do, and by the side of it he wrote the words: “Kiss here.” + </p> + <p> + When the letter was finished and he read it through, his cheeks burnt and + he became self-conscious. He couldn’t account for the reason. + </p> + <p> + But somehow he felt that he had shown his naked soul to a stranger. + </p> + <p> + In spite of this feeling he posted the letter. + </p> + <p> + A few days elapsed before he received a reply. While he was waiting for + it, he was a prey to an almost childish bashfulness and embarrassment. + </p> + <p> + At last the answer came. He had struck the right note, and from the din + and clamour of the nursery, and the fumes and smell of the kitchen, a song + arose, clear and beautiful, tender and pure, like first love. + </p> + <p> + Now an exchange of love-letters began. He wrote to her every night, and + sometimes he sent her a postcard as well during the day. His colleagues + didn’t know what to think of him. He was so fastidious about his dress and + personal appearance, that they suspected him of a love affair. And he was + in love—in love again. He sent her his photograph, without the + spectacles, and she sent him a lock of her hair. + </p> + <p> + Their language was simple like a child’s, and he wrote on coloured paper + ornamented with little doves. Why shouldn’t they? They were a long way off + forty yet, even though the struggle for an existence had made them feel + that they were getting old. He had neglected her during the last + twelvemonth, not so much from indifference as from respect—he always + saw in her the mother of his children. + </p> + <p> + The tour of inspection was approaching its end. He was conscious of a + certain feeling of apprehension when he thought of their meeting. He had + corresponded with his sweetheart; should he find her in the mother and + housewife? He dreaded a disappointment. He shrank at the thought of + finding her with a kitchen towel in her hand, or the children clinging to + her skirts. Their first meeting must be somewhere else, and they must meet + alone. Should he ask her to join him at Waxholm, in the Stockholm + Archipelago, at the hotel where they had spent so many happy hours during + the period of their engagement? Splendid idea! There they could, for two + whole days, re-live in memory the first beautiful spring days of their + lives, which had flown, never to return again. + </p> + <p> + He sat down and made the suggestion in an impassioned love-letter. She + answered by return agreeing to his proposal, happy that the same idea had + occurred to both of them. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <p> + Two days later he arrived at Waxholm and engaged rooms at the hotel. It + was a beautiful September day. He dined alone, in the great dining-room, + drank a glass of wine and felt young again. Everything was so bright and + beautiful. There was the blue sea outside; only the birch trees on the + shore had changed their tints. In the garden the dahlias were still in + full splendour, and the perfume of the mignonette rose from the borders of + the flower beds. A few bees still visited the dying calyces but returned + disappointed to their hives. The fishing boats sailed up the Sound before + a faint breeze, and in tacking the sails fluttered and the sheets shook; + the startled seagulls rose into the air screaming, and circled round the + fishermen who were fishing from their boats for small herring. + </p> + <p> + He drank his coffee on the verandah, and began to look out for the steamer + which was due at six o’clock. + </p> + <p> + Restlessly, apprehensively, he paced the verandah, anxiously watching + fiord and Sound on the side where Stockholm lay, so as to sight the + steamer as soon as she came into view. + </p> + <p> + At last a little cloud of smoke showed like a dark patch on the horizon. + His heart thumped against his ribs and he drank a liqueur. Then he went + down to the shore. + </p> + <p> + Now he could see the funnel right in the centre of the Sound, and soon + after he noticed the flag on the fore-topmast.... Was she really on the + steamer, or had she been prevented from keeping the tryst? It was only + necessary for one of the children to be ill, and she wouldn’t be there, + and he would have to spend a solitary night at the hotel. The children, + who during the last few weeks had receded into the background, now stepped + between her and him. They had hardly mentioned them in their last letters, + just as if they had been anxious to be rid of all eyewitnesses and + spoil-sports. + </p> + <p> + He stamped on the creaking landing-stage and then remained standing + motionless near a bollard staring straight at the steamer which increased + in size as she approached, followed in her wake by a river of molten gold + that spread over the blue, faintly rippled expanse. Now he could + distinguish people on the upper deck, a moving crowd, and sailors busy + with the ropes, now a fluttering speck of white near the wheel-house. + There was no one besides him on the landing-stage, the moving white speck + could only be meant for him, and no one would wave to him but her. He + pulled out his handkerchief and answered her greeting, and in doing so he + noticed that his handkerchief was not a white one; he had been using + coloured ones for years for the sake of economy. + </p> + <p> + The steamer whistled, signalled, the engines stopped, she came alongside, + and now he recognised her. Their eyes met in greeting; the distance was + still too great for words. Now he could see her being pushed slowly by the + crowd across the little bridge. It was she, and yet it wasn’t. + </p> + <p> + Ten years stretched between her and the picture of her which he had had in + his mind. Fashion had changed, the cut of the clothes was different. Ten + years ago her delicate face with its olive complexion was framed by the + cap which was then worn, and which left the forehead free; now her + forehead was hidden by a wicked imitation of a bowler hat. Ten years ago + the beautiful lines of her figure were clearly definable under the + artistic draperies of her cloak which playfully now hid, now emphasised + the curve of her shoulders and the movement of her arms; now her figure + was completely disguised by a long driving coat which followed the lines + of her dress but completely concealed her figure. As she stepped off the + landing-bridge, he caught sight of her little foot with which he had + fallen in love, when it was encased in a buttoned boot, shaped on natural + lines; the shoe which she was now wearing resembled a pointed Chinese + slipper, and did not allow her foot to move in those dancing rhythms which + had bewitched him. + </p> + <p> + It was she and yet it was not she! He embraced and kissed her. She + enquired after his health and he asked after the children. Then they + walked up the strand. + </p> + <p> + Words came slowly and sounded dry and forced. How strange! They were + almost shy in each other’s presence, and neither of them mentioned the + letters. + </p> + <p> + In the end he took heart of grace and asked: + </p> + <p> + “Would you like to go for a walk before sunset?” + </p> + <p> + “I should love to,” she replied, taking his arm. + </p> + <p> + They went along the high-road in the direction of the little town. The + shutters of all the summer residences were closed; the gardens plundered. + Here and there an apple, hidden among the foliage, might still be found + hanging on the trees, but there wasn’t a single flower in the flower beds. + The verandahs, stripped of their sunblinds, looked like skeletons; where + there had been bright eyes and gay laughter, silence reigned. + </p> + <p> + “How autumnal!” she said. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, the forsaken villas look horrible.” + </p> + <p> + They walked on. + </p> + <p> + “Let us go and look at the house where we used to live.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes! It will be fun.” + </p> + <p> + They passed the bathing vans. + </p> + <p> + Over there, squeezed in between the pilot’s and the gardener’s cottages, + stood the little house with its red fence, its verandah and its little + garden. + </p> + <p> + Memories of past days awoke. There was the bedroom where their first baby + had been born. What rejoicing! What laughter! Oh! youth and gaiety! The + rose-tree which they had planted was still there. And the strawberry-bed + which they had made—no, it existed no longer, grass had grown over + it. In the little plantation traces of the swing which they had put up + were still visible, but the swing itself had disappeared. + </p> + <p> + “Thank you so much for your beautiful letters,” she said, gently pressing + his arm. + </p> + <p> + He blushed and made no reply. + </p> + <p> + Then they returned to the hotel, and he told her anecdotes, in connection + with his tour. + </p> + <p> + He had ordered dinner to be served in the large dining-room at the table + where they used to sit. They sat down without saying grace. + </p> + <p> + It was a tête-à-tête dinner. He took the bread-basket and offered her the + bread. She smiled. It was a long time since he had been so attentive. But + dinner at a seaside hotel was a pleasant change and soon they were engaged + in a lively conversation. It was a duet in which one of them extolled the + days that had gone, and the other revived memories of “once upon a time.” + They were re-living the past. Their eyes shone and the little lines in + their faces disappeared. Oh! golden days! Oh! time of roses which comes + but once, if it comes at all, and which is denied to so many of us—so + many of us. + </p> + <p> + At dessert he whispered a few words into the ear of the waitress; she + disappeared and returned a few seconds later with a bottle of champagne. + </p> + <p> + “My dear Axel, what are you thinking of?” + </p> + <p> + “I am thinking of the spring that has past, but will return again.” + </p> + <p> + But he wasn’t thinking of it exclusively, for at his wife’s reproachful + words there glided through the room, catlike, a dim vision of the nursery + and the porridge bowl. + </p> + <p> + However—the atmosphere cleared again; the golden wine stirred their + memories, and again they lost themselves in the intoxicating rapture of + the past. + </p> + <p> + He leaned his elbow on the table and shaded his eyes with his hand, as if + he were determined to shut out the present—this very present which,—after + all, had been of his own seeking. + </p> + <p> + The hours passed. They left the dining-room and went into the drawing-room + which boasted a piano, ordering their coffee to be brought there. + </p> + <p> + “I wonder how the kiddies are?” said she, awakening to the hard facts of + real life. + </p> + <p> + “Sit down and sing to me,” he answered, opening the instrument. + </p> + <p> + “What would you like me to sing? You know I haven’t sung a note for many + days.” + </p> + <p> + He was well aware of it, but he <i>did</i> want a song. + </p> + <p> + She sat down before the piano and began to play. It was a squeaking + instrument that reminded one of the rattling of loose teeth. + </p> + <p> + “What shall I sing?” she asked, turning round on the music-stool. + </p> + <p> + “You know, darling,” he replied, not daring to meet her eyes. + </p> + <p> + “Your song! Very well, if I can remember it.” And she sang: “Where is the + blessed country where my beloved dwells?” + </p> + <p> + But alas! Her voice was thin and shrill and emotion made her sing out of + tune. At times it sounded like a cry from the bottom of a soul which feels + that noon is past and evening approaching. The fingers which had done hard + work strayed on the wrong keys. The instrument, too, had seen its best + days; the cloth on the hammers had worn away; it sounded as if the springs + touched the bare wood. + </p> + <p> + When she had finished her song, she sat for a while without turning round, + as if she expected him to come and speak to her. But he didn’t move; not a + sound broke the deep silence. When she turned round at last, she saw him + sitting on the sofa, his cheeks wet with tears. She felt a strong impulse + to jump up, take his head between her hands and kiss him as she had done + in days gone by, but she remained where she was, immovable, with downcast + eyes. + </p> + <p> + He held a cigar between his thumb and first finger. When the song was + finished, he bit off the end and struck a match. + </p> + <p> + “Thank you, Lily,” he said, puffing at his cigar, “will you have your + coffee now?” + </p> + <p> + They drank their coffee, talked of summer holidays in general and + suggested two or three places where they might go next summer. But their + conversation languished and they repeated themselves. + </p> + <p> + At last he yawned openly and said: “I’m off to bed.” + </p> + <p> + “I’m going, too,” she said, getting up. “But I’ll get a breath of fresh + air first, on the balcony.” + </p> + <p> + He went into the bed-room. She lingered for a few moments in the + dining-room, and then talked to the landlady for about half an hour of + spring-onions and woollen underwear. + </p> + <p> + When the landlady had left her she went into the bedroom and stood for a + few minutes at the door, listening. No sound came from within. His boots + stood in the corridor. She opened the door gently and went in. He was + asleep. + </p> + <p> + He was asleep! + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <p> + At breakfast on the following morning he had a headache, and she fidgeted. + </p> + <p> + “What horrible coffee,” he said, with a grimace. + </p> + <p> + “Brazilian,” she said, shortly. + </p> + <p> + “What shall we do to-day?” he asked, looking at his watch. + </p> + <p> + “Hadn’t you better eat some bread and butter, instead of grumbling at the + coffee?” she said. + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps you’re right,” he answered, “and I’ll have a liqueur at the same + time. That champagne last night, ugh!” + </p> + <p> + He asked for bread and butter and a liqueur and his temper improved. + </p> + <p> + “Let’s go to the Pilot’s Hill and look at the view.” + </p> + <p> + They rose from the breakfast table and went out. + </p> + <p> + The weather was splendid and the walk did them good. But they walked + slowly; she panted, and his knees were stiff; they drew no more parallels + with the past. + </p> + <p> + They walked across the fields. The grass had been cut long ago, there + wasn’t a single flower anywhere. They sat down on some large stones. + </p> + <p> + He talked of the Board of Prisons and his office. She talked of the + children. + </p> + <p> + Then they walked on in silence. He looked at his watch. + </p> + <p> + “Three hours yet till dinner time,” he said. And he wondered how they + could kill time on the next day. + </p> + <p> + They returned to the hotel. He asked for the papers. She sat down by the + side of him with a smile on her lips. + </p> + <p> + They talked little during dinner. After dinner she mentioned the servants. + </p> + <p> + “For heaven’s sake, leave the servants alone!” he exclaimed. + </p> + <p> + “Surely we haven’t come here to quarrel!” + </p> + <p> + “Am I quarrelling?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I’m not!” + </p> + <p> + An awkward pause followed. He wished somebody would come. The children! + Yes! This tête-à-tête embarrassed him, but he felt a pain in his heart + when he thought of the bright hours of yesterday. + </p> + <p> + “Let’s go to Oak Hill,” she said, “and gather wild strawberries.” + </p> + <p> + “There are no wild strawberries at this time of the year, it’s autumn.” + </p> + <p> + “Let’s go all the same.” + </p> + <p> + And they went. But conversation was difficult. His eyes searched for some + object on the roadside which would serve for a peg on which to hang a + remark, but there was nothing. There was no subject which they hadn’t + discussed. She knew all his views on everything and disagreed with most of + them. She longed to go home, to the children, to her own fireside. She + found it absurd to make a spectacle of herself in this place and be on the + verge of a quarrel with her husband all the time. + </p> + <p> + After a while they stopped, for they were tired. He sat down and began to + write in the sand with his walking stick. He hoped she would provoke a + scene. + </p> + <p> + “What are you thinking of?” she asked at last. + </p> + <p> + “I?” he replied, feeling as if a burden were falling off his shoulders, “I + am thinking that we are getting old, mother: our innings are over, and we + have to be content with what has been. If you are of the same mind, we’ll + go home by the night boat.” + </p> + <p> + “I have thought so all along, old man, but I wanted to please you.” + </p> + <p> + “Then come along, we’ll go home. It’s no longer summer, autumn is here.” + </p> + <p> + They returned to the hotel, much relieved. + </p> + <p> + He was a little embarrassed on account of the prosaic ending of the + adventure, and felt an irresistible longing to justify it from a + philosophical standpoint. + </p> + <p> + “You see, mother,” he said, “my lo—h’m” (the word was too strong) + “my affection for you has undergone a change in the course of time. It has + developed, broadened; at first it was centred on the individual, but later + on, on the family as a whole. It is not now you, personally, that I love, + nor is it the children, but it is the whole.... + </p> + <p> + “Yes, as my uncle used to say, children are lightning conductors!” + </p> + <p> + After his philosophical explanation he became his old self again. It was + pleasant to take off his frock coat; he felt, as if he were getting into + his dressing-gown. + </p> + <p> + When they entered the hotel, she began at once to pack, and there she was + in her element. + </p> + <p> + They went downstairs into the saloon as soon as they got on board. For + appearance sake, however, he asked her whether she would like to watch the + sunset; but she declined. + </p> + <p> + At supper he helped himself first, and she asked the waitress the price of + black bread. + </p> + <p> + When he had finished his supper, he remained sitting at the table, + lingering over a glass of porter. A thought which had amused him for some + time, would no longer be suppressed. + </p> + <p> + “Old fool, what?” he said, lifting his glass and smiling at his wife who + happened to look at him at the moment. + </p> + <p> + She did not return his smile but her eyes, which had flashed for a second, + assumed so withering an expression of dignity that he felt crushed. + </p> + <p> + The spell was broken, the last trace of his old love had vanished; he was + sitting opposite the mother of his children; he felt small. + </p> + <p> + “No need to look down upon me because I have made a fool of myself for a + moment,” she said gravely. “But in a man’s love there is always a good + deal of contempt; it is strange.” + </p> + <p> + “And in the love of a woman?” + </p> + <p> + “Even more, it is true! But then, she has every cause.” + </p> + <p> + “It’s the same thing—with a difference. Probably both of them are + wrong. That which one values too highly, because it is difficult of + attainment, is easily underrated when one has obtained it.” + </p> + <p> + “Why does one value it too highly?” + </p> + <p> + “Why is it so difficult of attainment?” + </p> + <p> + The steam whistle above their heads interrupted their conversation. + </p> + <p> + They landed. + </p> + <p> + When they had arrived home, and he saw her again among her children, he + realised that his affection for her had undergone a change, and that her + affection for him had been transferred to and divided amongst all these + little screamers. Perhaps her love for him had only been a means to an + end. His part had been a short one, and he felt deposed. If he had not + been required to earn bread and butter, he would probably have been cast + off long ago. + </p> + <p> + He went into his study, put on his dressing-gown and slippers, lighted his + pipe and felt at home. + </p> + <p> + Outside the wind lashed the rain against the window panes, and whistled in + the chimney. + </p> + <p> + When the children had been put to bed, his wife came and sat by him. + </p> + <p> + “No weather to gather wild strawberries,” she said. + </p> + <p> + “No, my dear, the summer is over and autumn is here.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, it is autumn,” she replied, “but it is not yet winter, there is + comfort in that.” + </p> + <p> + “Very poor comfort if we consider that we live but once.” + </p> + <p> + “Twice when one has children; three times if one lives to see one’s + grandchildren.” + </p> + <p> + “And after that, the end.” + </p> + <p> + “Unless there is a life after death.” + </p> + <p> + “We cannot be sure of that! Who knows? I believe it, but my faith is no + proof.” + </p> + <p> + “But it is good to believe it. Let us have faith! Let us believe that + spring will come again! Let us believe it!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, let us believe it,” he said, gathering her to his breast. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0016" id="link2H_4_0016"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + COMPULSORY MARRIAGE + </h2> + <p> + His father died early and from that time forth he was in the hands of a + mother, two sisters and several aunts. He had no brother. They lived on an + estate in the Swedish province, Soedermanland, and had no neighbours with + whom they <i>could be</i> on friendly terms. When he was seven years old, + a governess was engaged to teach him and his sisters, and about the same + time a girl cousin came to live with them. + </p> + <p> + He shared his sisters’ bedroom, played their games and went bathing with + them; nobody looked upon him as a member of the other sex. Before long his + sisters took him in hand and became his schoolmasters and tyrants. + </p> + <p> + He was a strong boy to start with, but left to the mercy of so many doting + women, he gradually became a helpless molly-coddle. + </p> + <p> + Once he made an attempt to emancipate himself and went to play with the + boys of the cottagers. They spent the day in the woods, climbed the trees, + robbed the birds’ nests and threw stones at the squirrels. Frithiof was as + happy as a released prisoner, and did not come home to dinner. The boys + gathered whortle-berries, and bathed in the lake. It was the first really + enjoyable day of his life. + </p> + <p> + When he came home in the evening, he found the whole house in great + commotion. His mother though anxious and upset, did not conceal her joy at + his return; Aunt Agatha, however, a spinster, and his mother’s eldest + sister, who ruled the house, was furious. She maintained that it would be + a positive crime not to punish him. Frithiof could not understand why it + should be a crime, but his aunt told him that disobedience was a sin. He + protested that he had never been forbidden to play with the children of + the cottagers. She admitted it but said that, of course, there could never + have been two questions about it. And she remained firm, and regardless of + his mother’s pleading eyes, took him away to give him a whipping in her + own room. He was eight years old and fairly big for his age. + </p> + <p> + When the aunt touched his waist-belt to unbutton his knickers, a cold + shiver ran down his back; he gasped and his heart thumped against his + ribs. He made no sound, but stared, horror-struck, at the old woman who + asked him, almost caressingly, to be obedient and not to offer any + resistance. But when she laid hands on his shirt, he grew hot with shame + and fury. He sprang from the sofa on which she had pushed him, hitting out + right and left. Something unclean, something dark and repulsive, seemed to + emanate from this woman, and the shame of his sex rose up in him as + against an assailant. + </p> + <p> + But the aunt, mad with passion, seized him, threw him on a chair and beat + him. He screamed with rage, pain he did not feel, and with convulsive + kicks tried to release himself; but all of a sudden he lay still and was + silent. + </p> + <p> + When the old woman let him go, he remained where he was, motionless. + </p> + <p> + “Get up!” she said, in a broken voice. + </p> + <p> + He stood up and looked at her. One of her cheeks was pale, the other + crimson. Her eyes glowed strangely and she trembled all over. He looked at + her curiously, as one might examine a wild beast, and all of a sudden a + supercilious smile raised his upper lip; it seemed to him as if his + contempt gave him an advantage over her. “She-devil!” He flung the word, + newly acquired from the children of the cottagers, into her face, + defiantly and scornfully, seized his clothes and flew downstairs to his + mother, who was sitting in the dining-room, weeping. + </p> + <p> + He wanted to open his heart to her and complain of his aunt’s treatment, + but she had not the courage to comfort him. So he went into the kitchen + where the maids consoled him with a handful of currants. + </p> + <p> + From this day on he was no longer allowed to sleep in the nursery with his + sisters, but his mother had his bed removed to her own bedroom. He found + his mother’s room stuffy and the new arrangement dull; she frequently + disturbed his sleep by getting up and coming to his bed in the night to + see whether he was covered up; then he flew into a rage and answered her + questions peevishly. + </p> + <p> + He was never allowed to go out without being carefully wrapped up by + someone, and he had so many mufflers that he never knew which one to put + on. Whenever he tried to steal out of the house, someone was sure to see + him from the window and call him back to put on an overcoat. + </p> + <p> + By and by his sisters’ games began to bore him. His strong arms no longer + wanted to play battledore and shuttlecock, they longed to throw stones. + The squabbles over a petty game of croquet, which demanded neither muscle + nor brain, irritated him. + </p> + <p> + The governess was another one of his trials. She always spoke to him in + French and he invariably answered her in Swedish. A vague disgust with his + whole life and surroundings began to stir in him. + </p> + <p> + The free and easy manner in which everybody behaved in his presence + offended him, and he retaliated by heartily loathing all with whom he came + in contact. His mother was the only one who considered his feelings to a + certain extent: she had a big screen put round his bed. + </p> + <p> + Ultimately the kitchen and the servants’ hall became his refuge; there + everything he did was approved of. Occasionally, of course, matters were + discussed there which might have aroused a boy’s curiosity, but for him + there were no secrets. On one occasion, for instance, he had accidentally + come to the maids’ bathing-place. The governess, who was with him, + screamed, he could not understand why, but he stopped and talked to the + girls who were standing or lying about in the water. Their nudity made no + impression upon him. + </p> + <p> + He grew up into a youth. An inspector was engaged to teach him farming for + he was, of course, to take over the management of the estate in due time. + They chose an old man who held the orthodox faith. The old man’s society + was not exactly calculated to stimulate a young man’s brain, but it was an + improvement on the old conditions. It opened new points of view to him and + roused him to activity. But the inspector received daily and hourly so + many instructions from the ladies, that he ended by being nothing but + their mouth-piece. + </p> + <p> + At the age of fifteen Frithiof was confirmed, received a present of a gold + watch and was allowed to go out on horseback; he was not permitted, + however, to realise his greatest ambition, namely to go shooting. True, + there was no longer any fear of a whipping from his arch-enemy, but he + dreaded his mother’s tears. He always remained a child, and never managed + to throw off the habit of giving way to the judgment of other people. + </p> + <p> + The years passed; he had attained his twentieth year. One day he was + standing in the kitchen watching the cook, who was busy scaling a perch. + She was a pretty young woman with a delicate complexion. He was teasing + her and finally put his hand down her back. + </p> + <p> + “Do behave yourself, now, Mr. Frithiof,” said the girl. + </p> + <p> + “But I am behaving myself,” he replied, becoming more and more familiar. + </p> + <p> + “If mistress should see you!” + </p> + <p> + “Well supposing she did?” + </p> + <p> + At this moment his mother passed the open kitchen door; she instantly + turned away and walked across the yard. + </p> + <p> + Frithiof found the situation awkward and slunk away to his bed-room. + </p> + <p> + A new gardener entered their service. In their wisdom, anxious to avoid + trouble with the maids, the ladies had chosen a married man. But, as + misfortune would have it, the gardener had been married long enough to be + the father of an exceedingly pretty young daughter. + </p> + <p> + Frithiof quickly discovered the sweet blossom among the other roses in the + garden, and poured out all the good-will which lay stored up in his heart + for <i>that</i> half of humanity to which he did not belong, on this young + girl, who was rather well developed and not without education. + </p> + <p> + He spent a good deal of his time in the garden and stopped to talk to her + whenever he found her working at one of the flower-beds or cutting + flowers. She did not respond to his advances, but this only had the effect + of stimulating his passion. + </p> + <p> + One day he was riding through the wood, haunted, as usual, by visions of + her loveliness which, in his opinion, reached the very pinnacle of + perfection. He was sick with longing to meet her alone, freed from all + fear of incurring some watcher’s displeasure. In his heated imagination + the desire of being near her had assumed such enormous proportions, that + he felt that life without her would be impossible. + </p> + <p> + He held the reins loosely in his hand, and the horse picked his way + leisurely while its rider sat on its back wrapped in deep thought. All of + a sudden something light appeared between the trees and the gardener’s + daughter emerged from the underwood and stepped out on the footpath. + </p> + <p> + Frithiof dismounted and took off his hat. They walked on, side by side, + talking, while he dragged his horse behind him. He spoke in vague words of + his love for her; but she rejected all his advances. + </p> + <p> + “Why should we talk of the impossible?” she asked. + </p> + <p> + “What is impossible?” he exclaimed. + </p> + <p> + “That a wealthy gentleman like you should marry a poor girl like me.” + </p> + <p> + There was no denying the aptitude of her remark, and Frithiof felt that he + was worsted. His love for her was boundless, but he could see no + possibility of bringing his doe safely through the pack which guarded + house and home; they would tear her to pieces. + </p> + <p> + After this conversation he gave himself up to mute despair. + </p> + <p> + In the autumn the gardener gave notice and left the estate without giving + a reason. For six weeks Frithiof was inconsolable, for he had lost his + first and only love; he would never love again. + </p> + <p> + In this way the autumn slowly passed and winter stood before the door. At + Christmas a new officer of health came into the neighbourhood. He had + grown-up children, and as the aunts were always ill, friendly relations + were soon established between the two families. Among the doctor’s + children was a young girl and before long Frithiof was head over ears in + love with her. He was at first ashamed of his infidelity to his first + love, but he soon came to the conclusion that love was something + impersonal, because it was possible to change the object of one’s + tenderness; it was almost like a power of attorney made out on the holder. + </p> + <p> + As soon as his guardians got wind of this new attachment, the mother asked + her son for a private interview. + </p> + <p> + “You have now arrived at that age,” she began, “when a man begins to look + out for a wife.” + </p> + <p> + “I have already done that, my dear mother,” he replied. + </p> + <p> + “I’m afraid you’ve been too hasty,” she said. “The girl of whom, I + suppose, you are thinking, doesn’t possess the moral principles which an + educated man should demand.” + </p> + <p> + “What? Amy’s moral principles! Who has anything to say against them?” + </p> + <p> + “I won’t say a word against the girl herself, but her father, as you know, + is a freethinker.” + </p> + <p> + “I shall be proud to be related to a man who can think freely, without + considering his material interests.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, let’s leave him out of the question; you are forgetting, my dear + Frithiof, that you are already bound elsewhere.” + </p> + <p> + “What? Do you mean....” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; you have played with Louisa’s heart.” + </p> + <p> + “Are you talking of cousin Louisa?” + </p> + <p> + “I am. Haven’t you looked upon yourselves as fiancés since your earliest + childhood? Don’t you realise that she has put all her faith and trust in + you?” + </p> + <p> + “It’s you who have played with us, driven us together, not I!” answered + the son. + </p> + <p> + “Think of your old mother, think of your sisters, Frithiof. Do you want to + bring a stranger into this house which has always been our home, a + stranger who will have the right to order us about?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! I see; Louisa is the chosen mistress!” + </p> + <p> + “There’s no chosen mistress, but a mother always has a right to choose the + future wife of her son; nobody is so well fitted to undertake such a task. + Do you doubt my good faith? Can you possibly suspect me, your mother, of a + wish to injure you?” + </p> + <p> + “No, no! but I—I don’t love Louisa; I like her as a sister, but....” + </p> + <p> + “Love? Nothing in all the world is so inconstant as love! It’s folly to + rely on it, it passes away like a breath; but friendship, conformity of + views and habits, similar interests and a long acquaintanceship, these are + the surest guarantees of a happy marriage. Louisa is a capable girl, + domesticated and methodical, she will make your home as happy as you could + wish.” + </p> + <p> + Frithiof’s only way of escape was to beg his mother for time to consider + the matter. + </p> + <p> + Meanwhile all the ladies of the household had recovered their health, so + that the doctor was no longer required. Still he called one day, but he + was treated like a burglar who had come to spy out the land. He was a + sharp man and saw at once how matters stood. Frithiof returned his call + but was received coldly. This was the end of their friendly relations. + </p> + <p> + Frithiof came of age. + </p> + <p> + Frantic attempts were now made to carry the fortress by storm. The aunts + cringed before the new master and tried to prove to him that they could + not be dispensed with, by treating him as if he were a child. His sisters + mothered him more than ever, and Louisa began to devote a great deal of + attention to her dress. She laced herself tightly and curled her hair. She + was by no means a plain girl, but she had cold eyes and a sharp tongue. + </p> + <p> + Frithiof remained indifferent; as far as he was concerned she was sexless; + he had never looked at her with the eyes of a man. But now, after the + conversation with his mother, he could not help a certain feeling of + embarrassment in her presence, especially as she seemed to seek his + society. He met her everywhere; on the stairs, in the garden, in the + stables even. One morning, when he was still in bed, she came into his + room to ask him for a pin; she was wearing a dressing-jacket and pretended + to be very shy. + </p> + <p> + He took a dislike to her, but nevertheless she was always in his mind. + </p> + <p> + In the meantime the mother had one conversation after another with her + son, and aunt and sisters never ceased hinting at the anticipated wedding. + </p> + <p> + Life was made a burden to him. He saw no way of escape from the net in + which he had been caught. Louisa was no longer his sister and friend, + though he did not like her any the better for it; his constant dwelling on + the thought of marrying her had had the result of making him realise that + she was a woman, an unsympathetic woman, it was true, but still a woman. + His marriage would mean a change in his position, and, perhaps, delivery + from bondage. There were no other girls in the neighbourhood, and, after + all, she was probably as good as any other young woman. + </p> + <p> + And so he went one day to his mother and told her that he had made up his + mind. He would marry Louisa on condition that he should have an + establishment of his own in one of the wings of the house, and his own + table. He also insisted that his mother should propose for him, for he + could not bring himself to do it. + </p> + <p> + The compromise was accepted and Louisa was called in to receive Frithiof’s + embrace and timid kiss. They both wept for reasons which neither of them + understood. They felt ashamed of themselves for the rest of the day. + Afterwards everything went on as before, but the motherliness of aunts and + sisters knew no bounds. They furnished the wing, arranged the rooms, + settled everything; Frithiof was never consulted in the matter. + </p> + <p> + The preparations for the wedding were completed. Old friends, buried in + the provinces, were hunted up and invited to be present at the ceremony. + </p> + <p> + The wedding took place. + </p> + <p> + On the morning after his wedding day Frithiof was up early. He left his + bed-room as quickly as possible, pretending that his presence was + necessary in the fields. + </p> + <p> + Louisa, who was still sleepy, made no objection. But as he was going out + she called after him: + </p> + <p> + “You won’t forget breakfast at eleven!” + </p> + <p> + It sounded like a command. + </p> + <p> + He went to his den, put on a shooting coat and waterproof boots and took + his gun, which he kept concealed in his wardrobe. Then he went out into + the wood. + </p> + <p> + It was a beautiful October morning. Everything was covered with hoar + frost. He walked quickly as if he were afraid of being called back, or as + if he were trying to escape from something. The fresh air had the effect + of a bath. He felt a free man, at last, and he used his freedom to go out + for a morning stroll with his gun. But this exhilarating feeling of bodily + freedom soon passed. Up to now he had at least had a bedroom of his own. + He had been master of his thoughts during the day and his dreams at night. + That was over. The thought of that common bedroom tormented him; there was + something unclean about it. Shame was cast aside like a mask, all delicacy + of feeling was dispensed with, every illusion of the “high origin” of man + destroyed; to come into such close contact with nothing but the beast in + man had been too much for him, for he had been brought up by idealists. He + was staggered by the enormity of the hypocrisy displayed in the + intercourse between men and women; it was a revelation to him to find that + the inmost substance of that indescribable womanliness was nothing but the + fear of consequences. But supposing he had married the doctor’s daughter, + or the gardener’s little girl? Then to be alone with her would be bliss, + while to be alone with his wife was depressing and unlovely; then the + coarse desire to satisfy a curiosity and a want would be transformed into + an ecstasy more spiritual than carnal. + </p> + <p> + He wandered through the wood without a purpose, without an idea of what he + wanted to shoot; be only felt a vague desire to hear a shot and to kill + something; but nothing came before his gun. The birds had already + migrated. Only a squirrel was climbing about the branches of a pine-tree, + staring at him with brilliant eyes. He raised the gun and pulled the + trigger; but the nimble little beast was already on the other side of the + trunk when the shot hit the tree. But the sound impressed his nerves + pleasantly. + </p> + <p> + He left the footpath and went through the undergrowth. He stamped on every + fungus that grew on his way. He was in a destructive mood. He looked for a + snake so as to trample on it or kill it with a shot. + </p> + <p> + Suddenly he remembered that he ought to go home and that it was the + morning after his wedding day. The mere thought of the curious glances to + which he would be exposed had the effect of making him feel like a + criminal, about to be unmasked and shown up for having committed a crime + against good manners and, what was worse, against nature. Oh! that he + could have left this world behind him! But how was he to do that? + </p> + <p> + His thoughts grew tired at last of revolving round and round the same + problem and he felt a craving for food. + </p> + <p> + He decided to return home and have some breakfast. + </p> + <p> + On entering the gate which led to the court yard, he saw the whole + house-party standing before the entrance hall. As soon as they caught + sight of him they began to cheer. He crossed the yard with uncertain + footsteps and listened with ill-concealed irritation to the sly questions + after his health. Then he turned away and went into the house, never + noticing his wife, who was standing amongst the group waiting for him to + go up to her and kiss her. + </p> + <p> + At the breakfast table he suffered tortures; tortures which he knew would + be burnt into his memory for all times. The insinuations of his guests + offended him and his wife’s caresses stung him. His day of rejoicing was + the most miserable day of his life. + </p> + <p> + In the course of a few months the young wife, with the assistance of aunts + and sisters, had established her over-rule in the house. Frithiof + remained, what he had always been, the youngest and dullest member of the + household. His advice was sometimes asked for, but never acted upon; he + was looked after as if he were still a child. His wife soon found it + unbearable to dine with him alone, for he kept an obstinate silence during + the meal. Louisa could not stand it; she must have a lightning conductor; + one of the sisters removed into the wing. + </p> + <p> + Frithiof made more than one attempt to emancipate himself, but his + attempts were always frustrated by the enemy; they were too many for him, + and they talked and preached until he fled into the wood. + </p> + <p> + The evenings held terror for him. He hated the bedroom, and went to it as + to a place of execution. He became morose and avoided everybody. + </p> + <p> + They had been married for a year now, and still there was no promise of a + child; his mother took him aside one day to have a talk to him. + </p> + <p> + “Wouldn’t you like to have a son?” she asked. + </p> + <p> + “Of course, I would,” he replied. + </p> + <p> + “You aren’t treating your wife very kindly,” said the mother as gently as + possible. + </p> + <p> + He lost his temper. + </p> + <p> + “What? What do you say? Are you finding fault with me? Do you want me to + toil all day long? H’m! You don’t know Louisa! But whose business is it + but mine? Bring your charge against me in such a way that I can answer + it!” + </p> + <p> + But the mother was not disposed to do that. + </p> + <p> + Lonely and miserable, he made friends with the inspector, a young man, + addicted to wine and cards. He sought his company and spent the evenings + in his room; he went to bed late, as late as possible. + </p> + <p> + On coming home one night, he found his wife still awake and waiting for + him. + </p> + <p> + “Where have you been?” she asked sharply. + </p> + <p> + “That’s my business,” he replied. + </p> + <p> + “To be married and have no husband is anything but pleasant,” she + rejoined. “If we had a child, at least!” + </p> + <p> + “It isn’t my fault that we haven’t!” + </p> + <p> + “It isn’t mine!” + </p> + <p> + A quarrel arose as to whose fault it was, and the quarrel lasted for two + years. + </p> + <p> + As both of them were too obstinate to take medical advice, the usual thing + happened. The husband cut a ridiculous figure, and the wife a tragic one. + He was told that a childless woman was sacred because, for some reason or + other, “God’s” curse rested on her. That “God” could also stoop to curse a + man was beyond the women’s comprehension. + </p> + <p> + But Frithiof had no doubt that a curse rested on him for his life was + dreary and unhealthy. Nature has created two sexes, which are now friends, + now enemies. He had met the enemy, an overwhelming enemy. + </p> + <p> + “What is a capon?” he was asked by one of his sisters one day. She was + busy with her needlework and asked the question à propos of nothing. + </p> + <p> + He looked at her suspiciously. No, she did not know the meaning of the + word; she had probably listened to a conversation and her curiosity was + aroused. + </p> + <p> + But the iron had entered his soul. He was being laughed at. He grew + suspicious. Everything he heard and saw he connected with that charge. + Beside himself with rage, he seduced one of the maids. + </p> + <p> + His act had the desired result. In due time he was a father. + </p> + <p> + Now Louisa was looked upon as a martyr and he as a blackguard. The abuse + left him indifferent, for he had vindicated his honour—if it was an + honour and not merely a lucky chance to be born without defects. + </p> + <p> + But the incident roused Louisa’s jealousy and—it was a strange thing—awakened + in her a sort of love for her husband. It was a love which irritated him, + for it showed itself in unremitting watchfulness and nervous + obtrusiveness; sometimes even in maternal tenderness and solicitude which + knew no bounds. She wanted to look after his gun, see whether it was + charged; she begged him on her knees to wear his overcoat when he went + out.... She kept his home with scrupulous care, tidied and dusted all day + long; every Saturday the rooms were turned inside out, the carpets beaten + and his clothes aired. He had no peace and never knew when he would be + turned out of his room so that it could be scrubbed. + </p> + <p> + There was not sufficient to do to occupy him during the day, for the women + looked after everything. He studied agriculture and attempted to make + improvements, but all his efforts were frustrated. He was not master in + his own house. + </p> + <p> + Finally he lost heart. He had grown taciturn because he was always + contradicted. The want of congenial company and fellows-in-misfortune + gradually dulled his brain; his nerves went to pieces; he neglected his + appearance and took to drink. + </p> + <p> + He was hardly ever at home now. Frequently he could be found, intoxicated, + at the public house or in the cottages of the farm labourers. He drank + with everybody and all day long. He stimulated his brain with alcohol for + the sake of the relief he found in talking. It was difficult to decide + whether he drank in order to be able to talk to somebody who did not + contradict him, or whether he drank merely in order to get drunk. + </p> + <p> + He sold privileges and farm produce to the cottagers to provide himself + with money, for the women held the cash. Finally he burgled his own safe + and stole the contents. + </p> + <p> + There was an orthodox, church-going inspector on the premises now; the + previous one had been dismissed on account of his intemperate habits. When + at last, through the clergyman’s influence, the proprietor of the inn lost + his license Frithiof took to drinking with his own farm labourers. Scandal + followed on scandal. + </p> + <p> + He developed into a heavy drinker who had epileptic fits whenever he was + deprived of alcohol. + </p> + <p> + He was ultimately committed to an institution where he remained as an + incurable patient. + </p> + <p> + At lucid intervals, when he was capable of surveying his life, his heart + was filled with compassion for all women who are compelled to marry + without love; his compassion was all the deeper because he had suffered in + his own flesh the curse which lies on every violation of nature; and yet + he was only a man. + </p> + <p> + He saw the cause of his unhappiness in the family—the family as a + social institution, which does not permit the child to become an + independent individual at the proper time. + </p> + <p> + He brought no charge against his wife, for was she not equally unhappy, a + victim of the same unfortunate conditions which are honoured by the sacred + name of Law? + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0017" id="link2H_4_0017"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CORINNA + </h2> + <p> + Her father was a general, her mother died when she was still a baby. After + her mother’s death few ladies visited the house; the callers were mostly + men. And her father took her education into his own hands. + </p> + <p> + She went out riding with him, was present at the manoeuvres, took an + interest in gymnastics and attended the musters of the reserves. + </p> + <p> + Since her father occupied the highest rank in their circle of friends, + everybody treated him with an amount of respect which is rarely shown to + equals, and as she was the general’s daughter, she was treated in the same + way. She held the rank of a general and she knew it. + </p> + <p> + There was always an orderly sitting in the hall who rose with much + clanking and clashing of steel and stood at attention whenever she went in + or out. At the balls none but the majors dared to ask her for a dance; she + looked upon a captain as a representative of an inferior race, and a + lieutenant as a naughty boy. + </p> + <p> + She fell into the habit of appreciating people entirely according to their + rank. She called all civilians “fishes,” poorly-clad people “rascals,” and + the very poor “the mob.” + </p> + <p> + The ladies, however, were altogether outside this scale. Her father, who + occupied a position above all men, and who was saluted respectfully + wherever he went, always stood up before a lady, regardless of her age, + kissed the hands of those he knew, and was at the beck and call of every + pretty woman. The result of this was that very early in life she became + very firmly convinced of the superiority of her own sex, and accustomed + herself to look upon a man as a lower being. + </p> + <p> + Whenever she went out on horseback, a groom invariably rode behind her. + When she stopped to admire the landscape, he stopped too. He was her + shadow. But she had no idea what he looked like, or whether he was young + or old. If she had been asked about his sex, she would not have known how + to reply; it had never occurred to her that the shadow could have a sex; + when, in mounting, she placed her little riding-boot in his hand, she + remained quite indifferent, and even occasionally raised her habit a + little as if nobody were present. + </p> + <p> + These inbred conceptions of the surpassing importance of rank influenced + her whole life. She found it impossible to make friends with the daughters + of a major or a captain, because their fathers were her father’s social + inferiors. Once a lieutenant asked her for a dance. To punish him for his + impudence, she refused to talk to him in the intervals. But when she heard + later on that her partner had been one of the royal princes, she was + inconsolable. She who knew every order and title, and the rank of every + officer, had failed to recognise a prince! It was too terrible! + </p> + <p> + She was beautiful, but pride gave her features a certain rigidity which + scared her admirers away. The thought of marriage had never occurred to + her. The young men were not fully qualified, and those to whose social + position there was no objection, were too old. If she, the daughter of a + general, had married a captain, then a major’s wife would have taken + precedence of her. Such a degradation would have killed her. Moreover, she + had no wish to be a man’s chattel, or an ornament for his drawing-room. + She was accustomed to command, accustomed to be obeyed; she could obey no + man. The freedom and independence of a man’s life appealed to her; it had + fostered in her a loathing for all womanly occupations. + </p> + <p> + Her sexual instinct awoke late. As she belonged to an old family which on + her father’s side, had squandered its strength in a soulless militarism, + drink and dissipation, and on her mother’s had suppressed fertility to + prevent the splitting up of property, Nature seemed to have hesitated + about her sex at the eleventh hour; or perhaps had lacked strength to + determine on the continuation of the race. Her figure possessed none of + those essentially feminine characteristics, which Nature requires for her + purposes, and she scorned to hide her defects by artificial means. + </p> + <p> + The few women friends she had, found her cold and indifferent towards + everything connected with the sex problem. She treated it with contempt, + considered the relationship between the sexes disgusting, and could not + understand how a woman could give herself to a man. In her opinion Nature + was unclean; to wear clean underlinen, starched petticoats and stockings + without holes was to be virtuous; poor was merely another term for dirt + and vice. + </p> + <p> + Every summer she spent with her father on their estate in the country. + </p> + <p> + She was no great lover of the country. Nature made her feel small; she + found the woods uncanny, the lake made her shudder, there was danger + hidden in the tall meadow-grass. She regarded the peasants as cunning and + rather filthy beasts. They had so many children, and she had no doubt that + both boys and girls were full of vice. Nevertheless they were always + invited to the manor house on Midsummer day and on the general’s birthday, + to play the part of the chorus of grand opera, that is to say, to cheer + and dance, and look like the figures in a painting. + </p> + <p> + It was springtime. Helena, on her thoroughbred mare, had penetrated into + the depths of the country. She felt tired and dismounted; she fastened her + mare to a birchtree which grew near an enclosure. Then she strolled along + by the side of a ditch and began to gather wild orchids. The air was soft + and balmy, steam was rising from the ground. She could hear the frogs + jumping into the ditch which was half-full of water. + </p> + <p> + All at once the mare neighed and, stretching her slender neck over the + fence, drew in the air with wide-open nostrils. + </p> + <p> + “Alice!” she called out, “be quiet, old girl!” + </p> + <p> + And she continued to gather the modest flowers which so cleverly hide + their secrets behind the prettiest and neatest curtains that for all the + world look like printed calico. + </p> + <p> + But the mare neighed again. From behind the hazel bushes on the other side + of the enclosure came an answer, a second neighing, deeper and fuller. The + swampy ground of the enclosure shook, powerful hoofs scattered the stones, + to right and left and a black stallion appeared at full gallop. The tense + neck carried a magnificent head, the muscles lay like ropes under the + glossy skin. As he caught sight of the mare, his eyes began to flash. He + stopped and stretched out his neck as if he were going to yawn, raised his + upper lip and showed his teeth. Then he galloped across the grass and + approached the railings. + </p> + <p> + Helena picked up her skirt and ran to her mare; she raised her hand to + seize the bridle, but the mare broke away and took the fence. Then the + wooing began. + </p> + <p> + She stood at the fence and called, but the excited mare paid no heed. + Inside the enclosure the horses chased one another; the situation was a + critical one. The breath of the stallion came like smoke from his nostrils + and white foam flecked his shoulders. + </p> + <p> + Helena longed to escape, for the scene filled her with horror. She had + never witnessed the raging of a natural instinct in a living body. This + uncontrolled outbreak terrified her. + </p> + <p> + She wanted to run after her mare and drag her away by force, but she was + afraid of the savage stallion. She wanted to call for help, but she was + loath to attract other eyewitnesses. She turned her back to the scene and + decided to wait. + </p> + <p> + The sound of horses’ hoofs came from the direction of the highroad; a + carriage appeared in sight. + </p> + <p> + There was no escape; although she was ashamed to stay where she was, it + was too late now to run away, for the horses were slowing down and the + carriage stopped a few yards in front of her. + </p> + <p> + “How beautiful!” exclaimed one of the occupants of the carriage, a lady, + and raised her golden lorgnette so as to get a better view of the + spectacle. + </p> + <p> + “But why are we stopping?” retorted the other, irritably. “Drive on!” + </p> + <p> + “Don’t you think it beautiful?” asked the elder lady. + </p> + <p> + The coachman’s smile was lost in his great beard, as he urged the horses + on. + </p> + <p> + “You are such a prude, my dear Milly,” said the first voice. “To me this + kind of thing is like a thunderstorm, or a heavy sea....” + </p> + <p> + Helena could hear no more. She felt crushed with vexation, shame and + horror. + </p> + <p> + A farm labourer came shuffling along the highroad. Helena ran to meet him, + so as to prevent him from witnessing the scene, and at the same time ask + his help. But he was already too near. + </p> + <p> + “I believe it’s the miller’s black stallion,” he said gravely. “In that + case it will be better to wait until it’s all over, for he won’t brook + interference. If the lady will leave it to me, I will bring her mare home + later on.” + </p> + <p> + Glad to have done with the matter, Helena hurried away. + </p> + <p> + When she arrived home, she was ill. + </p> + <p> + She refused to ride her mare again, for in her eyes the beast had become + unclean. + </p> + <p> + This pretty adventure had a greater influence on Helena’s psychic + development than might have been expected. The brutal outbreak of a + natural instinct, the undisguised exhibition of which in the community of + men is punished with a term of imprisonment, haunted her as if she had + been present at an execution. It distressed her during the day and + disturbed her dreams at night. It increased her fear of nature and made + her give up her former amazon’s life. She remained at home and gave + herself up to study. + </p> + <p> + The house boasted a library. But as misfortune would have it, no additions + had been made since her grandfather’s death. All books were therefore a + generation too old, and Helena found antiquated ideals. The first book + which fell into her hands was Madame de Staël’s <i>Corinna</i> The way in + which the volume lay on the shelf indicated that it had served a special + purpose. Bound in green and gold, a little shabby at the edges, full of + marginal notes and underlined passages, the work of her late mother, it + became a bridge, as it were, between mother and daughter, which enabled + the now grown-up daughter to make the acquaintance of the dead mother. + These pencil notes were the story of a soul. Displeasure with the prose of + life and the brutality of nature, had inflamed the writer’s imagination + and inspired it to construct a dreamworld in which the souls dwelled, + disincarnate. It was essentially an aristocratic world, this dreamworld, + for it required financial independence from its denizens, so that the soul + might be fed with thoughts. This brain-fever, called romance, was + therefore the gospel of the wealthy, and became absurd and pitiful as soon + as it penetrated to the lower classes. + </p> + <p> + Corinna became Helena’s ideal: the divinely inspired poetess who like the + nun of the middle-ages, had vowed a vow of chastity, so that she might + lead a life of purity, who was, of course, admired by a brilliant throng, + rose to immeasurable heights above the heads of the petty every-day + mortals. It was the old ideal all over again, transposed: salutes, + standing at attention, rolling of drums, the first place everywhere. + Helena was quite ignorant of the fact that Madame de Staël outlived the + Corinna ideal, and did not become a real influence until she came out of + her dreamworld into the world of facts. + </p> + <p> + She ceased to take an interest in everyday affairs, she communed with + herself and brooded over her ego. The inheritance which her mother had + left her in posthumous notes began to germinate. She identified herself + with both Corinna and her mother, and spent much time in meditating on her + mission in life. That nature had intended her to become a mother and do + her share in the propagation of the human race, she refused to admit her + mission was to explain to humanity what Madame de Staël’s Corinna had + thought fifty years ago; but she imagined the thoughts were her own, + striving to find expression. + </p> + <p> + She began to write. One day she attempted verse. She succeeded. The lines + were of equal length and the last words rhymed. A great light dawned on + her: she was a poetess. One thing more remained: she wanted ideas; well + she could take them from <i>Corinna</i>. + </p> + <p> + In this way quite a number of poems originated. + </p> + <p> + But they had also to be bestowed on the world, and this could not be done + unless they were printed. One day she sent a poem entitled <i>Sappho</i> + and signed <i>Corinna</i> to the <i>Illustrated Newspaper</i>. With a + beating heart she went out to post the letter herself, and as it dropped + into the pillarbox, she prayed softly to “God.” + </p> + <p> + A trying fortnight ensued. She ate nothing, hardly closed her eyes, and + spent her days in solitude. + </p> + <p> + When Saturday came and the paper was delivered, she trembled as if she + were fever-stricken, and when she found that her verses were neither + printed nor mentioned in “Letters to Correspondents,” she almost broke + down. + </p> + <p> + On the following Saturday, when she could count on an answer with some + certainty, she slipped the paper into her pocket without unfolding it, and + went into the woods. When she had arrived at a secluded spot and made sure + that no one was watching her, she unfolded the paper and hastily glanced + at the contents. One poem only was printed, entitled <i>Bellman’s-day</i>. + She turned to “Letters to Correspondents.” Her first glance at the small + print made her start violently. Her fingers clutched the paper, rolled it + into a ball and flung it into the underwood. Then she stared, fascinated, + at the ball of white, glimmering through the green undergrowth. For the + first time in her life she had received an insult. She was completely + unnerved. This unknown journalist had dared what nobody had dared before: + he had been rude to her. She had come out from behind her trenches into + the arena where high birth counts for nothing, but where victory belongs + to that wonderful natural endowment which we call talent, and before which + all powers bow when it can no longer be denied. But the unknown had also + offended the woman in her, for he had said: + </p> + <p> + “The Corinna of 1807 would have cooked dinners and rocked cradles if she + had lived after 1870. But you are no Corinna.” + </p> + <p> + For the first time she had heard the voice of the enemy, the arch-enemy, + man. Cook dinners and rock cradles! They should see! + </p> + <p> + She went home. She felt so crushed that her muscles hardly obeyed her + relaxed nerves. + </p> + <p> + When she had gone a little way, she suddenly turned round and retraced her + footsteps. Supposing anybody found that paper! It would give her away. + </p> + <p> + She returned to the spot, and breaking off a hazel switch, dragged the + paper out from where it lay and carefully smoothed it. Then she raised a + piece of turf, hid the paper underneath and rolled a stone on the top. It + was a hope that lay buried there, and also a proof—of what? That she + had committed a crime? She felt that she had. She had done a wrong, she + had shown herself naked before the other sex. + </p> + <p> + From this day on a struggle went on in her heart. Ambition and fear of + publicity strove within her, and she was unable to come to a decision. + </p> + <p> + In the following autumn her father died. As he had been addicted to + gambling, and more often lost than won, he left debts behind him. But in + smart society these things are of no account. There was no necessity for + Helena to earn her living in a shop, for a hitherto unknown aunt came + forward and offered her a home. + </p> + <p> + But her father’s death wrought a complete change in her position. No more + salutes; the officers of the regiment nodded to her in a friendly fashion, + the lieutenants asked her to dance. She saw plainly that the respect shown + to her had not been shown to her personally, but merely to her rank. She + felt degraded and a lively sympathy for all subalterns was born in her; + she even felt a sort of hatred for all those who enjoyed her former + privileges. Side by side with this feeling grew up a yearning for personal + appreciation, a desire to win a position surpassing all others, although + it might not figure in the Army list. + </p> + <p> + She longed to distinguish herself, to win fame, and, (why not?) to rule. + She possessed one talent which she had cultivated to some extent, although + she had never risen above the average; she played the piano. She began to + study harmony and talked of the sonata in G minor and the symphony in F + major as if she had written them herself. And forthwith she began to + patronise musicians. + </p> + <p> + Six months after her father’s death, the post of a lady-in-waiting was + offered to her. She accepted it. The rolling of drums and military salutes + recommenced, and Helena gradually lost her sympathy with subalterns. But + the mind is as inconstant as fortune, and fresh experiences again brought + about a change of her views. + </p> + <p> + She discovered one day, and the day was not long in coming, that she was + nothing but a servant. She was sitting in the Park with the Duchess. The + Duchess was crocheting. + </p> + <p> + “I consider those blue stockings perfectly idiotic,” said the Duchess. + </p> + <p> + Helena turned pale; she stared at her mistress. + </p> + <p> + “I don’t,” she replied. + </p> + <p> + “I didn’t ask your opinion,” replied the Duchess, letting her ball of wool + roll into the dust. + </p> + <p> + Helena’s knees trembled; her future, her position passed away before her + eyes like a flash of lightning. She went to pick up the wool. It seemed to + her that her back was breaking as she stooped, and her cheeks flamed when + the Duchess took the ball without a word of thanks. + </p> + <p> + “You are not angry?” asked the Duchess, staring impertinently at her + victim. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, no, Your Royal Highness,” was Helena’s untruthful reply. + </p> + <p> + “They say that you are a blue-stocking yourself,” continued the Duchess. + “Is it true?” + </p> + <p> + Helena had a feeling as if she were standing nude before her tormentor and + made no reply. + </p> + <p> + For the second time the ball rolled into the dust. Helena pretended not to + notice it, and bit her lips to hold back the angry tears which were + welling up in her eyes. “Pick up my wool, please,” said the Duchess. + </p> + <p> + Helena drew herself up, looked the autocrat full in the face and said: + </p> + <p> + “I won’t.” + </p> + <p> + And with these words she turned and fled. The sand gritted under her feet, + and little clouds of dust followed in the wake of her train. She almost + ran down the stone steps and disappeared. + </p> + <p> + Her career at court was ended; but a sting remained. Helena was made to + feel what it means to be in disgrace, and above all things what it means + to throw up one’s post. Society does not approve of changes and nobody + would believe that she had voluntarily renounced the sunshine of the + court. No doubt she had been sent away. Yes, it must be so, she had been + sent away. Never before had she felt so humiliated, so insulted. It seemed + to her that she had lost caste; her relations treated her with coldness, + as if they were afraid that her disgrace might be infectious; her former + friends gave her the cold shoulder when they met her, and limited their + conversation to a minimum. + </p> + <p> + On the other hand, as she stooped from her former height, the + middle-classes received her with open arms. It was true, at first their + friendliness offended her more than the coldness of her own class, but in + the end she preferred being first down below to being last up above. She + joined a group of Government officials and professors who hailed her with + acclamations. Animated by the superstitious awe with which the middle + classes regard everybody connected with the court, they at once began to + pay her homage. She became their chosen leader and hastened to form a + regiment. A number of young professors enlisted at once and she arranged + lectures for women. Old academic rubbish was brought out from the + lumber-room, dusted and sold for new wares. In a dining-room, denuded of + its furniture, lectures on Plato and Aristotle were given to an audience + which unfortunately held no key to this shrine of wisdom. + </p> + <p> + Helena, in conquering these pseudo-mysteries felt the intellectual + superior of the ignorant aristocracy. This feeling gave her an assurance + which impressed people. The men worshipped her beauty and aloofness; but + she never felt in the least moved in their company. She accepted their + homage as a tribute due to women and found it impossible to respect these + lackeys who jumped up and stood at attention whenever she passed. + </p> + <p> + But in the long run her position as an unmarried woman failed to satisfy + her, and she noted with envious eyes the freedom enjoyed by her married + sisters. They were at liberty to go wherever they liked, talk to whom they + liked, and always had a footman in their husband to meet them and + accompany them on their way home. In addition, married women had a better + social position, and a great deal more influence. With what condescension + for instance, they treated the spinsters! But whenever she thought of + getting married, the incident with her mare flashed into her mind and + terror made her ill. + </p> + <p> + In the second year the wife of a professor from Upsala, who combined with + her official position great personal charm, appeared on the scene. + Helena’s star paled; all her worshippers left her to worship the new sun. + As she no longer possessed her former social position, and the savour of + the court had vanished like the scent on a handkerchief, she was beaten in + the fight. One single vassal remained faithful to her, a lecturer on + ethics, who had hitherto not dared to push himself forward. His attentions + were well received, for the severity of his ethics filled her with + unlimited confidence. He wooed her so assiduously that people began to + gossip; Helena, however, took no notice, she was above that. + </p> + <p> + One evening, after a lecture on “The Ethical Moment in Conjugal Love” or + “Marriage as a Manifestation of Absolute Identity,” for which the lecturer + received nothing but his expenses and a grateful pressure of hands, they + were sitting in the denuded dining-room on their uncomfortable cane + chairs, discussing the subject. + </p> + <p> + “You mean to say then,” said Helena, “that marriage is a relationship of + co-existence between two identical Egos?” + </p> + <p> + “I mean what I said already in my lecture, that only if there exists such + a relationship between two congruous identities, <i>being</i> can conflow + into <i>becoming</i> of higher potentiality.” + </p> + <p> + “What do you mean by <i>becoming?</i>” asked Helena, blushing. + </p> + <p> + “The post-existence of two egos in a new ego.” + </p> + <p> + “What? You mean that the continuity of the ego, which through the + cohabitation of two analogous beings will necessarily incorporate itself + into a becoming....” + </p> + <p> + “No, my dear lady, I only meant to say that marriage, in profane parlance, + can only produce a new spiritual ego, which cannot be differentiated as to + sex, when there is compatibility of souls. I mean to say that the new + being born under those conditions will be a conglomerate of male and + female; a new creature to whom both will have yielded their personality, a + unity in multiplicity, to use a well-known term, an <i>‘hommefemme.‘</i> + The man will cease to be man, the woman will cease to be woman.” + </p> + <p> + “That is the union of souls!” exclaimed Helena, glad to have successfullly + navigated the dangerous cliffs. + </p> + <p> + “It is the harmony of souls of which Plato speaks. It is true marriage as + I have sometimes visualised it in my dreams, but which, unfortunately, I + shall hardly be able to realise in actuality.” + </p> + <p> + Helena stared at the ceiling and whispered: + </p> + <p> + “Why shouldn’t you, one of the elect, realise this dream?” + </p> + <p> + “Because she to whom my soul is drawn with irresistible longing does not + believe in—h’m—love.” + </p> + <p> + “You cannot be sure of that.” + </p> + <p> + “Even if she did, she would always be tormented by the suspicion that the + feeling was not sincere. Moreover, there is no woman in the world who + would fall in love with me, no, not one.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, there is,” said Helena, gazing into his glass eye. (He had a glass + eye, but it was so well made, it was impossible to detect it.) + </p> + <p> + “Are you sure?” + </p> + <p> + “Quite sure,” replied Helena. “For you are different to other men. You + realise what spiritual love means, the love of the souls!” + </p> + <p> + “Even if the woman did exist, I could never marry her.” + </p> + <p> + “Why not?” + </p> + <p> + “Share a room with her!” + </p> + <p> + “That needn’t be the case. Madame de Staël merely lived in the same house + as her husband.” + </p> + <p> + “Did she?” + </p> + <p> + “What interesting topic are you two discussing?” asked the professor’s + wife, coming out of the drawing-room. + </p> + <p> + “We were talking of <i>Laocoon</i>,” answered Helena, rising, from her + chair. She was offended by the note of condescension in the lady’s voice. + And she made up her mind. + </p> + <p> + A week later her engagement to the lecturer was publicly announced. They + decided to be married in the autumn and take up their abode at Upsala. + </p> + <p> + A brilliant banquet, in celebration of the close of his bachelor life, was + given to the lecturer on ethics. A great deal of wine had been consumed + and the only artist the town boasted, the professor of drawing at the + Cathedral School, had depicted in bold outlines the victim’s career up to + date. It was the great feature of the whole entertainment. Ethics was a + subject of teaching and a milch cow, like many others, and need not + necessarily influence either the life of the community, or the life of the + individual. The lecturer had not been a saint, but had had his adventures + like everybody else; these were public property, for he had had no reason + to keep them dark. With a careless smile he watched his career, pictured + in chalk and colours, accompanied by witty verses, unfolding itself before + his eyes, but when at last his approaching bliss was portrayed in simple + but powerful sketches, he became deeply embarrassed, and the thought “If + Helena were to see that!” flashed like lightning through his brain. + </p> + <p> + After the banquet, at which according to an old, time-honoured custom, he + had drunk eight glasses of brandy, he was so intoxicated that he could no + longer suppress his fears and apprehensions. Among his hosts was a married + man and to him the victim turned for counsel and advice. Since neither of + them was sober, they chose, as the most secluded spot in the whole room, + two chairs right in the centre, immediately under the chandelier. + Consequently they were soon surrounded by an eagerly listening crowd. + </p> + <p> + “Look here! You are a married man,” said the lecturer at the top of his + voice, so as not to be heard by the assembly, as he fondly imagined. “You + must give me a word of advice, just one, only one little word of advice, + for I am extremely sensitive to-night, especially in regard to this + particular point.” + </p> + <p> + “I will, brother,” shouted his friend, “just one word, as you say,” and he + put his arm round his shoulders that he might whisper to him; then he + continued, screaming loudly: “Every act consists of three parts, my + brother: <i>Progresses, culmen, regressus</i>. I will speak to you of the + first, the second is never mentioned. Well, the initiative, so to speak, + that is the man’s privilege—your part! You must take the initiative, + you must attack, do you understand?” + </p> + <p> + “But supposing the other party does not approve of the initiative?” + </p> + <p> + The friend stared at the novice, taken aback; then he rose and + contemptuously turned his back on him. + </p> + <p> + “Fool!” he muttered. + </p> + <p> + “Thank you!” was all the grateful pupil could reply. + </p> + <p> + Now he understood. + </p> + <p> + On the following day he was on fire with all the strong drink he had + consumed; he went and took a hot bath, for on the third day was to be his + wedding. + </p> + <p> + The wedding guests had departed; the servant had cleared the table; they + were alone. + </p> + <p> + Helena was comparatively calm, but he felt exceedingly nervous. The period + of their engagement had been enhanced by conversations on serious + subjects. They had never behaved liked ordinary, every-day fiancés, had + never embraced or kissed. Whenever he had attempted the smallest + familiarity, her cold looks had chilled his ardour. But he loved her as a + man loves a woman, with body and soul. + </p> + <p> + They fidgeted about the drawing-room and tried to make conversation. But + an obstinate silence again and again reasserted itself. The candles in the + chandelier had burnt low and the wax fell in greasy drops on the carpet. + The atmosphere was heavy with the smell of food and the fumes of the wines + which mingled with the voluptuous perfume of carnations and heliotrope, + exhaled by Helena’s bridal bouquet that lay on a side-table. + </p> + <p> + At last he went up to her, held out his arms, and said in a voice which he + hoped sounded natural: + </p> + <p> + “And now you are my wife!” + </p> + <p> + “What do you mean?” was Helena’s brusque reply. + </p> + <p> + Completely taken aback, he allowed his arms to drop to his sides. But he + pulled himself together again, almost immediately, and said with a + self-conscious smile: + </p> + <p> + “I mean to say that we are husband and wife.” + </p> + <p> + Helena looked at him as if she thought that he had taken leave of his + senses. + </p> + <p> + “Explain your words!” she said. + </p> + <p> + That was just what he couldn’t do. Philosophy and ethics failed him; he + was faced by a cold and exceedingly unpleasant reality. + </p> + <p> + “It’s modesty,” he thought. “She’s quite right, but I must attack and do + my duty.” + </p> + <p> + “Have you misunderstood me?” asked Helena and her voice trembled. + </p> + <p> + “No, of course not, but, my dear child, h’m—we—h’m....” + </p> + <p> + “What language is that? Dear child? What do you take me for? What do you + mean? Albert, Albert!”—she rushed on without waiting for a reply, + which she didn’t want—“Be great, be noble, and learn to see in women + something more than sex. Do that, and you will be happy and great!” + </p> + <p> + Albert was beaten. Crushed with shame and furious with his false friend + who had counselled him wrongly, he threw himself on his knees before her + and stammered: + </p> + <p> + “Forgive me, Helena, you are nobler, purer, better than I; you are made of + finer fibre and you will lift me up when I threaten to perish in coarse + matter.” + </p> + <p> + “Arise and be strong, Albert,” said Helena, with the manner of a + prophetess. “Go in peace and show to the world that love and base animal + passion are two very different things. Good-night!” + </p> + <p> + Albert rose from his knees and stared irresolutely after his wife who went + into her room and shut the door behind her. + </p> + <p> + Full of the noblest and purest sentiments he also went into his room. He + took off his coat and lighted a cigar. His room was furnished like a + bachelor’s room: a bed-sofa, a writing table, some book shelves, a + washstand. + </p> + <p> + When he had undressed, he dipped a towel into his ewer and rubbed himself + all over. Then he lay down on his sofa and opened the evening paper. He + wanted to read while he smoked his cigar. He read an article on + Protection. His thoughts began to flow in a more normal channel, and he + considered his position. + </p> + <p> + Was he married or was he still a bachelor? He was a bachelor as before, + but there was a difference—he now had a female boarder who paid + nothing for her board. The thought was anything but pleasant, but it was + the truth. The cook kept house, the housemaid attended to the rooms. Where + did Helena come in? She was to develop her individuality! Oh, rubbish! he + thought, I am a fool! Supposing his friend had been right? Supposing women + always behaved in this silly way under these circumstances? She could not + very well come to him—he must go to her. If he didn’t go, she would + probably laugh at him to-morrow, or, worse still, be offended. Women were + indeed incomprehensible. He must make the attempt. + </p> + <p> + He jumped up, put on his dressing-gown and went into the drawing-room. + With trembling knees he listened outside Helena’s door. + </p> + <p> + Not a sound. He took heart of grace, and approached a step or two. Blue + flashes of lightning darted before his eyes as he knocked. + </p> + <p> + No answer. He trembled violently and beads of perspiration stood on his + forehead. + </p> + <p> + He knocked again. And in a falsetto voice, proceeding from a parched + throat, he said: + </p> + <p> + “It’s only I.” + </p> + <p> + No answer. Overwhelmed with shame, he returned to his room, puzzled and + chilled. + </p> + <p> + She was in earnest, then. + </p> + <p> + He crept between the sheets and again took up the paper. + </p> + <p> + He hadn’t been reading long when he heard footsteps in the street which + gradually approached and then stopped. Soft music fell on his ear, deep, + strong voices set in: + </p> + <p> + “Integer vitae sclerisque purus....” + </p> + <p> + He was touched. How beautiful it was! + </p> + <p> + Purus! He felt lifted above matter. It was in accordance with the spirit + of the age then, this higher conception of marriage. The current of ethics + which penetrated the epoch was flowing through the youth of the + country.... + </p> + <p> + “<i>Nec venenatis....</i>” + </p> + <p> + Supposing Helena had opened her door! + </p> + <p> + He gently beat time and felt himself as great and noble as Helena desired + him to be. + </p> + <p> + <i>“Fusce pharetra!”</i> + </p> + <p> + Should he open the window and thank the undergraduates in the name of his + wife? + </p> + <p> + He got out of bed. + </p> + <p> + A fourfold peal of laughter crashed against the windowpanes at the very + moment he lifted his hand to draw up the blind. + </p> + <p> + There could be no doubt, they were making fun of him! + </p> + <p> + Beside himself with anger he staggered back from the window and knocked + against the writing-table. He was a laughing-stock. A faint hatred against + the woman whom he had to thank for this humiliating scene, began to stir + within him, but his love acquitted her. He was incensed against the + jesters down below, and swore to bring them before the authorities. + </p> + <p> + But again and again he reverted to his unpleasant position, furious that + he had allowed himself to be led by the nose. He paced his room until dawn + broke in the East. Then he threw himself on his bed and fell asleep, in + bitter grief over the dismal ending of his wedding-day, which ought to + have been the happiest day of his life. + </p> + <p> + On the following morning he met Helena at the breakfast table. She was + cold and self-possessed as usual. Albert, of course, did not mention the + serenade. Helena made great plans for the future and talked volumes about + the abolition of prostitution. Albert met her half-way and promised to do + all in his power to assist her. Humanity must become chaste, for only the + beasts were unchaste. + </p> + <p> + Breakfast over, he went to his lecture. The serenade had roused his + suspicions, and as he watched his audience, he fancied that they were + making signs to each other; his colleagues, too, seemed to congratulate + him in a way which offended him. + </p> + <p> + A big, stout colleague, who radiated vigour and <i>joie de vivre</i>, + stopped him in the corridor which led to the library, seized him by the + collar and said with a colossal grin on his broad face. + </p> + <p> + “Well?” + </p> + <p> + “You ought to be ashamed of yourself,” was the indignant reply with which + he tore himself away and rushed down stairs. + </p> + <p> + When he arrived home, his flat was crowded with his wife’s friends. + Women’s skirts brushed against his legs, and when he sat down in an + armchair, he seemed to sink out of sight into piles and piles of women’s + clothes. + </p> + <p> + “I’ve heard rumours of a serenade last night,” said the professor’s wife. + </p> + <p> + Albert grew pale, but Helena took up the gauntlet. + </p> + <p> + “It was well meant, but they really might have been sober. This excessive + drinking among students is terrible.” + </p> + <p> + “What did they sing?” asked the professor’s wife. + </p> + <p> + “Oh! the usual songs: ‘My life a sea,’ and so on,” replied Helena. + </p> + <p> + Albert stared at her in amazement, but he couldn’t help admiring her. + </p> + <p> + The day went with gossip and discussions. Albert felt tired. Been joyed + spending a few hours, after the daily toil was over, in pleasant + conversation with women, but this was really too much. And moreover, he + had to agree to everything they said, for whenever he attempted to express + a contradictory opinion, they were down on him in a minute. + </p> + <p> + Night fell; it was bedtime. Husband and wife wished one another good night + and retired to their separate rooms. + </p> + <p> + Again he was attacked by doubt and restlessness. He fancied that he had + seen a tender look on Helena’s face, and he wasn’t quite sure whether she + hadn’t squeezed his hand. He lit a cigar and unfolded his paper. As soon + as he began to read of every-day matters, he seemed to see clearly. + </p> + <p> + “It’s sheer madness,” he said aloud, throwing the paper aside. + </p> + <p> + He slipped on his dressing-gown and went into the drawing-room. + </p> + <p> + Somebody was moving in Helena’s room. + </p> + <p> + He knocked. + </p> + <p> + “Is that you, Louise?” asked a voice from inside. + </p> + <p> + “No, it’s only I,” he whispered, hardly able to speak. + </p> + <p> + “What’s the matter? What do you want?” + </p> + <p> + “I want to speak to you, Helena,” he answered, hardly knowing what he was + saying. + </p> + <p> + The key turned in the lock. Albert could hardly trust his ears. The door + flew open. Helena stood on the threshold, still fully dressed. + </p> + <p> + “What is it you want?” she asked. Then she noticed that he was in his + dressing-gown and that his eyes shone strangely. + </p> + <p> + She stretched out her hand, pushed him away and slammed the door. + </p> + <p> + He heard a thud on the floor and almost simultaneously loud sobs. + </p> + <p> + Furious, but abashed, he returned to his room. She was in earnest, then! + But this was certainly anything but normal. + </p> + <p> + He lay awake all night, brooding, and on the following morning he + breakfasted alone. + </p> + <p> + When he came home for lunch, Helena received him with an expression of + pained resignation. + </p> + <p> + “Why do you treat me like that?” she asked. + </p> + <p> + He apologised, with as few words as possible. Then he repented his + curtness and climbed down. + </p> + <p> + Thus matters stood for six months. He was tossed between doubt, rage and + love, but his chain held. + </p> + <p> + His face grew pale and his eyes lost their lustre. His temper had become + uncertain; a sullen fury smouldered beneath his outward calm. + </p> + <p> + Helena found him changed, despotic, because he was beginning to oppose + her, and often left the meetings to seek amusement elsewhere. + </p> + <p> + One day he was asked to become a candidate for a professorial chair. He + refused, believing that he had no chance, but Helena gave him no peace + until he complied with the conditions. He was elected. He never knew the + reason why, but Helena did. + </p> + <p> + A short time after there was a by-election. + </p> + <p> + The new professor, who had never dreamed of taking an active interest in + public affairs, was nonplussed when he found himself nominated. His + surprise was even greater when he was elected. He intended to decline, but + Helena’s entreaties and her argument that life in a big city was + preferable to an existence in a small provincial town induced him to + accept the mandate. + </p> + <p> + They removed to Stockholm. + </p> + <p> + During these six months the newly-made professor and member of Parliament + had made himself acquainted with the new ideas which came from England and + purposed to recreate society and the old standards of morality. At the + same time he felt that the moment was not far off when he would have to + break with his “boarder.” He recovered his strength and vigour in + Stockholm, where fearless thinkers encouraged him to profess openly the + views which he had long held in secret. + </p> + <p> + Helena, on the other hand, scented a favourable opportunity in the + counter-current and threw herself into the arms of the Church Party. This + was too much for Albert and he rebelled. His love had grown cold; he found + compensation elsewhere. He didn’t consider himself unfaithful to his wife + for she had never claimed constancy in a relationship which didn’t exist. + </p> + <p> + His friendly intercourse with the other sex aroused his manliness and made + him realise his degradation. + </p> + <p> + His growing estrangement did not escape Helena. Their home-life became + unpleasant and every moment threatened to bring a catastrophe. + </p> + <p> + The opening of Parliament was imminent. Helena became restless and seemed + to have changed her tactics. Her voice was more gentle and she appeared + anxious to please him. She looked after the servants and saw that the + meals were served punctually. + </p> + <p> + He grew suspicious and wondered, watched her movements and prepared for + coming events. + </p> + <p> + One morning, at breakfast, Helena looked embarrassed and self-conscious. + She played with her dinner napkin and cleared her throat several times. + Then she took her courage in both her hands and made a plunge. + </p> + <p> + “Albert,” she began, “I can count on you, can’t I? You will serve the + Cause to which I have devoted my life?” + </p> + <p> + “What cause is that?” he asked curtly, for now he had the upper hand. + </p> + <p> + “You will do something for the oppressed women, won’t you?” + </p> + <p> + “Where are the oppressed women?” + </p> + <p> + “What? Have you deserted our great cause? Are you leaving us in the + lurch?” + </p> + <p> + “What cause are you talking about?” + </p> + <p> + “The Women’s Cause!” + </p> + <p> + “I know nothing about it.” + </p> + <p> + “You know nothing about it? Oh, come! You must admit that the position of + the women of the lower classes is deplorable.” + </p> + <p> + “No, I can’t see that their position is any worse than the position of the + men. Deliver the men from their exploiters and the women too will be + free.” + </p> + <p> + “But the unfortunates who have to sell themselves, and the scoundrels who—” + </p> + <p> + “The scoundrels who pay! Has ever a man taken payment for a pleasure which + both enjoy?” + </p> + <p> + “That is not the question! The question is whether it is just that the law + of the land should punish the one and let the other go scotfree.” + </p> + <p> + “There is no injustice in that. The one has degraded herself until she has + become a source of infection, and therefore the State treats her as it + treats a mad dog. Whenever you find a man, degraded to that degree, well, + put him under police control, too. Oh, you pure angels, who despise men + and look upon them as unclean beasts!...” + </p> + <p> + “Well, what is it? What do you want me to do?” + </p> + <p> + He noticed that she had taken a manuscript from the sideboard and held it + in her hand. Without waiting for a reply, he took it from her and began to + examine it. “A bill to be introduced into Parliament! I’m to be the man of + straw who introduces it! Is that moral? Strictly speaking, is it honest?” + </p> + <p> + Helena rose from her chair, threw herself on the sofa and burst into + tears. + </p> + <p> + He, too, rose and went to her. He took her hand in his and felt her pulse, + afraid lest her attack might be serious. She seized his hand convulsively, + and pressed it against her bosom. + </p> + <p> + “Don’t leave me,” she sobbed, “don’t go. Stay, and let me keep faith in + you.” + </p> + <p> + For the first time in his life he saw her giving way to her emotions. This + delicate body, which he had loved and admired so much, could be warmed + into life! Red, warm blood flowed in those blue veins. Blood which could + distil tears. He gently stroked her brow. + </p> + <p> + “Oh!” she sighed, “why aren’t you always good to me like that? Why hasn’t + it always been so?” + </p> + <p> + “Well,” he answered, “why hasn’t it? Tell me, why not?” + </p> + <p> + Helena’s eyelids drooped. “Why not?” she breathed, softly. + </p> + <p> + She did not withdraw her hand and he felt a gentle warmth radiating from + her velvety skin; his love for her burst into fresh flames, but this time + he felt that there was hope. + </p> + <p> + At last she rose to her feet. + </p> + <p> + “Don’t despise me,” she said, “don’t despise me, dear.” + </p> + <p> + And she went into her room. + </p> + <p> + What was the matter with her? Albert wondered as he went up to town. Was + she passing through a crisis of some sort? Was she only just beginning to + realise that she was his wife? + </p> + <p> + He spent the whole day in town. In the evening he went to the theatre. + They played <i>Le monde où l’on s’ennuit</i>. As he sat and watched + platonic love, the union of souls, unmasked and ridiculed, he felt as if a + veil of close meshed lies were being drawn from his reason; he smiled as + he saw the head of the charming beast peeping from underneath the + card-board wings of the stage-angel; he almost shed tears of amusement at + his long, long self-deception; he laughed at his folly. What filth and + corruption lay behind this hypocritical morality, this insane desire for + emancipation from healthy, natural instincts. It was the ascetic teaching + of idealism and Christianity which had implanted this germ into the + nineteenth century. + </p> + <p> + He felt ashamed! How could he have allowed himself to be duped all this + time! + </p> + <p> + There was still light in Helena’s room as he passed her door on tip-toe so + as not to wake her. He heard her cough. + </p> + <p> + He went straight to bed, smoked his cigar and read his paper. He was + absorbed in an article on conscription, when all of a sudden Helena’s door + was flung open, and footsteps and screams from the drawing-room fell on + his ears. He jumped up and rushed out of his room, believing that the + house was on fire. + </p> + <p> + Helena was standing in the drawing-room in her nightgown. + </p> + <p> + She screamed when she saw her husband and ran to her room; on the + threshold she hesitated and turned her head. + </p> + <p> + “Forgive me, Albert,” she stammered, “it’s you. I didn’t know that you + were still up. I thought there were burglars in the house. Please, forgive + me.” + </p> + <p> + And she closed her door. + </p> + <p> + What did it all mean? Was she in love with him? + </p> + <p> + He went into his room and stood before the looking-glass. Could any woman + fall in love with him? He was plain. But one loves with one’s soul and + many a plain man had married a beautiful woman. It was true, though, that + in such cases the man had nearly always possessed wealth and influence.—Was + Helena realising that she had placed herself in a false position? Or had + she become aware of his intention to leave her and was anxious to win him + back? + </p> + <p> + When they met at the breakfast table on the following morning, Helena was + unusually gentle, and the professor noticed that she was wearing a new + morning-gown trimmed with lace, which suited her admirably. + </p> + <p> + As he was helping himself to sugar, his hand accidentally touched hers. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +“I beg your pardon, dear,” she said with an expression on her face which + he had never seen before. She looked like a young girl. +</pre> + <p> + They talked about indifferent things. + </p> + <p> + On the same day Parliament opened. + </p> + <p> + Helena’s yielding mood lasted and she grew more and more affectionate. + </p> + <p> + The period allowed for the introduction of new bills drew to a close. + </p> + <p> + One evening the professor came home from his club in an unusually gay + frame of mind. He went to bed with his paper and his cigar. After a while + he heard Helena’s door creak. Silence, lasting for a few minutes, + followed. Then there came a knock at his door. + </p> + <p> + “Who is there?” he shouted. + </p> + <p> + “It’s I, Albert, do dress and come into the drawing-room, I want to speak + to you.” + </p> + <p> + He dressed and went into the drawing-room. + </p> + <p> + Helena had lighted the chandelier and was sitting on the sofa, dressed in + her lace morning-gown. + </p> + <p> + “Do forgive me,” she said, “but I can’t sleep. My head feels so strange. + Come here and talk to me.” + </p> + <p> + “You are all unstrung, little girl,” said Albert, taking her hand in his + own. “You ought to take some wine.” + </p> + <p> + He went into the dining-room and returned with a decanter and two glasses. + </p> + <p> + “Your health, darling,” he said. + </p> + <p> + Helena drank and her cheeks caught fire. + </p> + <p> + “What’s wrong?” he asked, putting his arm round her waist. + </p> + <p> + “I’m not happy,” she replied. + </p> + <p> + He was conscious that the words sounded dry and artificial, but his + passion was roused and he didn’t care. + </p> + <p> + “Do you know why you are unhappy?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “No. I only know one thing, and that is that I love you.” + </p> + <p> + Albert caught her in his arms and kissed her face. + </p> + <p> + “Are you my wife, or aren’t you?” he whispered hoarsely. + </p> + <p> + “I am your wife,” breathed Helena, collapsing, as if every nerve in her + body had snapped. + </p> + <p> + “Altogether?” he whispered paralysing her with his kisses. + </p> + <p> + “Altogether,” she moaned, moving convulsively, like a sleeper struggling + with the horrors of a nightmare. + </p> + <p> + When Albert awoke, he felt refreshed, his head was clear and he was fully + conscious of what had happened in the night. He could think vigorously and + logically like a man after a deep and restful sleep. The whole scene stood + vividly before his mind. He saw the full significance of it, unvarnished, + undisguised, in the sober light of the morning. + </p> + <p> + She had sold herself! + </p> + <p> + At three o’clock in the morning, intoxicated with love, blind to + everything, half insane, he had promised to introduce her bill. + </p> + <p> + And the price! She had given herself to him calmly, coldly, unmoved. + </p> + <p> + Who was the first woman who found out that she could sell her favour? And + who was the woman who discovered that man is a buyer? Whoever she was, she + was the founder of marriage and prostitution. And they say that marriages + are made in heaven! + </p> + <p> + He realised his degradation and hers. She wanted to triumph over her + friends, to be the first woman who had taken an active share in the making + of her country’s laws; for the sake of this triumph she had sold herself. + </p> + <p> + Well, he would tear the mask from her face. He would show her what she + really was. He would tell her that prostitution could never be abolished + while women found an advantage in selling themselves. + </p> + <p> + With his mind firmly made up, he got out of bed and dressed. + </p> + <p> + He had to wait a little for her in the dining-room. He rehearsed the scene + which would follow and pulled himself together to meet her. + </p> + <p> + She came in calm, smiling, triumphant, but more beautiful than he had ever + seen her before. A sombre fire burnt in her eyes, and he, who had expected + that she would meet him with blushes and down-cast eyes, was crushed. She + was the triumphant seducer, and he the bashful victim. + </p> + <p> + The words he had meant to say refused to come. Disarmed and humble he went + to meet her and kissed her hand. + </p> + <p> + She talked as usual without the slightest indication that a new factor had + entered her life. + </p> + <p> + He went to the House, fuming, with her bill in his pocket, and only the + vision of the bliss in store for him, calmed his excited nerves. + </p> + <p> + But when, in the evening, he knocked quite boldly at her door, it remained + closed. + </p> + <p> + It remained closed for three weeks. He cringed before her like a dog, + obeyed every hint, fulfilled all her wishes—it was all in vain. + </p> + <p> + Then his indignation got the better of him and he overwhelmed her with a + flood of angry words. She answered him sharply. But when she realised that + she had gone too far, that his chain was wearing thin, she gave herself to + him. + </p> + <p> + And he wore his chain. He bit it, strained every nerve to break it, but it + held. + </p> + <p> + She soon learned how far she could go, and whenever he became restive, she + yielded. + </p> + <p> + He was seized with a fanatical longing to make her a mother. He thought it + might make a woman of her, bring out all that was good and wholesome in + her. But the future seemed to hold no promise on that score. + </p> + <p> + Had ambition, the selfish passion of the individual, destroyed the source + of life? He wondered.... + </p> + <p> + One morning she informed him that she was going away for a few days to + stay with her friends. + </p> + <p> + When he came home on the evening of the day of her departure and found the + house empty, his soul was tormented by a cruel feeling of loss and + longing. All of a sudden it became clear to him that he loved her with + every fibre of his being. The house seemed desolate; it was just as if a + funeral had taken place. When dinner was served he stared at her vacant + chair and hardly touched his food. + </p> + <p> + After supper he lit the chandelier in the drawing-room. He sat down in her + corner of the sofa. He fingered her needlework which she had left behind—it + was a tiny jacket for a stranger’s baby in a newly-founded crèche. There + was the needle, still sticking in the calico, just as she had left it. He + pricked his finger with it as if to find solace in the ecstasy of pain. + </p> + <p> + Presently he lighted a candle and went into her bedroom. As he stood on + the threshold, he shaded the flame with his hand and looked round like a + man who is about to commit a crime. The room did not betray the slightest + trace of femininity. A narrow bed without curtains; a writing-table, + bookshelves, a smaller table by the side of her bed, a sofa. Just like his + own room. There was no dressing-table, but a little mirror hung on the + wall. + </p> + <p> + Her dress was hanging on a nail. The lines of her body were clearly + defined on the thick, heavy serge. He caressed the material and hid his + face in the lace which trimmed the neck; he put his arm round the waist, + but the dress collapsed like a phantom. “They say the soul is a spirit,” + he mused, “but then, it ought to be a tangible spirit, at least.” He + approached the bed as if he expected to see an apparition. He touched + everything, took everything in his hand. + </p> + <p> + At last, as if he were looking for something, something which should help + him to solve the problem, he began to tug at the handles which ornamented + the drawers of her writing-table; all the drawers were locked. As if by + accident he opened the drawer of the little table by her bedside, and + hastily closed it again, but not before he had read the title on the + paper-cover of a small book and caught sight of a few strange-looking + objects, the purpose of which he could guess. + </p> + <p> + That was it then! <i>Facultative Sterility!</i> What was intended for a + remedy for the lower classes, who have been robbed of the means of + existence, had become an instrument in the service of selfishness, the + last consequence of idealism. Were the upper classes so degenerate that + they refused to reproduce their species, or were they morally corrupt? + They must be both, for they considered it immoral to bring illegitimate + children into the world, and degrading to bear children in wedlock. + </p> + <p> + But he wanted children! He could afford to have them, and he considered it + a duty as well as a glorious privilege to pour his individuality into a + new being. It was Nature’s way from a true and healthy egoism towards + altruism. But she travelled on another road and made jackets for the + babies of strangers. Was that a better, a nobler thing to do? It stood for + so much, and yet was nothing but fear of the burden of motherhood, and it + was cheaper and less fatiguing to sit in the corner of a comfortable sofa + and make little jackets than to bear the toil and broil of a nursery. It + was looked upon as a disgrace to be a woman, to have a sex, to become a + mother. + </p> + <p> + That was it. They called it working for Heaven, for higher interests, for + humanity, but it was merely a pandering to vanity, to selfishness, to a + desire for fame or notoriety. + </p> + <p> + And he had pitied her, he had suffered remorse because her sterility had + made him angry. She had told him once that he deserved “the contempt of + all good and honest men” because he had failed to speak of sterile women + with the respect due to misfortune; she had told him that they were + sacred, because their sorrow was the bitterest sorrow a woman could have + to bear. + </p> + <p> + What, after all, was this woman working for? For progress? For the + salvation of humanity? No, she was working against progress, against + freedom and enlightenment. Hadn’t she recently brought forward a motion to + limit religious liberty? Wasn’t she the author of a pamphlet on the + intractability of servants? Wasn’t she advocating greater severity in the + administration of the military laws? Was she not a supporter of the party + which strives to ruin our girls by giving them the same miserable + education which our boys receive? + </p> + <p> + He hated her soul, for he hated her ideas. And yet he loved her? What was + it then that he loved? + </p> + <p> + Probably, he reflected, compelled to take refuge in philosophy, probably + the germ of a new being, which she carries in her womb, but which she is + bent on killing. + </p> + <p> + What else could it be? + </p> + <p> + But what did she love in him? His title, his position, his influence? + </p> + <p> + How could these old and worn-out men and women rebuild society? + </p> + <p> + He meant to tell her all this when she returned home; but in his inmost + soul he knew all the time that the words would never be said. He knew that + he would grovel before her and whine for her favour; that he would remain + her slave and sell her his soul again and again, just as she sold him her + body. He knew that that was what he would do, for he was head over ears in + love with her. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0018" id="link2H_4_0018"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + UNMARRIED AND MARRIED + </h2> + <p> + The young barrister was strolling on a lovely spring evening through the + old Stockholm Hop-Garden. Snatches of song and music came from the + pavilion; light streamed through the large windows and lit up the shadows + cast by the great lime trees which were just bursting into leaf. + </p> + <p> + He went in, sat down at a vacant table near the platform and asked for a + glass of punch. + </p> + <p> + A young comedian was singing a pathetic ballad of a <i>Dead Rat</i>. Then + a young girl, dressed in pink, appeared and sang the Danish song: <i>There + is nothing so charming as a moonshine ride.</i> She was comparatively + innocent looking and she addressed her song to our innocent barrister. He + felt flattered by this mark of distinction, and at once started + negotiations which began with a bottle of wine and ended in a furnished + flat, containing two rooms, a kitchen and all the usual conveniences. + </p> + <p> + It is not within the scope of this little story to analyse the feelings of + the young man, or give a description of the furniture and the other + conveniences. It must suffice if I say that they were very good friends. + </p> + <p> + But, imbued with the socialistic tendencies of our time, and desirous of + having his lady-love always under his eyes, the young man decided to live + in the flat himself and make his little friend his house keeper. She was + delighted at the suggestion. + </p> + <p> + But the young man had a family, that is to say, his family looked upon him + as one of its members, and since in their opinion he was committing an + offence against morality, and casting a slur on their good name, he was + summoned to appear before the assembled parents, brothers and sisters in + order to be censured. He considered that he was too old for such treatment + and the family tie was ruptured. + </p> + <p> + This made him all the more fond of his own little home, and he developed + into a very domesticated husband, excuse me, lover. They were happy, for + they loved one another, and no fetters bound them. They lived in the happy + dread of losing one another and therefore they did their utmost to keep + each other’s love. They were indeed one. + </p> + <p> + But there was one thing which they lacked: they had no friends. Society + displayed no wish to know them, and the young man was not asked to the + houses of the “Upper Ten.” + </p> + <p> + It was Christmas Eve, a day of sadness for all those who once had a + family. As he was sitting at breakfast, he received a letter. It was from + his sister, who implored him to spend Christmas at home, with his parents. + The letter touched upon the strings of old feelings and put him in a bad + temper. Was he to leave his little friend alone on Christmas Eve? + Certainly not! Should his place in the house of his parents remain vacant + for the first time on a Christmas Eve? H’m! This was the position of + affairs when he went to the Law Courts. + </p> + <p> + During the interval for lunch a colleague came up to him and asked him as + discreetly as possible: + </p> + <p> + “Are you going to spend Christmas Eve with your family?” + </p> + <p> + He flared up at once. Was his friend aware of his position? Or what did he + mean? + </p> + <p> + The other man saw that he had stepped on a corn, and added hastily, + without waiting for a reply: + </p> + <p> + “Because if you are not, you might spend it with us. You know, perhaps, + that I have a little friend, a dear little soul.” + </p> + <p> + It sounded all right and he accepted the invitation on condition that they + should both be invited. Well, but of course, what else did he think? And + this settled the problem of friends and Christmas Eve. + </p> + <p> + They met at six o’clock at the friend’s flat, and while the two “old men” + had a glass of punch, the women went into the kitchen. + </p> + <p> + All four helped to lay the table. The two “old men” knelt on the floor and + tried to lengthen the table by means of boards and wedges. The women were + on the best of terms at once, for they felt bound together by that very + obvious tie which bears the great name of “public opinion.” They respected + one another and saved one another’s feelings. They avoided those + innuendoes in which husbands and wives are so fond of indulging when their + children are not listening, just as if they wanted to say: “We have a + right to say these things now we are married.” + </p> + <p> + When they had eaten the pudding, the barrister made a speech praising the + delights of one’s own fireside, that refuge from the world and from all + men: that harbour where one spends one’s happiest hours in the company of + one’s real friends. + </p> + <p> + Mary-Louisa began to cry, and when he urged her to tell him the cause of + her distress, and the reason of her unhappiness, she told him in a voice + broken by sobs that she could see that he was missing his mother and + sisters. + </p> + <p> + He replied that he did not miss them in the least, and that he should wish + them far away if they happened to turn up now. + </p> + <p> + “But why couldn’t he marry her?” + </p> + <p> + “Weren’t they as good as married?” + </p> + <p> + “No, they weren’t married properly.” + </p> + <p> + “By a clergyman? In his opinion a clergyman was nothing but a student who + had passed his examinations, and his incantations were pure mythology.” + </p> + <p> + “That was beyond her, but she knew that something was wrong, and the other + people in the house pointed their fingers at her.” + </p> + <p> + “Let them point!” + </p> + <p> + Sophy joined in the conversation. She said she knew that they were not + good enough for his relations; but she didn’t mind. Let everybody keep his + own place and be content. + </p> + <p> + Anyhow, they had friends now, and lived together in harmony, which is more + than could be said of many properly constituted families. The tie which + held them together remained intact, but they were otherwise unfettered. + They continued being lovers without contracting any bad matrimonial + habits, as, for example, the habit of being rude to one another. + </p> + <p> + After a year or two their union was blest with a son. The mistress had + thereby risen to the rank of a mother, and everything else was forgotten. + The pangs which she had endured at the birth of the baby, and her care for + the newly born infant, had purged her of her old selfish claims to all the + good things of the earth, including the monopoly of her husband’s love. + </p> + <p> + In her new role as mother she gave herself superior little airs with her + friend, and showed a little more assurance in her intercourse with her + lover. + </p> + <p> + One day the latter came home with a great piece of news. He had met his + eldest sister in the street and had found her well informed on all their + private affairs. She was very anxious to see her little nephew and had + promised to pay them a call. + </p> + <p> + Mary-Louisa was surprised, and at once began to sweep and dust the flat; + in addition she insisted on a new dress for the occasion. And then she + waited for a whole week. The curtains were sent to the laundry, the brass + knobs on the doors of the stoves were made to shine, the furniture was + polished. The sister should see that her brother was living with a decent + person. + </p> + <p> + And then she made coffee, one morning at eleven o’clock, the time when the + sister would call. + </p> + <p> + She came, straight as if she had swallowed a poker, and gave Mary-Louisa a + hand which was as stiff as a batting staff. She examined the bed-room + furniture, but refused to drink coffee, and never once looked her + sister-in-law in the face. But she showed a faint, though genuine, + interest in the baby. Then she went away again. + </p> + <p> + Mary-Louisa in the meantime had carefully examined her coat, priced the + material of her dress and conceived a new idea of doing her hair. She had + not expected any great display of cordiality. As a start, the fact of the + visit was quite sufficient in itself, and she soon let the house know that + her sister-in-law had called. + </p> + <p> + The boy grew up and by and by a baby sister arrived. Now Mary-Louisa began + to show the most tender solicitude for the future of the children, and not + a day passed but she tried to convince their father that nothing but a + legal marriage with her would safeguard their interests. + </p> + <p> + In addition to this his sister gave him a very plain hint to the effect + that a reconciliation with his parents was within the scope of + possibility, if he would but legalise his liaison. + </p> + <p> + After having fought against it day and night for two years, he consented + at last, and resolved that for the children’s sake the mythological + ceremony should be allowed to take place. + </p> + <p> + But whom should they ask to the wedding? Mary-Louisa insisted on being + married in church. In this case Sophy could not be invited. That was an + impossibility. A girl like her! Mary-Louisa had already learnt to + pronounce the word “girl” with a decidedly moral accent. He reminded her + that Sophy had been a good friend to her, and that ingratitude was not a + very fine quality. Mary-Louisa, however, pointed out that parents must be + prepared to sacrifice private sympathies at the altar of their children’s + prospects; and she carried the day. + </p> + <p> + The wedding took place. + </p> + <p> + The wedding was over. No invitation arrived from his parents, but a + furious letter from Sophy which resulted in a complete rupture. + </p> + <p> + Mary-Louisa was a wedded wife, now. But she was more lonely than she had + been before. Embittered by her disappointment, sure of her husband who was + now legally tied to her, she began to take all those liberties which + married people look upon as their right. What she had once regarded in the + light of a voluntary gift, she now considered a tribute due to her. She + entrenched herself behind the honourable title of “the mother of his + children,” and from there she made her sallies. + </p> + <p> + Simple-minded, as all duped husbands are, he could never grasp what + constituted the sacredness in the fact that she was the mother of <i>his</i> + children. Why his children should be different from other children, and + from himself, was a riddle to him. + </p> + <p> + But, with an easy conscience, because his children had a legal mother now, + he commenced to take again an interest in the world which he had to a + certain extent forgotten in the first ecstasy of his love-dream, and which + later on he had neglected because he hated to leave his wife and children + alone. + </p> + <p> + These liberties displeased his wife, and since there was no necessity for + her to mince matters now, and she was of an outspoken disposition, she + made no secrets of her thoughts. + </p> + <p> + But he had all the lawyer’s tricks at his fingers’ ends, and was never at + a loss for a reply. + </p> + <p> + “Do you think it right,” she asked, “to leave the mother of your children + alone at home with them, while you spend your time at a public house?” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t believe you missed me,” he answered by way of a preliminary. + </p> + <p> + “Missed you? If the husband spends the housekeeping money on drink, the + wife will miss a great many things in the house.” + </p> + <p> + “To start with I don’t drink, for I merely have a mouthful of food and + drink a cup of coffee; secondly, I don’t spend the housekeeping money on + drink, for you keep it locked up: I have other funds which I spend ‘on + drink.’” + </p> + <p> + Unfortunately women cannot stand satire, and the noose, made in fun, was + at once thrown round his neck. + </p> + <p> + “You do admit, then, that you drink?” + </p> + <p> + “No, I don’t, I used your expression in fun.” + </p> + <p> + “In fun? You are making fun of your wife? You never used to do that!” + </p> + <p> + “You wanted the marriage ceremony. Why are things so different now?” + </p> + <p> + “Because we are married, of course.” + </p> + <p> + “Partly because of that, and partly because intoxication has the quality + of passing off.” + </p> + <p> + “It was only intoxication in your case, then?” + </p> + <p> + “Not only in my case; in your case, too, and in all others as well. It + passes off more or less quickly.” + </p> + <p> + “And so love is nothing but intoxication as far as a man is concerned!” + </p> + <p> + “As far as a woman is concerned too!” + </p> + <p> + “Nothing but intoxication!” + </p> + <p> + “Quite so! But there is no reason why one shouldn’t remain friends.” + </p> + <p> + “One need not get married for that!” + </p> + <p> + “No; and that’s exactly what I meant to point out.” + </p> + <p> + “You? Wasn’t it you who insisted on our marriage?” + </p> + <p> + “Only because you worried me about it day and night three long years.” + </p> + <p> + “But it was your wish, too!” + </p> + <p> + “Only because you wished it. Be grateful to me now that you’ve got it!” + </p> + <p> + “Shall I be grateful because you leave the mother of your children alone + with them while you spend your time at the public-house?” + </p> + <p> + “No, not for that, but because I married you!” “You really think I ought + to be grateful for that?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, like all decent people who have got their way!” + </p> + <p> + “Well, there is no happiness in a marriage like ours. Your family doesn’t + acknowledge me!” + </p> + <p> + “What have you got to do with my family? I haven’t married yours?” + </p> + <p> + “Because you didn’t think it good enough!” + </p> + <p> + “But mine was good enough for you. If they had been shoemakers, you + wouldn’t mind so much.” + </p> + <p> + “You talk of shoemakers as if they were beneath your notice. Aren’t they + human beings like everybody else?” + </p> + <p> + “Of course they are, but I don’t think you would have run after them.” + </p> + <p> + “All right! Have your own way.” + </p> + <p> + But it was not all right, and it was never again all right. Was it due to + the fact of their being married, or was it due to something else? + Mary-Louisa could not help admitting in her heart that the old times had + been better times; they had been “jollier” she said. + </p> + <p> + He did not think that it was only owing to the fact that their marriage + had been legalised for he had observed that other marriages, too, were not + happy. And the worst of it all was this: when one day he went to see his + old friend and Sophy, as he sometimes did, behind his wife’s back, he was + told that there was an end to that matter. And they had not been married. + So it could not have been marriage which was to blame. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0019" id="link2H_4_0019"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + A DUEL + </h2> + <p> + She was plain and therefore the coarse young men who don’t know how to + appreciate a beautiful soul in an ugly body took no notice of her. But she + was wealthy, and she knew that men run after women for the sake of their + wealth; whether they do it because all wealth has been created by men and + they therefore claim the capital for their sex, or on other grounds, was + not quite clear to her. As she was a rich woman, she learned a good many + things, and as she distrusted and despised men, she was considered an + intellectual young woman. + </p> + <p> + She had reached the age of twenty. Her mother was still alive, but she had + no intention to wait for another five years before she became her own + mistress. Therefore she quite suddenly surprised her friends with an + announcement of her engagement. + </p> + <p> + “She is marrying because she wants a husband,” said some. + </p> + <p> + “She is marrying because she wants a footman and her liberty,” said + others. + </p> + <p> + “How stupid of her to get married,” said the third; “she doesn’t know that + she will be even less her own mistress than she is now.” + </p> + <p> + “Don’t be afraid,” said the fourth, “she’ll hold her own in spite of her + marriage.” + </p> + <p> + What was he like? Who was he? Where had she found him? + </p> + <p> + He was a young lawyer, rather effeminate in appearance, with broad hips + and a shy manner. He was an only son, brought up by his mother and aunt. + He had always been very much afraid of girls, and he detested the officers + on account of their assurance, and because they were the favourites at all + entertainments. That is what he was like. + </p> + <p> + They were staying at a watering place and met at a dance. He had come late + and all the girls’ programmes were full. A laughing, triumphant “No!” was + flung into his face wherever he asked for a dance, and a movement of the + programme brushed him away as if he were a buzzing fly. + </p> + <p> + Offended and humiliated he left the ball-room and sat down on the verandah + to smoke a cigar. The moon threw her light on the lime-trees in the Park + and the perfume of the mignonette rose from the flower beds. + </p> + <p> + He watched the dancing couples through the windows with the impotent + yearning of the cripple; the voluptuous rhythm of the waltz thrilled him + through and through. + </p> + <p> + “All alone and lost in dreams?” said a voice suddenly. “Why aren’t you + dancing?” + </p> + <p> + “Why aren’t you?” he replied, looking up. + </p> + <p> + “Because I am plain and nobody asked me to,” she answered. + </p> + <p> + He looked at her. They had known each other for some time, but he had + never studied her features. She was exquisitely dressed, and in her eyes + lay an expression of infinite pain, the pain of despair and vain revolt + against the injustice of nature; he felt a lively sympathy for her. + </p> + <p> + “I, too, am scorned by everybody,” he said. “All the rights belong to the + officers. Whenever it is a question of natural selection, right is on the + side of the strong and the beautiful. Look at their shoulders and + epaulettes....” + </p> + <p> + “How can you talk like that!” + </p> + <p> + “I beg your pardon! To have to play a losing game makes a man bitter! Will + you give me a dance?” + </p> + <p> + “For pity’s sake?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes! Out of compassion for me!” + </p> + <p> + He threw away his cigar. + </p> + <p> + “Have you ever known what it means to be marked by the hand of fate, and + rejected? To be always the last?” he began again, passionately. + </p> + <p> + “I have known all that! But the last do not always remain the last,” she + added, emphatically. “There are other qualities, besides beauty, which + count.” + </p> + <p> + “What quality do you appreciate most in a man?” + </p> + <p> + “Kindness,” she exclaimed, without the slightest hesitation. “For this is + a quality very rarely found in a man.” + </p> + <p> + “Kindness and weakness usually go hand in hand; women admire strength.” + </p> + <p> + “What sort of women are you talking about? Rude strength has had its day; + our civilisation has reached a sufficiently high standard to make us value + muscles and rude strength no more highly than a kind heart.” + </p> + <p> + “It ought to have! And yet—watch the dancing couples!” + </p> + <p> + “To my mind true manliness is shown in loftiness of sentiment and + intelligence of the heart.” + </p> + <p> + “Consequently a man whom the whole world calls weak and cowardly....” + </p> + <p> + “What do I care for the world and its opinion!” + </p> + <p> + “Do you know that you are a very remarkable woman?” said the young lawyer, + feeling more and more interested. + </p> + <p> + “Not in the least remarkable! But you men are accustomed to regard women + as dolls....” + </p> + <p> + “What sort of men do you mean? I, dear lady, have from my childhood looked + up to woman as a higher manifestation of the species man, and from the day + on which I fell in love with a woman, and she returned my love, I should + be her slave.” + </p> + <p> + Adeline looked at him long and searchingly. + </p> + <p> + “You are a remarkable man,” she said, after a pause. + </p> + <p> + After each of the two had declared the other to be a remarkable specimen + of the species man, and made a good many remarks on the futility of + dancing, they began to talk of the melancholy influence of the moon. Then + they returned to the ball-room and took their place in a set of + quadrilles. + </p> + <p> + Adeline was a perfect dancer and the lawyer won her heart completely + because he “danced like an innocent girl.” + </p> + <p> + When the set was over, they went out again on the verandah and sat down. + </p> + <p> + “What is love?” asked Adeline, looking at the moon as if she expected an + answer from heaven. + </p> + <p> + “The sympathy of the souls,” he replied, and his voice sounded like the + whispering breeze. + </p> + <p> + “But sympathy may turn to antipathy; it has happened frequently,” objected + Adeline. + </p> + <p> + “Then it wasn’t genuine! There are materialists who say that there would + be no such thing as love if there weren’t two sexes, and they dare to + maintain that sensual love is more lasting than the love of the soul. + Don’t you think it low and bestial to see nothing but sex in the beloved + woman?” + </p> + <p> + “Don’t speak of the materialists!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I must, so that you may realise the loftiness of my feelings for a + woman, if ever I fell in love. She need not be beautiful; beauty soon + fades. I should look upon her as a dear friend, a chum. I should never + feel shy in her company, as with any ordinary girl. I should approach her + without fear, as I am approaching you, and I should say: ‘Will you be my + friend for life?’ I should be able to speak to her without the slightest + tremor of that nervousness which a lover is supposed to feel when he + proposes to the object of his tenderness, because his thoughts are not + pure.” + </p> + <p> + Adeline looked at the young man, who had taken her hand in his, with + enraptured eyes. + </p> + <p> + “You are an idealist,” she said, “and I agree with you from the very + bottom of my heart. You are asking for my friendship, if I understand you + rightly. It shall be yours, but I must put you to the test first. Will you + prove to me that you can pocket your pride for the sake of a friend?” + </p> + <p> + “Speak and I shall obey!” + </p> + <p> + Adeline took off a golden chain with a locket which she had been wearing + round her neck. + </p> + <p> + “Wear this as a symbol of our friendship.” + </p> + <p> + “I will wear it,” he said, in an uncertain voice; “but it might make the + people think that we are engaged.” + </p> + <p> + “And do you object?” + </p> + <p> + “No, not if you don’t! Will you be my wife?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, Axel! I will! For the world looks askance at friendship between man + and woman; the world is so base that it refuses to believe in the + possibility of such a thing.” + </p> + <p> + And he wore the chain. + </p> + <p> + The world, which is very materialistic at heart, repeated the verdict of + her friends: + </p> + <p> + “She marries him in order to be married; he marries her because he wants a + wife.” + </p> + <p> + The world made nasty remarks, too. It said that he was marrying her for + the sake of her money; for hadn’t he himself declared that anything so + degrading as love did not exist between them? There was no need for + friends to live together like married couples. + </p> + <p> + The wedding took place. The world had received a hint that they would live + together like brother and sister, and the world awaited with a malicious + grin the result of the great reform which should put matrimony on another + basis altogether. + </p> + <p> + The newly married couple went abroad. + </p> + <p> + When they returned, the young wife was pale and ill-tempered. She began at + once to take riding-lessons. The world scented mischief and waited. The + man looked as if he were guilty of a base act and was ashamed of himself. + It all came out at last. + </p> + <p> + “They have <i>not</i> been living like brother and sister,” said the + world. + </p> + <p> + “What? Without loving one another? But that is—well, what is it?” + </p> + <p> + “A forbidden relationship!” said the materialists. + </p> + <p> + “It is a spiritual marriage!” + </p> + <p> + “Or incest,” suggested an anarchist. + </p> + <p> + Facts remained facts, but the sympathy was on the wane. Real life, + stripped of All make-believe, confronted them and began to take revenge. + </p> + <p> + The lawyer practised his profession, but the wife’s profession was + practised by a maid and a nurse. Therefore she had no occupation. The want + of occupation encouraged brooding, and she brooded a great deal over her + position. She found it unsatisfactory. Was it right that an intellectual + woman like her should spend her days in idleness? Once her husband had + ventured to remark that no one compelled her to live in idleness. He never + did it again. + </p> + <p> + “She had no profession.” + </p> + <p> + “True; to be idle was no profession. Why didn’t she nurse the baby?” + </p> + <p> + “Nurse the baby? She wanted a profession which brought in money.” + </p> + <p> + “Was she such a miser, then? She had already more than she knew how to + spend; why should she want to earn money?” + </p> + <p> + “To be on an equal footing with him.” + </p> + <p> + “That could never be, for she would always be in a position to which he + could never hope to attain. It was nature’s will that the woman was to be + the mother, not the man.” + </p> + <p> + “A very stupid arrangement!” + </p> + <p> + “Very likely! The opposite might have been the case, but that would have + been equally stupid.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; but her life was unbearable. It didn’t satisfy her to live for the + family only, she wanted to live for others as well.” + </p> + <p> + “Hadn’t she better begin with the family? There was plenty of time to + think of the others.” + </p> + <p> + The conversation might have continued through all eternity; as it was it + only lasted an hour. + </p> + <p> + The lawyer was, of course, away almost all day long, and even when he was + at home he had his consulting hours. It drove Adeline nearly mad. He was + always locked in his consulting-room with other women who confided + information to him which he was bound to keep secret. These secrets formed + a barrier between them, and made her feel that he was more than a match + for her. + </p> + <p> + It roused a sullen hatred in her heart; she resented the injustice of + their mutual relationship; she sought for a means to drag him down. Come + down he must, so that they should be on the same level. + </p> + <p> + One day she proposed the foundation of a sanatorium. He said all he could + against it, for he was very busy with his practice. But on further + consideration he thought that occupation of some sort might be the saving + of her; perhaps it would help her to settle down. + </p> + <p> + The sanatorium was founded; he was one of the directors. + </p> + <p> + She was on the Committee and ruled. When she had ruled for six months, she + imagined herself so well up in the art of healing that she interviewed + patients and gave them advice. + </p> + <p> + “It’s easy enough,” she said. + </p> + <p> + Then it happened that the house-surgeon made a mistake, and she + straightway lost all confidence in him. It further happened that one day, + in the full consciousness of her superior wisdom, she prescribed for a + patient herself, in the doctor’s absence. The patient had the prescription + made up, took it and died. + </p> + <p> + This necessitated a removal to another centre of activity. But it + disturbed the equilibrium. A second child, which was born about the same + time, disturbed it still more and, to make matters worse, a rumour of the + fatal accident was spreading through the town. + </p> + <p> + The relations between husband and wife were unlovely and sad, for there + had never been any love between them. The healthy, powerful natural + instinct, which does not reflect, was absent; what remained was an + unpleasant liaison founded on the uncertain calculations of a selfish + friendship. + </p> + <p> + She never voiced the thoughts hatched behind her burning brow after she + had discovered that she was mistaken in believing that she had a higher + mission, but she made her husband suffer for it. + </p> + <p> + Her health failed; she lost her appetite and refused to go out. She grew + thin and seemed to be suffering from a chronic cough. The husband made her + repeatedly undergo medical examinations, but the doctors were unable to + discover the cause of her malady. In the end he became so accustomed to + her constant complaints that he paid no more attention to them. + </p> + <p> + “I know it’s unpleasant to have an invalid wife,” she said. + </p> + <p> + He admitted in his heart that it was anything but pleasant; had he loved + her, he would neither have felt nor admitted it. + </p> + <p> + Her emaciation became so alarming, that he could not shut his eyes to it + any longer, and had to consent to her suggestion that she should consult a + famous professor. + </p> + <p> + Adeline was examined by the celebrity. “How long have you been ill?” he + asked. + </p> + <p> + “I have never been very strong since I left the country,” she replied. “I + was born in the country.” + </p> + <p> + “Then you don’t feel well in town?” + </p> + <p> + “Well? Who cares whether I feel well or not?” And her face assumed an + expression which left no room for doubt: she was a martyr. + </p> + <p> + “Do you think that country air would do you good?” continued the + professor. + </p> + <p> + “Candidly, I believe that it is the only thing which could save my life.” + </p> + <p> + “Then why don’t you live in the country?” + </p> + <p> + “My husband couldn’t give up his profession for my sake.” + </p> + <p> + “He has a wealthy wife and we have plenty of lawyers.” + </p> + <p> + “You think, then, that we ought to live in the country?” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly, if you believe that it would do you good. You are not + suffering from any organic disease, but your nerves are unstrung; country + air would no doubt benefit you.” + </p> + <p> + Adeline returned home to her husband very depressed. + </p> + <p> + “Well?” + </p> + <p> + “The professor had sentenced her to death if she remained in town.” + </p> + <p> + The lawyer was much upset. But since the fact that his distress was mainly + caused by the thought of giving up his practice was very apparent, she + held that she had absolute proof that the question of her health was a + matter of no importance to him. + </p> + <p> + “What? He didn’t believe that it was a matter of life and death? Didn’t he + think the professor knew better than he? Was he going to let her die?” + </p> + <p> + He was not going to let her die. He bought an estate in the country and + engaged an inspector to look after it. + </p> + <p> + As a sheriff and a district-judge were living on the spot, the lawyer had + no occupation. The days seemed to him as endless as they were unpleasant. + Since his income had stopped with his practice, he was compelled to live + on his wife’s money. In the first six months he read a great deal and + played “Fortuna.” In the second six months he gave up reading, as it + served no object. In the third he amused himself by doing needle-work. + </p> + <p> + His wife, on the other hand, devoted herself to the farm, pinned up her + skirts to the knees and went into the stables. She came into the house + dirty, and smelling of the cow-shed. She felt well and ordered the + labourers about that it was a pleasure to hear her, for she had grown up + in the country and knew what she was about. + </p> + <p> + When her husband complained of having nothing to do, she laughed at him. + </p> + <p> + “Find some occupation in the house. No one need ever be idle in a house + like this.” + </p> + <p> + He would have liked to suggest some outside occupation, but he had not the + courage. + </p> + <p> + He ate, slept, and went for walks. If he happened to enter the barn or the + stables, he was sure to be in the way and be scolded by his wife. + </p> + <p> + One day, when he had grumbled more than usual, while the children had been + running about, neglected by the nurse, she said: + </p> + <p> + “Why don’t you look after the children? That would give you something to + do.” + </p> + <p> + He stared at her. Did she really mean it? + </p> + <p> + “Well, why shouldn’t he look after the children? Was there anything + strange in her suggestion?” + </p> + <p> + He thought the matter over and found nothing strange in it. Henceforth he + took the children for a walk every day. + </p> + <p> + One morning, when he was ready to go out, the children were not dressed. + The lawyer felt angry and went grumbling to his wife; of the servants he + was afraid. + </p> + <p> + “Why aren’t the children dressed?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “Because Mary is busy with other things. Why don’t you dress them? You’ve + nothing else to do. Do you consider it degrading to dress your own + children?” + </p> + <p> + He considered the matter for a while, but could see nothing degrading in + it. He dressed them. + </p> + <p> + One day he felt inclined to take his gun and go out by himself, although + he never shot anything. + </p> + <p> + His wife met him on his return. + </p> + <p> + “Why didn’t you take the children for a walk this morning?” she asked + sharply and reproachfully. + </p> + <p> + “Because I didn’t feel inclined to do so.” + </p> + <p> + “You didn’t feel inclined? Do you think I want to work all day long in + stable and barn? One ought to do <i>something</i> useful during the day, + even if it does go against one’s inclination.” + </p> + <p> + “So as to pay for one’s dinner, you mean?” + </p> + <p> + “If you like to put it that way! If I were a big man like you, I should be + ashamed to be lying all day long on a sofa, doing nothing.” + </p> + <p> + He really felt ashamed, and henceforth he established himself the + children’s nurse. He never failed in his duties. He saw no disgrace in it, + yet he was unhappy. Something was wrong, somewhere, he thought, but his + wife always managed to carry her point. + </p> + <p> + She sat in the office and interviewed inspector and overseer; she stood in + the store-room and weighed out stores for the cottagers. Everybody who + came on the estate asked for the mistress, nobody ever wanted to see the + master. + </p> + <p> + One day he took the children past a field in which cattle were grazing. He + wanted to show them the cows and cautiously took them up to the grazing + herd. All at once a black head, raised above the backs of the other + animals, stared at the visitors, bellowing softly. + </p> + <p> + The lawyer picked up the children and ran back to the fence as hard as he + could. He threw them over and tried to jump it himself, but was caught on + the top. Noticing some women on the other side, he shouted: + </p> + <p> + “The bull! the bull!” + </p> + <p> + But the women merely laughed, and went to pull the children, whose clothes + were covered with mud, out of the ditch. + </p> + <p> + “Don’t you see the bull?” he screamed. + </p> + <p> + “It’s no bull, sir,” replied the eldest of the women, “the bull was killed + a fortnight ago.” + </p> + <p> + He came home, angry and ashamed and complained of the women to his wife. + But she only laughed. + </p> + <p> + In the afternoon, as husband and wife were together in the drawing-room, + there was a knock at the door. + </p> + <p> + “Come in!” she called out. + </p> + <p> + One of the women who had witnessed the adventure with the bull came in, + holding in her hand the lawyer’s gold chain. + </p> + <p> + “I believe this belongs to you, M’m,” she said hesitatingly. + </p> + <p> + Adeline looked first at the woman and then at her husband, who stared at + the chain with wide-open eyes. + </p> + <p> + “No, it belongs to your master,” she said, taking the proffered chain. + “Thank you! Your master will give you something for finding it.” + </p> + <p> + He was sitting there, pale and motionless. + </p> + <p> + “I have no money, ask my wife to give you something,” he said, taking the + necklet. + </p> + <p> + Adeline took a crown out of her big purse and handed it to the woman, who + went away, apparently without understanding the scene. + </p> + <p> + “You might have spared me this humiliation!” he said, and his voice + plainly betrayed the pain he felt. + </p> + <p> + “Are you not man enough to take the responsibility for your words and + actions on your own shoulders? Are you ashamed to wear a present I gave + you, while you expect me to wear yours? You’re a coward! And you imagine + yourself to be a man!” + </p> + <p> + Henceforth the poor lawyer had no peace. Wherever he went, he met grinning + faces, and farm-labourers and maid-servants from the safe retreat of + sheltered nooks, shouted “the bull! the bull!” whenever he went past. + </p> + <p> + Adeline had resolved to attend an auction and stay away for a week. She + asked her husband to look after the servants in her absence. + </p> + <p> + On the first day the cook came and asked him for money for sugar and + coffee. He gave it to her. Three days later she came again and asked him + for the same thing. He expressed surprise at her having already spent what + he had given her. + </p> + <p> + “I don’t want it all for myself,” she replied, “and mistress doesn’t + mind.” + </p> + <p> + He gave her the money. But, wondering whether he had made a mistake, he + opened his wife’s account book and began to add up the columns. + </p> + <p> + He arrived at a strange result. When he had added up all the pounds for a + month, he found it came to a lispound. + </p> + <p> + He continued checking her figures, and the result was everywhere the same. + He took the principal ledger and found that, leaving the high figures out + of the question, very stupid mistakes in the additions had been made. + Evidently his wife knew nothing of denominate quantities or decimal + fractions. This unheard of cheating of the servants must certainly lead to + ruin. + </p> + <p> + His wife came home. After having listened to a detailed account of the + auction, he cleared his throat, intending to tell his tale, but his wife + anticipated his report: + </p> + <p> + “Well, and how did you get on with the servants?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! very well, but I am certain that they cheat you.” + </p> + <p> + “Cheat me!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; for instance the amount spent on coffee and sugar is too large.” + </p> + <p> + “How do you know?” + </p> + <p> + “I saw it in your account book.” + </p> + <p> + “Indeed! You poked your nose into my books?” + </p> + <p> + “Poked my nose into your books? No, but I took it upon me to check + your....” + </p> + <p> + “What business was it of yours?” + </p> + <p> + “And I found that you keep books without having the slightest knowledge of + denominate quantities or decimal fractions.” + </p> + <p> + “What? You think I don’t know?” + </p> + <p> + “No, you don’t! And therefore the foundations of the establishment are + shaky. Your book-keeping is all humbug, old girl!” + </p> + <p> + “My book-keeping concerns no one but myself.” + </p> + <p> + “Incorrect book-keeping is an offence punishable by law; if you are not + liable, then I am.” + </p> + <p> + “The law? I care a fig for the law!” + </p> + <p> + “I daresay! But we shall get into its clutches, if not you, then most + certainly I! And therefore I am going to be book-keeper in the future.” + </p> + <p> + “We can engage a man to do it.” + </p> + <p> + “No, that’s not necessary! I have nothing else to do.” + </p> + <p> + And that settled the matter. + </p> + <p> + But once the husband occupied the chair at the desk and the people came to + see <i>him</i>, the wife lost all interest in farming and cattle-breeding. + </p> + <p> + A violent reaction set in; she no longer attended to the cows and calves, + but remained in the house. There she sat, hatching fresh plots. + </p> + <p> + But the husband had regained a fresh hold on life. He took an eager + interest in the estate and woke up the people. Now he held the reins; + managed everything, gave orders and paid the bills. + </p> + <p> + One day his wife came into the office and asked him for a thousand crowns + to buy a piano. + </p> + <p> + “What are you thinking of?” said the husband. “Just when we are going to + re-build the stables! We haven’t the means to buy a piano.” + </p> + <p> + “What do you mean?” she replied. “Why haven’t we got the means? Isn’t my + money sufficient?” + </p> + <p> + “Your money?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, my money, my dowry.” + </p> + <p> + “That has now become the property of the family.” + </p> + <p> + “That is to say yours?” + </p> + <p> + “No, the family’s. The family is a small community, the only one which + possesses common property which, as a rule, is administered by the + husband.” + </p> + <p> + “Why should he administer it and not the wife?” + </p> + <p> + “Because he has more time to give to it, since he does not bear children.” + </p> + <p> + “Why couldn’t they administer it jointly?” + </p> + <p> + “For the same reason that a joint stock company has only one managing + director. If the wife administered as well, the children would claim the + same right, for it is their property, too.” + </p> + <p> + “This is mere hair-splitting. I think it’s hard that I should have to ask + your permission to buy a piano out of my own money.” + </p> + <p> + “It’s no longer your money.” + </p> + <p> + “But yours?” + </p> + <p> + “No, not mine either, but the family’s. And you are wrong when you say + that you ‘have to ask for my permission’; it’s merely wise that you should + consult with the administrator as to whether the position of affairs + warrants your spending such a large sum on a luxury.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you call a piano a luxury?” + </p> + <p> + “A new piano, when there is an old one, must be termed a luxury. The + position of our affairs is anything but satisfactory, and therefore it + doesn’t permit you to buy a new piano at present, but <i>I</i>, + personally, can or will have nothing to say against it.” + </p> + <p> + “An expenditure of a thousand crowns doesn’t mean ruin.” + </p> + <p> + “To incur a debt of a thousand crowns at the wrong time may be the first + step towards ruin.” + </p> + <p> + “All this means that you refuse to buy me a new piano?” + </p> + <p> + “No, I won’t say that. The uncertain position of affairs....” + </p> + <p> + “When, oh! when will the day dawn on which the wife will manage her own + affairs and have no need to go begging to her husband?” + </p> + <p> + “When she works herself. A man, your father, has earned your money. The + men have gained all the wealth there is in the world; therefore it is but + just that a sister should inherit less than her brother, especially as the + brother is born with the duty to provide for a woman, while the sister + need not provide for a man. Do you understand?” + </p> + <p> + “And you call that justice? Can you honestly maintain that it is? Ought we + not all to share and share alike?” + </p> + <p> + “No, not always. One ought to share according to circumstances and merit. + The idler who lies in the grass and watches the mason building a house, + should have a smaller share than the mason.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you mean to insinuate that I am lazy?” + </p> + <p> + “H’m! I’d rather not say anything about that. But when I used to lie on + the sofa, reading, you considered me a loafer, and I well remember that + you said something to that effect in very plain language.” + </p> + <p> + “But what am I to do?” + </p> + <p> + “Take the children out for walks.” + </p> + <p> + “I’m not constituted to look after the children.” + </p> + <p> + “But there was a time when I had to do it. Let me tell you that a woman + who says that she is not constituted to look after children, isn’t a + woman. But that fact doesn’t make a man of her, by any means. What is she, + then?” + </p> + <p> + “Shame on you that you should speak like that of the mother of your + children!” + </p> + <p> + “What does the world call a man who will have nothing to do with women? + Isn’t it something very ugly?” + </p> + <p> + “I won’t hear another word!” + </p> + <p> + And she left him and locked herself into her room. + </p> + <p> + She fell ill. The doctor, the almighty man, who took over the care of the + body when the priest lost the care of the soul, pronounced country air and + solitude to be harmful. + </p> + <p> + They were obliged to return to town so that the wife could have proper + medical treatment. + </p> + <p> + Town had a splendid effect on her health; the air of the slums gave colour + to her cheeks. + </p> + <p> + The lawyer practised his profession and so husband and wife had found + safety-valves for their temperaments which refused to blend. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0020" id="link2H_4_0020"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + HIS SERVANT OR DEBIT AND CREDIT + </h2> + <p> + Mr. Blackwood was a wharfinger at Brooklyn and had married Miss Dankward, + who brought him a dowry of modern ideas. To avoid seeing his beloved wife + playing the part of his servant, Mr. Blackwood had taken rooms in a + boarding house. + </p> + <p> + The wife, who had nothing whatever to do, spent the day in playing + billiards and practising the piano, and half the night in discussing + Women’s Rights and drinking whiskies and sodas. + </p> + <p> + The husband had a salary of five thousand dollars. He handed over his + money regularly to his wife who took charge of it. She had, moreover, a + dress allowance of five hundred dollars with which she did as she liked. + </p> + <p> + Then a baby arrived. A nurse was engaged who, for a hundred dollars, took + upon her shoulders the sacred duties of the mother. + </p> + <p> + Two more children were born. + </p> + <p> + They grew up and the two eldest went to school. But Mrs. Blackwood was + bored and had nothing with which to occupy her mind. + </p> + <p> + One morning she appeared at the breakfast table, slightly intoxicated. + </p> + <p> + The husband ventured to tell her that her behaviour was unseemly. + </p> + <p> + She had hysterics and went to bed, and all the other ladies in the house + called on her and brought her flowers. + </p> + <p> + “Why do you drink so much whisky?” asked her husband, as kindly as + possible. “Is there anything which troubles you?” + </p> + <p> + “How could I be happy when my whole life is wasted!” + </p> + <p> + “What do you mean by wasted? You are the mother of three children and you + might spend your time in educating them.” + </p> + <p> + “I can’t be bothered with children.” + </p> + <p> + “Then you ought to be bothered with them! You would be benefiting the + whole community and have a splendid object in life, a far more honourable + one, for instance, than that of being a wharfinger.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, if I were free!” + </p> + <p> + “You are freer than I am. I am under your rule. You decide how my earnings + are to be spent. You have five hundred dollars pin money to spend as you + like; but I have no pin money. I have to make an application to the + cash-box, in other words, to you, whenever I want to buy tobacco. Don’t + you think that you are freer than I am?” + </p> + <p> + She made no reply; she tried to think the question out. + </p> + <p> + The upshot of it was that they decided to have a home of their own. And + they set up house-keeping. + </p> + <p> + “My dear friend,” Mrs. Blackwood wrote a little later on to a friend of + hers, “I am ill and tired to death. But I must go on suffering, for there + is no solace for an unhappy woman who has no object in life. I will show + the world that I am not the sort of woman who is content to live on her + husband’s bounty, and therefore I shall work myself to death....” + </p> + <p> + On the first day she rose at nine o’clock and turned out her husband’s + room. Then she dismissed the cook and at eleven o’clock she went out to do + the catering for the day. + </p> + <p> + When the husband came home at one o’clock, lunch was not ready. It was the + maid’s fault. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Blackwood was dreadfully tired and in tears. The husband could not + find it in his heart to complain. He ate a burnt cutlet and went back to + his work. + </p> + <p> + “Don’t work so hard, darling,” he said, as he was leaving. + </p> + <p> + In the evening his wife was so tired that she could not finish her work + and went to bed at ten o’clock. + </p> + <p> + On the following morning, as Mr. Blackwood went into his wife’s room to + say good morning to her, he was amazed at her healthy complexion. + </p> + <p> + “Have you slept well?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “Why do you ask?” + </p> + <p> + “Because you are looking so well.” + </p> + <p> + “I—am—looking—well?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, a little occupation seems to agree with you.” + </p> + <p> + “A little occupation? You call it little? I should like to know what you + would call much.” + </p> + <p> + “Never mind, I didn’t mean to annoy you.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, you did. You meant to imply that I wasn’t working hard enough. And + yet I turned out your room yesterday, just as if I were a house-maid, and + stood in the kitchen like a cook. Can you deny that I am your servant?” + </p> + <p> + In going out the husband said to the maid: + </p> + <p> + “You had better get up at seven in future and do my room. Your mistress + shouldn’t have to do your work.” + </p> + <p> + In the evening Mr. Blackwood came home in high spirits but his wife was + angry with him. + </p> + <p> + “Why am I not to do your room?” she asked. + </p> + <p> + “Because I object to your being my servant.” + </p> + <p> + “Why do you object?” + </p> + <p> + “The thought of it makes me unhappy.” + </p> + <p> + “But it doesn’t make you unhappy to think of me cooking your dinner and + attending to your children?” + </p> + <p> + This remark set him thinking. + </p> + <p> + He pondered the question during the whole of his tram journey to Brooklyn. + </p> + <p> + When he came home in the evening, he had done a good deal of thinking. + </p> + <p> + “Now, listen to me, my love,” he began, “I’ve thought a lot about your + position in the house and, of course, I am far from wishing that you + should be my servant. I think the best thing to do is this: You must look + upon me as your boarder and I’ll pay for myself. Then you’ll be mistress + in the house, and I’ll pay you for my dinner.” + </p> + <p> + “What do you mean?” asked his wife, a little uneasy. + </p> + <p> + “What I say. Let’s pretend that you keep a boarding-house and that I’m + your boarder. We’ll only pretend it, of course.” + </p> + <p> + “Very well! And what are you going to pay me?” + </p> + <p> + “Enough to prevent me from being under an obligation to you. It will + improve my position, too, for then I shall not feel that I am kept out of + kindness.” + </p> + <p> + “Out of kindness?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; you give me a dinner which is only half-cooked, and then you go on + repeating that you are my servant, that is to say, that you are working + yourself to death for me.” + </p> + <p> + “What are you driving at?” + </p> + <p> + “Is three dollars a day enough for my board? Any boarding-house will take + me for two.” + </p> + <p> + “Three dollars ought to be plenty.” + </p> + <p> + “Very well! Let’s say a thousand dollars per annum. Here’s the money in + advance!” + </p> + <p> + He laid a bill on the table. + </p> + <p> + It was made out as follows: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Rent 500 dollars + Nurse’s wages 100 ” + Cook’s wages 150 ” + Wife’s maintenance 500 ” + Wife’s pin money 500 ” + Nurse’s maintenance 300 ” + Cook’s maintenance 300 ” + Children’s maintenance 700 ” + Children’s clothes 500 ” + Wood, light, assistance 500 ” + + 4.500 dollars +</pre> + <p> + “Divide this sum by two, since we share expenses equally, that leaves 2025 + dollars. Deduct my thousand dollars and give me 1025 dollars. If you have + got the money by you, all the better.” + </p> + <p> + “Share expenses equally?” was all the wife could say. “Do you expect me to + pay you, then?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, of course, if we are to be on a footing of equality. I pay for half + of your and the children’s support. Or do you want me to pay the whole? + Very well, that would mean that I should have to pay you 4050 dollars plus + 1000 dollars for my board. But I pay separately for rent, food, light, + wood and servants’ wages. What do I get for my three dollars a day for + board? The preparation of the food? Nothing else but that for 4050 + dollars? Now, if I subtract really half of this sum, that is to say, my + share of the expenses, 2025 dollars, then the preparation of my food costs + me 2025 dollars. But I have already paid the cook for doing it; how, then, + can I be expected to pay 2025 dollars, plus 1000 dollars for food?” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t know.” + </p> + <p> + “Neither do I. But I know that I owe you nothing after paying for the + whole of your support, the children’s support and the servants’ support; + the servants who do your work, which, in your opinion, is equal, or + superior, to mine. But even if your work should really be worth more, you + must remember that you have another five hundred dollars in addition to + the household expenses, while I have nothing.” + </p> + <p> + “I repeat that I don’t understand your figures!” + </p> + <p> + “Neither do I. Perhaps we had better abandon the idea of the + boarding-house. Let’s put down the debit and credit of the establishment. + Here’s the account, if you’d like to see it.” + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + To Mrs. Blackwood for assistance in the house, and to Mrs. Blackwood’s + cook and nursemaid: + + Rent and maintenance 1000 dollars + Clothes 500 ” + Amusements 100 ” + Pin money (by cash) 500 ” + Her children’s maintenance 1200 ” + Her children’s education 600 ” + On account of the maids who do her + work 850 ” + + 4570 dollars + + Paid M. Blackwood, <i>Wharfinger</i> +</pre> + <p> + “Oh! It’s too bad of you to worry your wife with bills!” + </p> + <p> + “With counter-bills! And even that one you need not pay, for I pay all + bills.” + </p> + <p> + The wife crumpled up the paper. + </p> + <p> + “Am I to pay for your children’s education, too?” + </p> + <p> + “No, I will, and I shall, and I will also pay for your children’s + education. You shall not pay one single farthing for mine. Is that being + on a footing of equality? But I shall deduct the sum for the maintenance + of my children and servants: then you will still have 2100 dollars for the + assistance you give to my servants. Do you want any more bills?” + </p> + <p> + She wanted no more; never again. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0021" id="link2H_4_0021"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + THE BREADWINNER + </h2> + <p> + He wakes up in the morning from evil dreams of bills which have become due + and copy which has not been delivered. His hair is damp with cold + perspiration, and his cheeks tremble as he dresses himself. He listens to + the chirruping of the children in the next room and plunges his burning + face into cold water. He drinks the coffee which he has made himself, so + as not to disturb the nursery maid at the early hour of eight o’clock. + Then he makes his bed, brushes his clothes, and sits down to write. + </p> + <p> + The fever attacks him, the fever which is to create hallucinations of + rooms he has never seen, landscapes which never existed, people whose + names cannot be found in the directory. He sits at his writing table in + mortal anguish. His thoughts must be clear, pregnant and picturesque, his + writing legible, the story dramatic; the interest must never abate, the + metaphors must be striking, the dialogue brilliant. The faces of those + automata, the public, whose brains he is to wind up, are grinning at him; + the critics whose good-will he must enlist, stare at him through the + spectacles of envy; he is haunted by the gloomy face of the publisher, + which it is his task to brighten. He sees the jurymen sitting round the + black table in the centre of which lies a Bible; he hears the sound of the + opening of prison doors behind which free-thinkers are suffering for the + crime of having thought bold thoughts for the benefit of the sluggards; he + listens to the noiseless footfall of the hotel porter who is coming with + the bill.... + </p> + <p> + And all the while the fever is raging and his pen flies, flies over the + paper without a moment’s delay at the vision of publisher or jurymen, + leaving in its track red lines as of congealed blood which slowly turn to + black. + </p> + <p> + When he rises from his chair, after a couple of hours, he has only enough + strength left to stumble across the room. He sinks down on his bed and + lies there as if Death held him in his clutches. It is not invigorating + sleep which has closed his eyes, but a stupor, a long fainting fit during + which he remains conscious, tortured by the horrible thought that his + strength is gone, his nervous system shattered, his brain empty. + </p> + <p> + A ring at the bell of the private hotel! <i>Voilà le facteur</i>! The mail + has arrived. + </p> + <p> + He rouses himself and staggers out of his room. A pile of letters is + handed to him. Proofs which must be read at once; a book from a young + author, begging for a candid criticism: a paper containing a controversial + article to which he must reply without delay, a request for a contribution + to an almanac, an admonishing letter from his publisher. How can an + invalid cope with it all? + </p> + <p> + In the meantime the children’s nurse has got up and dressed the children, + drunk the coffee made for her in the hotel kitchen, and eaten the rolls + spread with honey which have been sent up for her. After breakfast she + takes a stroll in the park. + </p> + <p> + At one o’clock the bell rings for luncheon. All the guests are assembled + in the dining-room. He, too, is there, sitting at the table by himself. + </p> + <p> + “Where is your wife?” he is asked on all sides. + </p> + <p> + “I don’t know,” he replies. + </p> + <p> + “What a brute!” is the comment of the ladies, who are still in their + morning gowns. + </p> + <p> + The entrance of his wife interrupts the progress of the meal, and the + hungry guests who have been punctual are kept waiting for the second + course. + </p> + <p> + The ladies enquire anxiously whether his, wife has slept well and feels + refreshed? Nobody asks him how he feels. There is no need to enquire. + </p> + <p> + “He looks like a corpse,” says one of the ladies. + </p> + <p> + And she is right. + </p> + <p> + “Dissipation,” says another. + </p> + <p> + But that is anything but true. He takes no part in the conversation, for + he has nothing to say to these women. But his wife talks for two. While he + swallows his food, his ears are made to listen to rich praise of all that + is base, and vile abuse of all that is noble and good. + </p> + <p> + When luncheon is over he takes his wife aside. + </p> + <p> + “I wish you would send Louisa to the tailor’s with my coat; a seam has + come undone and I haven’t the time to sew it up myself.” + </p> + <p> + She makes no reply, but instead of sending the coat by Louisa, she takes + it herself and walks to the village where the tailor lives. + </p> + <p> + In the garden she meets some of her emancipated friends who ask her where + she is going. + </p> + <p> + She replies, truthfully enough, that she is going to the tailor’s for her + husband. + </p> + <p> + “Fancy sending her to the tailor’s! And she allows him to treat her like a + servant!” + </p> + <p> + “While he is lying on the bed, taking an after-dinner nap! A nice + husband!” + </p> + <p> + It is quite true, he is taking an after dinner nap, for he is suffering + from anaemia. + </p> + <p> + At three o’clock the postman rings again; he is expected to answer a + letter from Berlin in German, one from Paris in French, and one from + London in English. + </p> + <p> + His wife, who has returned from the tailor’s and refreshed herself with a + cognac, asks him whether he feels inclined to make an excursion with the + children. No, he has letters to write. + </p> + <p> + When he has finished his letters, he goes out for a stroll before dinner. + He is longing for somebody to talk to. But he is alone. He goes into the + garden and looks for the children. + </p> + <p> + The stout nurse is sitting on a garden seat, reading Mrs. Leffler’s <i>True + Women</i> which his wife has lent her. The children are bored, they want + to run about or go for a walk. + </p> + <p> + “Why don’t you take the children for a walk, Louisa?” he asks. + </p> + <p> + “Mistress said it was too hot.” + </p> + <p> + His wife’s orders! + </p> + <p> + He calls to the children and walks with them towards the high road; + suddenly he notices that their hands and faces are dirty and their boots + in holes. + </p> + <p> + “Why are the children allowed to wear such boots?” he asks Louisa. + </p> + <p> + “Mistress said....” + </p> + <p> + His wife said! + </p> + <p> + He goes for a walk by himself. + </p> + <p> + It is seven o’clock and dinner-time. The ladies have not yet returned to + the hotel. The two first courses have been served when they arrive with + flushed faces, talking and laughing loudly. + </p> + <p> + His wife and her friend are in high spirits and smell of cognac. + </p> + <p> + “What have you been doing with yourself all day, daddy?” she asks her + husband. + </p> + <p> + “I went for a walk with the children.” + </p> + <p> + “Wasn’t Louisa there?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! yes, but she was otherwise engaged.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I don’t think it’s too much to ask of a man to keep an eye on his + own children,” says the friend. + </p> + <p> + “No, of course not,” answers the husband. “And therefore I scolded Louisa + for allowing the children to run about with dirty faces and worn-out + boots.” + </p> + <p> + “I never come home but I am scolded,” says the wife; “You spoil every + little pleasure I have with your fault-finding.” + </p> + <p> + And a tiny tear moistens her reddened eyelids. The friend and all the rest + of the ladies cast indignant glances at the husband. + </p> + <p> + An attack is imminent and the friend sharpens her tongue. + </p> + <p> + “Has anybody here present read Luther’s views on the right of a woman?” + </p> + <p> + “What right is that?” asks his wife. + </p> + <p> + “To look out for another partner if she is dissatisfied with the one she + has.” + </p> + <p> + There is a pause. + </p> + <p> + “A very risky doctrine as far as a woman’s interests are concerned,” says + the husband, “for it follows that in similar circumstances a man is + justified in doing the same thing. The latter happens much more frequently + than the former.” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t understand what you mean,” says the wife. + </p> + <p> + “That’s neither Luther’s fault nor mine,” answers the husband. “Just as it + is not necessarily the husband’s fault if he doesn’t get on with his wife. + Possibly he would get on excellently with another woman.” + </p> + <p> + A dead silence follows; the diners rise from their chairs. + </p> + <p> + The husband retires to his own room. His wife and her friend leave the + dining-room together and sit down in the pavilion. + </p> + <p> + “What brutality!” exclaims the friend. “How can you, a sensitive, + intelligent woman, consent to be the servant of that selfish brute?” + </p> + <p> + “He has never understood me,” sighs the wife. Her satisfaction in being + able to pronounce these damning words is so great, that it drowns the + memory of a reply which her husband has given her again and again: + </p> + <p> + “Do you imagine that your thoughts are so profound that I, a man with a + subtle brain, am unable to fathom them? Has it never occurred to you that + it may be your shallowness which prevents you from understanding me?” + </p> + <p> + He sits down in his room, alone. He suffers from remorse, as if he had + struck his mother. But she struck the first blow; she has struck him blow + after blow, for many years, and never once before has he retaliated. + </p> + <p> + This coarse, heartless, cynical woman, in whose keeping he confided his + whole soul with all its thoughts and emotions, was conscious of his + superiority, and therefore she humiliated him, dragged him down, pulled + him by the hair, covered him with abuse. Was it a crime that he struck + back when she publicly taunted him? Yes—he felt as guilty as if he + had murdered his dearest friend. + </p> + <p> + The twilight of the warm summer night deepens and the moon rises. + </p> + <p> + The sound of music from the drawing-room floats through his window. He + goes into the garden and sits down under a walnut tree. Alone! The chords + of the piano blend with the words of the song: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + When the veil of night was drawn + And crowded earth, mysterious sea + Became one sweet, enchanted ground + For us, until the starless dawn + Dissolved the failing moon—then we + In one long ecstasy were bound. + Now, I, alone in silence and in pain + Weep for the ache of well-remembered bliss, + For you who never can return again, + For you, my spring time, for your love, your kiss. +</pre> + <p> + He strolls through the garden and looks through the window. There she + sits, his living poem, which he has composed for his own delight. She + sings with tears in her voice. The ladies on the sofas look at one another + significantly. + </p> + <p> + But behind the laurel bushes on a garden seat two men are sitting, + smoking, and chatting. He can hear what they say. + </p> + <p> + “Nothing but the effect of the cognac.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, they say that she drinks.” + </p> + <p> + “And blame the husband for it.” + </p> + <p> + “That’s a shame! She took to drinking in Julian’s studio. She was going to + be an artist, you know, but she didn’t succeed. When they rejected her + picture at the exhibition, she threw herself at the head of this poor + devil and married him to hide her defeat.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I know, and made his life a burden until he is but the shadow of his + former self. They started with a home of their own in Paris, and he kept + two maids for her; still she called herself his servant. Although she was + mistress over everything, she insisted that she was but his slave She + neglected the house, the servants robbed them right and left, and he saw + their home threatened with ruin without being able to move a finger to + avert it. She opposed every suggestion he made; if he wanted black, she + wanted white. In this way she broke his will and shattered, his nerves. He + broke up his home and took her to a boarding-house to save her the trouble + of housekeeping and enable her to devote herself entirely to her art. But + she won’t touch a brush and goes out all day long with her friend. She has + tried to come between him and his work, too, and drive him to drink, but + she has not managed it; therefore she hates him, for he is the better of + the two.” + </p> + <p> + “But the husband must be a fool,” remarks the other man. + </p> + <p> + “He is a fool wherever his wife is concerned, but he is no exception to + the rule. They have been married for twelve years and he is still in love + with her. The worst of it is that he is a strong man, who commanded the + respect of Parliament and Press, is breaking up. I talked to him this + morning; he is ill, to say the least.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; I heard that she tried to have him locked up in a asylum, and that + her friend did everything in her power to assist her.” + </p> + <p> + “And he works himself to death, so that she can enjoy herself.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you know why she treats him so contemptuously? Because he cannot give + her all the luxury she wants. ‘A man who cannot give his wife all she + wants,’ she said the other day at dinner, ‘ce n’est pas grand’ chose.’ I + believe that she counted on his booming her as an artist. Unfortunately + his political views prevent him from being on good terms with the leading + papers, and, moreover, he has no friends in artistic circles; his + interests lie elsewhere.” + </p> + <p> + “I see; she wanted to make use of him for her own ends; when he resisted + she threw him over; but he serves his purpose as a breadwinner.” + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Now, I, alone in silence and in pain, + Weep for the ache of well-remembered bliss.... +</pre> + <p> + comes her voice from the drawing-room. + </p> + <p> + “Bang!” the sound came from behind the walnut tree. It was followed by a + snapping of branches and a crunching of sand. + </p> + <p> + The talkers jumped to their feet. + </p> + <p> + The body of a well-dressed man lay across the road, with his head against + the leg of a chair. + </p> + <p> + The song stopped abruptly. The ladies rushed into the garden. The friend + poured a few drops of eau de Cologne which she held in her hand, on the + face of the prostrate man. + </p> + <p> + When she realised that it was no fainting fit, she started back. + “Horrible!” she exclaimed, putting her hand up to her face. + </p> + <p> + The elder of the two men, who was stooping over; the dead body, looked up. + </p> + <p> + “Be silent, woman!” he exclaimed. + </p> + <p> + “What a brute!” said the friend. + </p> + <p> + The dead man’s wife fainted, but was caught in the arms of her friend and + tenderly nursed by the rest of the women. + </p> + <p> + “Send for a doctor!” shouted the elder of the two men. “Run!” + </p> + <p> + Nobody took any notice; everybody was busy with the unconscious wife. + </p> + <p> + “To bring such grief on his wife! Oh! what a man! What a man!” sobbed the + friend. + </p> + <p> + “Has no one a thought for the dying man? All this’ fuss because a woman + has fainted! Give her some brandy, that will revive her!” + </p> + <p> + “The wretched man has deserved his fate!” said the friend emphatically. + </p> + <p> + “He indeed deserved a better fate than to fall into your hands alive. + Shame on you, woman, and all honour to the breadwinner!” + </p> + <p> + He let the hand of the dead man go and rose to his, feet. + </p> + <p> + “It’s all over!” he said. + </p> + <div style="height: 6em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Married, by August Strindberg + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MARRIED *** + +***** This file should be named 7956-h.htm or 7956-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/7/9/5/7956/ + + +Text file produced by David Starner, Marc D’Hooghe, Charles Franks +and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team + +HTML file produced by 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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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: Married + +Author: August Strindberg + + +Release Date: April, 2005 [EBook #7956] +This file was first posted on June 5, 2003 +Last Updated: May 5, 2013 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MARRIED *** + + + + +Produced by David Starner, Marc D'Hooghe, Charles Franks +and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team + + + + + + + + +MARRIED + +By August Strindberg + + + + +CONTENTS + + +ASRA + +LOVE AND BREAD + +COMPELLED TO + +COMPENSATION + +FRICTIONS + +UNNATURAL SELECTION + +AN ATTEMPT AT REFORM + +A NATURAL OBSTACLE + +A DOLL'S HOUSE + +PHOENIX + +ROMEO AND JULIA + +PROLIFICACY + +AUTUMN + +COMPULSORY MARRIAGE + +CORINNA + +UNMARRIED AND MARRIED + +A DUEL + +HIS SERVANT + +THE BREADWINNER + + + + + +BIBLIOGRAPHY + + +Strindberg's works in English translation: Plays translated by Edwin +Bjorkman; _Master Olof_, American Scandinavian Foundation, 1915; _The +Dream Play, The Link, The Dance of Death_, New York, Charles +Scribner's Sons, 1912; _Swanwhite, Simoon, Debit and Credit, Advent, +The Thunderstorm, After the Fire,_ the same, 1913; _There Are Crimes +and Crimes, Miss Julia, The Stronger, Creditors, Pariah_, the same, +1913; Bridal Crown, _The Spook Sonata, The First Warning, Gustavus +Vasa_, the same, 1916. Plays translated by Edith and Warner Oland, +Boston Luce & Co., Vol. I (1912), _The Father, Countess Julie, The +Stronger, The Outlaw_; Vol. II (1912), _Facing Death, Easter, Pariah, +Comrades_; Vol. III (1914), _Swanwhite, Advent, The Storm, Lucky Pehr_, +tr. by Velma Swanston Howard, Cincinnati, Stewart & Kidd Co., 1912. +_The Red Room_, tr. by Ellie Schleussner, New York, Putnam's, 1913; +_Confession of a Fool_, tr. by S. Swift, London, F. Palmer, 1912; _The +German Lieutenant and Other Stories_, Chicago, A. C. McClurg & Co., +1915; _In Midsummer Days and Other Tales_, tr. by Ellie Schleussner, +London, H. Latimer, 1913; _Motherlove_, tr. by Francis J. Ziegler, +Philadelphia, Brown Bros., 2nd ed., 1916, _On the Seaboard_, tr. by +Elizabeth Clarke Westergren, Cincinnati, Stewart & Kidd Co., 1913; +_The Son of a Servant_, tr. by. Claud Field, introduction by Henry +Vacher-Burch, New York, Putnam's, 1913; _The Growth of a Soul_, tr. by +Claud Field, London, W. Rider & Co., 1913; _The Inferno_, tr. by Claud +Field, New York, Putnam's, 1913; _Legends, Autobiographical Sketches_, +London, A. Melrose, 1912; _Zones of the Spirit_, tr. by Claud Field, +introduction by Arthur Babillotte, London, G. Allen & Co. + + + + +INTRODUCTION + + +These stories originally appeared in two volumes, the first in 1884, +the second in 1886. The latter part of the present edition is thus +separated from the first part by a lapse of two years. + +Strindberg's views were continually undergoing changes. Constancy was +never a trait of his. He himself tells us that opinions are but the +reflection of a man's experiences, changing as his experiences change. +In the two years following the publication of the first volume, +Strindberg's experiences were such as to exercise a decisive influence +on his views on the woman question and to transmute his early +predisposition to woman-hating from a passive tendency to a positive, +active force in his character and writing. + +Strindberg's art in _Married_ is of the propagandist, of the fighter +for a cause. He has a lesson to convey and he makes frankly for his +goal without attempting to conceal his purpose under the gloss of +"pure" art. He chooses the story form in preference to the treatise as +a more powerful medium to drive home his ideas. That the result has +proved successful is due to the happy admixture in Strindberg of +thinker and artist. His artist's sense never permitted him to distort +or misrepresent the truth for the sake of proving his theories. In +fact, he arrived at his theories not as a scholar through the study of +books, but as an artist through the experience of life. When life had +impressed upon him what seemed to him a truth, he then applied his +intellect to it to bolster up that truth. Hence it is that, however +opinionated Strindberg may at times seem, his writings carry that +conviction which we receive only when the author reproduces' truths he +has obtained first-hand from life. One-sided he may occasionally be in +_Married_, especially in the later stories, but rarely unfaithful. His +manner is often to throw such a glaring searchlight upon one spot of +life that all the rest of it stays in darkness; but the places he does +show up are never unimportant or trivial. They are well worth seeing +with Strindberg's brilliant illumination thrown upon them. + +August Strindberg has left a remarkably rich record of his life in +various works, especially in his autobiographical series of novels. He +was born in 1849 in Stockholm. His was a sad childhood passed in +extreme poverty. He succeeded in entering the University of Upsala in +1867, but was forced for a time on account of lack of means to +interrupt his studies. He tried his fortune as schoolmaster, actor, +and journalist and made an attempt to study medicine. All the while he +was active in a literary way, composing his first plays in 1869. In +1874 he obtained a position in the Royal Library, where he devoted +himself to scientific studies, learned Chinese in order to catalogue +the Chinese manuscripts, and wrote an erudite monograph which was read +at the Academy of Inscriptions in Paris. + +His first important literary productions were the drama _Master Olof_ +(1878) and the novel _The Red Room_ (1879). Disheartened by the +failure of _Master Olof_, he gave up literature for a long time. When +he returned to it, he displayed an amazing productivity. Work followed +work in quick succession--novels, short stories, dramas, histories, +historical studies, and essays. _The Swedish People_ is said to be the +most popular book in Sweden next to the Bible. The mere enumeration of +his writings would occupy more than two pages. His versatility led him +to make researches in physics and chemistry and natural science and to +write on those subjects. + +Through works like _The Red Room_, _Married_, and the dramas _The +Father_ and _Miss Julia_, Strindberg attached himself to the +naturalistic school of literature. Another period of literary +inactivity followed, during which he passed through a mental crisis +akin to insanity. When he returned to the writing of novels and dramas +he was no longer a naturalist, but a symbolist and mystic. Among the +plays he composed in this style are _To Damascus_, _The Dream Play_, +and _The Great Highway_. + +Strindberg married three times, divorced his first two wives, but +separated amicably from the third. He died in 1913. The vast +demonstration at his funeral, attended by the laboring classes as well +as by the "upper" classes, proved that, in spite of the antagonisms he +had aroused, Sweden unanimously awarded him the highest place in her +literature. + +THOMAS SELTZER. + + + + + +ASRA + + +He had just completed his thirteenth year when his mother died. He +felt that he had lost a real friend, for during the twelve months of +her illness he had come to know her personally, as it were, and +established a relationship between them which is rare between parents +and children. He was a clever boy and had developed early; he had read +a great many books besides his schoolbooks, for his father, a +professor of botany at the Academy of Science, possessed a very good +library. His mother, on the other hand, was not a well-educated woman; +she had merely been head housekeeper and children's nurse in her +husband's house. Numerous births and countless vigils (she had not +slept through a single night for the last sixteen years), had +exhausted her strength, and when she became bedridden, at the age of +thirty-nine, and was no longer able to look after her house, she made +the acquaintance of her second son; her eldest boy was at a military +school and only at home during the week ends. Now that her part as +mother of the family was played to the end and nothing remained of her +but a poor invalid, the old-fashioned relationship of strict discipline, +that barrier between parents and children, was superseded. +The thirteen-year-old son was almost constantly at her bedside, +reading to her whenever he was not at school or doing home lessons. +She had many questions to ask and he had a great deal to explain, and +therefore all those distinguishing marks erected by age and position +vanished, one after the other: if there was a superior at all, it was +the son. But the mother, too, had much to teach, for she had learnt +her lessons in the school of life; and so they were alternately +teacher and pupil. They discussed all subjects. With the tact of a +mother and the modesty of the other sex she told her son all he ought +to know of the mystery of life. He was still innocent, but he had +heard many things discussed by the boys at school which had shocked +and disgusted him. The mother explained to him all she could explain; +warned him of the greatest danger to a young man, and exacted a +promise from him never to visit a house of ill-fame, not even out of +curiosity, because, as she pointed out, in such a case no man could +ever trust himself. And she implored him to live a temperate life, and +turn to God in prayer whenever temptation assaulted him. + +His father was entirely devoted to science, which was a sealed book to +his wife. When the mother was already on the point of death, he made a +discovery which he hoped would make his name immortal in the scientific +world. He discovered, on a rubbish heap, outside the gates of Stockholm, +a new kind of goose-foot with curved hairs on the usually straight-haired +calyx. He was in communication with the Berlin Academy of Sciences, and +the latter was even now considering the advisability of including the new +variety in the "Flora Germanica"; he was daily expecting to hear whether +or not the Academy had decided to immortalise his name by calling the +plant Chenopodium Wennerstroemianium. At his wife's death-bed he was +absentminded, almost unkind, for he had just received an answer in the +affirmative, and he fretted because neither he nor his wife could enjoy +the great news. She thought only of heaven and her children. He could not +help realising that to talk to her now of a calyx with curved hairs would +be the height of absurdity; but, he justified himself, it was not so +much a question of a calyx with straight or curved hairs, as of a +scientific discovery; and, more than that, it was a question of his +future and the future of his children, for their father's distinction +meant bread for them. + +When his wife died on the following evening, he cried bitterly; he had +not shed a tear for many years. He was tortured by remorse, remembered +even the tiniest wrong he had ever done her, for he had been, on the +whole, an exemplary husband; his indifference, his absent-mindedness +of the previous day, filled him with shame and regret, and in a moment +of blankness he realised all the pettishness and selfishness of his +science which, he had imagined, was benefiting mankind. But these +emotions were short-lived; if you open a door with a spring behind it, +it will close again immediately. On the following morning, after he +had drawn up an announcement of her death for the papers, he wrote a +letter of thanks to the Berlin Academy of Sciences. After that he +resumed his work. + +When he came home to dinner, he longed for his wife, so that he might +tell her of his success, for she had always been his truest friend, +the only human being who had never been jealous or envious. Now he +missed this loyal companion on whose approval he could count as a +matter of course; never once had she contradicted him, for since he +never told her more than the practical result of his researches, there +was no room for argument. For a moment the thought occurred to him +that he might make friends with his son; but they knew each other too +little; their relationship was that of officer and private soldier. +His superior rank did not permit him to make advances; moreover, he +regarded the boy with suspicion, because the latter possessed a keener +intellect and had read a number of new books which were unknown to +him; occasionally it even happened that the father, the professor, +plainly revealed his ignorance to his son, the school-boy. In such +cases the father was either compelled to dismiss the argument, with a +few contemptuous remarks to "these new follies," or peremptorily order +the school-boy to attend to his lessons. Once or twice, in self-defence, +the son had produced one or other of his school-books; the professor +had lost his temper and wished the new school-books to hell. + +And so it came about that the father devoted himself to his +collections of dried plants and the son went his own way. + +They lived in a quiet street to the left of the Observatory, in a +small, one-storey house, built of bricks, and surrounded by a large +garden; the garden was once the property of the Horticultural Society, +and had come into the professor's possession by inheritance. But since +he studied descriptive botany, and took no interest in the much more +interesting subjects of the physiology and morphology of plants, a +science which was as good as unknown in his youth, he was practically +a stranger to living nature. He allowed the garden with its many +splendours to become a wilderness, and finally let it to a gardener on +condition that he and his children should be allowed certain +privileges. The son used the garden as a park and enjoyed its beauty +as he found it, without taking the trouble to try and understand it +scientifically. + +One might compare the boy's character to an ill-proportioned +compensation pendulum; it contained too much of the soft metal of the +mother, not enough of the hard metal of the father. Friction and +irregular oscillations were the natural consequences. Now he was full +of sentiment, now hard and sceptical. His mother's death affected him +beyond words. He mourned her deeply, and she always lived in his memory +as the personification of all that was good and great and beautiful. + +He wasted the summer following her death in brooding and novel-reading. +Grief, and to no small extent idleness, had shaken his whole nervous +system and quickened his imagination. His tears had been like warm April +showers falling on fruit trees, wakening them to a precocious burgeoning: +but alas! only too often the blossoms are doomed to wither and perish in +a frosty May night, before the fruit has had time to set. + +He was fifteen years old and had therefore arrived at the age when +civilised man attains to manhood and is ripe to give life to a new +generation, but is prevented from doing so by his inability to +maintain a family. Consequently he was about to begin the ten years' +martyrdom which a young man is called upon to endure in the struggle +against an overwhelming force of nature, before he is in a position to +fulfil her laws. + + * * * * * + +It is a warm afternoon about Whitsuntide. The appletrees are gorgeous +in their white splendour which nature has showered all over them with +a profuse hand. The breeze shakes the crowns and fills the air with +pollen; a part of it fulfils its destination and creates new life, a +part sinks to the ground and dies. What is a handful of pollen more or +less in the inexhaustible store-house of nature! The fertilised blossom +casts off its delicate petals which flutter to the ground and wither; +they decay in the rain and are ground to dust, to rise again through the +sap and re-appear as blossoms, and this time, perhaps, to become fruit. +But now the struggle begins: those which a kind fate has placed on the +sunny side, thrive and prosper; the seed bud swells, and if no frost +intervenes, the fruit, in due time, will set. But those which look +towards the North, the poor things which grow in the shadow of the +others and never see the sun, are predestined to fade and fall off; +the gardener rakes them together and carts them to the pig-sty. + +Behold the apple-tree now, its branches laden with half-ripe fruit, +little, round, golden apples with rosy cheeks. A fresh struggle +begins: if all remain alive, the branches will not be able to bear +their weight, the tree will perish. A gale shakes the branches. It +requires firm stems to hold on. Woe to the weaklings! they are +condemned to destruction. + +A fresh danger! The apple-weevil appears upon the scene. It, too, has +to maintain life and to fulfil a duty towards its progeny. The grub +eats its way through the fruit to the stem and the apple falls to the +ground. But the dainty beetle chooses the strongest and soundest for +its brood, otherwise too many of the strong ones would be allowed to +live, and competition would become over-keen. + +The hour of twilight, the gathering dusk, arouses the passionate +instincts of the beast-world. The night-crow crouches on the newly-dug +flower-bed to lure its mate. Which of the eager males shall carry the +prize? Let them decide the question! + +The cat, sleek and warm, fresh from her evening milk, steals away from +her corner by the hearth and picks her way carefully among daffodils +and lilies, afraid lest the dew make her coat damp and ragged before +her lover joins her. She sniffs at the young lavender and calls. Her +call is answered by the black tom-cat which appears, broad-backed like +a marten, on the neighbour's fence; but the gardener's tortoise-shell +approaches from the cow-shed and the fight begins. Handfuls of the +rich, black soil are flying about in all directions, and the +newly-planted radishes and spinach plants are roughly awakened from +their quiet sleep and dreams of the future. The stronger of the two +remains in possession of the field, and the female awaits complacently +the frenetic embraces of the victor. The vanquished flies to engage in +a new struggle in which, perhaps, victory will smile on him. + +Nature smiles, content, for she knows of no other sin than the sin +against her law; she is on the side of the strong for her desire is +for strong children, even though she should have to kill the "eternal +ego" of the insignificant individual. And there is no prudery, no +hesitation, no fear of consequences, for nature has plenty of food for +all her children--except mankind. + + * * * * * + +After supper he went for a walk in the garden while his father sat +down at his bed-room window to smoke a pipe and read the evening +paper. He strolled along the paths, revelling in the delicious odours +which a plant only exhales when it is in full bloom, and which is the +finest and strongest extract of etheric oils, containing in a +condensed form the full strength of the individual, destined to become +the representative of the species. He listened to the nuptial song of +the insects above the lime trees, which rings in our ears like a +funeral dirge: he heard the purring call of the night-crow; the ardent +mewing of the cat, which sounds as if death, and not life, were +wooing; the humming note of the dung-beetle, the fluttering of the +large moths, the thin peeping of the bats. + +He stopped before a bed of narcissus, gathered one of the while, +starry flowers, and inhaled its perfume until he felt the blood +hammering in his temples. He had never examined this flower minutely. +But during the last term they had read Ovid's story of Narcissus. He +had not discovered a deeper meaning in the legend. What did it mean, +this story of a youth who, from unrequited love, turned his ardour +upon himself and was consumed by the flame when he fell in love with +his own likeness seen in a well? As he stood, examining the white, +cup-shaped petals, pale as the cheeks of an invalid with fine red +lines such as one may see in the faces of consumptives when a pitiless +cough forces the blood into the extremest and tiniest blood-vessels, +he thought of a school-fellow, a young aristocrat, who was a +midshipman now; he looked like that. + +When he had inhaled the scent of the flower for some time, the strong +odour of cloves disappeared and left but a disagreeable, soapy smell +which made him feel sick. + +He sauntered on to where the path turned to the right and finally lost +itself in an avenue planted on both sides with elm-trees whose branches +had grown together and formed an arch overhead. In the semi-darkness, +far down the perspective, he could see a large green swing, suspended +by ropes, slowly moving backwards and forwards. A girl stood on the +back board, gently swinging herself by bending her knees and throwing +her body forward, while she clung, with arms raised high above her head, +to the ropes at her side. He recognised the gardener's daughter, a girl +who had been confirmed last Easter and had just begun to wear long +skirts. To-night, however, she was dressed in one of her old dresses +which barely reached to her ankles. + +The sight of the young man embarrassed her, for she remembered the +shortness of her skirt, but she nevertheless remained on the swing. He +advanced and looked at her. + +"Go away, Mr. Theodore," said the girl, giving the swing a vigorous +push. + +"Why should I?" answered the youth, who felt the draught of her +fluttering skirts on his throbbing temples. + +"Because I want you to," said the girl. + +"Let me come up, too, and I'll swing you, Gussie," pleaded Theodore, +springing on to the board. + +Now he was standing on the swing, facing her. And when they rose into +the air, he felt her skirts flapping against his legs, and when they +descended, he bent over her and looked into her eyes which were +brilliant with fear and enjoyment. Her thin cotton blouse fitted +tightly and showed every line of her young figure; her smiling lips +were half-open, displaying two rows of sound white teeth, which looked +as if they would like to bite or kiss him. + +Higher and higher rose the swing, until it struck the topmost branches +of the maple. The girl screamed and fell forward, into his arms; he +was pushed over, on to the seat. The trembling of the soft warm body +which nestled closely in his arms, sent an electric shock through his +whole nervous system; a black veil descended before his eyes and he +would have let her go if her left shoulder had not been tightly +pressed against his right arm. + +The speed of the swing slackened. She rose and sat on the seat facing +him. And thus they remained with downcast eyes, not daring to look one +another in the face. + +When the swing stopped, the girl slipped off the seat and ran away as +if she were answering a call. Theodore was left alone. He felt the +blood surging in his veins. It seemed to him that his strength was +redoubled. But he could not grasp what had happened. He vaguely +conceived himself as an electrophor whose positive electricity, in +discharging, had combined with the negative. It had happened during a +quite ordinary, to all appearances chaste, contact with a young woman. +He had never felt the same emotion in wrestling, for instance, with +his school-fellows in the play-ground. He had come into contact with +the opposite polarity of the female sex and now he knew what it meant +to be a man. For he was a man, not a precocious boy, kicking over the +traces; he was a strong, hardy, healthy youth. + +As he strolled along, up and down the garden paths, new thoughts +formed in his brain. Life looked at him with graver eyes, he felt +conscious of a sense of duty. But he was only fifteen years old. He +was not yet confirmed and many years would have to elapse before he +would be considered an independent member of the community, before he +would be able to earn a living for himself, let alone maintain a wife +and family. He took life seriously, the thought of light adventures +never occurred to him. Women were to him something sacred, his +opposite pole, the supplement and completion of himself. He was mature +now, bodily and mentally, fit to enter the arena of life and fight his +way. What prevented him from doing so? His education, which had taught +him nothing useful; his social position, which stood between him and a +trade he might have learned. The Church, which had not yet received +his vow of loyalty to her priests; the State, which was still waiting +for his oath of allegiance to Bernadotte and Nassau; the School, which +had not yet trained him sufficiently to consider him ripe for the +University; the secret alliance of the upper against the lower +classes. A whole mountain of follies lay on him and his young +strength. Now that he knew himself to be a man, the whole system of +education seemed to him an institution for the mutilation of body and +soul. They must both be mutilated before he could be allowed to enter +the harem of the world, where manhood is considered a danger; he could +find no other excuse for it. And thus he sank back into his former +state of immaturity. He compared himself to a celery plant, tied up +and put under a flower-pot so as to make it as white and soft as +possible, unable to put forth green leaves in the sunshine, flower, +and bear seed. + +Wrapped in these thoughts he remained in the garden until the clock on +the nearest church tower struck ten. Then he turned towards the house, +for it was bed-time. But the front door was locked. The house-maid, a +petticoat thrown over her nightgown, let him in. A glimpse of her bare +shoulders roused him from his sentimental reveries; he tried to put +his arm round her and kiss her, for at the moment he was conscious of +nothing but her sex. But the maid had already disappeared, shutting +the door with a bang. Overwhelmed with shame he opened his window, +cooled his head in a basin of cold water and lighted his lamp. + +When he had got into bed, he took up a volume of Arndt's _Spiritual +Voices of the Morning_, a book which had belonged to his mother; he +read a chapter of it every evening to be on the safe side, for in the +morning his time was short. The book reminded him of the promise of +chastity given to his mother on her death-bed, and he felt a twinge of +conscience. A fly which had singed its wings on his lamp, and was now +buzzing round the little table by his bedside, turned his thoughts +into another channel; he closed the book and lit a cigarette. He heard +his father take off his boots in the room below, knock out his pipe +against the stove, pour out a glass of water and get ready to go to +bed. He thought how lonely he must be since he had become a widower. +In days gone by he had often heard the subdued voices of his parents +through the thin partition, in intimate conversation on matters on +which they always agreed; but now no voice was audible, nothing but +the dead sounds which a man makes in waiting upon himself, sounds +which one must put side by side, like the figures in a rebus, before +one can understand their meaning. + +He finished his cigarette, blew out the lamp and said the Lord's Prayer +in an undertone, but he got no farther than the fifth petition. Then he +fell asleep. + +He awoke from a dream in the middle of the night. He had dreamt that +he held the gardener's daughter in his arms. He could not remember the +circumstances, for he was quite dazed, and fell asleep again directly. + +On the following morning he was depressed and had a headache. He +brooded over the future which loomed before him threateningly and +filled him with dread. He realised with a pang how quickly the summer +was passing, for the end of the summer meant the degradation of +school-life. Every thought of his own would be stifled by the thoughts +of others; there was no advantage in being able to think independently; +it required a fixed number of years before one could reach one's goal. +It was like a journey on a good's train; the engine was bound to remain +for a certain time in the stations, and when the pressure of the steam +became too strong, from want of consumption of energy, a waste-pipe had +to be opened. The Board had drawn up the time-table and the train was +not permitted to arrive at the stations before its appointed time. That +was the principal thing which mattered. + +The father noticed the boy's pallor, but he put it down to grief over +his mother's death. + +Autumn came and with it the return to school. Theodore, by dint of +much novel-reading during the summer, and coming in this way, as it +were, in constant contact with grown-up people and their problems and +struggles, had come to look upon himself as a grown-up member of +society. Now the masters treated him with familiarity, the boys took +liberties which compelled him to repay them in kind. And this +educational institution, which was to ennoble him and make him fit to +take his place in the community, what did it teach him? How did it +ennoble him? The compendiums, one and all, were written under the +control of the upper classes, for the sole purpose of forcing the +lower classes to look up to their betters. The schoolmasters +frequently reproached their pupils with ingratitude and impressed on +them their utter inability to realise, even faintly, the advantage +they enjoyed in receiving an education which so many of their poorer +fellow-creatures would always lack. No, indeed, the boys were not +sophisticated enough to see through the gigantic fraud and its +advantages. + +But did they ever find true joy, real pleasure in the subjects of +their studies for their own sakes? Never! Therefore the teachers had +to appeal incessantly to the lower passions of their pupils, to +ambition, self-interest, material advantages. + +What a miserable make-believe school was! Not one of the boys believed +that he would reap any benefit from repeating the names and dates of +hated kings in their proper sequence, from learning dead languages, +proving axioms, defining "a matter of course," and counting the anthers +of plants and the joints on the hindlegs of insects, to knowing the end +no more about them than their Latin names. How many long hours were +wasted in the vain attempt to divide an angle into three equal sections, +a thing which can be done so easily in a minute in an _unscientific_ +(that is to say practical) way by using a graduator. + +How they scorned everything practical! His sisters, who were taught +French from Ollendorf's grammar, were able to speak the language after +two years' study; but the college boys could not say a single sentence +after six. Ollendorf was a name which they pronounced with pity and +contempt. It was the essence of all that was stupid. + +But when his sister asked for an explanation and enquired whether the +purpose of spoken language was not the expression of human thought, +the young sophist replied with a phrase picked up from one of the +masters who in his turn had borrowed it from Talleyrand. Language was +invented to hide one's thoughts. This, of course, was beyond the +horizon of a young girl (how well men know how to hide their +shortcomings), but henceforth she believed her brother to be +tremendously learned, and stopped arguing with him. + +And was there not even a worse stumbling-block in aesthetics, delusive +and deceptive, casting a veil of borrowed splendour and sham beauty +over everything? They sang of "The Knights' Vigil of Light." What +knights' vigil? With patents of nobility and students' certificates; +false testimonials, as they might have told themselves. Of light? That +was to say of the upper classes who had the greatest interest in +keeping the lower classes in darkness, a task in which they were ably +assisted by church and school. "And onward, onward, on the path of +light!" + +Things were always called by the wrong name. And if it so happened +that a light-bearer arose from the lower classes, everybody was ready +and prepared to extinguish his torch. Oh! youthful, healthy host of +fighters! How healthy they were, all these young men, enervated by +idleness, unsatisfied desires and ambitions, who scorned every man who +had not the means to pay for a University education! What splendid +liars they were, the poets of the upper classes! Were they the +deceivers or the deceived? + +What was the usual subject of the young men's conversation? Their +studies? Never! Once in a way, perhaps, they would talk of certificates. +No, their conversation was of things obscene; of appointments with +women; of billiards and drink; of certain diseases which they had heard +discussed by their elder brothers. They lounged about in the afternoon +and "held the reviews," and the best informed of them knew the name of +the officer and could tell the others where his mistress lived. + +Once two members of the "Knights' Vigil of Light," had dined in the +company of two women on the terrace of a high-class restaurant in the +Zoological Gardens. For this offence they were expelled from school. +They were punished for their naivete, not because their conduct was +considered vicious, for a year after they passed their examinations +and went to the University, gaining in this way a whole year; and when +they had completed their studies at Upsala, they were attached to the +Embassy in one of the capitals of Europe, to represent the United +Kingdoms of Sweden and Norway. + +In these surroundings Theodore spent the best part of his youth. He +had seen through the fraud, but was compelled to acquiesce! Again and +again he asked himself the question: What can I do? There was no answer. +And so he became an accessory and learned to hold his tongue. + +His confirmation appeared to him to be very much on a level with his +school experience. A young minister, an ardent pietist, was to teach +him in four months Luther's Catechism, regardless of the fact that he was +well versed in theology, exegesis and dogmatics, besides having read the +New Testament in Greek. Nevertheless the strict pietism, which demanded +absolute truth in thought and action, could not fail to make a great +impression on him. + +When the catechumens were assembled for the first time, Theodore found +himself quite unexpectedly surrounded by a totally different class of +boys to whom he had been used at school. When he entered the +assembly-room he was met by the stare of something like a hundred +inimical eyes. There were tobacco binders, chimney sweeps, apprentices +of all trades. They were on bad terms and freely abused one another, +but this enmity between the different trades was only superficial; +however much they quarrelled, they yet held together. He seemed to +breathe a strangely stifling atmosphere; the hatred with which they +greeted him was not unmixed with contempt, the reverse of a certain +respect or envy. He looked in vain for a friend, for a companion, +like-minded, dressed as he was. There was not a single one. The parish +was poor, the rich people sent their children to the German church which +was then the fashion. It was in the company of the children of the +people, the lower classes, that he was to approach the altar, as their +equal. He asked himself what it was that separated him from these boys? +Were they not, bodily, endowed with the same gifts as he? No doubt, for +every one of them earned his living, and some of them helped to keep +their parents. Were they less gifted, mentally? He did not think so, for +their remarks gave evidence of keen powers of observation; he would have +laughed at many of their witty remarks if he had not been conscious of +his superior caste. There was no definite line of demarcation between +him and the fools who were his school-fellows. But there was a line here +Was it the shabby clothes, the plain faces, the coarse hands, which +formed the barrier? Partly, he thought. Their plainness, especially, +repulsed him. But were they worse than others because they were plain? + +He was carrying a foil, as he had a fencing lesson later on. He put it +in a corner of the room, hoping that it would escape attention. But it +had been seen already. Nobody knew what kind of a thing it really was, +but everybody recognised it as a weapon of some sort. Some of the +boldest busied themselves about the corner, so as to have a look at +it. They fingered the covering of the handle, scratched the guard with +their nails, bent the blade, handled the small leather ball. They were +like hares sniffing at a gun which had been lost in the wood. They did +not understand its use, but they knew it for something inimical, +something with a hidden meaning. Presently a belt-maker's apprentice, +whose brother was in the Life Guards, joined the inquisitive throng +and at once decided the question: "Can't you see that it is a sword, +you fools?" he shouted, with a look at Theodore. It was a respectful +look, but a look which also hinted at a secret understanding between +them, which, correctly interpreted, meant: You and I understand these +things! But a young rope-maker, who had once been a trumpeter in a +military band, considered this giving of a verdict without consulting +him a personal slight and declared that he "would be hanged if it +wasn't a rapier!" The consequence was a fight which transformed the +place into a bear-garden, dense with dust and re-echoing with screams +and yells. + +The door opened and the minister stood on the threshold. He was a pale +young man, very thin, with watery blue eyes and a face disfigured by a +rash. He shouted at the boys. The wild beasts ceased fighting. He +began talking of the precious blood of Christ and the power of the +Evil One over the human heart. After a little while he succeeded in +inducing the hundred boys to sit down on the forms and chairs. But now +he was quite out of breath and the atmosphere was thick with dust. He +glanced at the window and said in a faint voice: "Open the sash!" This +request re-awakened the only half-subdued passions. Twenty-five boys +made a rush for the window and tried to seize the window cord. + +"Go to your places at once!" screamed the minister, stretching out his +hand for his cane. + +There was a momentary silence during which the minister tried to think +of a way of having the sash raised without a fight. + +"You," he said at last to a timid little fellow, "go and open the +window!" + +The small boy went to the window and tried to disentangle the window +cord. The others looked on in breathless silence, when suddenly a big +lad, in sailor's clothes, who had just come home on the brig _Carl +Johan_, lost patience. + +"The devil take me if I don't show you what a lad can do," he shouted, +throwing off his coat and jumping on the window sill; there was a +flash from his cutlass and the rope was cut. + +"Cable's cut!" he laughed, as the minister with a hysterical cry, +literally drove him to his seat. + +"The rope was so entangled that there was nothing for it but to cut +it," he assured him, as he sat down. + +The minister was furious. He had come from a small town in the +provinces and had never conceived the possibility of so much sin, so +much wickedness and immorality. He had never come into contact with +lads so far advanced on the road to damnation. And he talked at great +length of the precious blood of Christ. + +Not one of them understood what he said, for they did not realise that +they had fallen, since they had never bee different. The boys received +his words with coldness and indifference. + +The minister rambled on and spoke of Christ's precious wounds, but not +one of them took his words to heart, for not one of them was conscious +of having wounded Christ. He changed the subject and spoke of the +devil, but that was a topic so familiar to them that it made no +impression. At last he hit on the right thing. He began to talk of +their confirmation which was to take place in the coming spring. He +reminded them of their parents, anxious that their children should +play a part in the life of the community; when he went on to speak of +employers who refused to employ lads who had not been confirmed, his +listeners became deeply interested at once, and every one of them +understood the great importance of the coming ceremony. Now he was +sincere, and the young minds grasped what he was talking about; the +noisiest among them became quiet. + +The registration began. What a number of marriage certificates were +missing! How could the children come to Christ when their parents had +not been legally married? How could they approach the altar when their +fathers had been in prison? Oh! what sinners they were! + +Theodore was deeply moved by the exhibition of so much shame and +disgrace. He longed to tear his thoughts away from the subject, but +was unable to do so. Now it was his turn to hand in his certificates +and the minister read out: son: Theodore, born on such and such a +date; parents: professor and knight ... a faint smile flickered like a +feeble sunbeam over his face, he gave him a friendly nod and asked: +"And how is your dear father?" But when he saw that the mother was +dead (a fact of which he was perfectly well aware) his face clouded +over. "She was a child of God," he said, as if he were talking to +himself, in a gushing, sympathetic, whining voice, but the remark +conveyed at the same time a certain reproach against the "dear father," +who was only a professor and knight. After that Theodore could go. + +When he left the assembly-room he felt that he had gone through an +almost impossible experience. Were all those lads really depraved +because they used oaths and coarse language, as his companions, his +father, his uncle, and all the upper classes did at times? What did +the minister mean when he talked of immorality? They were more savage +than the spoilt children of the wealthy, but that was because they +were more fully alive. It was unfair to blame them for missing +marriage certificates. True, his father had never committed a theft, +but there was no necessity for a man to steal if he had an income of +six thousand crowns and could please himself. The act would be absurd +or abnormal in such a case. + +Theodore went back to school realising what it meant "to have received +an education"; here nobody was badgered for small faults. As little +notice as possible was taken of one's own or one's parent's weaknesses, +one was among equals and understood one another. + +After school one "held the reviews," sneaked into a cafe and drank a +liqueur, and finally went to the fencing-room. He looked at the young +officers who treated him as their equal, observed all those young +bloods with their supple limbs, pleasant manners and smiling faces, +every one of them certain that a good dinner was awaiting him at home, +and became conscious of the existence of two worlds: an upper and an +under-world. He remembered the gloomy assembly-room and the wretched +assembly he had just left with a pang; all their wounds and hidden +defects were mercilessly exposed and examined through a +magnifying-glass, so that the lower classes might acquire that true +humility failing which the upper classes cannot enjoy their amiable +weaknesses in peace. And for the first time something jarring had come +into this life. + +However much Theodore was tossed about between his natural yearning +for the only half-realised temptations of the world, and his newly +formed desire to turn his back on this world and his mind heavenwards, +he did not break the promise given to his mother. The religious +teaching which he and the other catechumens received from the minister +in the church, did not fail to impress him deeply. He was often gloomy +and wrapped in thought and felt that life was not what it ought to be. +He had a dim notion that once upon a time a terrible crime had been +committed, which it was now everybody's business to hide by practising +countless deceptions; he compared himself to a fly caught in a spider's +web: the more it struggled to regain its freedom, the more it entangled +itself, until at last it died miserably, strangled by the cruel threads. + +One evening--the minister scorned no trick likely to produce an effect +on his hard-headed pupils--they were having a lesson in the choir. It +was in January. Two gas jets lighted up the choir, illuminating and +distorting the marble figures on the altar. The whole of the large +church with its two barrel-vaults, which crossed one another, lay in +semi-darkness. In the background the shining organ pipes faintly +reflected the gas flames; above it the angels blowing their trumpets +to summon the sleepers before the judgment seat of their maker, looked +merely like sinister, threatening human figures above life size; the +cloisters were lost in complete darkness. + +The minister had explained the seventh commandment. He had spoken of +immorality between married and unmarried people. He could not explain +to his pupils what immorality between husband and wife meant, although +he was a married man himself; but on the subject of immorality in all +its other aspects he was well-informed. He went on to the subject of +self-abuse. As he pronounced the word a rustling sound passed through +the rows of young men; they stared at him, with white cheeks and +hollow eyes, as if a phantom had appeared in their midst. As long as +he kept to the tortures of hell fire, they remained fairly indifferent, +but when he took up a book and read to them accounts of youths who had +died at the age of twenty-five of consumption of the spine, they +collapsed in their seats, and felt as if the floor were giving way +beneath them! He told them the story of a young boy who was committed +to an asylum at the age of twelve, and died at the age of fourteen, +having found peace in the faith of his Redeemer. They saw before their +shrinking eyes a hundred corpses, washed and shrouded. "There is but one +remedy against this evil," went on the minister, "the precious wounds of +Christ." But how this remedy was to be used against sexual precocity, he +did not tell them. He admonished them not to go to dances, to shun +theatres and gaming-houses, and above all things, to avoid women; that +is to say to act in exact contradiction to their inclinations. That this +vice contradicts and utterly confounds he pronouncement of the community +that a man is not mature until he is twenty-one, was passed over in +silence. Whether it could be prevented by early marriages (supposing a +means of providing food for all instead of banquets for a few could be +found) remained an open question. The final issue was that one should +throw oneself into the arms of Christ, that is to say, go to church, and +leave the care of temporal things to the upper classes. + +After this admonishment the minister requested the first five on the +first form to stay behind. He wished to speak to them in private. The +first five looked as if they had been sentenced to death. Their chests +contracted; they breathed with difficulty, and a careful observer might +have noticed that their hair had risen an inch at the roots and lay over +their skulls in damp strands like the hair of a corpse. Their eyes stared +from their blanched sockets like two round glass bullets set in leather, +motionless, not knowing whether to face the question with a bold front, +or hide behind an impudent lie. + +After the prayer the hymn of Christ's wounds was sung; to-night it +sounded like the singing of consumptives; every now and then it died +away altogether, or was interrupted by a dry cough, like the cough of +a man who is dying of thirst. Then they began to file out. One of the +five attempted to steal away, but the minister called him back. + +It was a terrible moment. Theodore who sat on the first form was one +of the five. He felt sick at heart. Not because he was guilty of the +offence indicated, but because in his heart he considered it an insult +to a man thus to have to lay bare the most secret places of his soul. + +The other four sat down, as far from each other as they could. The +belt-maker's apprentice, who was one of them, tried to make a joke, +but the words refused to come. They saw themselves confronted by the +police-court, the prison, the hospital and, in the background, the +asylum. They did not know what was going to happen, but they felt +instinctively that a species of scourging awaited them. Their only +comfort in their distressing situation was the fact that _he_, Mr. +Theodore, was one of them. It was not clear to them why that fact +should be a comfort, but they knew intuitively that no evil would +happen to the son of a professor. + +"Come along, Wennerstroem," said the minister, after he had lighted +the gas in the vestry. + +Wennerstroem went and the door closed behind him. The four remained +seated on their forms, vainly trying to discover a comfortable +position for their limbs. + +After a while Wennerstroem returned, with red eyes, trembling with +excitement; he immediately went down the corridor and out into the +night. + +When he stood in the churchyard which lay silent under a heavy cover +of snow, he recapitulated all that had happened in the vestry. The +minister had asked him whether he had sinned? No, he had not. Did he +have dreams? Yes! He was told that dreams were equally sinful, because +they proved that the heart was wicked, and God looked at the heart. +"He trieth the heart and reins, and on the last day he will judge +every one of us for every sinful thought, and dreams are thoughts. +Christ has said: Give me your heart, my son! Go to Him! Pray, pray, +pray! Whatsoever is chaste, whatsoever is pure, whatsoever is +lovely--that is He. The alpha and the omega, life and happiness. +Chasten the flesh and be strong in prayer. Go in the name of the Lord +and sin no more!" + +He felt indignant, but he was also crushed. In vain did he struggle to +throw off his depression, he had not been taught sufficient common-sense +at school to use it as a weapon against this Jesuitical sophistry. It +was true, his knowledge of psychology enabled him to modify the statement +that dreams are thoughts; dreams are fancies, he mused, creations of the +imagination; but God has no regard for words! Logic taught him that there +was something unnatural in his premature desires. He could not marry at +the age of sixteen, since he was unable to support a wife; but why he was +unable to support a wife, although he felt himself to be a man, was a +problem which he could not solve. However anxious he might be to get +married, the laws of society which are made by the upper classes and +protected by bayonets, would prevent him. Consequently nature must have +been sinned against in some way, for a man was mature long before he was +able to earn a living. It must be degeneracy. His imagination must be +degenerate; it was for him to purify it by prayer and sacrifice. + +When he arrived home, he found his father and sisters at supper. He +was ashamed to sit down with them, for he felt degraded. His father +asked him, as usual, whether the date of the confirmation had been +fixed. Theodore did not know. He touched no food, pretending that he +was not well; the truth was that he did not dare to eat any supper. He +went into his bedroom and read an essay by Schartau which the minister +had lent him. The subject was the vanity of reason. And here, just +here, where all his hopes of arriving at a clear understanding were +centred, the light failed. Reason which he had dared to hope would +some day guide him out of the darkness into the light, reason, too, +was sin; the greatest of all sins, for it questioned God's very +existence, tried to understand what was not meant to be understood. +Why _it_ was not meant to be understood, was not explained; probably +it was because if _it_ had been understood the fraud would have been +discovered. + +He rebelled no longer, but surrendered himself. Before going to bed he +read two _Morning Voices_ from Arndt, recited the Creed, the Lord's +Prayer and the Blessing. He felt very hungry; a fact which he realised +with a certain spiteful pleasure, for it seemed to him that his enemy +was suffering. + +With these thoughts he fell asleep. He awoke in the middle of the +night. He had dreamt of a champagne supper in the company of a girl. +And the whole terrible evening arose fresh in his memory. + +He leapt out of bed with a bound, threw his sheets and blankets on the +floor and lay down to sleep on the bare mattress, covering himself +with nothing but a thin coverlet. He was cold and hungry, but he must +subdue the devil. Again he repeated the Lord's Prayer, with additions +of his own. By and by his thoughts grew confused, the strained +expression of his features relaxed, a smile softened the expression of +his mouth; lovely figures appeared before him, serene and smiling, he +heard subdued voices, half-stifled laughter, a few bars from a waltz, +saw sparkling glasses and frank and merry faces with candid eyes, +which met his own unabashed; suddenly a curtain was parted in the +middle; a charming little face peeped through the red silk draperies, +with smiling lips and dancing eyes; the slender throat is bare, the +beautiful sloping shoulders look as if they had been modelled by a +caressing hand; she holds out her arms and he draws her to his +thumping heart. + +The clock was striking three. Again he had been worsted in the fight. + +Determined to win, he picked up the mattress and threw it out of the +bed. Then he knelt on the cold floor and fervently prayed to God for +strength, for he felt that he was indeed wrestling with the devil. +When he had finished his prayer he lay down on the bare frame, and +with a feeling of satisfaction felt the ropes and belting cutting into +his arms and shins. + +He awoke in the morning in a high fever. + +He was laid up for six weeks. When he arose from his bed of sickness, +he felt better than he had ever felt before. The rest, the good food +and the medicine had increased his strength, and the struggle was now +twice as hard. But he continued to struggle. + +His confirmation took place in the spring. The moving scene in which +the lower classes promise on oath never to interfere with these things +which the upper classes consider their privilege, made a lasting +impression on him. It didn't trouble him that the minister offered him +wine bought from the wine-merchant Hoegstedt at sixty-five oere the +pint, and wafers from Lettstroem, the baker, at one crown a pound, as +the flesh and blood of the great agitator Jesus of Nazareth, who was +done to death nineteen hundred years ago. He didn't think about it, +for one didn't think in those days, one had emotions. + +A year after his confirmation he passed his final examination. The +smart little college cap was a source of great pleasure to him; +without being actually conscious of it, he felt that he, as a member +of the upper classes, had received a charter. They were not a little +proud of their knowledge, too, these young men, for the masters had +pronounced them "mature." The conceited youths! If at least they had +mastered all the nonsense of which they boasted! If anybody had +listened to their conversation at the banquet given in their honour, +it would have been a revelation to him. They declared openly that they +had not acquired five per cent. of the knowledge which ought to have +been in their possession; they assured everybody who had ears to +listen that it was a miracle that they had passed; the uninitiated +would not have believed a word of it. And some of the young masters, +now that the barrier between pupil and teacher was removed, and +simulation was no longer necessary, swore solemnly, with half-intoxicated +gestures, that there was not a single master in the whole school who +would not have been plucked. A sober person could not help drawing the +conclusion that the examination was like a line which could be drawn at +will between upper and lower classes; and then he saw in the miracle +nothing but a gigantic fraud. + +It was one of the masters who, sipping a glass of punch, maintained +that only an idiot could imagine that a human brain could remember at +the same time: the three thousand dates mentioned in history; the +names of the five thousand towns situated in all parts of the world; +the names of six hundred plants and seven hundred animals; the bones +in the human body, the stones which form the crust of the earth, all +theological disputes, one thousand French words, one thousand English, +one thousand German, one thousand Latin, one thousand Greek, half a +million rules and exceptions to the rules: five hundred mathematical, +physical, geometrical, chemical formulas. He was willing to prove that +in order to be capable of such a feat the brain would have to be as +large as the cupola of the Observatory at Upsala. Humboldt, he went on +to say, finally forgot his tables, and the professor of astronomy at +Lund had been unable to divide two whole numbers of six figures each. +The newly-fledged under-graduates imagined that they knew six +languages, and yet they knew no more than five thousand words at most +of the twenty thousand which composed their mother tongue. And hadn't +he seen how they cheated? Oh! he knew all their tricks! He had seen +the dates written on their finger nails; he had watched them +consulting books under cover of their desks, he had heard them +whispering to one another! But, he concluded, what is one to do? +Unless one closes an eye to these things, the supply of students is +bound to come to an end. During the summer Theodore remained at home, +spending much of his time in the garden. He brooded over the problem +of his future; what profession was he to choose? He had gained so much +insight into the methods of the huge Jesuitical community which, under +the name of the upper classes, constituted society, that he felt +dissatisfied with the world and decided to enter the Church to save +himself from despair. And yet the world beckoned to him. It lay before +him, fair and bright, and his young, fermenting blood yearned for +life. He spent himself in the struggle and his idleness added to his +torments. + +Theodore's increasing melancholy and waning health began to alarm his +father. He had no doubt about the cause, but he could not bring +himself to talk to his son on such a delicate subject. + +One Sunday afternoon the Professor's brother who was an officer in the +Pioneers, called. They were sitting in the garden, sipping their coffee. + +"Have you noticed the change in Theodore?" asked the Professor. + +"Yes, his time has come," answered the Captain. + +"I believe it has come long ago." + +"I wish you'd talk to him, I can't do it." + +"If I were a bachelor, I should play the part of the uncle," said the +Captain; "as it is, I'll ask Gustav to do it. The boy must see something +of life, or he'll go wrong. Hot stuff these Wennerstroems, what?" + +"Yes," said the Professor, "I was a man at fifteen, but I had a +school-friend who was never confirmed because he was a father at +thirteen." + +"Look at Gustav! Isn't he a fine fellow? I'm hanged if he isn't as +broad across the back as an old captain! He's a handful!" + +"Yes," answered the Professor, "he costs me a lot, but after all, I'd +rather pay than see the boy running any risks. I wish you'd ask Gustav +to take Theodore about with him a little, just to rouse him." + +"Oh! with pleasure!" answered the Captain. + +And so the matter was settled. + +One evening in July, when the summer is in its prime and all the +blossoms which the spring has fertilised ripen into fruit, Theodore +was sitting in his bed-room, waiting. He had pinned a text against his +wall. "Come to Jesus," it said, and it was intended as a hint to the +lieutenant not to argue with him when he occasionally came home from +barracks for a few minutes. Gustav was of a lively disposition, "a +handful," as his uncle had said. He wasted no time in brooding. He had +promised to call for Theodore at seven o'clock; they were going to +make arrangements for the celebration of the professor's birthday. +Theodore's secret plan was to convert his brother, and Gustav's +equally secret intention was to make his younger brother take a more +reasonable view of life. + +Punctually at seven o'clock, a cab stopped before the house, (the +lieutenant invariably arrived in a cab) and immediately after Theodore +heard the ringing of his spurs and the rattling of his sword on the +stairs. + +"Good evening, you old mole," said the elder brother with a laugh. He +was the picture of health and youth. His highly-polished Hessian boots +revealed a pair of fine legs, his tunic outlined the loins of a +cart-horse; the golden bandolier of his cartridge box made his chest +appear broader and his sword-belt showed off a pair of enormous thighs. + +He glanced at the text and grinned, but said nothing. + +"Come along, old man, let's be off to Bellevue! We'll call on the +gardener there and make arrangements for the old man's birthday. Put +on your hat, and come, old chap!" + +Theodore tried to think of an excuse, but the brother took him by the +arm, put a hat on his head, back to front, pushed a cigarette between +his lips and opened the door. Theodore felt like a fish out of water, +but he went with his brother. + +"To Bellevue!" said the lieutenant to the cab-driver, "and mind you +make your thoroughbreds fly!" + +Theodore could not help being amused. It would never have occurred to +him to address an elderly married man, like the cabman, with so much +familiarity. + +On the way the lieutenant talked of everything under the sun and stared +at every pretty girl they passed. + +They met a funeral procession on its return from the cemetery. + +"Did you notice that devilish pretty girl in the last coach?" asked +Gustav. + +Theodore had not seen her and did not want to see her. + +They passed an omnibus full of girls of the barmaid type. The +lieutenant stood up, unconcernedly, in the public thoroughfare, and +kissed his hands to them. He really behaved like a madman. + +The business at Bellevue was soon settled. On their return the +cab-driver drove them, without waiting for an order, to "The Equerry," +a restaurant where Gustav was evidently well-known. + +"Let's go and have something to eat," said the lieutenant, pushing his +brother out of the cab. + +Theodore was fascinated. He was no abstainer and saw nothing wrong in +entering a public-house, although it never occurred to him to do so. +He followed, though not without a slight feeling of uneasiness. + +They were received in the hall by two girls. "Good evening, little +doves," said the lieutenant, and kissed them both on the lips. "Let me +introduce you to my learned brother; he's very young and innocent, not +at all like me; what do you say, Jossa?" + +The girls looked shyly at Theodore, who did not know which way to turn. +His brother's language appeared to him unutterably impudent. + +On their way upstairs they met a dark-haired little girl, who had +evidently been crying; she looked quiet and modest and made a good +impression on Theodore. + +The lieutenant did not kiss her, but he pulled out his handkerchief +and dried her eyes. Then he ordered an extravagant supper. + +They were in a bright and pretty room, hung with mirrors and +containing a piano, a perfect room for banquetting. The lieutenant +opened the piano with his sword, and before Theodore knew where he +was, he was sitting on the music-stool, and his hands were resting on +the keyboard. + +"Play us a waltz," commanded the lieutenant, and Theodore played a +waltz. The lieutenant took off his sword and danced with Jossa; +Theodore heard his spurs knocking against the legs of the chairs and +tables. Then he threw himself on the sofa and shouted: + +"Come here, ye slaves, and fan me!" + +Theodore began to play softly and presently he was absorbed in the +music of Gounod's _Faust_. He did not dare to turn round. + +"Go and kiss him," whispered the brother. + +But the girls felt shy. They were almost afraid of him and his +melancholy music. + +The boldest of them, however, went up to the piano. + +"You are playing from the Freischuetz, aren't you?" she asked. + +"No," said Theodore, politely, "I'm playing Gounod's _Faust_." + +"Your brother looks frightfully respectable," said the little dark +one, whose name was Rieke; "he's different to you, you old villain." + +"Oh! well, he's going into the Church," whispered the lieutenant. + +These words made a great impression on the girls, and henceforth they +only kissed the lieutenant when Theodore's back was turned, and looked +at Theodore shyly and apprehensively, like fowls at a chained mastiff. + +Supper appeared, a great number of courses. There were eighteen dishes, +not counting the hot ones. + +Gustav poured out the liqueurs. + +"Your health, you old hypocrite!" he laughed. + +Theodore swallowed the liqueur. A delicious warmth ran through his +limbs, a thin, warm veil fell over his eyes, he felt ravenous like a +starving beast. What a banquet it was! The fresh salmon with its +peculiar flavour, and the dill with its narcotic aroma; the radishes +which seem to scrape the throat and call for beer; the small +beef-steaks and sweet Portuguese onions, which made him think of +dancing girls; the fried lobster which smelt of the sea; the chicken +stuffed with parsley which reminded him of the gardener, and the first +gerkins with their poisonous flavour of verdigris which made such a +jolly, crackling sound between his crunching teeth. The porter flowed +through his veins like hot streams of lava; they drank champagne after +the strawberries; a waitress brought the foaming drink which bubbled +in the glasses like a fountain. They poured out a glass for her. And +then they talked of all sorts of things. + +Theodore sat there like a tree in which the sap is rising. He had +eaten a good supper and felt as if a whole volcano was seething in his +inside. New thoughts, new emotions, new ideas, new points of view +fluttered round his brow like butterflies. He went to the piano and +played, he himself knew not what. The ivory keys under his hands were +like a heap of bones from which his spirit drew life and melody. + +He did not know how long he had been playing, but when he turned, +round he saw his brother entering the room. He looked like a god, +radiating life and strength. Behind him came Rieke with a bowl of +punch, and immediately after all the girls came upstairs. The +lieutenant drank to each one of them separately; Theodore found that +everything was as it should be and finally became so bold that he +kissed Rieke on the shoulder. But she looked annoyed and drew away +from him, and he felt ashamed. + +When Theodore found himself alone in his room, he had a feeling as if +the whole world were turned upside down. He tore the text from the +wall, not because he no longer believed in Jesus, but because its +being pinned against the wall struck him as a species of bragging. He +was amazed to find that religion sat on him as loosely as a Sunday +suit, and he asked himself whether it was not unseemly to go about +during the whole week in Sunday clothes. After all he was but an +ordinary, commonplace person with whom he was well content, and he +came to the conclusion that he had a better chance of living in peace +with himself if he lived a simple, unpretentious, unassuming life. + +He slept soundly during the night, undisturbed by dreams. + +When he arose on the following morning, his pale cheeks looked fuller +and there was a new gladness in his heart. He went out for a walk and +suddenly found himself in the country. The thought struck him that he +might go to the restaurant and look up the girls. He went into the +large room; there he found Rieke and Jossa alone, in morning dresses, +snubbing gooseberries. Before he knew what he was doing, he was sitting +at the table beside them with a pair of scissors in his hand, helping +them. They talked of Theodore's brother and the pleasant evening they +had spent together. Not a single loose remark was made. They were just +like a happy family; surely he had fallen in good hands, he was among +friends. + +When they had finished with the gooseberries, he ordered coffee and +invited the girls to share it with him. Later on the proprietress came +and read the paper to them. He felt at home. + +He repeated his visit. One afternoon he went upstairs, to look for +Rieke. She was sewing a seam. Theodore asked her whether he was in her +way. "Not at all," she replied, "on the contrary." They talked of his +brother who was away at camp, and would be away for another two +months. Presently he ordered some punch and their intimacy grew. + +On another occasion Theodore met her in the Park. She was gathering +flowers. They both sat down in the grass. She was wearing a light +summer dress, the material of which was so thin that it plainly +revealed her slight girlish figure. He put his arms round her waist +and kissed her. She returned his kisses and he drew her to him in a +passionate embrace; but she tore herself away and told him gravely +that if he did not behave himself she would never meet him again. + +They went on meeting one another for two months. Theodore had fallen +in love with her. He had long and serious conversations with her on +the most sacred duties of life, on love, on religion, on everything, +and between-whiles he spoke to her of his passion. But she invariably +confounded him with his own arguments. Then he felt ashamed of having +harboured base thoughts of so innocent a girl, and finally his passion +was transformed into admiration for this poor little thing, who had +managed to keep herself unspotted in the midst of temptation. + +He had given up the idea of going into the Church; he determined to +take the doctor's degree and--who knows--perhaps marry Rieke. He read +poetry to her while she did needlework. She let him kiss her as much +as he liked, she allowed him to fondle and caress her; but that was +the limit. + +At last his brother returned from camp. He immediately ordered a +banquet at "The Equerry"; Theodore was invited. But he was made to +play all the time. He was in the middle of a waltz, to which nobody +danced, when he happened to look round; he was alone. He rose and went +into the corridor, passed a long row of doors, and at last came to a +bed-room. There he saw a sight which made him turn round, seize his +hat and disappear into the darkness. + +It was dawn when he reached his own bed-room, alone, annihilated, +robbed of his faith in life, in love, and, of course, in women, for to +him there was but one woman in the world, and that was Rieke from "The +Equerry." On the fifteenth of September he went to Upsala to study +theology. + + * * * * * + +The years passed. His sound common-sense was slowly extinguished by +all the nonsense with which he had to fill his brain daily and hourly. +But at night he was powerless to resist. Nature burst her bonds and +took by force what rebellious man denied her. He lost his health; all +his skull bones were visible in his haggard face, his complexion was +sallow and his skin looked damp and clammy; ugly pimples appeared +between the scanty locks of his beard. His eyes were without lustre, +his hands so emaciated that the joints seemed to poke through the +skin. He looked like the illustration to an essay on human vice, and +yet he lived a perfectly pure life. + +One day the professor of Christian Ethics, a married man with very +strict ideas on morality, called on him and asked him pointblank +whether he had anything on his conscience; if so, he advised him to +make a clean breast of it. Theodore answered that he had nothing to +confess, but that he was unhappy. Thereupon the professor exhorted him +to watch and pray and be strong. + +His brother had written him a long letter, begging him not to take a +certain stupid matter too much to heart. He told him that it was absurd +to take a girl seriously. His philosophy, and he had always found it +answering admirably, was to pay debts incurred and go; to play while +one was young, for the gravity of life made itself felt quite soon enough. +Marriage was nothing but a civil institution for the protection of the +children. There was plenty of time for it. + +Theodore replied at some length in a letter imbued with true Christian +sentiment, which the lieutenant left unanswered. + +After passing his first examination in the spring, Theodore was +obliged to spend a summer at Skoefde, in order to undergo the cold +water cure. In the autumn he returned to Upsala. His newly-regained +strength was merely so much fresh fuel to the fire. + +Matters grew worse and worse. His hair had grown so thin that the +scalp was plainly visible. He walked with dragging footsteps and +whenever his fellow students met him in the street, they cut him as if +he were possessed of all the vices. He noticed it and shunned them in +his turn. He only left his rooms in the evening. He did not dare to go +to bed at night. The iron which he had taken to excess, had ruined his +digestion, and in the following summer the doctors sent him to +Karlsbad. + +On his return to Upsala, in the autumn, a rumour got abroad, an ugly +rumour, which hung over the town like a black cloud. It was as if a +drain had been left open and men were suddenly reminded that the town, +that splendid creation of civilisation, was built over a sea of +corruption, which might at any moment burst its bonds and poison the +inhabitants. It was said that Theodore Wennerstroem, in a paroxysm of +passion had assaulted one of his friends, and the rumour did not lie. + +His father went to Upsala and had an interview with the Dean of the +Theological Faculty. The professor of pathology was present. What was +to be done? The doctor remained silent. They pressed him for his +opinion. + +"Since you ask me," he said, "I must give you an answer; but you know +as well as I do that there is but one remedy." + +"And that is?" asked the theologian. + +"Need you ask?" replied the doctor. + +"Yes," said the theologian, who was a married man. "Surely, nature +does not require immorality from a man?" + +The father said that he quite understood the case, but that he was +afraid of making recommendations to his son, on account of the risks +the latter would run. + +"If he can't take care of himself he must be a fool," said the doctor. + +The Dean requested them to continue such an agitating conversation in +a more suitable place.... He himself had nothing more to add. + +This ended the matter. + +Since Theodore was a member of the upper classes the scandal was +hushed up. A few years later he passed his final, and was sent by the +doctor to Spa. The amount of quinine which he had taken had affected +his knees and he walked with two sticks. At Spa he looked so ill that +he was a conspicuous figure even in a crowd of invalids. + +But an unmarried woman of thirty-five, a German, took compassion on +the unhappy man. She spent many hours with him in a lonely summer +arbour in the park, discussing the problems of life. She was a member +of a big evangelical society, whose object was the raising of the +moral standard. She showed him prospectuses for newspapers and +magazines, the principal mission of which was the suppression of +prostitution. + +"Look at me," she said, "I am thirty-five years old and enjoy +excellent health! What fools' talk it is to say that immorality is a +necessary evil. I have watched and fought a good fight for Christ's +sake." + +The young clergyman silently compared her well-developed figure, her +large hips, with his own wasted body. + +"What a difference there is between human beings in this world," was +his unspoken comment. + +In the autumn the Rev. Theodore Wennerstroem and Sophia Leidschuetz, +spinster, were engaged to be married. + +"Saved!" sighed the father, when the news reached him in his house at +Stockholm. + +"I wonder how it will end," thought the brother in his barracks. "I'm +afraid that my poor Theodore is 'one of those Asra who die when they +love.'" + +Theodore Wennerstroem was married. Nine months after the wedding his +wife presented him with a boy who suffered from rickets--another +thirteen months and Theodore Wennerstroem had breathed his last. + +The doctor who filled up the certificate of death, looked at the fine +healthy woman, who stood weeping by the small coffin which contained +the skeleton of her young husband of not much over twenty years. + +"The plus was too great, the minus too small," he thought, "and +therefore the plus devoured the minus." + +But the father, who received the news of his son's death on a Sunday, +sat down to read a sermon. When he had finished, he fell into a brown +study. + +"There must be something very wrong with a world where virtue is +rewarded with death," he thought. + +And the virtuous widow, _nee_ Leidschuetz, had two more husbands and +eight children, wrote pamphlets on overpopulation and immorality. But +her brother-in-law called her a cursed woman who killed her husbands. + +The anything but virtuous lieutenant married and was father of six +children. He got promotion and lived happily to the end of his life. + + + + +LOVE AND BREAD + + +The assistant had not thought of studying the price of wheat before he +called on the major to ask him for the hand of his daughter; but the +major had studied it. + +"I love her," said the assistant. + +"What's your salary?" said the old man. + +"Well, twelve hundred crowns, at present; but we love one another...." + +"That has nothing to do with me; twelve hundred crowns is not enough." + +"And then I make a little in addition to my salary, and Louisa knows +that my heart...." + +"Don't talk nonsense! How much in addition to your salary?" + +He seized paper and pencil. + +"And my feelings...." + +"How much in addition to your salary?" + +And he drew hieroglyphics on the blotting paper. + +"Oh! We'll get on well enough, if only...." + +"Are you going to answer my question or not? How much in addition to +your salary? Figures! figures, my boy! Facts!" + +"I do translations at ten crowns a sheet; I give French lessons, I am +promised proof-correcting...." + +"Promises aren't facts! Figures, my boy! Figures! Look here, now, I'll +put it down. What are you translating?" + +"What am I translating? I can't tell you straight off." + +"You can't tell me straight off? You are engaged on a translation, you +say; can't you tell me what it is? Don't talk such rubbish!" + +"I am translating Guizot's _History of Civilisation_, twenty-five +sheets." + +"At ten crowns a sheet makes two hundred and fifty crowns. And then?" + +"And then? How can I tell beforehand?" + +"Indeed, can't you tell beforehand? But you ought to know. You seem to +imagine that being married simply means living together and amusing +yourselves! No, my dear boy, there will be children, and children +require feeding and clothing." + +"There needn't be babies directly, if one loves _as we love_ one +another." + +"How the dickens do you love one another?" + +"_As we love_ one another." He put his hand on his waistcoat. + +"And won't there be any children if people love as you love? You must +be mad! But you are a decent, respectable member of society, and +therefore I'll give my consent; but make good use of the time, my boy, +and increase your income, for hard times are coming. The price of +wheat is rising." + +The assistant grew red in the face when he heard the last words, but +his joy at the old man's consent was so great that he seized his hand +and kissed it. Heaven knew how happy he was! When he walked for the +first time down the street with his future bride on his arm, they both +radiated light; it seemed to them that the passers-by stood still and +lined the road in honour of their triumphal march; and they walked +along with proud eyes, squared shoulders and elastic steps. + +In the evening he called at her house; they sat down in the centre of +the room and read proofs; she helped him. "He's a good sort," chuckled +the old man. When they had finished, he took her in his arms and said: +"Now we have earned three crowns," and then he kissed her. On the +following evening they went to the theatre and he took her home in a +cab, and that cost twelve crowns. + +Sometimes, when he ought to have given a lesson in the evening, he (is +there anything a man will not do for love's sake?) cancelled his lesson +and took her out for a walk instead. + +But the wedding-day approached. They were very busy. They had to +choose the furniture. They began with the most important purchases. +Louisa had not intended to be present when he bought the bedroom +furniture, but when it came to the point she went with him. They +bought two beds, which were, of course, to stand side by side. The +furniture had to be walnut, every single piece real walnut. And they +must have spring mattresses covered with red and white striped tick, +and bolsters filled with down; and two eiderdown quilts, exactly +alike. Louisa chose blue, because she was very fair. + +They went to the best stores. They could not do without a red +hanging-lamp and a Venus made of plaster of Paris. Then they bought a +dinner-service; and six dozen differently shaped glasses with cut +edges; and knives and forks, grooved and engraved with their initials. +And then the kitchen utensils! Mama had to accompany them to see to +those. + +And what a lot he had to do besides! There were bills to accept, +journeys to the banks and interviews with tradespeople and artisans; +a flat had to be found and curtains had to be put up. He saw to +everything. Of course he had to neglect his work; but once he was +married, he would soon make up for it. + +They were only going to take two rooms to begin with, for they were +going to be frightfully economical. And as they were only going to +have two rooms, they could afford to furnish them well. He rented two +rooms and a kitchen on the first floor in Government Street, for six +hundred crowns. When Louisa remarked that they might just as well have +taken three rooms and a kitchen on the fourth floor for five hundred +crowns, he was a little embarrassed; but what did it matter if only +they loved one another? Yes, of course, Louisa agreed, but couldn't +they have loved one another just as well in four rooms at a lower +rent, as in three at a higher? Yes, he admitted that he had been +foolish, but what _did_ it matter so long as they loved one another? + +The rooms were furnished. The bed-room looked like a little temple. +The two beds stood side by side, like two carriages. The rays of the +sun fell on the blue eiderdown quilt, the white, white sheets and the +little pillow-slips which an elderly maiden aunt had embroidered with +their monogram; the latter consisted of two huge letters, formed of +flowers, joined together in one single embrace, and kissing here and +there, wherever they touched, at the corners. The bride had her own +little alcove, which was screened off by a Japanese screen. The +drawing-room, which was also dining-room, study and morning-room, +contained her piano, (which had cost twelve hundred crowns) his +writing-table with twelve pigeon-holes, (every single piece of it real +walnut) a pier-glass, armchairs; a sideboard and a dining-table. "It +looks as if nice people lived here," they said, and they could not +understand why people wanted a separate dining-room, which always looked +so cheerless with its cane chairs. + +The wedding took place on a Saturday. Sunday dawned, the first day of +their married life. Oh! what a life it was! Wasn't it lovely to be +married! Wasn't marriage a splendid institution! One was allowed one's +own way in everything, and parents and relations came and congratulated +one into the bargain. + +At nine o'clock in the morning their bedroom was still dark. He +wouldn't open the shutters to let in daylight, but re-lighted the red +lamp which threw its bewitching light on the blue eiderdown, the white +sheets, a little crumpled now, and the Venus made of plaster of Paris, +who stood there rosy-red and without shame. And the red light also +fell on his little wife who nestled in her pillows with a look of +contrition, and yet so refreshed as if she had never slept so well in +all her life. There was no traffic in the street to-day for it was +Sunday, and the church-bells were calling people to the morning +service with exulting, eager voices, as if they wanted all the world +to come to church and praise Him who had created men and women. + +He whispered to his little bride to shut her eyes so that he might get +up and order breakfast. She buried her head in the pillows, while he +slipped on his dressing-gown and went behind the screen to dress. + +A broad radiant path of sunlight lay on the sitting-room floor; he did +not know whether it was spring or summer, autumn or winter; he only +knew that it was Sunday! + +His bachelor life was receding into the background like something ugly +and dark; the sight of his little home stirred his heart with a faint +recollection of the home of his childhood, and at the same time held +out a glorious promise for the future. + +How strong he felt! The future appeared to him like a mountain coming +to meet him. He would breathe on it and the mountain would fall down +at his feet like sand; he would fly away, far above gables and +chimneys, holding his little wife in his arm. + +He collected his clothes which were scattered all over the room; he +found his white neck-tie hanging on a picture frame; it looked like a +big white butterfly. + +He went into the kitchen. How the new copper vessels sparkled, the new +tin kettles shone! And all this belonged to him and to her! He called +the maid who came out of her room in her petticoat. But he did not +notice it, nor did he notice that her shoulders were bare. For him +there was but one woman in all the world. He spoke to the girl as a +father would to his daughter. He told her to go to the restaurant and +order breakfast, at once, a first-rate breakfast. Porter and Burgundy! +The manager knew his taste. She was to give him his regards. + +He went out of the kitchen and knocked at the bed-room door. + +"May I come in?" + +There was a little startled scream. + +"Oh, no, darling, wait a bit!" + +He laid the breakfast table himself. When the breakfast was brought +from the restaurant, he served it on her new breakfast set. He folded +the dinner napkins according to all the rules of art. He wiped the +wine-glasses, and finally took her bridal-bouquet and put it in a vase +before her place. + +When she emerged from her bed-room in her embroidered morning gown and +stepped into the brilliant sunlight, she felt just a tiny bit faint; +he helped her into the armchair, made her drink a little liqueur out +of a liqueur glass and eat a caviare sandwich. + +What fun it all was! One could please oneself when one was married. +What would Mama have said if she had seen her daughter drinking +liqueurs at this hour of the morning! + +He waited on her as if she were still his fiancee. What a breakfast +they were having on the first morning after their wedding! And nobody +had a right to say a word. Everything was perfectly right and proper, +one could enjoy oneself with the very best of consciences, and that +was the most delightful part of it all. It was not for the first time +that he was eating such a breakfast, but what a difference between +then and now! He had been restless and dissatisfied then; he could not +bear to think of it, now. And as he drank a glass of genuine Swedish +porter after the oysters, he felt the deepest contempt for all +bachelors. + +"How stupid of people not to get married! Such selfishness! They ought +to be taxed like dogs." + +"I'm sorry for those poor men who haven't the means to get married," +replied his demure little wife kindly, "for I am sure, if they had the +means they would all get married." + +A little pang shot through the assistant's heart; for a moment he felt +afraid, lest he had been a little too venturesome. All his happiness +rested on the solution of a financial problem, and if, if.... Pooh! A +glass of Burgundy! Now he would work! They should see! + +"Game? With cranberries and cucumbers!" The young wife was a little +startled, but it was really delicious. + +"Lewis, darling," she put a trembling little hand on his arm, "can we +afford it?" + +Fortunately she said "we." + +"Pooh! It doesn't matter for once! Later on we can dine on potatoes +and herrings." + +"Can you eat potatoes and herrings?" + +"I should think so!" + +"When you have been drinking more than is good for you, and expect a +beefsteak after the herring?" + +"Nonsense! Nothing of the kind! Your health, sweetheart! The game is +excellent! So are these artichokes!" + +"No, but you are mad, darling! Artichokes at this time of the year! +What a bill you will have to pay!" + +"Bill! Aren't they good? Don't you think that it is glorious to be +alive? Oh! It's splendid, splendid!" + +At six o'clock in the afternoon a carriage drove up to the front door. +The young wife would have been angry if it had not been so pleasant to +loll luxuriously on the soft cushions, while they were being slowly +driven to the Deer Park. + +"It's just like lying on a couch," whispered Lewis. + +She playfully hit his fingers with her sunshade. Mutual acquaintances +bowed to them from the footpath. Friends waved their hands to him as +if they were saying: + +"Hallo! you rascal, you have come into a fortune!" + +How small the passers-by looked, how smooth the street was, how pleasant +their ride on springs and cushions! + +Life should always be like that. + +It went on for a whole month. Balls, visits, dinners, theatres. +Sometimes, of course, they remained at home. And at home it was more +pleasant than anywhere else. How lovely, for instance, to carry off +one's wife from her parents' house, after supper, without saying as +much as "by your leave," put her into a closed carriage, slam the +door, nod to her people and say: "Now we're off home, to our own four +walls! And there we'll do exactly what we like!" + +And then to have a little supper at home and sit over it, talking and +gossiping until the small hours of the morning. + +Lewis was always very sensible at home, at least in theory. One day +his wife put him to the test by giving him salt salmon, potatoes +boiled in milk and oatmeal soup for dinner. Oh! how he enjoyed it! He +was sick of elaborate menus. + +On the following Friday, when she again suggested salt salmon for +dinner, Lewis came home, carrying two ptarmigans! He called to her +from the threshold: + +"Just imagine, Lou, a most extraordinary thing happened! A most +extraordinary thing!" + +"Well, what is it?" + +"You'll hardly believe me when I tell you that I bought a brace of +ptarmigans, bought them myself at the market for--guess!" + +His little wife seemed more annoyed than curious. + +"Just think! One crown the two!" + +"I have bought ptarmigans at eightpence the brace; but--" she added in +a more conciliatory tone, so as not to upset him altogether, "that was +in a very cold winter." + +"Well, but you must admit that I bought them very cheaply." + +Was there anything she would not admit in order to see him happy? + +She had ordered boiled groats for dinner, as an experiment. But after +Lewis had eaten a ptarmigan, he regretted that he could not eat as +much of the groats as he would have liked, in order to show her that +he was really very fond of groats. He liked groats very much indeed--milk +did not agree with him after his attack of ague. He couldn't take milk, +but groats he would like to see on his table every evening, every blessed +evening of his life, if only she wouldn't be angry with him. + +And groats never again appeared on his table. + +When they had been married for six weeks, the young wife fell ill. She +suffered from headaches and sickness. It could not be anything serious, +just a little cold. But this sickness? Had she eaten anything which had +disagreed with her? Hadn't all the copper vessels new coatings of tin? +He sent for the doctor. The doctor smiled and said it was all right. + +"What was all right? Oh! Nonsense! It wasn't possible. How could it +have been possible? No, surely, the bed-room paper was to blame. It +must contain arsenic. Let us send a piece to the chemist's at once and +have it tested." + +"Entirely free from arsenic," reported the chemist. + +"How strange! No arsenic in the wall papers?" + +The young wife was still ill. He consulted a medical book and whispered +a question in her ear. "There now! a hot bath!" + +Four weeks later the midwife declared that everything was "as it +should be." + +"As it should be? Well, of course! Only it was somewhat premature!" + +But as it could not, be helped, they were delighted. Fancy, a baby! +They would be papa and mama! What should they call him? For, of course, +it would be a boy. No doubt, it would. But now she had a serious +conversation with her husband! There had been no translating or +proof-correcting since their marriage. And his salary alone was not +sufficient. + +"Yes, they had given no thought to the morrow. But, dear me, one was +young only once! Now, however, there would be a change." + +On the following morning the assistant called on an old schoolfriend, +a registrar, to ask him to stand security for a loan. + +"You see, my dear fellow, when one is about to become a father, one +has to consider how to meet increasing expenses." + +"Quite so, old man," answered the registrar, "therefore I have been +unable to get married. But you are fortunate in having the means." + +The assistant hesitated to make his request. How could he have the +audacity to ask this poor bachelor to help him to provide the expenses +for the coming event? This bachelor, who had not the means to found a +family of his own? He could not bring himself to do it. + +When he came home to dinner, his wife told him that two gentlemen had +called to see him. + +"What did they look like? Were they young? Did they wear eye-glasses? +Then there was no doubt, they were two lieutenants, old friends of his +whom he had met at Vaxholm." + +"No, they couldn't have been lieutenants; they were too old for that." + +"Then he knew; they were old college friends from Upsala, probably P. +who was a lecturer, and O. who was a curate, now. They had come to see +how their old pal was shaping as a husband." + +"No, they didn't come from Upsala, they came from Stockholm." + +The maid was called in and cross-examined. She thought the callers had +been shabbily dressed and had carried sticks. + +"Sticks! I can't make out what sort of people they can have been. +Well, we'll know soon enough, as they said they would call again. But +to change the subject, I happened to see a basket of hothouse +strawberries at a really ridiculous price; it really is absurd! Just +imagine, hothouse strawberries at one and sixpence a basket! And at +this time of the year!" + +"But, my darling, what is this extravagance to lead to?" + +"It'll be all right. I have got an order for a translation this very day." + +"But you are in debt, Lewis?" + +"Trifles! Mere nothings! It'll be all right when I take up a big loan, +presently." + +"A loan! But that'll be a new debt!" + +"True! But there'll be easy terms! Don't let's talk business now! Aren't +these strawberries delicious? What? A glass of sherry with them would be +tip-top. Don't you think so? Lina, run round to the stores and fetch a +bottle of sherry, the best they have." + +After his afternoon nap, his wife insisted on a serious conversation. + +"You won't be angry, dear, will you?" + +"Angry? I! Good heavens, no! Is it about household expenses?" + +"Yes! We owe money at the stores! The butcher is pressing for payment; +the man from the livery stables has called for his money; it's most +unpleasant." + +"Is that all? I shall pay them to the last farthing to-morrow. How +dare they worry you about such trifles? They shall be paid to-morrow, +but they shall lose a customer. Now, don't let's talk about it any +more. Come out for a walk. No carriage! Well, we'll take the car to +the Deer Park, it will cheer us up." + +They went to the Deer Park. They asked for a private room at the +restaurant, and people stared at them and whispered. + +"They think we are out on a spree," he laughed. "What fun! What madness!" + +But his wife did not like it. + +They had a big bill to pay. + +"If only we had stayed at home! We might have bought such a lot of things +for the money." + +Months elapsed. The great event was coming nearer and nearer. A cradle +had to be bought and baby-clothes. A number of things were wanted. The +young husband was out on business all day long. The price of wheat had +risen. Hard times were at hand. He could get no translations, no +proof-correcting. Men had become materialists. They didn't spend money +on books, they bought food. What a prosaic period we were living in! +Ideals were melting away, one after the other, and ptarmigans were not +to be had under two crowns the brace. The livery stables would not +provide carriages for nothing for the cab-proprietors had wives and +families to support, just as everybody else; at the stores cash had to +be paid for goods, Oh! what realists they all were! + +The great day had come at last. It was evening. He must run for the +midwife. And while his wife suffered all the pangs of childbirth, he +had to go down into the hall and pacify the creditors. + +At last he held a daughter in his arms. His tears fell on the baby, +for now he realised his responsibility, a responsibility which he was +unable to shoulder. He made new resolutions. But his nerves were +unstrung. He was working at a translation which he seemed unable to +finish, for he had to be constantly out on business. + +He rushed to his father-in-law, who was staying in town, to bring him +the glad news. + +"We have a little daughter!" + +"Well and good," replied his father-in-law; "can you support a child?" + +"Not at present; for heaven's sake, help us, father!" + +"I'll tide you over your present difficulties. I can't do more. My +means are only sufficient to support my own family." + +The patient required chickens which he bought himself at the market, +and wine at six crowns the bottle. It had to be the very best. + +The midwife expected a hundred crowns. + +"Why should we pay her less than others? Hasn't she just received a +cheque for a hundred crowns from the captain?" + +Very soon the young wife was up again. She looked like a girl, as +slender as a willow, a little pale, it was true, but the pallor suited +her. + +The old man called and had a private conversation with his son-in-law. + +"No more children, for the present," he said, "or you'll be ruined." + +"What language from a father! Aren't we married! Don't we love one +another? Aren't we to have a family?" + +"Yes, but not until you can provide for them. It's all very fine to +love one another, but you musn't forget that you have responsibilities." + +His father-in-law, too, had become a materialist. Oh! what a miserable +world it was! A world without ideals! + +The home was undermined, but love survived, for love was strong, and +the hearts of the young couple were soft. The bailiff, on the contrary, +was anything but soft. Distraint was imminent, and bankruptcy threatened. +Well, let them distrain then! + +The father-in-law arrived with a large travelling coach to fetch his +daughter and grand-child. He warned his son-in-law not to show his +face at his house until he could pay his debts and make a home for his +wife and child. He said nothing to his daughter, but it seemed to him +that he was bringing home a girl who had been led astray. It was as if +he had lent his innocent child to a casual admirer and now received +her back "dishonoured." She would have preferred to stay with her +husband, but he had no home to offer her. + +And so the husband of one year's standing was left behind to watch the +pillaging of his home, if he could call it his home, for he had paid +for nothing. The two men with spectacles carted away the beds and +bedclothes; the copper kettles and tin vessels; the dinner set, the +chandelier and the candlesticks; everything, everything! + +He was left alone in the two empty, wretched rooms! If only _she_ had +been left to him! But what should she do here, in these empty rooms? +No, she was better off where she was! She was being taken care of. + +Now the struggle for a livelihood began in bitter earnest. He found +work at a daily paper as a proof-corrector. He had to be at the office +at midnight; at three in the morning his work was done. He did not +lose his berth, for bankruptcy had been avoided, but he had lost all +chance of promotion. + +Later on he is permitted to visit wife and child once a week, but he +is never allowed to see her alone. He spends Saturday night in a tiny +room, close to his father-in-law's bedroom. On Sunday morning he has +to return to town, for the paper appears on Monday morning.... He says +good-bye to his wife and child who are allowed to accompany him as far +as the garden gate, he waves his hand to them once more from the +furthest hillock, and succumbs to his wretchedness, his misery, his +humiliation. And she is no less unhappy. + +He has calculated that it will take him twenty years to pay his debts. +And then? Even then he cannot maintain a wife and child. And his +prospects? He has none! If his father-in-law should die, his wife and +child would be thrown on the street; he cannot venture to look forward +to the death of their only support. + +Oh! How cruel it is of nature to provide food for all her creatures, +leaving the children of men alone to starve! Oh! How cruel, how cruel! +that life has not ptarmigans and strawberries to give to all men. How +cruel! How cruel! + + + + +COMPELLED TO + + +Punctually at half past nine on a winter evening he appears at the +door leading to the glass-roofed verandah of the restaurant. While, +with mathematical precision, he takes off his gloves, he peers over +his dim spectacles, first to the right, then to the left, to find out +whether any of his acquaintances are present. Then he hangs up his +overcoat on its special hook, the one to the right of the fireplace. +Gustav, the waiter, an old pupil of his, flies to his table and, +without waiting for an order, brushes the crumbs off the tablecloth, +stirs up the mustard, smooths the salt in the salt-cellar and turns +over the dinner napkin. Then he fetches, still without any order, a +bottle of Medhamra, opens half a bottle of Union beer and, merely for +appearance sake, hands the schoolmaster the bill of fare. + +"Crabs?" he asks, more as a matter of form than because there is any +need of the question. + +"Female crabs," answers the schoolmaster. + +"Large, female crabs," repeats Gustav, walks to the speaking tube +which communicates with the kitchen, and shouts: "Large female crabs +for Mr. Blom, and plenty of dill." + +He fetches butter and cheese, cuts two very thin slices of rye-bread, +and places them on the schoolmaster's table. The latter has in the +meantime searched the verandah for the evening papers, but has only +found the official _Post_. To make up for this very poor success, he +takes the _Daily Journal_, which he had not had time to finish at +lunch, and after first opening and refolding the _Post_, and putting +it on the top of the bread basket on his left, sits down to read it. +He ornaments the rye-bread with geometrical butter hieroglyphics, cuts +off a piece of cheese in the shape of a rectangle, fills his liqueur +glass three quarters full and raises it to his lips, hesitates as if +the little glass contained physic, throws back his head and says: Ugh! + +He has done this for twelve years and will continue doing it until the +day of his death. + +As soon as the crabs, six of them, have been put before him, he +examines them as to their sex, and everything being as it should be, +makes ready to enjoy himself. He tucks a corner of his dinner napkin +into his collar, places two slices of thin bread and cheese by the +side of his plate and pours out a glass of beer and half a glass of +liqueur. Then he takes the little crab-knife and business begins. He +is the only man in Sweden who knows how to eat a crab, and whenever he +sees anybody else engaged in the same pursuit, he tells him that he +has no idea how to do it. He makes an incision all round the head, and +a hole against which he presses his lips and begins to suck. + +"This," he says, "is the best part of the whole animal." + +He severs the thorax from the lower part, puts his teeth to the body +and drinks deep draughts; he sucks the little legs as if they were +asparagus, eats a bit of dill, and takes a drink of beer and a mouthful +of rye-bread. When he has carefully taken the shell off the claws and +sucked even the tiniest tubes, he eats the flesh; last of all he attacks +the lower part of the body. When he has eaten three crabs, he drinks half +a glass of liqueur and reads the promotions in the _Post_. + +He has done this for twelve years and will continue doing it until he +dies. + +He was just twenty years old when he first began to patronise the +restaurant, now he is thirty-two, and Gustav has been a waiter for ten +years in the same place. Not one of its frequenters has known the +restaurant longer than the school-master, not even the proprietor who +took it over eight years ago. He has watched generations of diners +come and go; some came for a year, some for two, some for five years; +then they disappeared, went to another restaurant, left the town or +got married. He feels very old, although he is only thirty-two! The +restaurant is his home, for his furnished room is nothing but the +place where he sleeps. + +It is ten o'clock. He leaves his table and goes to the back room where +his grog awaits him. This is the time when the bookseller arrives. +They play a game of chess or talk about books. At half-past ten the +second violin from the Dramatic Theatre drops in. He is an old Pole +who, after 1864, escaped to Sweden, and now makes a living by his +former hobby. Both the Pole and the bookseller are over fifty, but +they get on with the schoolmaster as if he were a contemporary. + +The proprietor has his place behind the counter. He is an old sea +captain who fell in love with the proprietress and married her. She +rules in the kitchen, but the sliding panel is always open, so that +she can keep an eye on the old man, lest he should take a glass too +much before closing time. Not until the gas has been turned out, and +the old man is ready to go to bed, is he allowed a nightcap in the +shape of a stiff glass of rum and water. + +At eleven o'clock the young bloods begin to arrive; they approach the +counter diffidently and ask the proprietor in a whisper whether any of +the private rooms upstairs are disengaged, and then there is a rustling +of skirts in the hall and cautious footsteps are creeping upstairs. + +"Well," says the bookseller, who has suddenly found a topic of +conversation, "when are you going to be married, Blom, old man?" + +"I haven't the means to get married," answered the school-master. "Why +don't you take a wife to your bosom yourself?" + +"No woman would have me, now that my head looks like an old, +leather-covered trunk," says the bookseller. "And, moreover, there's +my old Stafva, you know." + +Stafva was a legendary person in whom nobody believed. She was the +incarnation of the bookseller's unrealised dreams. + +"But you, Mr. Potocki?" suggested the schoolmaster. + +"He's been married once, that's enough," replies the bookseller. + +The Pole nods his head like a metrometer. + +"Yes, I was married very happily. Ugh!" he says and finishes his grog. + +"Well," continues the schoolmaster, "if women weren't such fools, one +might consider the matter; but they are infernal fools." + +The Pole nods again and smiles; being a Pole, he doesn't understand +what the word fool means. + +"I have been married very happily, ugh!" + +"And then there is the noise of the children, and children's clothes +always drying near the stove; and servants, and all day long the smells +from the kitchen. No, thank you! And, perhaps, sleepless nights into the +bargain." + +"Ugh!" added the Pole, completing the sentence. + +"Mr. Potocki says 'ugh' with the malice of the bachelor who listens to +the complaints of the married man," remarked the bookseller. + +"What did I say?" asks the astonished widower. "Ugh!" says the +bookseller, mimicking him, and the conversation degenerates into a +universal grinning and a cloud of tobacco smoke. + +It is midnight. The piano upstairs, which has accompanied a mixed +choir of male and female voices, is silent. The waiter has finished +his countless journeys from the speaking tube to the verandah; the +proprietor enters into his daybook the last few bottles of champagne +which have been ordered upstairs. The three friends rise from their +chairs and go home, two to their "virgin couches," and the bookseller +to his Stafva. + +When schoolmaster Blom had reached his twentieth year, he was compelled +to interrupt his studies at Upsala and accept a post as assistant teacher +at Stockholm. As he, in addition, gave private lessons, he made quite a +good income. He did not ask much of life. All he wanted was peace and +cleanliness. An elderly lady let him a furnished room and there he found +more than a bachelor finds as a rule. She looked after him and was kind +to him; she gave him all the tenderness which nature had intended her to +bestow on the new generation that was to spring from her. She mended his +clothes and looked after him generally. He had lost his mother when he +was a little boy and had never been accustomed to gratuitous kindness; +therefore he was inclined to look upon her services as an interference +with his liberty, but he accepted them nevertheless. But all the same +the public house was his real home. There he paid for everything and +ran up no bills. + +He was born in a small town in the interior of Sweden; consequently he +was a stranger in Stockholm. He knew nobody; was not on visiting terms +with any of the families and met his acquaintances nowhere but at the +public-house. He talked to them freely, but never gave them his +confidence, in fact he had no confidence to give. At school he taught +the third class and this gave him a feeling of having been stunted in +his growth. A very long time ago he had been in the third class +himself, had gradually crept up to the seventh, and had spent a few +terms at the University; now he had returned to the third; he had been +there for twelve years without being moved. He taught the second and +third books of Euclid; this was the course of instruction for the +whole year. He saw only a fragment of life; a fragment without +beginning or end; the second and third books. In his spare time he +read the newspapers and books on archaeology. Archaeology is a modern +science, one might almost say a disease of the time. And there is +danger in it, for it proves over and over again that human folly has +pretty nearly always been the same. + +Politics was to him nothing but an interesting game of chess--played +for the king, for he was brought up like everybody else; it was an +article of faith with him that nothing which happened in the world, +concerned him, personally; let those look to it whom God had placed in +a position of power. This way of looking at things filled his soul +with peace and tranquillity; he troubled nobody and nothing troubled +him. When he found, as he did occasionally, that an unusually foolish +event had occurred, he consoled himself with the conviction that it +could not have been helped. His education had made him selfish, and +the catechism had taught him that if everybody did his duty, all +things would be well, whatever happened. He did his duty towards his +pupils in an exemplary fashion; he was never late; never ill. In his +private life, too, he was above reproach; he paid his rent on the day +it fell due, never ran up bills at his restaurant, and spent only one +evening a week on pleasure. His life glided along like a railway train + to the second and, being a clever man, he managed to avoid collisions. +He gave no thought to the future; a truly selfish man never does, for +the simple reason that the future belongs to him for no longer than +twenty or thirty years at the most. + +And thus his days passed. + + * * * * * + +Midsummer morning dawned--radiant and sunny as mid-summer morning +should be. The schoolmaster was still in bed, reading a book on the +Art of Warfare in ancient Egypt, when Miss Augusta came into his room +with his breakfast. She had put on his tray some slices of saffron +bread, in honour of the festival, and on his dinner-napkin lay a spray +of elder blossoms. On the previous night she had decorated his room +with branches of the birch-tree, put clean sand and some cowslips in +the spittoon, and a bunch of lilies-of-the-valley on the dressing +table. + +"Aren't you going to make an excursion to-day, sir?" she asked, glancing +at the decorations, anxious for a word of thanks or approval. + +But Mr. Blom had not even noticed the decorations, and therefore he +answered dryly: + +"Haven't you realised yet that I never make excursions? I hate elbowing +my way through a crowd, and the noise of the children gets on my nerves." + +"But surely you won't stay in town on such a lovely day! You'll at least +go to the Deer Park?" + +"That would be the very last place I should go to, especially to-day, +when it will be crowded. Oh! no, I'm better off in town, and I wish to +goodness that this holiday nuisance would be stopped." + +"There are plenty of people who say that there aren't half enough +holidays these days when everybody has to work so hard," said the old +woman in a conciliatory tone. "But is there anything else you wish, +sir? My sister and I are making an excursion by steamer, and we shan't +be back until ten o'clock to-night." + +"I hope you'll enjoy yourselves, Miss Augusta. I want nothing, and am +quite able to look after myself. The caretaker can do my room when I +have gone out." + +Miss Augusta left him alone with his breakfast. When he had eaten it, +he lit a cigar and remained in bed with his _Egyptian Warfare_. The +open window shook softly in the southern breeze. At eight o'clock the +bells, large and small, of the nearest church began to ring, and those +of the other churches of Stockholm, St. Catherine's, St. Mary's and +St. Jacob's, joined in; they tinkled and jingled, enough to make a +heathen tear his hair in despair. When the church bells stopped, a +military band on the bridge of a steamer began to play a set of +quadrilles from _The Weak Point_. The schoolmaster writhed between his +sheets, and would have got out of bed and shut the window if it had +not been so hot. Next there came a rolling of drums, which was +interrupted by the strains of a brass quintet which played, on another +steamer, the Hunter's Chorus from the _Freischuetz_. But the cursed +rolling of drums approached. They were marching at the head of the +Riflemen on their way to camp. Now he was subjected to a medley of +sounds: the Riflemen's march, the signals, the bells and the brass +bands on the steamers, until at last the whole crash and din was +drowned by the throbbing of the screw. + +At ten o'clock he lit his spirit lamp and boiled his shaving water. +His starched shirt lay on his chest of drawers, white and stiff as a +board. It took him a quarter of an hour to push the studs through the +button-holes. He spent half-an-hour in shaving himself. He brushed his +hair as if it were a matter of the utmost importance. When he put on +his trousers, he was careful that the lower ends should not touch the +floor and become dusty. + +His room was simply furnished, extremely plain and tidy. It was +impersonal, neutral, like the room in a hotel. And yet he had spent in +it twelve years of his life. Most people collect no end of trifles +during such a period; presents, little superfluous nothings, ornaments. +Not a single engraving, not a supplement to an illustrated magazine +even, which at some time or other had appealed to him, hung on the walls; +no antimacassar, no rug worked by a loving sister, lay on the chairs; +no photograph of a beloved face stood on his writing-table, no +embroidered pen-wiper lay by the side of the ink-stand. Everything had +been bought as cheaply as possible with a view to avoiding unnecessary +expense which might have hampered the owner's independence. + +He leaned out of the window which gave him a view of the street and, +across Artillery Place, of the harbour. In the house opposite a woman +was dressing. He turned away as if something ugly had met his gaze, or +something which might disturb his peace of mind. The harbour was gay +with the fluttering flags on the steamers and sailing-ships, and the +water glittered in the sunshine. A few old women, prayer-book in hand, +passed his window on their way to church. A sentinel with drawn sword +was walking up and down before the Artillery Barracks, glancing +discontentedly at the clock on the tower every now and then to see how +much longer he would have to wait until the relieving guard arrived. +Otherwise the street lay empty and grey in the hot sunshine. His eyes +wandered back to the woman opposite. She was standing before her +looking-glass, powder puff in hand, intent on powdering the corners of +her nose, with a grimace which made her look like a monkey. He left the +window and sat down in his rocking chair. + +He made his programme for the day, for he had a vague dread of +solitude. On week days he was surrounded by the school-boys, and +although he had no love for those wild beasts whose taming, or rather +whose efficient acquisition of the difficult art of dissembling, was +his life task, yet he felt a certain void when he was not with them. +Now, during the long summer vacations, he had established a holiday +school, but even so he had been compelled to give the boys short summer +holidays, and, with the exception of meal times when he could always +count on the bookseller and the second violin, he had been alone for +several days. + +"At two o'clock," he mused, "when the guard has been relieved, and the +crowds have dispersed, I'll go to my restaurant to dine; then I'll +invite the bookseller to Stroemsborg; there won't be a soul to-day; we +can have coffee there and punch, and stay till the evening when we'll +return to town and to Rejner's." (Rejner's was the name of his +restaurant in Berzelius Place.) + +Punctually at two o'clock he took his hat, brushed himself carefully +and went out. + +"I wonder whether there'll be stewed perch to-day," he thought. "And +mightn't one treat oneself to asparagus, as it's midsummer-day?" + +He strolled past the high wall of the Government Bakery. In Berzelius +Park the seats which were usually occupied by the nursemaids of the +rich and their charges, were crowded with the families of the +labourers who had appeared in great numbers with their perambulators. +He saw a mother feeding her baby. She was a large, full-breasted +woman, and the baby's dimpled hand almost disappeared in her bosom. +The schoolmaster turned away with a feeling of loathing. He was +annoyed to see these strangers in _his_ park. It was very much like +the servants using the drawing-room when their master and mistress had +gone out; moreover, he couldn't forgive them their plainness. + +He arrived at the glass verandah, and put his hand on the door handle, +thinking once more of the stewed perch "with lots of parsley," when +his eyes fell on a notice on the door. There was no necessity to read +it, he knew its purport: the restaurant was closed on midsummer-day; +he had forgotten it. He felt as if he had run with his head into a +lamp-post. He was furious; first of all with the proprietor for +closing, then with himself for having forgotten that the restaurant +would be closed. It seemed to him so monstrous that he could have +forgotten an incident of such importance, that he couldn't believe it +and racked his brain to find someone on whom he could lay the blame. +Of course, it was the fault of the proprietor. He had run off the +lines, come into collision. He was done. He sat down on the seat and +almost shed tears of rage. + +Thump! a ball hit him right in the middle of his starched shirt front. +Like an infuriated wasp he rose from his seat to find the criminal; a +plain little girl's face laughed into his; a labourer in his Sunday +clothes and straw hat appeared, took her by the hand and smilingly +expressed a hope that the child had not hurt him; a laughing crowd of +soldiers and servant girls stared at him. He looked round for a +constable for he felt that his rights as a human being had been +encroached upon. But when he saw the constable in familiar conversation +with the child's mother, he dropped the idea of making a scene, went +straight to the nearest cab-stand, hired a cab, and told the driver +to drive him to the bookseller's; he could not bear to be alone any +longer. + +In the safe shelter of the cab he took out his handkerchief and flicked +the dust from his shirt front. + +He dismissed the cab in Goten Street, for he felt sure that he would +find his friend at home. But as he walked upstairs his assurance left +him. Supposing he were out after all! + +He was out. Not one of the tenants was at home. His knock sounded +through an empty house; his footsteps re-echoed on the deserted +stairs. + +When he was again in the street he was at a loss to know what to do. +He did not know Potocki's address, and where was he to find an address +book on a day when all the shops were closed? + +Without knowing where he was going, he went down the street, past the +harbour, across the bridge. He did not meet a single man he knew. The +presence of the crowd which occupied the town during the absence of +their betters annoyed him, for, like the rest of us, the education +which he had received at school had made an aristocrat of him. + +In his first anger he had forgotten his hunger, but now it re-asserted +itself. A new, terrible thought occurred to him, a thought which up to +now he had put away from him out of sheer cowardice: Where was he to +dine? He had started out with plenty of vouchers in his pocket, but +only one crown and fifty oere in coin. The vouchers were only used at +Rejner's, for convenience sake, and he had spent a crown on his +cabfare. + +He found himself again in Berzelius Park. Everywhere he met labourers +and their families, eating what they had brought with them in baskets; +hard-boiled eggs, crabs, pancakes. And the police did not interfere. +On the contrary, he saw a policeman with a sandwich in one hand and a +glass of beer in the other. But what irritated him more than anything +else was the fact that these people whom he despised had the advantage +of him. But why couldn't he go into a dairy and appease his hunger? +Yes, why not? The very thought of it made him shudder. + +After some little reflection he went down to the harbour, intending to +cross over to the Deer Park. He was bound to find acquaintances there +from whom he could borrow money (hateful thought!) for his dinner. And +if so, he would dine at "Hazelmount," the best restaurant. + +The steamer was so crowded that schoolmaster Blom had to stand close +to the engine; the heat at his back was intolerable; his morning coat +was being covered with grease spots, while he stood, with his gaze +rivetted on the untidy head of a servant girl and endured the rancid +smell of the hair-oil. But he did not see a single face he knew. + +When he entered the restaurant in the Deer Park, he squared his +shoulders and tried to look as distinguished as possible. + +The space before the restaurant was like the auditorium of a theatre +and seemed to serve the same purpose: that is to say, it was a place +where one met one's friends and showed off. The verandah was occupied +by officers, blue in the face with eating and drinking; with them were +representatives of the foreign Powers, grown old and grey in their +strenuous efforts to protect fellow-countrymen who had got mixed up +with sailors and fishermen in drunken brawls, or assist at Gala +performances, christenings, weddings and funerals. So much for the +aristocracy. In the centre of a large space Mr. Blom suddenly discovered +the chimney sweep of his quarter, the proprietor of a small inn, the +chemist's assistant and others of the same standing. He watched the +game-keeper in his green coat and silver lace, with his gilt staff, +walking up and down and casting contemptuous glances at the assembled +crowd, as if he were wondering why they were here? The schoolmaster felt +self-conscious under the stare of all those eyes which seemed to say: +"Look at him! there he goes, wondering how to get dinner!" But there was +nothing else for it. He went on to the verandah where the people sat +eating perch and asparagus, and drinking Sauternes and Champagne. + +All of a sudden he felt the pressure of a friendly hand on his shoulder, +and as he turned round, he found himself face to face with Gustav, the +waiter, who seized his hand and exclaimed with undisguised pleasure: + +"Is that really you, Mr. Blom? How are you?" + +But Gustav, the waiter, who was so pleased to find himself for a few +moments the equal of his master, held a piece of wood in his warm hand +and met a pair of eyes which pierced his soul like gimlets. And yet +this same hand had given him ten crowns only yesterday, and the owner +of it had thanked him for six months' service and attention in the way +one thanks a friend. The waiter went back to his companions and sat +down amongst them, embarrassed and snubbed. But Mr. Blom left the +verandah with bitter thoughts and pushed his way through the crowd; he +fancied that he could hear a mocking: "He hasn't been able to get +dinner, after all!" + +He came to a large open space. There was a puppet-show, and Jasper was +being beaten by his wife. A little further off a sailor was showing +servant girls, soldiers and apprentices their future husband or wife +in a wheel of fortune. They all had had dinner and were enjoying +themselves; for a moment he believed himself their inferior, but only +for a moment; then he remembered that they had not the vaguest idea of +how an Egyptian camp was fortified. The thought gave him back his +self-respect, and he wondered how it was possible that people could be +so degraded as to find pleasure in such childishness. + +In the meantime he had lost all inclination to try the other restaurants; +he passed the Tivoli and went further into the heart of the park. Young +men and women were dancing on the grass to the strains of a violin: a +little further off a whole family was camping under an old oak; the head +of the family was kneeling down, in his shirt sleeves, with bare head, a +glass of beer in one hand, a sandwich in the other; his fat, jolly, +clean-shaven face beamed with pleasure and good-nature as he invited his +guests, who were evidently his wife, parents-in-law, brothers, +shop-assistants and servants, to eat, drink and be merry, for to-day was +Midsummer day, all day long. And the jovial fellow made such droll remarks +that the whole party writhed on the grass with amusement. After the +pancake had been produced and eaten with the fingers, and the port bottle +been round, the senior shop-assistant made a speech which was at once so +moving and so witty that the ladies at one moment pressed their +handkerchiefs to their eyes, while the head of the family bit his lips, +and at the next interrupted the speaker with loud laughter and cheers. + +The schoolmaster's mood became more and more morose, but instead of +going away he sat down on a stone under a pinetree and watched "the +animals." + +When the speech was finished and father and mother had been toasted +with cheers and a flourish of trumpets, executed on a concertina, +accompanied by the rattling of all cups and saucers that happened to +be empty, the party rose to play "Third Man," while mother and +mother-in-law attended to the babies. + +"Just like the beasts in the field," thought the schoolmaster, turning +away, for all that was natural was ugly in his eyes, and only that +which was unnatural could lay any claim to beauty in his opinion, +except, of course, the paintings of "well-known" masters in the +National Museum. + +He watched the young men taking off their coats, the young girls +slipping off their cuffs and hanging them on the blackthorn bushes; +then they took up their positions and the game began. + +The girls picked up their skirts and threw up their legs so that their +garters, made of blue and red braid such as the grocers sell for tying +up pots, were plainly visible, and whenever the cavalier caught his +lady, he took her in his arms and swung her round so that her skirts +flew; and young and old shrieked so with laughter that the park +re-echoed. + +"Is this innocence or corruption?" wondered the schoolmaster. + +But evidently the party did not know what the learned word "corruption" +meant, and that was the reason why they were so merry. + +By the time they were tired of playing "Third Man" tea was ready. The +schoolmaster was puzzled to know where the cavaliers had learnt their +fine manners, for they moved about on all fours to offer the girls +sugar and cake; and the straps of their waistcoats stood out like +handles. + +"The males showing off before the females!" thought the schoolmaster. +"They don't know what they are in for." + +He noticed how the head of the family, the jolly fellow, waited on +father and mother-in-law, wife, shop-assistants and servant girls: and +whenever one of them begged him to help himself first, he invariably +answered that there was plenty of time for that. + +He watched the father-in-law peeling a willow branch to make a flute +for the little boy; he watched the mother-in-law wash up as if she had +been one of the servants. And he thought that there was something +strange about selfishness, since it could be so cleverly disguised +that it looked as if no one gave more than he received; for it must be +selfishness, it couldn't be anything else. + +They played at forfeits and redeemed every forfeit with kisses, true, +genuine, resounding kisses on the lips; and when the jolly book-keeper +was made to kiss the old oak-tree, his conduct was too absurd for +anything; he embraced and caressed the gnarled trunk as if it had been +a girl whom he had met secretly; everybody shouted with laughter, for +all knew how to do it, although none of them would have liked to be +caught doing it. + +The schoolmaster who had begun by watching the spectacle with critical +eyes, fell more and more under the spell of it; he almost believed +himself to be one of the party. He smiled at the sallies of the +shop-assistants, and before an hour was gone the head of the family +had won his whole sympathy. No one could deny that the man was a +comedian of the first rank. He could play "Skin-the-cat"; he could +"walk backwards," "lie" on the tree-trunks, swallow coins, eat fire, +and imitate all sorts of birds. And when he extracted a saffron cake +from the dress of one of the girls and made it disappear in his right +ear, the schoolmaster laughed until his empty inside ached. + +Then the dancing began. The schoolmaster had read in Rabe's grammar: +Nemo saltat sobrius, nisi forte insanit, and had always looked upon +dancing as a species of insanity. True, he had watched puppies and +calves dancing when they felt frisky, but he did not believe that +Cicero's maxim applied to the animal world, and he was in the habit of +drawing a sharp line between men and animals. Now, as he sat watching +these young people who were quite sober, and neither hungry nor thirsty, +moving round and round to the slow measures of the concertina, he felt +as if his soul were in a swing which was being kept going by his eyes +and ears, and his right foot beat time gently on the springy turf. + +He spent three hours musing and watching, then he rose. He found it +almost difficult to tear himself away; it was just as if he were +leaving a merry party to which he had been invited; but his mood had +changed; he felt more reconciled. He was at peace with the world and +pleasantly tired, as if he had been enjoying himself. + +It was evening. Smart carriages passed him, the lady-occupants lolling +on the back seats and looking in their long, white theatre wraps like +corpses in their shrouds; it was fashionable then to look as if one +had been exhumed. The schoolmaster, whose thoughts were running in +another direction, was sure that the ladies must be bored to death and +felt no trace of envy. Below the dusty highroad, far out on the sea, +the steamers with their flags and brass bands were returning from +their pleasure trips; cheers, strains of music and snatches of song +were wafted by the sea breezes to the mountains and the Deer Park. + +The schoolmaster had never felt so lonely in his life as he did this +evening in the moving throng. He fancied that everybody was looking at +him compassionately as he made his solitary way through the crowd, and +almost gave way to self-pity. He would have liked to talk to the first +comer, for the mere pleasure of hearing his voice, for in his loneliness +he felt as if he were walking by the side of a stranger. And now his +conscience smote him. He remembered the waiter Gustav, who had been +unable to hide his pleasure at meeting him. Now he had arrived at a +point when he would have given worlds if anybody had met him and shown +any pleasure at the fact. But nobody came. + +Yes, somebody did, after all. As he was sitting by himself on the +steamer, a setter, who had lost his master, came to him and put its +head on his knee. The schoolmaster was not particularly fond of dogs, +but he allowed it to stay; he felt it pressing its soft warm body +against his leg, he saw the eyes of the forsaken brute looking at him +in dumb appeal, as if it were asking him to find its master. + +But as soon as they landed, the setter ran away. "It needed me no +longer," thought the schoolmaster, and he walked home and went to bed. + +These trifling incidents of Midsummer day had robbed the schoolmaster +of his assurance. They taught him that all foresight, all precautions, +all the clever calculations in the world availed nothing. He felt a +certain instability in his surroundings. Even the public house, his +home, was not to be counted on. It might be closed any day. Moreover, +a certain reserve on the part of Gustav troubled him. The waiter was +as civil as before, more attentive even, but his friendship was gone; +he had lost confidence. It afforded the schoolmaster food for thought, +and whenever a tough piece of meat, or too small a dish of potatoes +was set before him he thought: + +"Haha! He's paying me out!" + +It was a bad summer for the schoolmaster: the second violin was out of +town and the book-seller frequented "Mosesheight," a garden restaurant +in his own district, situated on a hill. + +On an evening in autumn the bookseller and the second violin were +sitting at their favourite table, drinking a glass of punch, when +the schoolmaster entered, carrying under his arm a parcel which he +carefully hid in an empty hamper in a cupboard used for all sorts of +lumber. He was ill-tempered and unusually irritable. + +"Well, old boy," the bookseller began for the hundredth time, "and +when are you going to be married?" + +"Confound your 'when are you going to be married!' As if a man hadn't +enough trouble without it! Why don't you get married yourself?" +growled the schoolmaster. + +"Oh! because I have my old Stafva," answered the bookseller, who always +had a number of stereotyped answers in readiness. + +"I was married very happily," said the Pole, "but my wife is dead, +now, ugh!" + +"Is she?" mimicked the schoolmaster; "and the gentleman is a widower? +How am I to reconcile these facts?" + +The Pole nodded, for he did not in the least understand what the +schoolmaster was driving at. + +The latter felt bored by his friends; their topic of conversation was +always the same; he knew their replies by heart. + +Presently he went into the corridor for a few moments to fetch his +cigar-case which he had left in the pocket of his overcoat. The +bookseller instantly raided the cupboard and returned with the +mysterious parcel. As it was not sealed, he opened it quickly; it +contained a beautiful American sleeping-suit; he hung it carefully +over the back of the schoolmaster's chair. + +"Ugh!" said the Pole, grinning, as if he were looking at something +unsightly. + +The proprietor of the restaurant who loved a practical joke, bent over +the counter, laughing loudly; the waiter stood rooted to the spot, and +one of the cooks peeped through the door which communicated with the +kitchen. + +When the schoolmaster came back and realised the trick played on him, +he grew pale with anger; he immediately suspected the bookseller; but +when his eyes fell on Gustav who was standing in a corner of the room, +laughing, his old obsession returned to him: "He's paying me out!" +Without a word he seized his property, threw a few coins on the +counter and left the restaurant. + +Henceforth the schoolmaster avoided Rejner's. The bookseller had heard +that he dined at a restaurant in his own district. This was true. But +he was very discontented! The food was not actually bad, but it was +not cooked to his liking. The waiters were not attentive. He often +thought of returning to Rejner's, but his pride would not let him. He +had been turned out of his home; in five minutes a bond of many years' +standing had been severed. + +A short time after fate struck him a fresh blow. Miss Augusta had +inherited a little fortune in the provinces and had decided to leave +Stockholm on the first of October. The schoolmaster had to look out +for new lodgings. + +But he had been spoilt, and there was no pleasing him. He changed his +room every month. There was nothing wrong with the rooms, but they +were not like his old room. It had become such a habit with him to +walk through certain streets, that he often found himself before his +old front door before he realised his mistake. He was like a lost +child. + +Eventually he went to live in a boarding house, a solution which he +had always loathed and dreaded. And then his friends lost sight of him +altogether. + +One evening, as the Pole was sitting alone over his grog, smoking, +drinking, and nodding with the capacity of the oriental to lapse into +complete stupor, the bookseller burst in on him like a thunderstorm, +flung his hat on the table, and shouted: + +"Confound him! Has anybody ever heard anything like it?" + +The Pole roused himself from his brandy-and-tobacco Nirvana, and +rolled his eyes. + +"I say, confound it! Has anybody ever heard anything like it? He's +going to be married!" + +"Who's going to be married?" asked the Pole, startled by the +bookseller's violence and emphatic language. + +"Schoolmaster Blom!" + +The bookseller expected a glass of grog in exchange for his news. The +proprietor left the counter and came to their table to listen. + +"Has she any money?" he asked acutely. + +"I don't think so," replied the bookseller, conscious of his temporary +importance and selling his wares one by one. + +"Is she beautiful?" asked the Pole. "My wife was very beautiful. Ugh!" + +"No, she's not beautiful either," answered the bookseller, "but +nice-looking." + +"Have you seen her?" enquired the proprietor. "Is she old?" His eyes +wandered towards the kitchen door. + +"No, she's young!" + +"And her parents?" continued the proprietor. + +"I heard that her father was a brass founder in Orebro." + +"The rascal! Well, I never!" said the proprietor. + +"Haven't I always said so? The man is a born husband," said the +bookseller. + +"We all of us are," said the proprietor, "and take my word for it, no +one escapes his fate!" + +With this philosophical remark he closed the subject and returned to +the counter. + +When they had settled that the schoolmaster was not marrying for money, +they discussed the problem of "what the young people were going to live +on." The bookseller made a guess at the schoolmaster's salary and "what +he might earn besides by giving private lessons." When that question, +too, had been settled, the proprietor, who had returned to the table, +asked for details. + +"Where had he met her? Was she fair or dark? Was she in love with +him?" + +The last question was by no means out of the way; the bookseller +"thought she was," for he had seen them together, arm in arm, looking +into shop windows. + +"But that he, who was such a stick, could fall in love! It was incredible!" + +"And what a husband he would make!" The proprietor knew that he was +_devilish particular_ about his food, and that, he said, was a mistake +when one was married. + +"And he likes a glass of punch in the evening, and surely a married +man can't drink punch every evening of his life. And he doesn't like +children! It won't turn out well," he whispered. "Take my word for it, +it won't turn out well. And, gentlemen, there's another thing," (he +rose from his seat, looked round and continued in a whisper), "I believe, +I'm hanged if I don't, that the old hypocrite has had a love affair of +some sort. Do you remember that incident, gentlemen, with +the--hihihi--sleeping suit? He's one of those whom you don't find where +you leave them! Take care, Mrs. Blom! Mind what you are about! I'll say +no more!" + +It was certainly a fact that the schoolmaster was engaged to be +married and that the wedding was to take place within two months. + +What happened after, does not belong to this story, and, moreover, it +is difficult to know what goes on behind the convent walls of +domesticity when the vow of silence is being kept. + +It was also a fact that the schoolmaster, after his marriage, was never +again seen at a public house. + +The bookseller, who met him by himself in the street one evening, had +to listen to a long exhortation on getting married. The schoolmaster +had inveighed against all bachelors; he had called them egotists, who +refused to do their duty by the State; in his opinion they ought to be +heavily taxed, for all indirect taxes weighed most cruelly on the +father of a family. He went so far as to say that he wished to see +bachelorhood punished by the law of the land as a "crime against +nature." + +The bookseller had a good memory. He said that he doubted the +advisability of taking a _fool_ into one's house, permanently. But the +schoolmaster replied that _his_ wife was the most intelligent woman he +had ever met. + +Two years after the wedding the Pole saw the schoolmaster and his wife +in the theatre; he thought that they looked happy; "ugh!" + +Another three years went by. On a Midsummer day the proprietor of the +restaurant made a pleasure trip on the Lake of Maelar to Mariafred. +There, before Castle Cripsholm, he saw the schoolmaster, pushing a +perambulator over a green field, and carrying in his disengaged hand a +basket containing food, while a whole crowd of young men and women, +"who looked like country folk," followed in the rear. After dinner the +schoolmaster sang songs and turned somersaults with the youngsters. He +looked ten years younger and had all the ways of a ladies' man. + +The proprietor, who was quite close to the party while they were +having dinner, overheard a little conversation between Mr. and Mrs. +Blom. When the young wife took a dish of crabs from the basket, she +apologised to Albert, because she had not been able to buy a single +female crab in the whole market. Thereupon the schoolmaster put his +arm round her, kissed her and said that it didn't matter in the least, +because male or female crabs, it was all the same to him. And when one +of the babies in the perambulator began to cry, the schoolmaster +lifted it out and hushed it to sleep again. + +Well, all these things are mere details, but how people can get married +and bring up a family when they have not enough for themselves while +they are bachelors, is a riddle to me. It almost looks as if babies +brought their food with them when they come into this world; it really +almost does look as if they did. + + + + +COMPENSATION + + +He was considered a genius at College, and no one doubted that he +would one day distinguish himself. But after passing his examinations, +he was obliged to go to Stockholm and look out for a berth. His +dissertation, which was to win him the doctor's degree, had to be +postponed. As he was very ambitious, but had no private means, he +resolved to marry money, and with this object in view, he visited only +the very best families, both at Upsala where he studied for the bar, and +later on at Stockholm. At Upsala he always fraternised with the new +arrivals, that is to say, when they were members of aristocratic families, +and the freshers felt flattered by the advances made by the older man. +In this way he formed many useful ties, which meant invitations to his +friends' country houses during the summer. + +The country houses were his happy hunting ground. He possessed social +talents, he could sing and play and amuse the ladies, and consequently +he was a great favourite. He dressed beyond his means; but he never +borrowed money from any of his friends or aristocratic acquaintances. +He even went to the length of buying two worthless shares and mentioning +on every possible occasion that he had to attend a General Meeting of +the shareholders. + +For two summers he had paid a great deal of attention to a titled lady +who owned some property, and his prospects were the general topic, +when he suddenly disappeared from high life and became engaged to a +poor girl, the daughter of a cooper, who owned no property whatever. + +His friends were puzzled and could not understand how he could thus +stand in his own light. He had laid his plans so well, he "had but to +stretch out his hand and success was in his grasp"; he had the morsel +firmly stuck on his fork, it was only necessary for him to open his +mouth and swallow it. He himself was at a loss to understand how it +was that the face of a little girl whom he had met but once on a steamer +could have upset all his plans of many years' standing. He was bewitched, +obsessed. + +He asked his friends whether they didn't think her beautiful? + +Frankly speaking they didn't. + +"But she is so clever! Just look into her eyes! What expressive eyes +she has!" + +His friends could see nothing and hear less, for the girl never opened +her lips. + +But he spent evening after evening with the cooper's family; to be +sure, the cooper was a very intelligent man! On his knees before her +(a trick often practised at the country houses) he held her skeins of +wool; he played and sang to her, talked about religion and the drama, +and he always read acquiescence in her eyes. He wrote poetry about +her, and sacrificed at her shrine his laurels, his ambitious dreams, +even his dissertation. + +And then he married her. + +The cooper drank too much at the wedding and made an improper speech +about girls in general. But the son-in-law found the old man so +unsophisticated, so amiable, that he egged him on instead of shutting +him up. He felt at his ease among these simple folk; in their midst he +could be quite himself. + +"That's being in love," said his friends. "Love is a wonderful thing." + +And now they were married. One month--two months. He was unspeakably +happy. Every evening they spent together and he sang a song to her +about the Rose in the Wood, her favourite song. And he talked about +religion and the drama, and she sat and listened eagerly. But she never +expressed an opinion; she listened in silence and went on with her +crochet work. + +In the third month he relapsed into his old habit of taking an afternoon +nap. His wife, who hated being by herself, insisted on sitting by him. +It irritated him, for he felt an overwhelming need to be alone with his +thoughts. + +Sometimes she met him on his way home from his office, and her heart +swelled with pride when he left his colleagues and crossed the street +to join her. She took him home in triumph: he was _her_ husband! + +In the fourth month he grew tired of her favourite song. It was stale +now! He took up a book and read, and neither of them spoke. + +One evening he had to attend a meeting which was followed by a banquet. +It was his first night away from home. He had persuaded his wife to +invite a friend to spend the evening with her, and to go to bed early, +for he did not expect to be home until late. + +The friend came and stayed until nine o'clock. The young wife sat in +the drawing-room, waiting, for she was determined not to go to bed +until her husband had returned. She felt too restless to go to sleep. + +She sat alone in the drawing-room. What could she do to make the time +pass more quickly? The maid had gone to bed; the grandfather's clock +ticked and ticked. But it was only ten o'clock when she put away her +crochet work. She fidgeted, moved the furniture about and felt a little +unstrung. + +So that was what being married meant! One was torn from one's early +surroundings, and shut up in three solitary rooms to wait until one's +husband came home, half intoxicated.--Nonsense! he loved her, and he +was out on business. She was a fool to forget that. But _did_ he love +her still? Hadn't he refused a day or two ago to hold a skein of wool +for her?--a thing he loved to do before they were married. Didn't he +look rather annoyed yesterday when she met him before lunch? And--after +all--if he had to attend a business meeting to-night, there was no +necessity for him to be present at the banquet. + +It was half-past ten when her musing had reached this point. She was +surprised that she hadn't thought of these things before. She relapsed +into her dark mood and the dismal thoughts again passed through her +mind, one by one. But now reinforcements had arrived. He never talked +to her now! He never sang to her, never opened the piano! He had told +her a lie when he had said that he couldn't do without his afternoon +nap, for he was reading French novels all the time. + +He had told her a lie! + +It was only half-past eleven. The silence was oppressive. She opened +the window and looked out into the street. Two men were standing down +below, bargaining with two women. That was men's way! If he should +ever do anything like that! She should drown herself if he did. + +She shut the window and lighted the chandelier in the bedroom. "One +ought to be able to see what one is about," he had once said to her on +a certain occasion.--Everything was still so bright and new! The green +coverlet looked like a mown lawn, and the little pillows reminded her +of two white kittens curled up on the grass. The polish of her +dressing-table reflected the light: the mirror had as yet none of +those ugly stains which are made by the splashing of water. The silver +on the back of her hair-brush, her powder-box, her tooth-brush, all +shone and sparkled. Her bedroom slippers were still so new and pretty +that it was impossible to picture them down-at-heel. Everything looked +new, and yet everything seemed to have lost some of its freshness. She +knew all his songs, all his drawing-room pieces, all his words, all +his thoughts. She knew before-hand what he would say when he sat down +to lunch, what he would talk about when they were alone in the +evening. + +She was sick of it all. Had she been in love with him? Oh, yes! +Certainly! But was this all then? Was she realising all the dreams of +her girlhood? Were things to go on like this until she died? Yes! +But--but--but--surely they would have children! though there was no +sign of it as yet. Then she would no longer be alone! Then he might go +out as often as he liked, for she would always have somebody to talk +to, to play with. Perhaps it was a baby which she wanted to make her +happy. Perhaps matrimony really meant something more than being a +man's legitimate mistress. That must be it! But then, he would have to +love her, and he didn't do that. And she began to cry. + +When her husband came home at one o'clock, he was quite sober. But he +was almost angry with her when he found her still up. + +"Why didn't you go to bed?" were the words with which he greeted her. + +"How can I go to sleep when I am waiting for you?" + +"A fine look out for me! Am I never to go out then? I believe you have +been crying, too?" + +"Yes, I have, and how can I help it if you--don't--love--me--any--more?" + +"Do you mean to say I don't love you because I had to go out on +business?" + +"A banquet isn't business!" + +"Good God! Am I not to be allowed to go out? How can women be so +obtrusive?" + +"Obtrusive? Yes, I noticed that yesterday, when I met you. I'll never +meet you again." + +"But, darling, I was with my chief--" + +"Huhuhu!" + +She burst into tears, her body moved convulsively. + +He had to call the maid and ask her to fetch the hot-water bottle. + +He, too, was weeping. Scalding tears! He wept over himself, his hardness +of heart, his wickedness, his illusions over everything. + +Surely his love for her wasn't an illusion? He did love her! Didn't +he? And she said she loved him, too, as he was kneeling before her +prostrate figure, kissing her eyes. Yes, they loved one another! It +was merely a dark cloud which had passed, now. Ugly thoughts, born of +solitude and loneliness. She would never, never again stay alone. They +fell asleep in each other's arms, her face dimpled with smiles. + +But she did not go to meet him on the following day. He asked no +questions at lunch. He talked a lot, but more for the sake of talking +than to amuse her; it seemed as if he were talking to himself. + +In the evening he entertained her with long descriptions of the life +at Castle Sjoestaholm; he mimicked the young ladies talking to the +Baron, and told her the names of the Count's horses. And on the +following day he mentioned his dissertation. + +One afternoon he came home very tired. She was sitting in the +drawing-room, waiting for him. Her ball of cotton had fallen on the +floor. In passing, his foot got entangled in the cotton; at his next +step he pulled her crochet work out of her hand and dragged it along; +then he lost his temper and kicked it aside. + +She exclaimed at his rudeness. + +He retorted that he had no time to bother about her rubbish, and +advised her to spend her time more profitably. He had to think of his +dissertation, if he was to have a career at all. And she ought to +consider the question of how to limit their household expenses. + +Things had gone far indeed! + +On the next day the young wife, her eyes swollen with weeping, was +knitting socks for her husband. He told her he could buy them cheaper +ready-made. She burst into tears. What was she to do? The maid did all +the work of the house, there was not enough work in the kitchen for +two. She always dusted the rooms. Did he want her to send the maid +away? + +"No, no!" + +"What did he want, then?" + +He didn't know himself, but he was sure that something was wrong. Their +expenses were too high. That was all. They couldn't go on living at their +present rate, and then--somehow he could never find time to work at his +dissertation. + +Tears, kisses, and a grand reconciliation! But now he started staying +away from home in the evening several times a week. Business! A man +must show himself! If he stays at home, he will be overlooked and +forgotten! + +A year had passed; there were no signs of the arrival of a baby. "How +like a little liaison I once had in the old days," he thought; "there +is only one difference: this one is duller and costs more." There was +no more conversation, now; they merely talked of household matters. +"She has no brain," he thought. "I am listening to myself when I am +talking to her, and the apparent depths of her eyes is a delusion, due +to the size of her pupils--the unusual size of her pupils.--" + +He talked openly about his former love for her as of something that +was over and done with. And yet, whenever he did so, he felt a pain +in his heart, an irritating, cruel pain, a remorseless pain that could +never die. + +"Everything on earth withers and dies," he mused, "why should her +favourite song alone be an exception to this? When one has heard it +three hundred and sixty-five times, it becomes stale; it can't be +helped. But is my wife right when she says that our love, also, has +died? No, and yet--perhaps she is. Our marriage is no better than a +vulgar liaison, for we have no child." + +One day he made up his mind to talk the matter over with a married +friend, for were they not both members of the "Order of the Married"? + +"How long have you been married?" + +"Six years." + +"And does matrimony bore you?" + +"At first it did; but when the children came, matters improved." + +"Was that so? It's strange that we have no child." + +"Not your fault, old man! Tell your wife to go and see a doctor about +it." + +He had an intimate conversation with her and she went. + +Six weeks after what a change! + +What a bustle and commotion in the house! The drawing-room table was +littered with baby-clothes which were quickly hidden if anybody entered +unexpectedly, and reappeared as quickly if it was only he who had come +in. A name had to be thought of. It would surely be a boy. The midwife +had to be interviewed, medical books had to be bought, and a cradle +and a baby's outfit. + +The baby arrived and it really was a boy! And when he saw the "little +monkey that smelled of butter" clasped to her bosom, which until then +had but been his plaything, he reverently discovered the mother in his +little wife; and "when he saw the big pupils looking at the baby so +intently that they seemed to be looking into the future", he realised +that there were depths in her eyes after all; depths more profound +than he could fathom for all his drama and religion. And now all his +old love, his dear old love, burst into fresh flames, and there was +something new added to it, which he had dimly divined, but never +realised. + +How beautiful she was when she busied herself about the house again! +And how intelligent in all matters concerning the baby! + +As for him, he felt a man. Instead of talking of the Baron's horses +and the Count's cricket matches, he now talked, too much almost, of +his son. + +And when occasionally he was obliged to be out of an evening, he always +longed for his own fireside; not because his wife sat there waiting for +him, like an evil conscience, but because he knew that she was not alone. +And when he came home, both mother and child were asleep. He was almost +jealous of the baby, for there had been a certain charm in the thought +that while he was out, somebody was sitting alone at home, eagerly +awaiting his return. + +Now he was allowed his afternoon nap. And as soon as he had gone back +to town, the piano was opened and the favourite song of the _Rose in +the Wood_ was sung, for it was quite new to Harold, and had regained +all its freshness for poor little Laura who hadn't heard it for so many +days. + +She had no time now for crochet work, but there were plenty of +antimacassars in the house. He, on his part, could not spare the time +for his dissertation. + +"Harold shall write it," said the father, for he knew now that his +life would not be over when he came to die. + +Many an evening they sat together, as before, and gossiped, but now +both took a share in the conversation, for now she understood what +they were talking about. + +She confessed that she was a silly girl who knew nothing about religion +and the drama; but she said that she had always told him so, and that he +had refused to believe it. + +But now he believed it less than ever. + +They sang the old favourite song, and Harold crowed, they danced to the +tune and rocked the baby's cradle to it, and the song always retained +its freshness and charm. + + + + +FRICTIONS + + +His eyes had been opened. He realised the perversity of the world, but +he lacked the power to penetrate the darkness and discover the cause +of this perversity; therefore he gave himself up to despair, a +disillusioned man. Then he fell in love with a girl who married +somebody else. He complained of her conduct to his friends, male and +female, but they only laughed at him. For a little while longer he trod +his solitary path alone and misunderstood. He belonged to "society," +and joined in its pursuits, because it distracted him; but at the bottom +of his heart he had nothing but contempt for its amusements, which he +took no pains to conceal. + +One evening he was present at a ball. He danced with a young woman of +unusual beauty and animation. When the band ceased playing, he remained +standing by her side. He knew he ought to talk to her but he did not +know what to say. After a while the girl broke the silence. + +"You are fond of dancing, Baron?" she said with a cold, smile. + +"Oh no! not at all," he answered. "Are you?" + +"I can't imagine anything more foolish," she replied. + +He had met his man, or rather his woman. + +"Why do you dance, then?" he asked. + +"For the same reason that you do." + +"Can you read my mind?" + +"Easily enough; if two people think alike, the other always knows." + +"H'm! You're a strange woman! Do you believe in love?" + +"No!" + +"Nor do I! You and I ought to get married." + +"I'm beginning to think so myself." + +"Would you marry me?" + +"Why not? At any rate, we shouldn't fight." + +"Horrible idea! But how can you be so sure?" + +"Because we think alike." + +"Yes, but that might become monotonous. We should have nothing to talk +about, because the one would always know what the other is thinking." + +"True; but wouldn't it be even more monotonous if we remained +unmarried and misunderstood?" + +"You are right! Would you like to think it over?" + +"Yes, until the cotillon." + +"No longer?" + +"Why any longer?" + +He took her back to the drawing-room and left her there, drank several +glasses of champagne and watched her during supper. She allowed two +young members of the Diplomatic Corps to wait on her, but made fun of +them all the time and treated them as if they were footmen. + +As soon as the cotillon began, he went to her and offered her a bouquet. + +"Do you accept me?" he asked. + +"Yes," she replied. + +And so they were engaged. + +It's a splendid match, said the world. They are made for one another. +They are equals as far as social position and money are concerned. +They hold the same blase views of life. By blase the world meant that +they cared very little for dances, theatres, bazaars, and other noble +sports without which life is not really worth living. + +They were like carefully wiped twin slates, exactly alike; but utterly +unable to surmise whether or not life would write the same legend on +both. They never asked one another during the tender moments of their +engagement: Do you love me? They knew quite well that it was impossible, +because they did not believe in love. They talked little, but they +understood one another perfectly. + +And they married. + +He was always attentive, always polite, and they were good friends. + +When the baby was born, it had but one effect on their relationship; +they had something to talk about now. + +But by-and-by the husband began to reveal a certain energy. He had a +sense of duty, and moreover, he was sick of being idle. He had a +private income, but was in no way connected with politics or the +Government. Now he looked round for some occupation which would fill +the void in his life. He had heard the first morning call of the +awakening spirits and felt it his duty to do his share of the great +work of research into the causes of human misery. He read much, made a +careful study of politics and eventually wrote an article and sent it +to a paper. The consequence was that he was elected a member of the +Board of Education. This necessitated hard reading in future, for all +questions were to be threshed out thoroughly. + +The Baroness lay on the sofa and read Chateaubriand and Musset. She +had no faith in the improvement of humanity, and this stirring up of +the dust and mould which the centuries had deposited on human +institutions irritated her. Yet she noticed that she did not keep pace +with her husband. They were like two horses at a race. They had been +weighed before the start and been found to be of the same weight; they +had promised to keep side by side during the run; everything was +calculated to make them finish the race and leave the course at the +same time. But already the husband had gained by the length of a neck. +Unless she hurried up, she was bound to be left behind. + +And the latter really happened. In the following year he was made +controller of the budget. He was away for two months. His absence made +the Baroness realise that she loved him; a fact which was brought home +to her by her fear of losing him. + +When he returned home, she was all eagerness; but his mind was filled +with the things he had seen and heard abroad. He realised that they +had come to the parting of the ways, but he would have liked to delay +it, prevent it, if possible. He showed her in great living pictures +the functioning of the colossal gigantic machinery of the State, he +tried to explain to her the working of the wheels, the multifarious +transmissions, regulators and detents, unreliable pendulums and +untrustworthy safety valves. + +She was interested at first, but after a while her interest waned. +Conscious of her mental inferiority, her insignificance, she devoted +herself entirely to her baby, anxious to demonstrate to her husband +that she yet had a value as a model mother. But her husband did not +appreciate this value. He had married her for the sake of companionship, +and he found in her an excellent nurse for his child. But how could it +be helped now? Who could have foreseen such a thing? + +The house was always full of members of Parliament, and politics was +the subject of conversation at dinner. The hostess merely took care +that no fault could be found with the cooking. The Baron never omitted +to have one or two men amongst his guests who could talk to his wife +about music and the drama, but the Baroness wanted to discuss nothing +but the nursery and the bringing up of children. After dessert, as +soon as the health of the hostess was drunk, there was a general +stampede to the smoking-room where the political discussions were +continued. The Baroness left her guests and went to the nursery with a +feeling of bitterness in her heart; she realised that her husband had +so far outdistanced her that she could never again hope to come up +with him. + +He worked much at home in the evening; frequently he was busy at his +writing-table until the small hours of the morning, but always behind +locked doors. When he noticed afterwards, as he sometimes did, that +his wife went about with red eyes, he felt a pain in his heart; but +they had nothing to say to each other. + +Occasionally however, at those times when his work palled, when he +realised that his inner life was growing poorer and poorer, he felt a +void within him, a longing for warmth, for something intimate, something +he had dreamed of long ago, in the early days of his youth. But every +feeling of that sort he suppressed at once as unfaithfulness to his wife, +for he had a very high conception of the duty of a husband. + +To bring a little more variety into her daily life, he suggested one +day that she should invite a cousin of whom she had often spoken, but +whom he had never seen, to spend the winter with them in town. + +This had always been a great wish of the Baroness's, but now that the +realisation of it was within her power, she changed her mind. She did +not want her in the least now. Her husband pressed her for reasons, +but she could not give him any. It roused his curiosity and finally +she confessed that she was afraid of her cousin; afraid that she might +win his heart, that he might fall in love with her. + +"She must be a queer girl, we really must have her here!" + +The Baroness wept and warned, but the Baron laughed and the cousin +arrived. + +One afternoon the Baron came home, tired as usual; he had forgotten +all about the cousin and his curiosity in regard to her. They sat down +to dinner. The Baron asked the cousin if she was fond of the theatre. +She replied that she was not. She preferred reality to make-believe. +At home she had founded a school for black sheep and a society for the +care of discharged prisoners. Indeed! The Baron was much interested in +the administration of prisons. The cousin was able to give him a good +deal of information, and during the rest of the dinner the conversation +was exclusively about prisons. Eventually the cousin promised to treat +the whole question in a paper which the Baron was going to read and work +up. + +What the Baroness had foreseen, happened. The Baron contracted a +spiritual marriage with the cousin, and his wife was left out in the +cold. But the cousin was also beautiful, and when she leaned over the +Baron at his writing-desk, and he felt her soft arm on his shoulder +and her warm breath against his cheek, he could not suppress a +sensation of supreme well-being. Needless to say, their conversation +was not always of prisons. They also discussed love. She believed in +the love of the souls, and she stated as plainly as she could, that +marriage without love was prostitution. The Baron had not taken much +interest in the development of modern ideas on love, and found that +her views on the subject were rather hard, but after all she was +probably quite right. + +But the cousin possessed other qualities, too, invaluable qualifications +for a true spiritual marriage. She had no objection to tobacco smoke for +instance, in fact, she was very fond of a cigarette herself. There was no +reason, therefore, why she should not go into the smoking-room with the +men after dinner and talk about politics. And then she was charming. + +Tortured by little twinges of conscience, the Baron would every now +and then disappear from the smoking-room, go into the nursery, kiss +his wife and child, and ask her how she was getting on? The Baroness +was grateful, but she was not happy. After these little journeys the +Baron always returned to his friends in the best of tempers; one might +have thought that he had faithfully performed a sacred duty. At other +times it irritated and distressed him that his wife did not join the +party in the smoking-room, too, as _his_ wife; this thought was a +burden which weighed quite heavily on him. + +The cousin did not go home in the spring, but accompanied the couple +to a watering-place. There she organised little performances for the +benefit of the poor, in which she and the Baron played the parts of +the lovers. This had the inevitable result that the fire burst into +flames. But the flames were only spiritual flames; mutual interests, +like views, and, perhaps, similar dispositions. + +The Baroness had ample time to consider her position. The day arrived +when she told her husband that since everything was over between them, +the only decent thing to do was to part. But that was more than he had +bargained for; he was miserable; the cousin had better return to her +parents, and he would prove to his wife that he was a man of honour. + +The cousin left. A correspondence between her and the Baron began. He +made the Baroness read every letter, however much she hated doing it. +After a while, however, he gave in and read the letters without showing +them to his wife. + +Finally the cousin returned. Then matters came to a crisis. The Baron +discovered that he could not live without her. + +What were they to do? Separate? It would be death. Go on as at present? +Impossible! Annul the marriage which the Baron had come to look upon as +legal prostitution and marry his beloved? However painful it might be, +it was the only honest course to take. + +But that was against the wishes of the cousin. She did not want it said +of her that she had stolen another woman's husband. And then the scandal! +the scandal! + +"But it was dishonest not to tell his wife everything; it was dishonest +to allow things to go on; one could never tell how the matter would end." + +"What did he mean? How could it end?" + +"Nobody could tell!" + +"Oh! How dared he! What did he think of her?" + +"That she was a woman!" + +And he fell on his knees and worshipped her; he said that he did not +care if the administration of prisons and the school for black sheep +went to the devil; he did not know what manner of woman she was; he +only knew that he loved her. + +She replied that she had nothing but contempt for him, and went helter +skelter to Paris. He followed at her heels. At Hamburg he wrote a +letter to his wife in which he said that they had made a mistake and +that it was immoral not to rectify it. He asked her to divorce him. + +And she divorced him. + +A year after these events the Baron and the cousin were married. They +had a child. But that was a fact which did not interfere with their +happiness. On the contrary! What a wealth of new ideas germinated in +their minds in their voluntary exile! How strong were the winds which +blew here! + +He encouraged her to write a book on "young criminals." The press tore +it to pieces. She was furious and swore that she would never write +another book. He asked her whether she wrote for praise, whether she +was ambitious?--She replied by a question: Why did he write?--A little +quarrel arose. He said it was refreshing to hear her express views +which did not echo his own--always his own.--Always his own? What did +he mean? Didn't she have _views of her own_? She henceforth made it +her business to prove to him on every occasion that she was capable of +forming her own opinions; and to prevent any errors on his part she +took good care that they always differed from his. He told her he did +not care what views she held as long as she loved him.--Love? What about +it? He was no better than other men and, moreover, he had betrayed her. +He did not love her soul, but her body.--No, he loved both, he loved +her, every bit of her!--Oh! How deceitful he had been!--No, he had not +been deceitful, he had merely deceived himself when he believed that he +loved her soul only. + +They were tired of strolling up and down the boulevard, and sat down +before a cafe. She lighted a cigarette. A waiter requested her rather +uncivilly, not to smoke. The Baron demanded an explanation and the +waiter said that the cafe was a first-class establishment and the +management was anxious not to drive away respectable people by serving +_these ladies_. They rose from their seats, paid and went away. The +Baron was furious, the young Baroness had tears in her eyes. + +"There they had a demonstration of the power of prejudice! Smoking was +a foolish act as far as a man was concerned, but in a woman it was a +crime! Let him who was able to do so, destroy this prejudice! Or, let +us say, him who would care to do so! The Baron had no wish that his +wife should be the first victim, even if it were to win for her the +doubtful honour of having cast aside a prejudice. For it was nothing +else. In Russia, ladies belonging to the best society smoked at the +dinner-table during the courses. Customs changed with the latitudes. +And yet those trifles were not without importance, for life consisted +of trifles. If men and women shared bad habits, intercourse between +them would be less stiff and formal: they would make friends more +easily and keep pace with one another. If they had the same education, +they would have the same interests, and cling together more closely +during the whole of their lives." + +The Baron was silent as if he had said something foolish. But she had +not been listening to him; her thoughts had been far away. + +"She had been insulted by a waiter, told that she was not fit to +associate with respectable people. There was more behind that, than +appeared on the surface. She had been recognised. Yes, she was sure of +it, it was not the first time that she had noticed it." + +"What had she noticed?" + +"That she had been treated with little respect at the restaurants. The +people evidently did not think that they were married; because they +were affectionate and civil to one another. She had borne it in silence +for a long time, but now she had come to the end of her tether. And yet +this was nothing compared to what they were saying at home!" + +"Well, what were they saying? And why had she never told him anything +about it before?" + +"Oh! horrible things! The letters she had received! Leaving the +anonymous ones quite out of the question. + +"Well, and what about him? Was he not being treated as if he were a +criminal? And yet he had not committed a crime! He had acted according +to all legal requirements, he had not broken his marriage vows. He had +left the country in compliance with the dictates of the law; the Royal +Consistory has granted his appeal for a divorce; the clergy, Holy Church, +had given him his release from the bonds of his first marriage on stamped +paper; therefore he had not broken them! When a country was conquered, a +whole nation was absolved from its oath of loyalty to its monarch; why +did society look askance at the release from a promise? Had it not +conferred the right on the Consistory to dissolve a marriage? How could +it dare to assume the character of a judge now and condemn its own laws? +Society was at war with itself! He was being treated like a criminal! +Hadn't the secretary of the Embassy, his old friend, on whom he had left +his and his wife's cards, acknowledged them by simply returning one card +only? And was he not overlooked at all public functions?" + +"Oh! She had had to put up with worse things! One of her friends in Paris +had closed her door to her, and several had cut her in the street." + +"Only the wearer of a boot knew where it pinched. The boots which they +were wearing now were real Spanish boots, and they were at war with +society. The upper classes had cut them. The upper classes! This +community of semi-imbeciles, who secretly lived like dogs, but showed +one another respect as long as there was no public scandal; that was to +say as long as one did not honestly revoke an agreement and wait until +it had lapsed before one made use of one's newly-regained freedom! And +these vicious upper classes were the awarders of social position and +respect, according to a scale on which honesty ranked far below zero. +Society was nothing but a tissue of lies! It was inexplicable that it +hadn't been found out long ago! It was high time to examine this fine +structure and inquire into the condition of its foundations." + +They were on friendlier terms on arriving home than they had been for +many years. The Baroness stayed at home with her baby, and was soon +expecting a second one. This struggle against the tide was too hard +for her, and she was already growing tired of it. She was tired of +everything! To write in an elegantly furnished, well-heated room on +the subject of discharged prisoners, offering them, at a proper +distance, a well-gloved hand, was a proceeding society approved of; +but to hold out the hand of friendship to a woman who had married a +legally divorced man was quite another thing. Why should it be so? It +was difficult to find an answer. + +The Baron fought in the thick of the battle. He visited the Chamber of +Deputies, was present at meetings, and everywhere he listened to +passionate diatribes against society. He read papers and magazines, +kept a keen eye on literature, studied the subject deeply. His wife +was threatened by the same fate which had overtaken the first one; to +be left behind! It was strange. She seemed unable to take in all the +details of his investigations, she disapproved of much of the new +doctrine, but she felt that he was right and fighting for a good +cause. He knew that he could always count on her never-flagging +sympathy; that he had a friend at home who would always stand by him. +Their common fate drove them into each other's arms like frightened +birds at the approach of a storm. All the womanliness in her,--however +little it may be appreciated now-a-days,--which is after all nothing +but a memory of the great mother, the force of nature which is woman's +endowment, was roused. It fell on the children like the warm glow of a +fire at eventide; it fell on the husband like a ray of sunshine; it +brought peace to the home. He often wondered how it was that he did +not miss his old comrade, with whom he was wont to discuss everything; +he discovered that his thoughts had gained force and vigour since he +stopped pouring them out as soon as he conceived them; it seemed to +him that he was profiting more by the silent approval, the kindly nod, +the unwavering sympathy. He felt that his strength had increased, that +his views were less under outside control; he was a solitary man, now, +and yet he was less solitary than he had been in the past, for he was +no longer constantly met by contradictions which merely filled his +heart with misgivings. + +It was Christmas Eve in Paris. A large Christmas tree, grown in the +wood of St. Germain, stood in their little chalet on the Cours de la +Reine. They were going out after breakfast to buy Christmas presents +for the children. The Baron was pre-occupied, for he had just published +a little pamphlet, entitled: "Do the Upper Classes constitute Society?" +They were sitting at breakfast in their cosy dining-room, and the doors +which led to the nursery stood wide open. They listened to the nurse +playing with the children, and the Baroness smiled with contentment and +happiness. She had grown very gentle and her happiness was a quiet one. +One of the children suddenly screamed and she rose from the table to see +what was the matter. At the same moment the footman came into the +dining-room with the morning post. The Baron opened two packets of +printed matter. The first was a "big respectable" newspaper. He opened +it and his eyes fell on a headline in fat type: "A Blasphemer!" + +He began to read: "Christmas is upon us again! This festival dear to +all pure hearts, this festival sacred to all Christian nations, which +has brought a message of peace and good-will to all men, which makes +even the murderer sheathe his knife, and the thief respect the sacred +law of property; this festival, which is not only of very ancient +origin, but which is also, especially in the countries of the North, +surrounded by a host of historic associations, etc., etc. And then like +foul fumes arising from a drain, an individual suddenly confronts us +who does not scruple to tear asunder the most sacred bonds, who vomits +malice on all respectable members of society; malice, dictated by the +pettiest vengeance...." He refolded the paper and put it into the +pocket of his dressing-gown. Then he opened the second parcel. It +contained caricatures of himself and his wife. It went the same way as +the first, but he had to be quick, for his wife was re-entering the +dining-room. He finished his breakfast and went into his bed-room to +get ready to go out. They left the house together. + +The sunlight fell on the frosted plane-trees of the Champs Elysees, +and in the heart of the stony desert the Place de la Concorde opened +out like a large oasis. He felt her arm on his, and yet he had the +feeling as if she were supporting him. She talked of the presents +which they were going to buy for the children, and he tried to force +himself to take an interest in the subject. But all at once he +interrupted her conversation and asked her, a-propos of nothing: + +"Do you know the difference between vengeance and punishment?" + +"No, I've never thought about it." + +"I wonder whether it isn't this: When an anonymous journalist revenges +himself, it is punishment; but when a well-known writer, who is not a +pressman, fights with an open visor, meting out punishment, then it is +revenge! Let us join the new prophets!" + +She begged him not to spoil Christmas by talking of the newspapers. + +"This festival," he muttered, "on which peace and good-will...." + +They passed through the arcades of the Rue de Rivoli, turned into the +boulevards and made their purchases. They dined at the Grand Hotel. +She was in a sunny frame of mind and tried to cheer him up. But he +remained preoccupied. Suddenly he asked, + +"How is it possible that one can have a bad conscience when one has +acted rightly?" + +She did not know. + +"Is it because the upper classes have so trained us, that our conscience +troubles us whenever we rebel against them? Probably it is so. Why +shouldn't he who has been hurt unjustly, have the right to attack +injustice? Because only he who has been hurt will attack, and the upper +classes hate being attacked. Why did I not strike at the upper classes +in the past, when I belonged to them? Because, of course, I didn't know +them then. One must look at a picture from a distance in order to find +the correct visual point!" + +"One shouldn't talk about such things on Christmas Eve!" + +"True, it is Christmas. This festival of...." + +They returned home. They lit the candles on the Christmas tree; it +radiated peace and happiness; but its dark branches smelt of a funeral +and looked sinister, like the Baron's face. The nurse came in with the +little ones. His face lighted up, for, he thought, when they are grown +up they will reap in joy what we have sown in tears; then their +conscience will only trouble them when they have sinned against the +laws of nature; they won't have to suffer from whims which have been +caned into us at school, drummed into us by the parsons, invented by +the upper classes for their own benefit. + +The Baroness sat down at the piano when the maids and the footmen +entered. She played melancholy old dances, dear to the heart of the +people of the North, while the servants danced gravely with the +children. It was very much like the penitential part of divine +service. + +After that the presents were distributed among the children, and the +servants received their gifts. And then the children were put to bed. + +The Baroness went into the drawing-room and sat down in an arm-chair. +The Baron threw himself on a footstool at her feet. He rested his head +on her knees. It was so heavy--so heavy. She silently stroked his +forehead. "What! was he weeping?" + +"Yes!" + +She had never before seen a man weep. It was a terrible sight. His big +strong frame shook, but he made no sound. + +"Why was he weeping?" + +"Because he was unhappy." + +"Unhappy with her?" + +"No, no, not with her, but still, unhappy." + +"Had anybody treated him badly?" + +"Yes!" + +"Couldn't he tell her all about it?" + +"No, he only wanted to sit at her knees, as he used to sit long ago, +at his mother's." + +She talked to him as if he had been a child. She kissed his eyes and +wiped his face with her handkerchief. She felt so proud, so strong, +there were no tears in her eyes. The sight of her inspired him with +new courage. + +"How weak he had been! That he should have found the machine-made +attacks of his opponents so hard to bear! Did his enemies really +believe what they said?" + +"Terrible thought! Probably they did. One often found stones firmly +grown into pine-trees, why should not opinions grow into the brain in +the same way? But she believed in him, she knew that he was fighting +for a good cause?" + +"Yes, she believed it! But--he must not be angry with her for asking +him such a question--but--did he not miss his child, the first one?" + +"Yes, certainly, but it could not be helped. At least, not yet! But he +and the others who were working for the future would have to find a +remedy for that, too. He did not know, yet, what form that remedy +would take, but stronger brains than his, and many together, would +surely one day solve this problem which at present seemed insolvable." + +"Yes, she hoped it would be so." + +"But their marriage? Was it a marriage in the true sense of the word, +seeing that he couldn't tell her what troubled him? Wasn't it, too, +pro...?" + +"No, it was a true marriage, for they loved one another. There had +been no love between him and his first wife. But he and she did love +one another, could she deny it?" + +"She couldn't, he was her dear love." Then their marriage was a true +marriage before God and before Nature. + + + + +UNNATURAL SELECTION OR THE ORIGIN OF RACE + + +The Baron had read in _The Slaves of Life_ with disgust and indignation +that the children of the aristocracy were bound to perish unless they +took the mothers' milk from the children of the lower classes. He had +read Darwin and believed that the gist of his teaching was that through +selection the children of the aristocracy had come to be more highly +developed representatives of the genus "Man." But the doctrine of +heredity made him look upon the employment of a foster-mother with +aversion; for might not, with the blood of the lower classes, certain +conceptions, ideas and desires be introduced and propagated in the +aristocratic nursling? He was therefore determined that his wife should +nurse her baby herself, and if she should prove incapable of doing so, +the child should be brought up with the bottle. He had a right to the +cows' milk, for they fed on his hay; without it they would starve, or +would not have come into existence at all. The baby was born. It was a +son! The father had been somewhat anxious before he became certain of +his wife's condition, for he was, personally, a poor man; his wife, on +the other hand, was very wealthy, but he had no claim to her fortune +unless their union was blest with a legal heir, (in accordance with the +law of entail chap. 00 par. 00). His joy was therefore great and genuine. +The baby was a transparent little thoroughbred, with blue veins shining +through his waxen skin. Nevertheless his blood was poor. His mother who +possessed the figure of an angel, was brought up on choice food, protected +by rich furs from all the eccentricities of the climate, and had that +aristocratic pallor which denotes the woman of noble descent. + +She nursed the baby herself. There was consequently no need to become +indebted to peasant women for the privilege of enjoying life on this +planet. Nothing but fables, all he had read about it! The baby sucked +and screamed for a fortnight. But all babies scream. It meant nothing. +But it lost flesh. It became terribly emaciated. The doctor was sent +for. He had a private conversation with the father, during which he +declared that the baby would die if the Baroness continued to nurse +him, because she was firstly too highly strung, and secondly had +nothing with which to feed him. He took the trouble to make a +quantitative analysis of the milk, and proved (by equations) that the +child was bound to starve unless there was a change in the method of +his feeding. + +What was to be done? On no account could the baby be allowed to die. + +Bottle or foster mother? The latter was out of the question. Let us +try the bottle! The doctor, however, prescribed a foster mother. + +The best Dutch cow, which had received the gold medal for the district, +was isolated and fed with hay; with dry hay of the finest quality. The +doctor analysed the milk, everything was all right. How simple the system +was! How strange that they had not thought of it before! After all, one +need not engage a foster mother a tyrant before whom one had to cringe, +a loafer one had to fatten; not to mention the fact that she might have +an infectious disease. + +But the baby continued to lose flesh and to scream. It screamed night +and day. There was no doubt it suffered from colic. A new cow was +procured and a fresh analysis made. The milk was mixed with Karlsbad +water, genuine Sprudel, but the baby went on screaming. + +"There's no remedy but to engage a foster mother," said the doctor. + +"Oh! anything but that! One did not want to rob other children, it was +against nature, and, moreover, what about heredity?" + +When the Baron began to talk of things natural and unnatural, the +doctor explained to him that if nature were allowed her own way, all +noble families would die out and their estates fall to the crown. This +was the wisdom of nature, and human civilization was nothing but a +foolish struggle against nature, in which man was bound to be beaten. +The Baron's race was doomed; this was proved by the fact that his wife +was unable to feed the fruit of her womb; in order to live they were +bound to buy or steal the milk of other women. Consequently the race +lived on robbery, down to the smallest detail. + +"Could the purchase of the milk be called robbery? The purchase of +it!" + +"Yes, because the money with which it was bought was produced by labour. +Whose labour? The people's! For the aristocracy didn't work." + +"The doctor was a socialist!" + +"No, a follower of Darwin. However, he didn't care in the least if they +called him a socialist. It made no difference to him." + +"But surely, purchase was not robbery! That was too strong a word!" + +"Well, but if one paid with money one hadn't earned!" + +"That was to say, earned by manual labour?" + +"Yes!" + +"But in that case the doctor was a robber too!" + +"Quite so! Nevertheless he would not hold back with the truth! Didn't +the Baron remember the repenting thief who had spoken such true words?" + +The conversation was interrupted; the Baron sent for a famous professor. +The latter called him a murderer straight out, because he had not +engaged a nurse long ago. + +The Baron had to persuade his wife. He had to retract all his former +arguments and emphasize the one simple fact, namely, the love for his +child, (regulated by the law of entail). + +But where was a foster mother to come from? It was no use thinking of +looking for one in town, for there all people were corrupt. No, it +would have to be a country girl. But the Baroness objected to a girl +because, she argued, a girl with a baby was an immoral person; and her +son might contract a hereditary tendency. + +The doctor retorted that all foster mothers were unmarried women and +that if the young Baron inherited from her a preference for the other +sex, he would grow into a good fellow; tendencies of that sort ought +to be encouraged. It was not likely that any of the farmers' wives +would accept the position, because a farmer who owned land, would +certainly prefer to keep his wife and children with him. + +"But supposing they married a girl to a farm labourer?" + +"It would mean a delay of nine months." + +"But supposing they found a husband for a girl who had a baby?" + +"That wasn't a bad idea!" + +The Baron knew a girl who had a baby just three months old. He knew +her only too well, for he had been engaged for three years and had +been unfaithful to his fiancee by "doctor's orders." He went to her +himself and made his suggestion. She should have a farm of her own if +she would consent to marry Anders, a farm labourer, and come to the +Manor as foster mother to the young Baron. Well, was it strange that +she should accept the proffered settlement in preference to her bearing +her disgrace alone? It was arranged there and then that on the following +Sunday the banns should be read for the first, second and third time, +and that Anders should go home to his own village for two months. + +The Baron looked at her baby with a strange feeling of envy. He was a +big, strong boy. He was not beautiful, but he looked like a guarantee +of many generations to come. The child was born to live but it was not +his fate to fulfil his destination. + +Anna wept when he was taken to the orphanage, but the good food at the +Manor (her dinner was sent up to her from the dining-room, and she had +as much porter and wine as she wanted) consoled her. She was also +allowed to go out driving in the big carriage, with a footman by the +side of the coachman. And she read _A Thousand and One Nights_. Never +in all her life had she been so well off. + +After an absence of two months Anders returned. He had done nothing +but eat, drink, and rest. He took possession of the farm, but he also +wanted his Anna. Couldn't she, at least, come and see him sometimes? +No, the Baroness objected. No nonsense of that sort! + +Anna lost flesh and the little Baron screamed. The doctor was +consulted. + +"Let her go and see her husband," he said. + +"But supposing it did the baby harm?" + +"It won't!" + +But Anders must be "analysed" first. Anders objected. + +Anders received a present of a few sheep and was "analysed." + +The little Baron stopped screaming. + +But now news came from the orphanage that Anna's boy had died of +diphtheria. + +Anna fretted, and the little Baron screamed louder than ever. She was +discharged and sent back to Anders and a new foster mother was +engaged. + +Anders was glad to have his wife with him at last, but she had +contracted expensive habits. She couldn't drink Brazilian coffee, for +instance, it had to be Java. And her health did not permit her to eat +fish six times a week, nor could she work in the fields. Food at the +farm grew scarce. + +Anders would have been obliged to give up the farm after twelve months, +but the Baron had a kindly feeling for him and allowed him to stay on as +a tenant. + +Anna worked daily at the Manor and frequently saw the little Baron; +but he did not recognise her and it was just as well that he did not. +And yet he had lain at her breast! And she had saved his life by +sacrificing the life of her own child. But she was prolific and had +several sons, who grew up and were labourers and railway men; one of +them was a convict. + +But the old Baron looked forward with anxiety to the day on which his +son should marry and have children in his turn. He did not look strong! +He would have been far more reassured if the other little Baron, the +one who had died at the orphanage, had been the heir to the estates. +And when he read _The Slaves of Life_ a second time, he had to admit +that the upper classes live at the mercy of the lower classes, and when +he read Darwin again he could not deny that natural selection, in our +time, was anything but natural. But facts were facts and remained +unalterable, in spite of all the doctor and the socialists might say +to the contrary. + + + + +AN ATTEMPT AT REFORM + + +She had noticed with indignation that girls were solely brought up to +be housekeepers for their future husbands. Therefore she had learnt a +trade which would enable her to keep herself in all circumstances of +life. She made artificial flowers. + +He had noticed with regret that girls simply waited for a husband who +should keep them; he resolved to marry a free and independent woman +who could earn her own living; such a woman would be his equal and a +companion for life, not a housekeeper. + +Fate ordained that they should meet. He was an artist and she, as I +already mentioned, made flowers; they were both living in Paris at the +time when they conceived these ideas. + +There was style in their marriage. They took three rooms at Passy. In +the centre was the studio, to the right of it his room, to the left +hers. This did away with the common bed-room and double bed, that +abomination which has no counterpart in nature and is responsible for +a great deal of dissipation and immorality. It moreover did away with +the inconvenience of having to dress and undress in the same room. It +was far better that each of them should have a separate room and that +the studio should be a neutral, common meeting-place. + +They required no servant; they were going to do the cooking themselves +and employ an old charwoman in the mornings and evenings. It was all +very well thought out and excellent in theory. + +"But supposing you had children?" asked the sceptics. + +"Nonsense, there won't be any!" + +It worked splendidly. He went to the market in the morning and did the +catering. Then he made the coffee. She made the beds and put the rooms +in order. And then they sat down and worked. + +When they were tired of working they gossiped, gave one another good +advice, laughed and were very jolly. + +At twelve o'clock he lit the kitchen fire and she prepared the +vegetables. He cooked the beef, while she ran across the street to +the grocer's; then she laid the table and he dished up the dinner. + +Of course, they loved one another as husbands and wives do. They said +good-night to each other and went into their own rooms, but there was +no lock to keep him out when he knocked at her door; but the +accommodation was small and the morning found them in their own +quarters. Then he knocked at the wall: + +"Good morning, little girlie, how are you to-day?" + +"Very well, darling, and you?" + +Their meeting at breakfast was always like a new experience which never +grew stale. + +They often went out together in the evening and frequently met their +countrymen. She had no objection to the smell of tobacco, and was never +in the way. Everybody said that it was an ideal marriage; no one +had ever known a happier couple. + +But the young wife's parents, who lived a long way off, were always +writing and asking all sorts of indelicate questions; they were longing +to have a grandchild. Louisa ought to remember that the institution of +marriage existed for the benefit of the children, not the parents. +Louisa held that this view was an old-fashioned one. Mama asked her +whether she did not think that the result of the new ideas would be the +complete extirpation of mankind? Louisa had never looked at it in that +light, and moreover the question did not interest her. Both she and her +husband were happy; at last the spectacle of a happy married couple was +presented to the world, and the world was envious. + +Life was very pleasant. Neither of them was master and they shared +expenses. Now he earned more, now she did, but in the end their +contributions to the common fund amounted to the same figure. + +Then she had a birthday! She was awakened in the morning by the entrance +of the charwoman with a bunch of flowers and a letter painted all over +with flowers, and containing the following words: + + "To the lady flower-bud from her dauber, who wishes her many happy + returns of the day and begs her to honour him with her company at an + excellent little breakfast--at once." + +She knocked at his door--come in! + +And they breakfasted, sitting on the bed--his bed; and the charwoman +was kept the whole day to do all the work. It was a lovely birthday! + +Their happiness never palled. It lasted two years. All the prophets +had prophesied falsely. + +It was a model marriage! + +But when two years had passed, the young wife fell ill. She put it +down to some poison contained in the wall-paper; he suggested germs of +some sort. Yes, certainly, germs. But something was wrong. Something +was not as it should be. She must have caught cold. Then she grew +stout. Was she suffering from tumour? Yes, they were afraid she was. + +She consulted a doctor--and came home crying. It was indeed a growth, +but one which would one day see daylight, grow into a flower and bear +fruit. + +The husband did anything but cry. He found style in it, and then the +wretch went to his club and boasted about it to his friends. But the +wife still wept. What would her position be now? She would soon not be +able to earn money with her work and then she would have to live on +him. And they would have to have a servant! Ugh! those servants! + +All their care, their caution, their wariness had been wrecked on the +rock of the inevitable. + +But the mother-in-law wrote enthusiastic letters and repeated over and +over again that marriage was instituted by God for the protection of +the children; the parents' pleasure counted for very little. + +Hugo implored her to forget the fact that she would not be able to +earn anything in future. Didn't she do her full share of the work by +mothering the baby? Wasn't that as good as money? Money was, rightly +understood, nothing but work. Therefore she paid her share in full. + +It took her a long time to get over the fact that he had to keep her. +But when the baby came, she forgot all about it. She remained his wife +and companion as before in addition to being the mother of his child, +and he found that this was worth more than anything else. + + + + +A NATURAL OBSTACLE + + +Her father had insisted on her learning book-keeping, so that she might +escape the common lot of young womanhood; to sit there and wait for a +husband. + +She was now employed as book-keeper in the goods department of the +Railways, and was universally looked upon as a very capable young +woman. She had a way of getting on with people, and her prospects were +excellent. + +Then she met the green forester from the School of Forestry and +married him. They had made up their minds not to have any children; +theirs was to be a true, spiritual marriage, and the world was to be +made to realise that a woman, too, has a soul, and is not merely sex. +Husband and wife met at dinner in the evening. It really was a true +marriage, the union of two souls; it was, of course, also the union of +two bodies, but this is a point one does not discuss. + +One day the wife came home and told her husband that her office hours +had been changed. The directors had decided to run a new night train +to Malmo, and in future she would have to be at her office from six to +nine in the evening. It was a nuisance, for he could not come home +before six. That was quite impossible. + +Henceforth they had to dine separately and meet only at night. He was +dissatisfied. He hated the long evenings. + +He fell into the habit of calling for her. But he found it dull to sit +on a chair in the goods department and have the porters knocking against +him. He was always in the way. And when he tried to talk to her as she +sat at her desk with the penholder behind her ear, she interrupted him +with a curt: + +"Oh! do be quiet until I've done!" + +Then the porters turned away their faces and he could see by their +backs that they were laughing. + +Sometimes one or the other of her colleagues announced him with a: + +"Your husband is waiting for you, Mrs. X." + +"Your husband!" There was something scornful in the very way in which +they pronounced the word. + +But what irritated him more than anything else was the fact that the +desk nearest to her was occupied by a "young ass" who was always +gazing into her eyes and everlastingly consulting the ledger, bending +over her shoulders so that he almost touched her with his chin. +And they talked of invoices and certificates, of things which might +have meant anything for all he knew. And they compared papers and +figures and seemed to be on more familiar terms with one another than +husband and wife were. And that was quite natural, for she saw more of +the young ass than of her husband. It struck him that their marriage +was not a true spiritual marriage after all; in order to be that he, +too, would have had to be employed in the goods department. But as it +happened he was at the School of Forestry. + +One day, or rather one night, she told him that on the following +Saturday a meeting of railway employes, which was to conclude with a +dinner, would be held, and that she would have to be present. Her +husband received the communication with a little air of constraint. + +"Do you want to go?" he asked naively. + +"Of course, I do!" + +"But you will be the only woman amongst so many men, and when men have +had too much to drink, they are apt to become coarse." + +"Don't you attend the meetings of the School of Forestry without me?" + +"Certainly, but I am not the only man amongst a lot of women." + +"Men and women were equals, she was amazed that he, who had always +preached the emancipation of women could have any objection to her +attending the meeting." + +"He admitted that it was nothing but prejudice on his part. He admitted +that she was right and that he was wrong, but all the same he begged her +not to go; he hated the idea. He couldn't get over the fact." + +"He was inconsequent." + +"He admitted that he was inconsequent, but it would take ten generations +to get used to the new conditions." + +"Then he must not go to meetings either?" + +"That was quite a different matter, for his meetings were attended by +men only. He didn't mind her going out without him; what he didn't like +was that she went out alone with so many men." + +"She wouldn't be alone, for the cashier's wife would be present as--" + +"As what?" + +"As the cashier's wife." + +"Then couldn't he be present as her husband?" + +"Why did he want to make himself so cheap by being in the way?" + +"He didn't mind making himself cheap." + +"Was he jealous?" + +"Yes! Why not? He was afraid that something might come between them." + +"What a shame to be jealous! What an insult! What distrust! What did +he think of her?" + +"That she was perfect. He would prove it. She could go alone!" +"Could she really? How condescending of him!" + +She went. She did not come home until the early hours of the morning. +She awakened her husband and told him how well it had all gone off. He +was delighted to hear it. Somebody had made a speech about her; they +had sung quartets and ended with a dance. + +"And how had she come home?" + +"The young ass had accompanied her to the front door." + +"Supposing anybody who knew them had seen her at three o'clock in the +morning in the company of the young ass?" + +"Well, and what then? She was a respectable woman." + +"Yes, but she might easily lose her reputation." + +"Ah! He was jealous, and what was even worse, he was envious. He +grudged her every little bit of fun. That was what being married +meant! To be scolded if one dared to go out and enjoy oneself a +little. What a stupid institution marriage was! But was their union a +true marriage? They met one another at night, just as other married +couples did. Men were all alike. Civil enough until they were married, +but afterwards, oh! Afterwards.... Her husband was no better than +other men: he looked upon her as his property, he thought he had a +right to order her about." + +"It was true. There was a time when he had believed that they belonged +to one another, but he had made a mistake. He belonged to her as a dog +belonged to its master. What was he but her footman, who called for +her at night to see her home? He was 'her husband.' But did she want +to be 'his wife'? Were they equals?" + +"She hadn't come home to quarrel with him. She wanted to be nothing +but his wife, and she did not want him to be anything but her +husband." + +The effect of the champagne, he thought, and turned to the wall. + +She cried and begged him not to be unjust, but to--forgive her. + +He pulled the blankets over his ears. + +She asked him again if he--if he didn't want her to be his wife any +more? + +"Yes, of course, he wanted her! But he had been so dreadfully bored +all the evening, he could never live through another evening like it." + +"Let them forget all about it then!" + +And they forgot all about it and continued loving one another. + +On the following evening, when the green forester came for his wife, +he was told that she had gone to the store rooms. He was alone in the +counting-house and sat down on a chair. Presently a glass door was +opened and the young ass put in his head: "Are you here, Annie?" + +No, it was only her husband! + +He rose and went away. The young ass called his wife Annie, and was +evidently on very familiar terms with her. It was more than he could +bear. + +When she came home they had a scene. She reproached him with the fact +that he did not take his views on the emancipation of women seriously, +otherwise he could not be annoyed at her being on familiar terms with +her fellow-clerks. He made matters worse by admitting that his views +were not to be taken seriously. + +"Surely he didn't mean what he was saying! Had he changed his mind? +How could he!" + +"Yes, he had changed his mind. One could not help modifying one's +views almost daily, because one had to adapt them to the conditions of +life which were always changing. And if he had believed in spiritual +marriages in the days gone by, he had now come to lose faith in +marriages of any sort whatever. That was progress in the direction of +radicalism. And as to the spiritual, she was spiritually married to +the young ass rather than to him, for they exchanged views on the +management of the goods department daily and hourly, while she took no +interest at all in the cultivation of forests. Was there anything +spiritual in their marriage? Was there?" + +"No, not any longer! Her love was dead! He had killed it when he +renounced his splendid faith in--the emancipation of women." + +Matters became more and more unbearable. The green forester began to +look to his fellow-foresters for companionship and gave up thinking of +the goods department and its way of conducting business, matters which +he never understood. + +"You don't understand me," she kept on saying over and over again. + +"No, I don't understand the goods department," he said. + +One night, or rather one morning, he told her that he was going +botanising with a girls' class. He was teaching botany in a girls' +school. + +"Oh! indeed! Why had he never mentioned it before? Big girls?" + +"Oh! very big ones. From sixteen to twenty." + +"H'm! In the morning?" + +"No! In the afternoon! And they would have supper in one of the +outlying little villages." + +"Would they? The head-mistress would be there of course?" + +"Oh! no, she had every confidence in him, since he was a married man. +It was an advantage, sometimes, to be married." + +On the next day she was ill. + +"Surely he hadn't the heart to leave her!" + +"He must consider his work before anything else. Was she very ill?" + +"Oh! terribly ill!" + +In spite of her objections he sent for a doctor. The doctor declared +that there was nothing much the matter; it was quite unnecessary for +the husband to stay at home. The green forester returned towards morning. +He was in high spirits. He had enjoyed himself immensely! He had not had +such a day for a long, long time. + +The storm burst. Huhuhu! This struggle was too much for her! He must +swear a solemn oath never to love any woman but her. Never! + +She had convulsions; he ran for the smelling salts. + +He was too generous to give her details of the supper with the +schoolgirls, but he could not forego the pleasure of mentioning his +former simile anent dogs and possession, and he took the occasion to +draw her attention to the fact that love without the conception of a +right to possession--on both sides--was not thinkable. What was +making her cry? The same thing which had made him swear, when she went +out with twenty men. The fear of losing him! But one can lose only +that which one possesses! Possesses! + +Thus the rent was repaired. But goods department and girls' school +were ready with their scissors to undo the laborious mending. + +The harmony was disturbed. + +The wife fell ill. +She was sure that she had hurt herself in lifting a case which was too +heavy for her. She was so keen on her work that she could not bear to +wait while the porters stood about and did nothing. She was compelled +to lend a hand. Now she must have ruptured herself. + +Yes, indeed, there was something the matter! + +How angry she was! Angry with her husband who alone was to blame. What +were they going to do with the baby? It would have to be boarded out! +Rousseau had done that. It was true, he was a fool, but on this +particular point he was right. + +She was full of fads and fancies. The forester had to resign his lessons +at the girls' school at once. + +She chafed and fretted because she was no longer able to go into the +store rooms, but compelled to stay in the counting-house all day long +and make entries. But the worst blow which befell her was the arrival +of an assistant whose secret mission it was to take her place when she +would be laid up. + +The manner of her colleagues had changed, too. The porters grinned. +She felt ashamed and longed to hide herself. It would be better to +stay at home and cook her husband's dinner than sit here and be stared +at. Oh! What black chasms of prejudice lay concealed in the deceitful +hearts of men! + +She stayed at home for the last month, for the walk to and from her +office four times a day was too much for her. And she was always so +hungry! She had to send out for sandwiches in the morning. And every +now and then she felt faint and had to take a rest. What a life! A +woman's lot was indeed a miserable one. + +The baby was born. + +"Shall we board it out?" asked the father. + +"Had he no heart?" + +"Oh! yes, of course he had!" + +And the baby remained at home. + +Then a very polite letter arrived from the head office, enquiring after +the young mother's health. + +"She was very well and would be back at the office on the day after +to-morrow." + +She was still a little weak and had to take a cab; but she soon picked +up her strength. However, a new difficulty now presented itself. She +must be kept informed of the baby's condition; a messenger boy was +despatched to her home, at first twice a day, then every two hours. + +And when she was told that the baby had been crying, she put on her +hat and rushed home at once. But the assistant was there, ready to +take her place. The head clerk was very civil and made no comment. + +One day the young mother discovered accidentally that the nurse was +unable to feed the baby, but had concealed the fact for fear of losing +her place. She had to take a day off in order to find a new foster mother. +But they were all alike; brutal egoists every one of them, who took no +interest in the children of strangers. No one could ever depend on them. + +"No," agreed the husband, "in a case of this sort one can only depend on +oneself." + +"Do you mean to insinuate that I ought to give up my work?" + +"Oh! You must do as you like about that!" + +"And become your slave!" + +"No, I don't mean that at all!" + +The little one was not at all well; all children are ill occasionally. +He was teething! One day's leave after another! The poor baby suffered +from toothache. She had to soothe him at night, work at the office +during the day, sleepy, tired, anxious, and again take a day off. + +The green forester did his best and carried the baby about in his arms +half the night, but he never said a word about his wife's work at the +goods department. + +Nevertheless she knew what was in his mind. He was waiting for her to +give in; but he was deceitful and so he said nothing! How treacherous +men were! She hated him; she would sooner kill herself than throw up +her work and "be his slave." + +The forester saw quite clearly now that it was impossible for any +woman to emancipate herself from the laws of nature; _under present +circumstances_, he was shrewd enough to add. + +When the baby was five months old, it was plainly evident that the +whole thing would before very long repeat itself. + +What a catastrophe! + +But when that sort of thing once begins.... + +The forester was obliged to resume his lessons at the girls' school to +augment their income, and now--she laid down her arms. + +"I am your slave, now," she groaned, when she came home with her +discharge. + +Nevertheless she is the head of the house, and he gives her every +penny he earns. When he wants to buy a cigar he makes a long speech +before he ventures to ask for the money. She never refuses it to him, +but all the same he finds the asking for it unpleasant. He is allowed +to attend meetings, but no dinners, and all botanising with girls is +strictly forbidden. He does not miss it much, for he prefers playing +with his children. + +His colleagues call him henpecked; but he smiles, and tells them that +he is happy in spite of it, because he has in his wife a very sweet +and sensible companion. + +She, on her part, obstinately maintains that she is nothing but his +slave, whatever he might say to the contrary. It is her one comfort, +poor, little woman! + + + + +A DOLL'S HOUSE + + +They had been married for six years, but they were still more like +lovers than husband and wife. He was a captain in the navy, and every +summer he was obliged to leave her for a few months; twice he had been +away on a long voyage. But his short absences were a blessing in +disguise, for if their relations had grown a little stale during the +winter, the summer trip invariably restored them to their former +freshness and delightfulness. + +During the first summer he wrote veritable love-letters to her and +never passed a sailing ship without signalling: "Will you take +letters?" And when he came in sight of the landmarks of the Stockholm +Archipelago, he did not know how to get to her quickly enough. But she +found a way. She wired him to Landsort that she would meet him at +Dalaroe. When he anchored, he saw a little blue scarf fluttering on the +verandah of the hotel: then he knew that it was she. But there was so +much to do aboard that it was evening before he could go ashore. He +saw her from his gig on the landing-stage as the bow held out his oar +to fend off; she was every bit as young, as pretty and as strong as +she had been when he left her; it was exactly as if they were +re-living the first spring days of their love. A delicious little +supper waited for him in the two little rooms she had engaged. What a +lot they had to talk about! The voyage, the children, the future! The +wine sparkled in the glasses and his kisses brought the blood to her +cheeks. + +Tattoo went on the ship, but he took no notice of it, for he did not +intend to leave her before one o'clock. + +"What? He was going?" + +"Yes; he must get back aboard, but it would do if he was there for the +morning watch." + +"When did the morning watch begin?" + +"At five o'clock." + +"Oh!... As early as that!" + +"But where was she going to stay the night?" + +"That was her business!" + +He guessed it and wanted to have a look at her room; but she planted +herself firmly on the threshold. He covered her face with kisses, took +her in his arms as if she were a baby and opened the door. + +"What an enormous bed! It was like the long boat. Where did the people +get it from?" + +She blushed crimson. + +"Of course, she had understood from his letter that they would stay at +the hotel together." + +"Well, and so they would, in spite of his having to be back aboard for +the morning watch. What did he care for the stupid morning prayers!" + +"How could he say such a thing!" + +"Hadn't they better have some coffee and a fire? The sheets felt damp! +What a sensible little rogue she was to provide for his staying, too! +Who would have thought that she had so much sense? Where did she get +it from?" + +"She didn't get it from anywhere!" + +"No? Well, he might have known! He might have known everything!" + +"Oh! But he was so stupid!" + +"Indeed, he was stupid, was he?" + +And he slipped his arm round her waist. + +"But he ought to behave himself!" + +"Behave himself? It was easy to talk!" + +"The girl was coming with the wood!" + +When it struck two, and sea and Skerries were flaming in the east, +they were sitting at the open window. + +"They were lovers still, weren't they? And now he must go. But he +would be back at ten, for breakfast, and after that they would go for +a sail." + +He made some coffee on her spirit lamp, and they drank it while the +sun was rising and the seagulls screamed. The gunboat was lying far +out at sea and every now and then he saw the cutlasses of the watch +glinting in the sunlight. It was hard to part, but the certainty of +meeting again in a few hours' time helped them to bear it. He kissed +her for the last time, buckled on his sword and left her. + +When he arrived at the bridge and shouted: "boat ahoy!" she hid +herself behind the window curtains as if she were ashamed to be seen. +He blew kisses to her until the sailors came with the gig. Then a last: +"Sleep well and dream of me" and the gig put off. He watched her +through his glasses, and for a long time he could distinguish a little +figure with black hair. The sunbeams fell on her nightdress and bare +throat and made her look like a mermaid. + +The reveille went. The longdrawn bugle notes rolled out between the +green islands over the shining water and returned from behind the pine +woods. The whole crew assembled on deck and the Lord's Prayer and +"Jesus, at the day's beginning" were read. The little church tower of +Dalaroe answered with a faint ringing of bells, for it was Sunday. +Cutters came up in the morning breeze: flags were flying, shots +resounded, light summer dresses gleamed on the bridge, the steamer, +leaving a crimson track behind her, steamed up, the fishers hauled in +their nets, and the sun shone on the blue, billowy water and the green +islands. + +At ten o'clock six pairs rowed the gig ashore from the gunboat. They +were together again. And as they sat at breakfast in the large +dining-room, the hotel guests watched and whispered: "Is she his +wife?" He talked to her in an undertone like a lover, and she cast +down her eyes and smiled; or hit his fingers with her dinner napkin. + +The boat lay alongside the bridge; she sat at the helm, he looked +after the foresail. But he could not take his eyes off her finely +shaped figure in the light summer dress, her determined little face +and proud eyes, as she sat looking to windward, while her little hand +in its strong leather glove held the mainsheet. He wanted to talk to +her and was purposely clumsy in tacking; then she scolded him as if he +were a cabin boy, which amused him immensely. + +"Why didn't you bring the baby with you?" he asked her teasingly. + +"Where should I have put it to sleep?" + +"In the long boat, of course?" + +She smiled at him in a way which filled his heart with happiness. + +"Well, and what did the proprietress say this morning?" + +"What should she say?" + +"Did she sleep well last night?" + +"Why shouldn't she sleep well?" + +"I don't know; she might have been kept awake by rats, or perhaps by +the rattling of a window; who can tell what might not disturb the gentle +sleep of an old maid!" + +"If you don't stop talking nonsense, I shall make the sheet fast and +sail you to the bottom of the sea." + +They landed at a small island and ate their luncheon which they had +brought with them in a little basket. After lunch they shot at a +target with a revolver. Then they pretended to fish with rods, but +they caught nothing and sailed out again into the open sea where the +eidergeese were, through a strait where they watched the carp playing +about the rushes. He never tired of looking at her, talking to her, +kissing her. + +In this manner they met for six summers, and always they were just as +young, just as mad and just as happy as before. They spent the winter +in Stockholm in their little cabins. He amused himself by rigging boats +for his little boys or telling them stories of his adventures in China +and the South Sea Islands, while his wife sat by him, listening and +laughing at his funny tales. It was a charming room, that could not be +equalled in the whole world. It was crammed full of Japanese sunshades +and armour, miniature pagodas from India, bows and lances from Australia, +nigger drums and dried flying fish, sugar cane and opium pipes. Papa, +whose hair was growing thin at the top, did not feel very happy outside +his own four walls. Occasionally he played at draughts with his friend, +the auditor, and sometimes they had a game at Boston and drank a glass +of grog. At first his wife had joined in the game, but now that she had +four children, she was too busy; nevertheless, she liked to sit with the +players for a little and look at their cards, and whenever she passed +Papa's chair he caught her round the waist and asked her whether she +thought he ought to be pleased with his hand. + +This time the corvette was to be away for six months. The captain did +not feel easy about it, for the children were growing up and the +responsibility of the big establishment was too much for Mama. The +captain himself was not quite so young and vigorous as he had been, +but--it could not be helped and so he left. + +Directly he arrived at Kronborg he posted a letter to her. + + "My darling Topmast," it began. + + "Wind moderate, S.S.E. by E. + 10 deg. C. 6 bells, watch below. I cannot + express in words what I feel on this voyage during which I shall not + see you. When we kedged out (at 6 p.m. while a strong gale blew from + N.E. by N.) I felt as if a belaying pin were suddenly being driven + into my chest and I actually had a sensation as if a chain had been + drawn through the hawsepipes of my ears. They say that sailors can + feel the approach of misfortune. I don't know whether this is true, + but I shall not feel easy until I have had a letter from you. Nothing + has happened on board, simply because nothing must happen. How are you + all at home? Has Bob had his new boots, and do they fit? I am a + wretched correspondent as you know, so 111 stop now. With a big kiss + right on this x. + + "Your old Pal. + + "P.S. You ought to find a friend (female, of course) and don't forget + to ask the proprietress at Dalaro to take care of the long boat until + my return. The wind is getting up; it will blow from the North to-night." + +Off Portsmouth the captain received the following letter from his +wife: + + "Dear old Pal, + + "It's horrible here without you, believe me. I have had a lot of + worry, too, for little Alice has got a new tooth. The doctor said it + was unusually early, which was a sign of (but I'm not going to tell + you that). Bob's boots fit him very well and he is very proud of them. + + "You say in your letter that I ought to find a friend of my own sex. + Well, I have found one, or, rather, she has found me. Her name is + Ottilia Sandegren, and she was educated at the seminary. She is rather + grave and takes life very seriously, therefore you need not be afraid, + Pal, that your Topmast will be led astray. Moreover, she is religious. + We really ought to take religion a little more seriously, both of us. + She is a splendid woman. She has just arrived and sends you her kind + regards. + + "Your Gurli." + +The captain was not overpleased with this letter. It was too short and +not half as bright as her letters generally were. Seminary, religion, +grave, Ottilia: Ottilia twice! And then Gurli! Why not Gulla as +before? H'm! + +A week later he received a second letter from Bordeaux, a letter which +was accompanied by a book, sent under separate cover. + +"Dear William!"--"H'm! William! No longer Pal!"--"Life is a +struggle"--"What the deuce does she mean? What has that to do with +us?"--"from beginning to end. Gently as a river in Kedron"--"Kedron! +she's quoting the Bible!"--"our life has glided along. Like sleepwalkers +we have been walking on the edge of precipices without being aware of +them"--"The seminary, oh! the seminary!"--"Suddenly we find ourselves +face to face with the ethical"--"The ethical? Ablative!"--"asserting +itself in its higher potencies!"--"Potencies?"--"Now that I am awake +from my long sleep and ask myself: has our marriage been a marriage in +the true sense of the word? I must admit with shame and remorse that +this has not been the case. For love is of divine origin. (St. Matthew +xi. 22, 24.)" + +The captain had to mix himself a glass of rum and water before he felt +able to continue his reading.--"How earthly, how material our love has +been! Have our souls lived in that harmony of which Plato speaks? +(Phaidon, Book vi. Chap. ii. Par. 9). Our answer is bound to be in the +negative. What have I been to you? A housekeeper and, oh! The disgrace! +your mistress! Have our souls understood one another? Again we are bound +to answer 'No.'"--"To Hell with all Ottilias and seminaries! +Has she been my housekeeper? She has been my wife and the mother of my +children!"--"Read the book I have sent you! It will answer all your +questions. It voices that which for centuries has lain hidden in the +hearts of all women! Read it, and then tell me if you think that our +union has been a true marriage. Your Gurli." + +His presentiment of evil had not deceived him. The captain was beside +himself; he could not understand what had happened to his wife. It was +worse than religious hypocrisy. + +He tore off the wrapper and read on the title page of a book in a +paper cover: _Et Dukkehjem af Henrik Ibsen_. A Doll's House? Well, +and--? His home had been a charming doll's house; his wife had been +his little doll and he had been her big doll. They had danced along +the stony path of life and had been happy. What more did they want? +What was wrong? He must read the book at once and find out. + +He finished it in three hours. His brain reeled. How did it concern +him and his wife? Had they forged bills? No! Hadn't they loved one +another? Of course they had! + +He locked himself into his cabin and read the book a second time; he +underlined passages in red and blue, and when the dawn broke, he took +"A well-meant little ablative on the play _A Doll's House_, written by +the old Pal on board the Vanadis in the Atlantic off Bordeaux. (Lat. 45 deg. +Long. 16 deg..) + + "1. She married him because he was in love with her and that was a + deuced clever thing to do. For if she had waited until she had fallen + in love with someone, it might have happened that _he_ would not have + fallen in love with her, and then there would have been the devil to + pay. For it happens very rarely that both parties are equally in love." + + "2. She forges a bill. That was foolish, but it is not true that it + was done for the husband's sake only, for she has never loved him; it + would have been the truth if she had said that she had done it for him, + herself and the children. Is that clear?" + + "3. That he wants to embrace her after the ball is only a proof of his + love for her, and there is no wrong in that; but it should not be done + on the stage. "_Il y a des choses qui se font mais que ne se disent + point_,' as the French say, Moreover, if the poet had been fair, he + would also save shown an opposite case. '_La petite chienne veut, mais + le grand chien ne veut pas_,' says Ollendorf. (Vide the long boat at + Dalaroe.)" + + "4. That she, when she discovers that her husband is a fool (and that + he is when he offers to condone her offence because it has not leaked + out) decides to leave her children 'not considering herself worthy of + bringing them up,' is a not very clever trick of coquetry. If they have + both been fools (and surely they don't teach at the seminary that it + is right to forge bills) they should pull well together in future in + double harness." + + "Least of all is she justified in leaving her children's education in + the hands of the father whom she despises." + + "5. Nora has consequently every reason for staying with her children + when she discovers what an imbecile her husband is." + + "6. The husband cannot be blamed for not sufficiently appreciating + her, for she doesn't reveal her true character until after the row." + + "7. Nora has undoubtedly been a fool; she herself does not deny it." + + "8. There is every guarantee of their pulling together more happily + in future; he has repented and promised to turn over a new leaf. So + has she. Very well! Here's my hand, let's begin again at the beginning. + Birds of a feather flock together. There's nothing lost, we've both + been fools! You, little Nora, were badly brought up. I, old rascal, + didn't know any better. We are both to be pitied. Pelt our teachers + with rotten eggs, but don't hit me alone on the head. I, though a man, + am every bit as innocent as you are! Perhaps even a little more so, + for I married for love, you for a home. Let us be friends, therefore, + and together teach our children the valuable lesson we have learnt + in the school of life." + + Is that clear? All right then! + + This was written by Captain Pal with his stiff fingers and slow brain! + + And now, my darling dolly, I have read your book and given you my + opinion. But what have we to do with it? Didn't we love one another? + Haven't we educated one another and helped one another to rub off our + sharp corners? Surely you'll remember that we had many a little + encounter in the beginning! What fads of yours are those? To hell with + all Ottilias and seminaries! + + The book you sent me is a queer book. It is like a watercourse with + an insufficient number of buoys, so that one might run aground at any + moment. But I pricked the chart and found calm waters. Only, I + couldn't do it again. The devil may crack these nuts which are rotten + inside when one has managed to break the shell. I wish you peace and + happiness and the recovery of your sound common sense. + + "How are the little ones? You forgot to mention them. Probably you + were thinking too much of Nora's unfortunate kiddies, (which exist + only in a play of that sort). Is my little boy crying? My nightingale + singing, my dolly dancing? She must always do that if she wants to + make her old pal happy. And now may God bless you and prevent evil + thoughts from rising between us. My heart is sadder than I can tell. + And I am expected to sit down and write a critique on a play. God + bless you and the babies; kiss their rosy cheeks for your faithful + old Pal." + +When the captain had sent off his letter, he went into the officers' +mess and drank a glass of punch. The doctor was there, too. + +"Have you noticed a smell of old black breeches?" he asked. "I should +like to hoist myself up to the cat block and let a good old N.W. by N. +blow right through me." + +But the doctor did not understand what he was driving at. + +"Ottilia, Ottilia!... What she wants is a taste of the handspike. Send +the witch to the quarterdeck and let the second mess loose on her behind +closed hatches. One knows what is good for an old maid." + +"What's the matter with you, old chap?" asked the doctor. + +"Plato! Plato! To the devil with Plato! To be six months at sea makes +one sick of Plato. That teaches one ethics! Ethics? I bet a marlinspike +to a large rifle: if Ottilia were married she would cease talking of +Plato." + +"What on earth _is_ the matter?" + +"Nothing. Do you hear? You're a doctor. What's the matter with those +women? Isn't it bad for them to remain unmarried? Doesn't it make +them...? What?" + +The doctor gave him his candid opinion and added that he was sorry +that there were not enough men to go round. + +"In a state of nature the male is mostly polygamous; in most cases +there is no obstacle to this, as there is plenty of food for the young +ones (beasts of prey excepted): abnormalities like unmated females do +not exist in nature. But in civilised countries, where a man is lucky +if he earns enough bread, it is a common occurrence, especially as the +females are in preponderance. One ought to treat unmarried women with +kindness, for their lot is a melancholy one." + +"With kindness! That's all very well; but supposing they are anything +but kind themselves!" + +And he told the doctor the whole story, even confessing that he had +written a critique on a play. + +"Oh! well, no end of nonsense is written," said the doctor, putting +his hand on the lid of the jug which contained the punch. "In the end +science decides all great questions! Science, and nothing else." + +When the six months were over and the captain, who had been in +constant, but not very pleasant, correspondence with his wife, (she +had sharply criticised his critique), at last landed at Dalaroe, he was +received by his wife, all the children, two servants and Ottilia. His +wife was affectionate, but not cordial. She held up her brow to be +kissed. Ottilia was as tall as a stay, and wore her hair short; seen +from the back she looked like a swab. The supper was dull and they +drank only tea. The long boat took in a cargo of children and the +captain was lodged in one of the attics. + +What a change! Poor old Pal looked old and felt puzzled. + +"To be married and yet not have a wife," he thought, "it's +intolerable!" + +On the following morning he wanted to take his wife for a sail. But +the sea did not agree with Ottilia. She had been ill on the steamer. +And, moreover, it was Sunday. Sunday? That was it! Well, they would go +for a walk. They had a lot to talk about. Of course, they had a lot to +say to each other. But Ottilia was not to come with them! + +They went out together, arm in arm. But they did not talk much; and +what they said were words uttered for the sake of concealing their +thoughts more than for the sake of exchanging ideas. + +They passed the little cholera cemetery and took the road leading to +the Swiss Valley. A faint breeze rustled through the pine trees and +glimpses of the blue sea flashed through the dark branches. + +They sat down on a stone. He threw himself on the turf at her feet. +Now the storm is going to burst, he thought, and it did. + +"Have you thought at all about our marriage?" she began. + +"No," he replied, with every appearance of having fully considered the +matter, "I have merely felt about it. In my opinion love is a matter +of sentiment; one steers by landmarks and makes port; take compass and +chart and you are sure to founder." + +"Yes, but our home has been nothing but a doll's house." + +"Excuse me, but this is not quite true. You have never forged a bill; +you have never shown your ankles to a syphilitic doctor of whom you +wanted to borrow money against security _in natura_; you have never +been so romantically silly as to expect your husband to give himself +up for a crime which his wife had committed from ignorance, and which +was not a crime because there was no plaintiff; and you have never +lied to me. I have treated you every bit as honestly as Helmer treated +his wife when he took her into his full confidence and allowed her to +have a voice in the banking business; tolerated her interference with +the appointment of an employee. We have therefore been husband and +wife according to all conceptions, old and new-fashioned." + +"Yes, but I have been your housekeeper!" + +"Pardon me, you are wrong. You have never had a meal in the kitchen, +you have never received wages, you have never had to account for money +spent. I have never scolded you because one thing or the other was not +to my liking. And do you consider my work: to reckon and to brace, to +ease off and call out 'Present arms,' count herrings and measure rum, +weigh peas and examine flour, more honourable than yours: to look +after the servants, cater for the house and bring up the children?" + +"No, but you are paid for your work! You are your own master! You are +a man!" + +"My dear child, do you want me to give you wages? Do you want to be my +housekeeper in real earnest? That I was born a man is an accident. I +might almost say a pity, for it's very nearly a crime to be a man +now-a-days, but it isn't my fault. The devil take him who has stirred +up the two halves of humanity, one against the other! He has much to +answer for. Am I the master? Don't we both rule? Have I ever decided +any important matter without asking for your advice? What? But you--you +bring up the children exactly as you like! Don't you remember that I +wanted you to stop rocking them to sleep because I said it produced a +sort of intoxication? But you had your own way! Another time I had mine, +and then it was your turn again. There was no compromise possible, +because there was no middle course to steer between rocking and not +rocking. We got on very well until now. But you have thrown me over for +Ottilia's sake!" + +"Ottilia! always Ottilia! Didn't you yourself send her to me?" + +"No, not her personally! But there can be no doubt that it is she who +rules now." + +"You want to separate me from all I care for!" + +"Is Ottilia all you care for? It almost looks like it!" + +"But I can't send her away now that I have engaged her to teach the +girls pedagogics and Latin." + +"Latin! Great Scott! Are the girls to be ruined?" + +"They are to know everything a man knows, so that when the time comes, +their marriage will be a true marriage." + +"But, my love, all husbands don't know Latin! I don't know more than +one single word, and that is 'ablative.' And we have been happy in +spite of it. Moreover, there is a movement to strike off Latin from +the plan of instruction for boys, as a superfluous accomplishment. +Doesn't this teach you a lot? Isn't it enough that the men are ruined, +are the women to be ruined, too? Ottilia, Ottilia, what have I done to +you, that you should treat me like this!" + +"Supposing we dropped that matter.--Our love, William, has not been +what it should be. It has been sensual!" + +"But, my darling, how could we have had children, if it hadn't? And it +has not been sensual only." + +"Can a thing be both black and white? Tell me that!" + +"Of course, it can. There's your sunshade for instance, it is black +outside and white inside." + +"Sophist!" + +"Listen to me, sweetheart, tell me in your own way the thoughts which +are in your heart; don't talk like Ottilia's books. Don't let your head +run away with you; be yourself again, my sweet, darling little wife." + +"Yours, your property, bought with your labour." + +"Just as I am your property, your husband, at whom no other woman is +allowed to look if she wants to keep her eyes in her head; your husband, +who made a present of himself to you, or rather, gave himself to you in +exchange. Are we not quits?" + +"But we have trifled away our lives! Have we ever had any higher +interests, William?" + +"Yes, the very highest, Gurli; we have not always been playing, we +have had grave hours, too. Have we not called into being generations +to come? Have we not both bravely worked and striven for the little +ones, who are to grow up into men and women? Have you not faced death +four times for their sakes? Have you not robbed yourself of your +nights' rest in order to rock their cradle, and of your days' +pleasures, in order to attend to them? Couldn't we now have a large +six-roomed flat in the main street, and a footman to open the door, if +it were not for the children? Wouldn't you be able to wear silk +dresses and pearls? And I, your old Pal, wouldn't have _crows' nests_ +in my knees, if it hadn't been for the kiddies. Are we really no +better than dolls? Are we as selfish as old maids say? Old maids, +rejected by men as no good. Why are so many girls unmarried? They all +boast of proposals and yet they pose as martyrs! Higher interests! +Latin! To dress in low neck dresses for charitable purposes and leave +the children at home, neglected! I believe that my interests are +higher than Ottilia's, when I want strong and healthy children, who +will succeed where we have failed. But Latin won't help them! Goodbye, +Gurli! I have to go back on board. Are you coming?" + +But she remained sitting on the stone and made no answer. He went with +heavy footsteps, very heavy footsteps. And the blue sea grew dark and +the sun ceased shining. + +"Pal, Pal, where is this to lead to?" he sighed, as he stepped over +the fence of the cemetery. "I wish I lay there, with a wooden cross to +mark my place, among the roots of the trees. But I am sure I couldn't +rest, if I were there without her! Oh! Gurli! Gurli! + +"Everything has gone wrong, now, mother," said the captain on a chilly +autumn day to his mother-in-law, to whom he was paying a visit. + +"What's the matter, Willy, dear?" + +"Yesterday they met at our house. On the day before yesterday at the +Princess's. Little Alice was suddenly taken ill. It was unfortunate, +of course, but I didn't dare to send for Gurli, for fear she might +think that it was done on purpose to annoy her! Oh! when once one has +lost faith.... I asked a friend at the Admiralty yesterday whether it +was legal in Sweden to kill one's wife's friends with tobacco smoke. I +was told it wasn't, and that even if it were it was better not to do +it, for fear of doing more harm than good. If only it happened to be +an admirer! I should take him by the neck and throw him out of the +window. What am I to do?" + +"It's a difficult matter, Willy, dear, but we shall be able to think +of a way out of it. You can't go on living like a bachelor." + +"No, of course, I can't." + +"I spoke very plainly to her, a day or two ago. I told her that she +would lose you if she didn't mend her ways." + +"And what did she say?" + +"She said you had a right to do as you liked with your body." + +"Indeed! And she, too? A fine theory! My hair is fast turning grey, +mother!" + +"It's a good old scheme to make a wife jealous. It's generally kill or +cure, for if there is any love left, it brings it out." + +"There is, I know, there is!" + +"Of course, there is. Love doesn't die suddenly; it gets used up in +the course of the years, perhaps. Have a flirtation with Ottilia, and +we shall see!" + +"Flirt with Ottilia? With Ottilia?" + +"Try it. Aren't you up in any of the subjects which interest her?" + +"Well, yes! They are deep in statistics, now. Fallen women, infectious +diseases. If I could lead the conversation to mathematics! I am well +up in that!" + +"There you are! Begin with mathematics--by and by put her shawl round +her shoulders and button her overshoes. Take her home in the evening. +Drink her health and kiss her when Gurli is sure to see it. If necessary, +be a little officious. She won't be angry, believe me. And give her a +big dose of mathematics, so big that Gurli has no option but to sit and +listen to it quietly. Come again in a week's time and tell me the +result." + +The captain went home, read the latest pamphlets on immorality and at +once started to carry out his scheme. + +A week later he called on his mother-in-law, serene and smiling, and +greatly enjoying a glass of good sherry. He was in high spirits. + +"Now tell me all about it," said the old woman, pushing her spectacles +up on her forehead. + +"It was difficult work at first," he began, "for she distrusted me. +She thought I was making fun of her. Then I mentioned the effect which +the computation of probabilities had had on the statistics of morality +in America. I told her that it had simply been epoch-making. She knew +nothing about it, but the subject attracted her. I gave her examples +and proved in figures that it was possible to calculate with a certain +amount of probability the percentage of women who are bound to fall. +She was amazed. I saw that her curiosity was aroused and that she was +eager to provide herself with a trump-card for the next meeting. Gurli +was pleased to see that Ottilia and I were making friends, and did +everything to further my scheme. She pushed her into my room and +closed the door; and there we sat all afternoon, making calculations. +The old witch was happy, for she felt that she was making use of me, +and after three hours' work we were fast friends. At supper my wife +found that such old friends as Ottilia and I ought to call one another +by their Christian names. I brought out my good old sherry to +celebrate the occasion. And then I kissed her on the lips, may God +forgive me for my sins! Gurli looked a little startled, but did not +seem to mind. She was radiant with happiness. The sherry was strong +and Ottilia was weak. I wrapped her in her cloak and took her home. I +gently squeezed her arm and told her the names of the stars. She +became enthusiastic! She had always loved the stars, but had never +been able to remember their names. The poor women were not allowed to +acquire any knowledge. Her enthusiasm grew and we parted as the very +best of friends who had been kept apart through misunderstanding each +other for such a long, long time. + +"On the next day more mathematics. We worked until supper time. Gurli +came in once or twice and gave us an encouraging nod. At supper we +talked of nothing but stars and mathematics, and Gurli sat there, +silently, listening to us. Again I took her home. On my way back I met +a friend. We went to the Grand Hotel and drank a glass of punch. It +was one o'clock when I came home. Gurli was still up waiting for me. + +"'Where have you been all this time, William?' she asked. + +"Then the devil entered into my soul and I replied: + +"'We had such a lot to talk about that I forgot all about the time.' + +"_That_ blow struck home. + +"'I don't think it's nice to run about half the night with a young +woman,' she said. + +"I pretended to be embarrassed and stammered: + +"'If one has so much to say to one another, one forgets sometimes what +is nice and what is not.' + +"'What on earth did you talk about?' asked Gurli, pouting. "'I really +can't remember.' + +"You managed very well, my boy," said the old woman. "Go on!" + +"On the third day," continued the captain, "Gurli came in with her +needlework and remained in the room until the lesson in mathematics +was over. Supper was not quite as merry as usual, but on the other +hand, very astronomical. I assisted the old witch with her overshoes, +a fact which made a great impression on Gurli. When Ottilia said +good-night, she only offered her cheek to be kissed. On the way home I +pressed her arm and talked of the sympathy of souls and of the stars +as the home of the souls. I went to the Grand Hotel, had some punch +and arrived home at two o'clock. Gurli was still up; I saw it, but I +went straight to my room, like the bachelor I was, and Gurli did not +like to follow me and ply me with questions. + +"On the following day I gave Ottilia a lesson in astronomy. Gurli +declared that she was much interested and would like to be present; +but Ottilia said we were already too far advanced and she would +instruct her in the rudiments later on. This annoyed Gurli and she +went away. We had a great deal of sherry for supper. When Ottilia +thanked me for a jolly evening, I put my arm round her waist and +kissed her. Gurli grew pale. When I buttoned her overshoes, I ... +I...." + +"Never mind me," said the old lady, "I am an old woman." + +He laughed. "All the same, mother, she's not so bad, really she isn't. +But when I was going to put on my overcoat, I found to my astonishment +the maid waiting in the hall, ready to accompany Ottilia home. Gurli +made excuses for me; she said I had caught a cold on the previous +evening, and that she was afraid the night air might do me harm. +Ottilia looked self-conscious and left without kissing Gurli. + +"I had promised to show Ottilia some astronomical instruments at the +College at twelve o'clock on the following day. She kept her +appointment, but she was much depressed. She had been to see Gurli, +who had treated her very unkindly, so she said. She could not imagine +why. When I came home to dinner I found a great change in Gurli. She +was cold and mute as a fish. I could see that she was suffering. Now +was the time to apply the knife. + +"'What did you say to Ottilia?' I commenced. 'She was so unhappy.'" + +'What did I say to her? Well, I said to her that she was a flirt. +That's what I said.' + +'How could you say such a thing?' I replied. 'Surely, you're not +jealous!' + +'I! Jealous of her!' she burst out. + +'Yes, that's what puzzles me, for I am sure an intelligent and sensible +person like Ottilia could never have designs on another woman's husband!' + +'No,' (she was coming to the point) 'but another woman's husband might +have designs on her.' + +'Huhuhu!' she went for me tooth and nail. I took Ottilia's part; Gurli +called her an old maid; I continued to champion her. On this afternoon +Ottilia did not turn up. She wrote a chilly letter, making excuses and +winding up by saying she could see that she was not wanted. I protested +and suggested that I should go and fetch her. That made Gurli wild! She +was sure that I was in love with Ottilia and cared no more for herself. +She knew that she was only a silly girl, who didn't know anything, was +no good at anything, and--huhuhu!--could never understand mathematics. +I sent for a sleigh and we went for a ride. In a hotel, overlooking the +sea, we drank mulled wine and had an excellent little supper. It was just +as if we were having our wedding day over again, and then we drove home." + +"And then--?" asked the old woman, looking at him over her spectacles. + +"And then? H'm! May God forgive me for my sins! I seduced my own little +wife. What do you say now, granny?" + +"I say that you did very well, my boy! And then?" + +"And then? Since then everything has been all right, and now we discuss +the education of the children and the emancipation of women from +superstition and old-maidishness, from sentimentality and the devil +and his ablative, but we talk when we are alone together and that is +the best way of avoiding misunderstandings. Don't you think so, old +lady?" + +"Yes, Willy, dear, and now I shall come and pay you a call." + +"Do come! And you will see the dolls dance and the larks and the +woodpeckers sing and chirrup; you will see a home filled with +happiness up to the roof, for there is no one there waiting for +miracles which only happen in fairy tales. You will see a real doll's +house." + + + + +PHOENIX + + +The wild strawberries were getting ripe when he met her for the first +time at the vicarage. He had met many girls before, but when he saw +_her_ he knew; this was she! But he did not dare to tell her so, and +she only teased him for he was still at school. + +He was an undergraduate when he met her for the second time. And as he +put his arms round her and kissed her, he saw showers of rockets, heard +the ringing of bells and bugle calls, and felt the earth trembling under +his feet. + +She was a woman at the age of fourteen. Her young bosom seemed to be +waiting for hungry little mouths and eager baby fists. With her firm +and elastic step, her round and swelling hips, she looked fit to bear +at any moment a baby under her heart. Her hair was of a pale gold, +like clarified honey, and surrounded her face like an aureole; her +eyes were two flames and her skin was as soft as a glove. + +They were engaged to be married and billed and cooed in the wood like +the birds in the garden under the lime trees; life lay before them +like a sunny meadow which the scythe had not yet touched. But he had +to pass his examinations in mining first, and that would take +him,--including the journey abroad--ten years. Ten years! + +He returned to the University. In the summer he came back to the +vicarage and found her every bit as beautiful. Three summers he +came--and the fourth time she was pale. There were tiny red lines in +the corners of her nose and her shoulders drooped a little. When the +summer returned for the sixth time, she was taking iron. In the +seventh she went to a watering-place. In the eighth she suffered from +tooth-ache and her nerves were out of order. Her hair had lost its +gloss, her voice had grown shrill, her nose was covered with little +black specks; she had lost her figure, dragged her feet, and her +cheeks were hollow. In the winter she had an attack of nervous fever, +and her hair had to be cut off. When it grew again, it was a dull +brown. He had fallen in love with a golden-haired girl of +fourteen--brunettes did not attract him--and he married a woman of +twenty-four, with dull brown hair, who refused to wear her dresses open +at the throat. + +But in spite of all this he loved her. His love was less passionate +than it had been; it had become calm and steadfast. And there was +nothing in the little mining-town which could disturb their happiness. + +She bore him two boys, but he was always wishing for a girl. And at +last a fair-haired baby girl arrived. + +She was the apple of his eye, and as she grew up she resembled her +mother more and more. When she was eight years old, she was just what +her mother had been. And the father devoted all his spare time to his +little daughter. + +The housework had coarsened the mother's hands. Her nose had lost its +shape and her temples had fallen in. Constant stooping over the kitchen +range had made her a little round-shouldered. Father and mother met only +at meals and at night. They did not complain, but things had changed. + +But the daughter was the father's delight. It was almost as if he were +in love with her. He saw in her the re-incarnation of her mother, his +first impression of her, as beautiful as it had been fleeting. He was +almost self-conscious in her company and never went into her room when +she was dressing. He worshipped her. + +But one morning the child remained in bed and refused to get up. Mama +put it down to laziness, but papa sent for the doctor. The shadow of +the angel of death lay over the house: the child was suffering from +diphtheria. Either father or mother must take the other children away. +He refused. The mother took them to a little house in one of the suburbs +and the father remained at home to nurse the invalid. There she lay! +The house was disinfected with sulphur which turned the gilded picture +frames black and tarnished the silver on the dressing-table. He walked +through the empty rooms in silent anguish, and at night, alone in his +big bed, he felt like a widower. He bought toys for the little girl, +and she smiled at him as he sat on the edge of the bed trying to amuse +her with a Punch and Judy show, and asked after mama and her little +brothers. And the father had to go and stand in the street before the +house in the suburbs, and nod to his wife who was looking at him from +the window, and blow kisses to the children. And his wife signalled to +him with sheets of blue and red paper. + +But a day came when the little girl took no more pleasure in Punch and +Judy, and ceased smiling; and ceased talking too, for Death had +stretched out his long bony arm and suffocated her. It had been a hard +struggle. + +Then the mother returned, full of remorse because she had deserted her +little daughter. There was great misery in the home, and great +wretchedness. When the doctor wanted to make a post mortem examination, +the father objected. No knife should touch her, for she was not dead to +him; but his resistance was overborne. Then he flew into a passion and +tried to kick and bite the doctor. + +When they had bedded her into the earth, he built a monument over her +grave, and for a whole year he visited it every day. In the second +year he did not go quite so often. His work was heavy and he had little +spare time. He began to feel the burden of the years; his step was less +elastic; his wound was healing. Sometimes he felt ashamed when he +realised that he was mourning less and less for his child as time went +by; and finally he forgot all about it. + +Two more girls were born to him, but it was not the same thing; the +void left by the one who had passed away could never be filled. + +Life was a hard struggle. The young wife who had once been like--like +no other woman on earth, had gradually lost her glamour; the gilding +had worn off the home which had once been so bright and beautiful. The +children had bruised and dented their mother's wedding presents, spoiled +the beds and kicked the legs of the furniture. The stuffing of the sofa +was plainly visible here and there, and the piano had not been opened +for years. The noise made by the children had drowned the music and the +voices had become harsh. The words of endearment had been cast off with +the baby clothes, caresses had deteriorated into a sort of massage. They +were growing old and weary. Papa was no longer on his knees before mama, +he sat in his shabby armchair and asked her for a match when he wanted +to light his pipe. Yes, they were growing old. + +When papa had reached his fiftieth year, mama died. Then the past +awoke and knocked at his heart. When her broken body, which the last +agony had robbed of its few remaining charms, had been laid in its +grave, the picture of his fourteen-year-old sweetheart arose in his +memory. It was for her, whom he had lost so long ago that he mourned +now, and with his yearning for her came remorse. But he had never been +unkind to the old mama; he had been faithful to the fourteen-year-old +vicar's daughter whom he had worshipped on his knees but had never led +to the altar, for he had married an anaemic young woman of twenty-four. +If he were to be quite candid, he would have to confess that it was she +for whom he mourned; it was true, he also missed the good cooking and +unremitting care of the old mama, but that was a different thing. + +He was on more intimate terms with his children, now; some of them had +left the old nest, but others were still at home. + +When he had bored his friends for a whole year with anecdotes of the +deceased, an extraordinary coincidence happened. He met a young girl +of eighteen, with fair hair, and a striking resemblance to his late +wife, as she had been at fourteen. He saw in this coincidence the +finger of a bountiful providence, willing to bestow on him at last the +first one, the well-beloved. He fell in love with her because she +resembled the first one. And he married her. He had got her at last. + +But his children, especially the girls, resented his second marriage. +They found the relationship between their father and step-mother +improper; in their opinion he had been unfaithful to their mother. And +they left his house and went out into the world. + +He was happy! And his pride in his young wife exceeded even his +happiness. + +"Only the aftermath!" said his old friends. + +When a year had gone by, the young wife presented him with a baby. +Papa, of course, was no longer used to a baby's crying, and wanted his +night's rest. He insisted on a separate bed-room for himself, heedless +of his wife's tears; really, women were a nuisance sometimes. And, +moreover, she was jealous of his first wife. He had been fool enough +to tell her of the extraordinary likeness which existed between the +two and had let her read his first wife's love-letters. She brooded +over these facts now that he neglected her. She realised that she had +inherited all the first one's pet names, that she was only her +understudy, as it were. It irritated her and the attempt to win him +for herself led her into all sorts of mischief. But she only succeeded +in boring him, and in silently comparing the two women, his verdict +was entirely in favour of the first one. She had been so much more +gentle than the second who exasperated him. The longing for his +children, whom he had driven from their home increased his regret, and +his sleep was disturbed by bad dreams for he was haunted by the idea +that he had been unfaithful to his first wife. + +His home was no longer a happy one. He had done a deed, which he would +much better have left undone. + +He began to spend a good deal of time at his club. But now his wife +was furious. He had deceived her. He was an old man and he had better +look out! An old man who left his young wife so much alone ran a certain +risk. He might regret it some day! + +"Old? She called him old? He would show her that he was not old!" + +They shared the same room again. But now matters were seven times +worse. He did not want to be bothered with the baby at night. The +proper place for babies was the nursery. No! he hadn't thought so in +the case of the first wife. + +He had to submit to the torture. + +Twice he had believed in the miracle of Phoenix rising from the ashes +of his fourteen year old love, first in his daughter, then in his +second wife. But in his memory lived the first one only, the little +one from the vicarage, whom he had met when the wild strawberries were +ripe, and kissed under the lime trees in the wood, but whom he had +never married. + +But now, as his sun was setting and his days grew short, he saw in his +dark hours only the picture of the old mama, who had been kind to him +and his children, who had never scolded, who was plain, who cooked the +meals and patched the little boys' knickers and the skirts of the little +girls. His flush of victory being over, he was able to see facts clearly. +He wondered whether it was not, after all, the old mama who had been the +real true Phoenix, rising, calm and beautiful, from the ashes of the +fourteen year old bird of paradise, laying its eggs, plucking the +feathers from its breast to line the nest for the young ones, and +nourishing them with its life-blood until it died. + +He wondered ... but when at last he laid his weary head on the pillow, +never again to lift it up, he was convinced that it was so. + + + + +ROMEO AND JULIA + + +One evening the husband came home with a roll of music under his arm +and said to his wife: + +"Let us play duets after supper!" + +"What have you got there?" asked his wife. + +"Romeo and Julia, arranged for the piano. Do you know it?" + +"Yes, of course I do," she replied, "but I don't remember ever having +seen it on the stage." + +"Oh! It's splendid! To me it is like a dream of my youth, but I've +only heard it once, and that was about twenty years ago." + +After supper, when the children had been put to bed and the house lay +silent, the husband lighted the candles on the piano. He looked at the +lithographed title-page and read the title: Romeo and Julia. + +"This is Gounod's most beautiful composition," he said, "and I don't +believe that it will be too difficult for us." + +As usual his wife undertook to play the treble and they began. D major, +common time, _allegro giusto_. + +"It is beautiful, isn't it?" asked the husband, when they had finished +the overture. + +"Y--es," admitted the wife, reluctantly. + +"Now the martial music," said the husband; "it is exceptionally fine. +I can remember the splendid choruses at the Royal Theatre." + +They played a march. + +"Well, wasn't I right?" asked the husband, triumphantly, as if he had +composed "Romeo and Julia" himself. + +"I don't know; it rather sounds like a brass band," answered the wife. + +The husband's honour and good taste were involved; he looked for the +Moonshine Aria in the fourth act. After a little searching he came +across an aria for soprano. That must be it. + +And he began again. + +Tram-tramtram, tram-tramtram, went the bass; it was very easy to play. + +"Do you know," said his wife, when it was over, "I don't think very +much of it." + +The husband, quite depressed, admitted that it reminded him of a barrel +organ. + +"I thought so all along," confessed the wife. + +"And I find it antiquated, too. I am surprised that Gounod should be +out of date, already," he added dejectedly. "Would you like to go on +playing? Let's try the Cavatina and the Trio; I particularly remember +the soprano; she was divine." + +When they stopped playing, the husband looked crestfallen and put the +music away, as if he wanted to shut the door on the past. + +"Let's have a glass of beer," he said. They sat down at the table and +had a glass of beer. + +"It's extraordinary," he began, after a little while, "I never +realised before that we've grown old, for we really must have vied +with Romeo and Julia as to who should age faster. It's twenty years +ago since I heard the opera for the first time. I was a newly fledged +undergraduate then, I had many friends and the future smiled at me. I +was immensely proud of the first down on my upper lip and my little +college cap, and I remember as if it were to-day, the evening when +Fritz, Phil and myself went to hear this opera. We had heard 'Faust' +some years before and were great admirers of Gounod's genius. But +Romeo beat all our expectations. The music roused our wildest +enthusiasm. Now both my friends are dead. Fritz, who was ambitious, +was a private secretary when he died, Phil a medical student; I who +aspired to the position of a minister of state have to content myself +with that of a regimental judge. The years have passed by quickly and +imperceptibly. Of course I have noticed that the lines under my eyes +have grown deeper and that my hair has turned grey at the temples, but +I should never have thought that we had travelled so far on the road +to the grave." + +"Yes, my dear, we've grown old; our children could teach us that. And +you must see it in me too, although you don't say anything." + +"How can you say that!" + +"Oh! I know only too well, my dear," continued the wife, sadly; "I +know that I am beginning to lose my good looks, that my hair is +growing thin, that I shall soon lose my front teeth...." + +"Just consider how quickly everything passes away"--interrupted her +husband. "It seems to me that one grows old much more rapidly now-a-days, +than one used to do. In my father's house Haydn and Mozart were played +a great deal, although they were dead long before he was born. And +now--now Gounod has grown old-fashioned already! How distressing it is +to meet again the ideals of one's youth under these altered +circumstances! And how horrible it is to feel old age approaching!" + +He got up and sat down again at the piano; he took the music and turned +over the pages as if he were looking for keepsakes, locks of hair, +dried flowers and ends of ribbon in the drawer of a writing-table. +His eyes were riveted on the black notes which looked like little birds +climbing up and down a wire fencing; but where were the spring songs, +the passionate protestations, the jubilant avowals of the rosy days of +first love? The notes stared back at him like strangers; as if the +memory of life's spring-time were grown over with weeds. + +Yes, that was it; the strings were covered with dust, the sounding board +was dried up, the felt worn away. + +A heavy sigh echoed through the room, heavy as if it came from a hollow +chest, and then silence fell. + +"But all the same, it is strange," the husband said suddenly, "that +the glorious prologue is missing in this arrangement. I remember +distinctly that there was a prologue with an accompaniment of harps +and a chorus which went like this." + +He softly hummed the tune, which bubbled up like a stream in a +mountain glen; note succeeded note, his face cleared, his lips smiled, +the lines disappeared, his fingers touched the keys, and drew from +them melodies, powerful, caressing and full of eternal youth, while +with a strong and ringing voice he sang the part of the bass. + +His wife started from her melancholy reverie and listened with tears +in her eyes. + +"What are you singing?" she asked, full of amazement. + +"Romeo and Julia! Our Romeo and our Julia!" + +He jumped up from the music stool and pushed the music towards his +astonished wife. + +"Look! This was the Romeo of our uncles and aunts, this was--read +it--Bellini! Oh! We are not old, after all!" + +The wife looked at the thick, glossy hair of her husband, his smooth +brow and flashing eyes, with joy. + +"And you? You look like a young girl. We have allowed old Bellini to +make fools of us. I felt that something was wrong." + +"No, darling, I thought so first." + +"Probably you did; that is because you are younger than I am." + +"No, you...." + +And husband and wife, like a couple of children, laughingly quarrel +over the question of which of them is the elder of the two, and cannot +understand how they could have discovered lines and grey hairs where +there are none. + + + + +PROLIFICACY + + +He was a supernumerary at the Board of Trade and drew a salary of +twelve hundred crowns. He had married a young girl without a penny; +for love, as he himself said, to be no longer compelled to go to +dances and run about the streets, as his friends maintained. But be +that as it may, the life of the newly-wedded couple was happy enough +to begin with. + +"How cheaply married people can live," he said one day, after the +wedding was a thing of the past. The same sum which had been barely +enough to cover the wants of the bachelor now sufficed for husband and +wife. Really, marriage was an excellent institution. One had all one's +requirements within one's four walls: club, cafe, everything; no more +bills of fare, no tips, no inquisitive porter watching one as one went +out with one's wife in the morning. + +Life smiled at him, his strength increased and he worked for two. +Never in all his life had he felt so full of overflowing energy; he +jumped out of bed as soon as he woke up in the morning, buoyantly, and +in the highest spirits, he was rejuvenated. + +When two months had elapsed, long before his new circumstances had +begun to pall, his wife whispered a certain piece of information into +his ear. New joys! New cares! But cares so pleasant to bear! It was +necessary, however, to increase their income at once, so as to receive +the unknown world-citizen in a manner befitting his dignity. He managed +to obtain an order for a translation. + +Baby-clothes lay scattered about all over the furniture, a cradle +stood waiting in the hall, and at last a splendid boy arrived in this +world of sorrows. + +The father was delighted. And yet he could not help a vague feeling of +uneasiness whenever he thought of the future. Income and expenditure +did not balance. Nothing remained but to reduce his dress allowance. + +His frock coat began to look threadbare at the seams; his shirt front +was hidden underneath a large tie, his trousers were frayed. It was an +undeniable fact that the porters at the office looked down on him on +account of his shabbiness. + +In addition to this he was compelled to lengthen his working day. + +"It must be the first and last," he said. But how was it to be done? + +He was at a loss to know. + +Three months later his wife prepared him in carefully chosen words +that his paternal joys would soon be doubled. It would not be true to +say that he rejoiced greatly at the news. But there was no alternative +now; he must travel along the road he had chosen, even if married life +should prove to be anything but cheap. + +"It's true," he thought, his face brightening, "the younger one will +inherit the baby-clothes of his elder brother. This will save a good +deal of expense, and there will be food enough for them--I shall be +able to feed them just as well as others." + +And the second baby was born. + +"You are going it," said a friend of his, who was a married man himself, +but father of one child only. + +"What is a man to do?" + +"Use his common-sense." + +"Use his common-sense? But, my dear fellow, a man gets married in +order to ... I mean to say, not only in order to ... but yet in order +to.... Well, anyhow, we are married and that settles the matter." + +"Not at all. Let me tell you something, my dear boy; if you are at all +hoping for promotion it is absolutely necessary that you should wear +clean linen, trousers which are not frayed at the bottom, and a hat +which is not of a rusty brown." + +And the sensible man whispered sensible words into his ear. As the +result, the poor husband was put on short commons in the midst of +plenty. + +But now his troubles began. + +To start with his nerves went to pieces, he suffered from insomnia and +did his work badly. He consulted a doctor. The prescription cost him +three crowns; and such a prescription! He was to stop working; he had +worked too hard, his brain was overtaxed. To stop work would mean +starvation for all of them, and to work spelt death, too! + +He went on working. + +One day, as he was sitting at his desk, stooping over endless rows of +figures, he had an attack of faintness, slipped off his chair and fell +to the ground. + +A visit to a specialist--eighteen crowns. A new prescription; he must +ask for sick leave at once, take riding exercise every morning and +have steak and a glass of port for breakfast. + +Riding exercise and port! + +But the worst feature of the whole business was a feeling of alienation +from his wife which had sprung up in his heart--he did not know whence +it came. He was afraid to go near her and at the same time he longed for +her presence. He loved her, loved her still, but a certain bitterness +was mingled with his love. + +"You are growing thin," said a friend. + +"Yes, I believe I've grown thinner," said the poor husband. + +"You are playing a dangerous game, old boy!" + +"I don't know what you mean!" + +"A married man in half mourning! Take care, my friend!" + +"I really don't know what you're driving at.". + +"It's impossible to go against the wind for any length of time. Set +all sails and run, old chap, and you will see that everything will +come right. Believe me, I know what I'm talking about. You understand +me." + +He took no notice of the advice for a time, fully aware of the fact +that a man's income does not increase in proportion to his family; at +the same time he had no longer any doubt about the cause of his +malady. + +It was summer again. The family had gone into the country. On a +beautiful evening husband and wife were strolling along the steep +shore, in the shade of the alder trees, resplendent in their young +green. They sat down on the turf, silent and depressed. He was morose +and disheartened; gloomy thoughts revolved behind his aching brow. +Life seemed a great chasm which had opened to engulf all he loved. + +They talked of the probable loss of his appointment; his chief had +been annoyed at his second application for sick leave. He complained +of the conduct of his colleagues, he felt himself deserted by everyone; +but the fact which hurt him more than anything else was the knowledge +that she, too, had grown tired of him. + +"Oh! but she hadn't! She loved him every bit as much as she did in +those happy days when they were first engaged. How could he doubt it?" + +"No, he didn't doubt it; but he had suffered so much, he wasn't master +of his own thoughts." + +He pressed his burning cheek against hers, put his arm round her and +covered her eyes with passionate kisses. + +The gnats danced their nuptial dance above the birch tree without a +thought of the thousands of young ones which their ecstasy would call +into being; the carp laid their eggs in the reed grass, careless of +the millions of their kind to which they gave birth; the swallow made +love in broad daylight, not in the least afraid of the consequences of +their irregular liaisons. + +All of a sudden he sprang to his feet and stretched himself like a +sleeper awakening from a long sleep, which had been haunted by evil +dreams, he drank in the balmy air in deep draughts. + +"What's the matter?" whispered his wife, while a crimson blush spread +over her face. + +"I don't know. All I know is that I live, that I breathe again." + +And radiant, with laughing face and shining eyes, he held out his arms +to her, picked her up as if she were a baby and pressed his lips to +her forehead. The muscles of his legs swelled until they looked like +the muscles of the leg of an antique god, he held his body erect like +a young tree and intoxicated with strength and happiness, he carried +his beloved burden as far as the footpath where he put her down. + +"You will strain yourself, sweetheart," she said, making a vain +attempt to free herself from his encircling arms. + +"Never, you darling! I could carry you to the end of the earth, and I +shall carry you, all of you, no matter how many you are now, or how +many you may yet become." + +And they returned home, arm in arm, their hearts singing with +gladness. + +"If the worst comes to the worst, sweet love, one must admit that it +is very easy to jump that abyss which separates body and soul!" + +"What a thing to say!" + +"If I had only realised it before, I should have been less unhappy. +Oh! those idealists!" + +And they entered their cottage. + +The good old times had returned and had, apparently, come to stay. The +husband went to work to his office as before. They lived again through +love's spring time. No doctor was required and the high spirits never +flagged. + +After the third christening, however, he came to the conclusion that +matters were serious and started playing his old game with the +inevitable results: doctor, sick-leave, riding-exercise, port! But +there must be an end of it, at all costs. Every time the balance-sheet +showed a deficit. + +But when, finally, his whole nervous system went out of joint, he let +nature have her own way. Immediately expenses went up and he was beset +with difficulties. + +He was not a poor man, it is true, but on the other hand he was not +blest with too many of this world's riches. + +"To tell you the truth, old girl," he said to his wife, "it will be +the same old story over again." + +"I am afraid it will, my dear," replied the poor woman, who, in +addition to her duties as a mother, had to do the whole work of the +house now. + +After the birth of her fourth child, the work grew too hard for her +and a nursemaid had to be engaged. + +"Now it must stop," avowed the disconsolate husband. "This must be the +last." + +Poverty looked in at the door. The foundations on which the house was +built were tottering. + +And thus, at the age of thirty, in the very prime of their life, the +young husband and wife found themselves condemned to celibacy. He grew +moody, his complexion became grey and his eyes lost their lustre. Her +rich beauty faded, her fine figure wasted away, and she suffered all +the sorrows of a mother who sees her children growing up in poverty +and rags. + +One day, as she was standing in the kitchen, frying herrings, a +neighbour called in for a friendly chat. + +"How are you?" she began. + +"Thank you, I'm not up to very much. How are you?" + +"Oh! I'm not at all well. Married life is a misery if one has to be +constantly on one's guard." + +"Do you think you are the only one?" + +"What do you mean?" + +"Do you know what my husband said to me the other day? One ought to +spare the draught cattle! And I suffer under it all, I can tell you. +No, there's no happiness in marriage. Either husband or wife is bound +to suffer. It's one or the other!" + +"Or both!" + +"But what about the men of science who grow fat at the expense of the +Government?" + +"They have to think of so many things, and moreover, it is improper to +write about such problems; they must not be discussed openly." + +"But that would be the first necessity!" And the two women fell to +discussing their bitter experiences. + +In the following summer they were compelled to remain in town; they +were living in a basement with a view of the gutter, the smell of +which was so objectionable that it was impossible to keep the windows +open. + +The wife did needlework in the same room in which the children were +playing; the husband, who had lost his appointment on account of his +extreme shabbiness, was copying a manuscript in the adjoining room, +and grumbling at the children's noise. Hard words were bandied through +the open door. + +It was Whitsuntide. In the afternoon the husband was lying on the +ragged leather sofa, gazing at a window on the other side of the +street. He was watching a woman of evil reputation who was dressing +for her evening stroll. A spray of lilac and two oranges were lying by +the side of her looking-glass. + +She was fastening her dress without taking the least notice of his +inquisitive glances. + +"She's not having a bad time," mused the celibate, suddenly kindled +into passion. "One lives but once in this world, and one must live +one's life, happen what will!" + +His wife entered the room and caught sight of the object of his +scrutiny. Her eyes blazed; the last feeble sparks of her dead love +glowed under the ashes and revealed themselves in a temporary flash +of jealousy. + +"Hadn't we better take the children to the Zoo?" she asked. + +"To make a public show of our misery? No, thank you!" + +"But it's so hot in here. I shall have to pull down the blinds." + +"You had better open a window!" + +He divined his wife's thoughts and rose to do it himself. Out there, +on the edge of the pavement, his four little ones were sitting, in +close proximity of the waste pipes. Their feet were in the dry gutter, +and they were playing with orange peels which they had found in the +sweepings of the road. The sight stabbed his heart, and he felt a lump +rising in his throat. But poverty had so blunted his feelings that he +remained standing at the window with his arms crossed. + +All at once two filthy streams gushed from the waste pipes, inundated +the gutter and saturated the feet of the children who screamed, half +suffocated by the stench. + +"Get the children ready as quickly as you can," he called, giving way +at the heart-rending scene. + +The father pushed the perambulator with the baby, the other children +clung to the hands and skirts of the mother. + +They arrived at the cemetery with its dark-stemmed lime-trees, their +usual place of refuge; here the trees grew luxuriantly, as if the soil +were enriched by the bodies which lay buried underneath it. + +The bells were ringing for evening prayers. The inmates of the +poorhouse flocked to the church and sat down in the pews left vacant +by their wealthy owners, who had attended to their souls at the +principal service of the day, and were now driving in their carriages +to the Royal Deer Park. + +The children climbed about the shallow graves, most of which were +decorated with armorial bearings and inscriptions. + +Husband and wife sat down on a seat and placed the perambulator, in +which the baby lay sucking at its bottle, by their side. Two puppies +were disporting themselves on a grave close by, half hidden by the +high grass. + +A young and well dressed couple, leading by the hand a little girl +clothed in silk and velvet, passed the seat on which they sat. The +poor copyist raised his eyes to the young dandy and recognised a +former colleague from the Board of Trade who, however, did not seem to +see him. A feeling of bitter envy seized him with such intensity that +he felt more humiliated by this "ignoble sentiment" than by his +deplorable condition. Was he angry with the other man because he +filled a position which he himself had coveted? Surely not. But +of a sense of justice, and his suffering was all the deeper because +it was shared by the whole class of the disinherited. He was convinced +that the inmates of the poorhouse, bowed down under the yoke of public +charity, envied his wife; and he was quite sure that many of the +aristocrats who slept all around him in their graves, under their coats +of arms, would have envied him his children if it had been their lot to +die without leaving an heir to their estates. Certainly, nobody under +the sun enjoyed complete happiness, but why did the plums always fall +to the lot of those who were already sitting in the lap of luxury? And +how was it that the prizes always fell to the organisers of the great +lottery? The disinherited had to be content with the mass said at +evening prayers; to their share fell morality and those virtues which +the others despised and of which they had no need because the gates of +heaven opened readily enough to their wealth. But what about the good +and just God who had distributed His gifts so unevenly? It would be +better, indeed, to live one's life without this unjust God, who had, +moreover, candidly admitted that the "wind blew where it listed"; had +He not himself confessed, in these words, that He did not interfere in +the concerns of man? But failing the church, where should we look for +comfort? And yet, why ask for comfort? Wouldn't it be far better to +strive to make such arrangements that no comfort was needed? Wouldn't +it? + +His speculations were interrupted by his eldest daughter who asked him +for a leaf of the lime-tree, which she wanted for a sunshade for her +doll. He stepped on the seat and raised his hand to break off a little +twig, when a constable appeared and rudely ordered him not to touch +the trees. A fresh humiliation. At the same time the constable +requested him not to allow his children to play on the graves, which +was against the regulations. + +"We'd better go home," said the distressed father. "How carefully they +guard the interests of the dead, and how indifferent they are to the +interests of the living." + +And they returned home. + +He sat down and began to work. He had to copy the manuscript of an +academical treatise on over-population. + +The subject interested him and he read the contents of the whole book. + +The young author who belonged to what was called the ethical school, +was preaching against vice. + +"What vice?" mused the copyist. "That which is responsible for our +existence? Which the priest orders us to indulge in at every wedding +when he says: Be fruitful and multiply and fill the earth?" + +The manuscript ran on: Propagation, without holy matrimony, is a +destructive vice, because the fate of the children, who do not receive +proper care and nursing, is a sad one. In the case of married couples, +on the other hand, it becomes a sacred duty to indulge one's desires. +This is proved, among other things, by the fact that the law protects +even the female ovum, and it is right that it should be so. + +"Consequently," thought the copyist, "there is a providence for +legitimate children, but not for illegitimate ones Oh! this young +philosopher! And the law which protects the female ovum! What +business, then, have those microscopic things to detach themselves at +every change of the moon? Those sacred objects ought to be most +carefully guarded by the police!" + +All these futilities he had to copy in his best handwriting. + +They overflowed with morality, but contained not a single word of +enlightenment. + +The moral or rather the immoral gist of the whole argument was: There +is a God who feeds and clothes all children born in wedlock; a God in +His heaven, probably, but what about the earth? Certainly, it was said +that He came to earth once and allowed himself to be crucified, after +vainly trying to establish something like order in the confused +affairs of mankind; He did not succeed. + +The philosopher wound up by screaming himself hoarse in trying to +convince his audience that the abundant supply of wheat was an +irrefutable proof that the problem of over-population did not exist; +that the doctrine of Malthus was not only false, but criminal, +socially as well as morally. + +And the poor father of a family who had not tasted wheaten bread for +years, laid down the manuscript and urged his little ones to fill +themselves with gruel made of rye flour and bluish milk, a dish which +satisfied their craving, but contained no nourishment. + +He was wretched, not because he considered water gruel objectionable, +but because he had lost his precious sense of humour, that magician +who can transform the dark rye into golden wheat; almighty love, +emptying his horn of plenty over his poor home, had vanished. The +children had become burdens, and the once beloved wife a secret enemy +despised and despising him. + +And the cause of all this unhappiness? The want of bread! And yet the +large store houses of the new world were breaking down under the weight +of the over-abundant supply of wheat. What a world of contradictions! +The manner in which bread was distributed must be at fault. + +Science, which has replaced religion, has no answer to give; it merely +states facts and allows the children to die of hunger and the parents +of thirst. + + + + +AUTUMN + + +They had been married for ten years. Happily? Well, as happily as +circumstances permitted. They had been running in double harness, like +two young oxen of equal strength, each of which is conscientiously +doing his own share. + +During the first year of their marriage they buried many illusions and +realised that marriage was not perfect bliss. In the second year the +babies began to arrive, and the daily toil left them no time for +brooding. + +He was very domesticated, perhaps too much so; his family was his +world, the centre and pivot of which he was. The children were the +radii. His wife attempted to be a centre, too, but never in the middle +of the circle, for that was exclusively occupied by him, and therefore +the radii fell now on the top of one another, now far apart, and their +life lacked harmony. + +In the tenth year of their marriage he obtained the post of secretary +to the Board of Prisons, and in that capacity he was obliged to travel +about the country. This interfered seriously with his daily routine; +the thought of leaving his world for a whole month upset him. He +wondered whom he would miss more, his wife or his children, and he was +sure he would miss them both. + +On the eve of his departure he sat in the corner of the sofa and +watched his portmanteau being packed. His wife was kneeling on the +She brushed his black suit and folded it carefully, so that it should +take up as little space as possible. He had no idea how to do these +things. + +She had never looked upon herself as his housekeeper, hardly as his +wife, she was above all things mother: a mother to the children, a +mother to him. She darned his socks without the slightest feeling of +degradation, and asked for no thanks. She never even considered him +indebted to her for it, for did he not give her and the children new +stockings whenever they wanted them, and a great many other things +into the bargain? But for him, she would have to go out and earn her +own living, and the children would be left alone all day. + +He sat in the sofa corner and looked at her. Now that the parting was +imminent, he began to feel premature little twinges of longing. He +gazed at her figure. Her shoulders were a little rounded; much bending +over the cradle, ironing board and kitchen range had robbed her back +of its straightness. He, too, stooped a little, the result of his toil +at the writing-table, and he was obliged to wear spectacles. But at +the moment he really was not thinking of himself. He noticed that her +plaits were thinner than they had been and that a faint suggestion of +silver lay on her hair. Had she sacrificed her beauty to him, to him +alone? No, surely not to him, but to the little community which they +formed; for, after all, she had also worked for herself. His hair, +too, had grown thin in the struggle to provide for all of them. He +might have retained his youth a little longer, if there hadn't been so +many mouths to fill, if he had remained a bachelor; but he didn't +regret his marriage for one second. + +"It will be a good thing for you to get away for a bit," said his +wife; "you have been too much at home." + +"I suppose you are glad to get rid of me," he replied, not without +bitterness; "but I--I shall miss you very much." + +"You are like a cat, you'll miss your cosy fireside, but not me; you +know you won't." + +"And the kiddies?" + +"Oh, yes! I daresay you'll miss them when you are away, for all your +scolding when you are with them. No, no, I don't mean that you are +unkind to them, but you do grumble a lot! All the same I won't be +unjust, and I know that you love them." + +At supper he was very tired and depressed. He didn't read the evening +paper, he wanted to talk to his wife. But she was too busy to pay much +attention to him; she had no time to waste; moreover, her ten years' +campaign in kitchen and nursery had taught her self-control. + +He felt more sentimental than he cared to show, and the topsy-turvydom +of the room made him fidgety. Scraps of his daily life lay scattered +all over chairs and chests of drawers; his black portmanteau yawned +wide-open like a coffin; his white linen was carefully laid on the top +of his black suit, which showed slight traces of wear and tear at the +knees and elbows. It seemed to him that he himself was lying there, +wearing a white shirt with a starched front. Presently they would +close the coffin and carry it away. + +On the following morning--it was in August--he rose early and dressed +hurriedly. His nerves were unstrung. He went into the nursery and +kissed the children who stared at him with sleepy eyes. Then he kissed +his wife, got into a cab, and told the driver to drive him to the +station. + +The journey, which he made in the company of his Board, did him good; +it really was a good thing for him to get out of his groove; +domesticity lay behind him like a stuffy bedroom, and on the arrival +of the train at Linkoping he was in high spirits. + +An excellent dinner had been ordered at the best hotel and the +remainder of the day was spent in eating it. They drank the health of +the Lord Lieutenant; no one thought of the prisoners on whose behalf +the journey had been undertaken. + +Dinner over, he had to face a lonely evening in his solitary room. A +bed, two chairs, a table, a washing-stand and a wax candle, which +threw its dim light on bare walls. He couldn't suppress a feeling of +nervousness. He missed all his little comforts,--slippers, +dressing-gown, pipe rack and writing table; all the little details +which played an important part in his daily life. And the kiddies? And +his wife? What were they doing? Were they all right? He became +restless and depressed. When he wanted to wind up his watch, he found +that he had left his watch-key at home. It was hanging on the +watch-stand which his wife had given him before they were married. He +went to bed and lit a cigar. Then he wanted a book out of his +portmanteau and he had to get up again. Everything was packed so +beautifully, it was a pity to disturb it. In looking for the book, he +came across his slippers. She had forgotten nothing. Then he found the +book. But he couldn't read. He lay in bed and thought of the past, of +his wife, as she had been ten years ago. He saw her as she had been +then; the picture of her, as she now was, disappeared in the blue-grey +clouds of smoke which rose in rings and wreaths to the rain-stained +ceiling. An infinite yearning came over him. Every harsh word he had +ever spoken to her now grated on his ears; he thought remorsefully of +every hour of anguish he had caused her. At last he fell asleep. + +The following day brought much work and another banquet with a toast +to the Prison-Governor--the prisoners were still unremembered. In the +evening solitude, emptiness, coldness. He felt a pressing need to talk +to her. He fetched some notepaper and sat down to write. But at the +very outset he was confronted by a difficulty. How was he to address +her? Whenever he had sent her a few lines to say that he would not be +home for dinner, he had always called her "Dear Mother." But now he +was not going to write to the mother, but to his fiancee, to his +beloved one. At last he made up his mind and commenced his letter with +"My Darling Lily," as he had done in the old days. At first he wrote +slowly and with difficulty, for so many beautiful words and phrases +seemed to have disappeared from the clumsy, dry language of every-day +life; but as he warmed to his work, they awakened in his memory like +forgotten melodies, valse tunes, fragments of poems, elder-blossoms, +and swallows, sunsets on a mirror-like sea. All his memories of the +springtime of life came dancing along in clouds of gossamer and +enveloped her. He drew a cross at the bottom of the page, as lovers +do, and by the side of it he wrote the words: "Kiss here." + +When the letter was finished and he read it through, his cheeks burnt +and he became self-conscious. He couldn't account for the reason. + +But somehow he felt that he had shown his naked soul to a stranger. + +In spite of this feeling he posted the letter. + +A few days elapsed before he received a reply. While he was waiting +for it, he was a prey to an almost childish bashfulness and +embarrassment. + +At last the answer came. He had struck the right note, and from the +din and clamour of the nursery, and the fumes and smell of the +kitchen, a song arose, clear and beautiful, tender and pure, like +first love. + +Now an exchange of love-letters began. He wrote to her every night, +and sometimes he sent her a postcard as well during the day. His +colleagues didn't know what to think of him. He was so fastidious +about his dress and personal appearance, that they suspected him of a +love affair. And he was in love--in love again. He sent her his +photograph, without the spectacles, and she sent him a lock of her +hair. + +Their language was simple like a child's, and he wrote on coloured +paper ornamented with little doves. Why shouldn't they? They were a +long way off forty yet, even though the struggle for an existence had +made them feel that they were getting old. He had neglected her during +the last twelvemonth, not so much from indifference as from respect--he +always saw in her the mother of his children. + +The tour of inspection was approaching its end. He was conscious of a +certain feeling of apprehension when he thought of their meeting. He +had corresponded with his sweetheart; should he find her in the mother +and housewife? He dreaded a disappointment. He shrank at the thought +of finding her with a kitchen towel in her hand, or the children +clinging to her skirts. Their first meeting must be somewhere else, +and they must meet alone. Should he ask her to join him at Waxholm, in +the Stockholm Archipelago, at the hotel where they had spent so many +happy hours during the period of their engagement? Splendid idea! +There they could, for two whole days, re-live in memory the first +beautiful spring days of their lives, which had flown, never to return +again. + +He sat down and made the suggestion in an impassioned love-letter. She +answered by return agreeing to his proposal, happy that the same idea +had occurred to both of them. + + * * * * * + +Two days later he arrived at Waxholm and engaged rooms at the hotel. +It was a beautiful September day. He dined alone, in the great +dining-room, drank a glass of wine and felt young again. Everything +was so bright and beautiful. There was the blue sea outside; only the +birch trees on the shore had changed their tints. In the garden the +dahlias were still in full splendour, and the perfume of the mignonette +rose from the borders of the flower beds. A few bees still visited the +dying calyces but returned disappointed to their hives. The fishing +boats sailed up the Sound before a faint breeze, and in tacking the +sails fluttered and the sheets shook; the startled seagulls rose into +the air screaming, and circled round the fishermen who were fishing +from their boats for small herring. + +He drank his coffee on the verandah, and began to look out for the +steamer which was due at six o'clock. + +Restlessly, apprehensively, he paced the verandah, anxiously watching +fiord and Sound on the side where Stockholm lay, so as to sight the +steamer as soon as she came into view. + +At last a little cloud of smoke showed like a dark patch on the horizon. +His heart thumped against his ribs and he drank a liqueur. Then he went +down to the shore. + +Now he could see the funnel right in the centre of the Sound, and soon +after he noticed the flag on the fore-topmast.... Was she really on the +steamer, or had she been prevented from keeping the tryst? It was +only necessary for one of the children to be ill, and she wouldn't be +there, and he would have to spend a solitary night at the hotel. The +children, who during the last few weeks had receded into the background, +now stepped between her and him. They had hardly mentioned them in their +last letters, just as if they had been anxious to be rid of all +eyewitnesses and spoil-sports. + +He stamped on the creaking landing-stage and then remained standing +motionless near a bollard staring straight at the steamer which +increased in size as she approached, followed in her wake by a river +of molten gold that spread over the blue, faintly rippled expanse. Now +he could distinguish people on the upper deck, a moving crowd, and +sailors busy with the ropes, now a fluttering speck of white near the +wheel-house. There was no one besides him on the landing-stage, the +moving white speck could only be meant for him, and no one would wave +to him but her. He pulled out his handkerchief and answered her +greeting, and in doing so he noticed that his handkerchief was not a +white one; he had been using coloured ones for years for the sake of +economy. + +The steamer whistled, signalled, the engines stopped, she came +alongside, and now he recognised her. Their eyes met in greeting; the +distance was still too great for words. Now he could see her being +pushed slowly by the crowd across the little bridge. It was she, and +yet it wasn't. + +Ten years stretched between her and the picture of her which he had +had in his mind. Fashion had changed, the cut of the clothes was +different. Ten years ago her delicate face with its olive complexion +was framed by the cap which was then worn, and which left the forehead +free; now her forehead was hidden by a wicked imitation of a bowler +hat. Ten years ago the beautiful lines of her figure were clearly +definable under the artistic draperies of her cloak which playfully +now hid, now emphasised the curve of her shoulders and the movement of +her arms; now her figure was completely disguised by a long driving +coat which followed the lines of her dress but completely concealed +her figure. As she stepped off the landing-bridge, he caught sight of +her little foot with which he had fallen in love, when it was encased +in a buttoned boot, shaped on natural lines; the shoe which she was +now wearing resembled a pointed Chinese slipper, and did not allow her +foot to move in those dancing rhythms which had bewitched him. + +It was she and yet it was not she! He embraced and kissed her. She +enquired after his health and he asked after the children. Then they +walked up the strand. + +Words came slowly and sounded dry and forced. How strange! They were +almost shy in each other's presence, and neither of them mentioned the +letters. + +In the end he took heart of grace and asked: + +"Would you like to go for a walk before sunset?" + +"I should love to," she replied, taking his arm. + +They went along the high-road in the direction of the little town. The +shutters of all the summer residences were closed; the gardens plundered. +Here and there an apple, hidden among the foliage, might still be found +hanging on the trees, but there wasn't a single flower in the flower +beds. The verandahs, stripped of their sunblinds, looked like skeletons; +where there had been bright eyes and gay laughter, silence reigned. + +"How autumnal!" she said. + +"Yes, the forsaken villas look horrible." + +They walked on. + +"Let us go and look at the house where we used to live." + +"Oh, yes! It will be fun." + +They passed the bathing vans. + +Over there, squeezed in between the pilot's and the gardener's cottages, +stood the little house with its red fence, its verandah and its little +garden. + +Memories of past days awoke. There was the bedroom where their first +baby had been born. What rejoicing! What laughter! Oh! youth and gaiety! +The rose-tree which they had planted was still there. And the +strawberry-bed which they had made--no, it existed no longer, grass +had grown over it. In the little plantation traces of the swing which +they had put up were still visible, but the swing itself had +disappeared. + +"Thank you so much for your beautiful letters," she said, gently +pressing his arm. + +He blushed and made no reply. + +Then they returned to the hotel, and he told her anecdotes, in +connection with his tour. + +He had ordered dinner to be served in the large dining-room at the +table where they used to sit. They sat down without saying grace. + +It was a tete-a-tete dinner. He took the bread-basket and offered her +the bread. She smiled. It was a long time since he had been so +attentive. But dinner at a seaside hotel was a pleasant change and +soon they were engaged in a lively conversation. It was a duet in +which one of them extolled the days that had gone, and the other +revived memories of "once upon a time." They were re-living the past. +Their eyes shone and the little lines in their faces disappeared. Oh! +golden days! Oh! time of roses which comes but once, if it comes at +all, and which is denied to so many of us--so many of us. + +At dessert he whispered a few words into the ear of the waitress; she +disappeared and returned a few seconds later with a bottle of champagne. + +"My dear Axel, what are you thinking of?" + +"I am thinking of the spring that has past, but will return again." + +But he wasn't thinking of it exclusively, for at his wife's reproachful +words there glided through the room, catlike, a dim vision of the nursery +and the porridge bowl. + +However--the atmosphere cleared again; the golden wine stirred their +memories, and again they lost themselves in the intoxicating rapture +of the past. + +He leaned his elbow on the table and shaded his eyes with his hand, as +if he were determined to shut out the present--this very present +which,--after all, had been of his own seeking. + +The hours passed. They left the dining-room and went into the +drawing-room which boasted a piano, ordering their coffee to be +brought there. + +"I wonder how the kiddies are?" said she, awakening to the hard facts +of real life. + +"Sit down and sing to me," he answered, opening the instrument. + +"What would you like me to sing? You know I haven't sung a note for +many days." + +He was well aware of it, but he _did_ want a song. + +She sat down before the piano and began to play. It was a squeaking +instrument that reminded one of the rattling of loose teeth. + +"What shall I sing?" she asked, turning round on the music-stool. + +"You know, darling," he replied, not daring to meet her eyes. + +"Your song! Very well, if I can remember it." And she sang: "Where is +the blessed country where my beloved dwells?" + +But alas! Her voice was thin and shrill and emotion made her sing out +of tune. At times it sounded like a cry from the bottom of a soul +which feels that noon is past and evening approaching. The fingers +which had done hard work strayed on the wrong keys. The instrument, +too, had seen its best days; the cloth on the hammers had worn away; +it sounded as if the springs touched the bare wood. + +When she had finished her song, she sat for a while without turning +round, as if she expected him to come and speak to her. But he didn't +move; not a sound broke the deep silence. When she turned round at +last, she saw him sitting on the sofa, his cheeks wet with tears. She +felt a strong impulse to jump up, take his head between her hands and +kiss him as she had done in days gone by, but she remained where she +was, immovable, with downcast eyes. + +He held a cigar between his thumb and first finger. When the song was +finished, he bit off the end and struck a match. + +"Thank you, Lily," he said, puffing at his cigar, "will you have your +coffee now?" + +They drank their coffee, talked of summer holidays in general and +suggested two or three places where they might go next summer. But +their conversation languished and they repeated themselves. + +At last he yawned openly and said: "I'm off to bed." + +"I'm going, too," she said, getting up. "But I'll get a breath of +fresh air first, on the balcony." + +He went into the bed-room. She lingered for a few moments in the +dining-room, and then talked to the landlady for about half an hour of +spring-onions and woollen underwear. + +When the landlady had left her she went into the bedroom and stood for +a few minutes at the door, listening. No sound came from within. His +boots stood in the corridor. She opened the door gently and went in. +He was asleep. + +He was asleep! + + * * * * * + +At breakfast on the following morning he had a headache, and she +fidgeted. + +"What horrible coffee," he said, with a grimace. + +"Brazilian," she said, shortly. + +"What shall we do to-day?" he asked, looking at his watch. + +"Hadn't you better eat some bread and butter, instead of grumbling at +the coffee?" she said. + +"Perhaps you're right," he answered, "and I'll have a liqueur at the +same time. That champagne last night, ugh!" + +He asked for bread and butter and a liqueur and his temper improved. + +"Let's go to the Pilot's Hill and look at the view." + +They rose from the breakfast table and went out. + +The weather was splendid and the walk did them good. But they walked +slowly; she panted, and his knees were stiff; they drew no more +parallels with the past. + +They walked across the fields. The grass had been cut long ago, there +wasn't a single flower anywhere. They sat down on some large stones. + +He talked of the Board of Prisons and his office. She talked of the +children. + +Then they walked on in silence. He looked at his watch. + +"Three hours yet till dinner time," he said. And he wondered how they +could kill time on the next day. + +They returned to the hotel. He asked for the papers. She sat down by +the side of him with a smile on her lips. + +They talked little during dinner. After dinner she mentioned the +servants. + +"For heaven's sake, leave the servants alone!" he exclaimed. + +"Surely we haven't come here to quarrel!" + +"Am I quarrelling?" + +"Well, I'm not!" + +An awkward pause followed. He wished somebody would come. The children! +Yes! This tete-a-tete embarrassed him, but he felt a pain in his heart +when he thought of the bright hours of yesterday. + +"Let's go to Oak Hill," she said, "and gather wild strawberries." + +"There are no wild strawberries at this time of the year, it's autumn." + +"Let's go all the same." + +And they went. But conversation was difficult. His eyes searched for +some object on the roadside which would serve for a peg on which to +hang a remark, but there was nothing. There was no subject which they +hadn't discussed. She knew all his views on everything and disagreed +with most of them. She longed to go home, to the children, to her own +fireside. She found it absurd to make a spectacle of herself in this +place and be on the verge of a quarrel with her husband all the time. + +After a while they stopped, for they were tired. He sat down and began +to write in the sand with his walking stick. He hoped she would +provoke a scene. + +"What are you thinking of?" she asked at last. + +"I?" he replied, feeling as if a burden were falling off his shoulders, +"I am thinking that we are getting old, mother: our innings are over, +and we have to be content with what has been. If you are of the same +mind, we'll go home by the night boat." + +"I have thought so all along, old man, but I wanted to please you." + +"Then come along, we'll go home. It's no longer summer, autumn is here." + +They returned to the hotel, much relieved. + +He was a little embarrassed on account of the prosaic ending of the +adventure, and felt an irresistible longing to justify it from a +philosophical standpoint. + +"You see, mother," he said, "my lo--h'm" (the word was too strong) "my +affection for you has undergone a change in the course of time. It has +developed, broadened; at first it was centred on the individual, but +later on, on the family as a whole. It is not now you, personally, +that I love, nor is it the children, but it is the whole.... + +"Yes, as my uncle used to say, children are lightning conductors!" + +After his philosophical explanation he became his old self again. It +was pleasant to take off his frock coat; he felt, as if he were +getting into his dressing-gown. + +When they entered the hotel, she began at once to pack, and there she +was in her element. + +They went downstairs into the saloon as soon as they got on board. For +appearance sake, however, he asked her whether she would like to watch +the sunset; but she declined. + +At supper he helped himself first, and she asked the waitress the +price of black bread. + +When he had finished his supper, he remained sitting at the table, +lingering over a glass of porter. A thought which had amused him for +some time, would no longer be suppressed. + +"Old fool, what?" he said, lifting his glass and smiling at his wife +who happened to look at him at the moment. + +She did not return his smile but her eyes, which had flashed for a +second, assumed so withering an expression of dignity that he felt +crushed. + +The spell was broken, the last trace of his old love had vanished; he +was sitting opposite the mother of his children; he felt small. + +"No need to look down upon me because I have made a fool of myself for +a moment," she said gravely. "But in a man's love there is always a +good deal of contempt; it is strange." + +"And in the love of a woman?" + +"Even more, it is true! But then, she has every cause." + +"It's the same thing--with a difference. Probably both of them are +wrong. That which one values too highly, because it is difficult of +attainment, is easily underrated when one has obtained it." + +"Why does one value it too highly?" + +"Why is it so difficult of attainment?" + +The steam whistle above their heads interrupted their conversation. + +They landed. + +When they had arrived home, and he saw her again among her children, +he realised that his affection for her had undergone a change, and +that her affection for him had been transferred to and divided amongst +all these little screamers. Perhaps her love for him had only been a +means to an end. His part had been a short one, and he felt deposed. +If he had not been required to earn bread and butter, he would +probably have been cast off long ago. + +He went into his study, put on his dressing-gown and slippers, lighted +his pipe and felt at home. + +Outside the wind lashed the rain against the window panes, and whistled +in the chimney. + +When the children had been put to bed, his wife came and sat by him. + +"No weather to gather wild strawberries," she said. + +"No, my dear, the summer is over and autumn is here." + +"Yes, it is autumn," she replied, "but it is not yet winter, there is +comfort in that." + +"Very poor comfort if we consider that we live but once." + +"Twice when one has children; three times if one lives to see one's +grandchildren." + +"And after that, the end." + +"Unless there is a life after death." + +"We cannot be sure of that! Who knows? I believe it, but my faith is +no proof." + +"But it is good to believe it. Let us have faith! Let us believe that +spring will come again! Let us believe it!" + +"Yes, let us believe it," he said, gathering her to his breast. + + + + +COMPULSORY MARRIAGE + + +His father died early and from that time forth he was in the hands of +a mother, two sisters and several aunts. He had no brother. They lived +on an estate in the Swedish province, Soedermanland, and had no +neighbours with whom they _could be_ on friendly terms. When he was +seven years old, a governess was engaged to teach him and his sisters, +and about the same time a girl cousin came to live with them. + +He shared his sisters' bedroom, played their games and went bathing +with them; nobody looked upon him as a member of the other sex. Before +long his sisters took him in hand and became his schoolmasters and +tyrants. + +He was a strong boy to start with, but left to the mercy of so many +doting women, he gradually became a helpless molly-coddle. + +Once he made an attempt to emancipate himself and went to play with +the boys of the cottagers. They spent the day in the woods, climbed +the trees, robbed the birds' nests and threw stones at the squirrels. +Frithiof was as happy as a released prisoner, and did not come home to +dinner. The boys gathered whortle-berries, and bathed in the lake. It +was the first really enjoyable day of his life. + +When he came home in the evening, he found the whole house in great +commotion. His mother though anxious and upset, did not conceal her +joy at his return; Aunt Agatha, however, a spinster, and his mother's +eldest sister, who ruled the house, was furious. She maintained that +it would be a positive crime not to punish him. Frithiof could not +understand why it should be a crime, but his aunt told him that +disobedience was a sin. He protested that he had never been forbidden +to play with the children of the cottagers. She admitted it but said +that, of course, there could never have been two questions about it. +And she remained firm, and regardless of his mother's pleading eyes, +took him away to give him a whipping in her own room. He was eight +years old and fairly big for his age. + +When the aunt touched his waist-belt to unbutton his knickers, a cold +shiver ran down his back; he gasped and his heart thumped against his +ribs. He made no sound, but stared, horror-struck, at the old woman +who asked him, almost caressingly, to be obedient and not to offer any +resistance. But when she laid hands on his shirt, he grew hot with +shame and fury. He sprang from the sofa on which she had pushed him, +hitting out right and left. Something unclean, something dark and +repulsive, seemed to emanate from this woman, and the shame of his sex +rose up in him as against an assailant. + +But the aunt, mad with passion, seized him, threw him on a chair and +beat him. He screamed with rage, pain he did not feel, and with +convulsive kicks tried to release himself; but all of a sudden he lay +still and was silent. + +When the old woman let him go, he remained where he was, motionless. + +"Get up!" she said, in a broken voice. + +He stood up and looked at her. One of her cheeks was pale, the other +crimson. Her eyes glowed strangely and she trembled all over. He looked +at her curiously, as one might examine a wild beast, and all of a +sudden a supercilious smile raised his upper lip; it seemed to him +as if his contempt gave him an advantage over her. "She-devil!" He +flung the word, newly acquired from the children of the cottagers, +into her face, defiantly and scornfully, seized his clothes and flew +downstairs to his mother, who was sitting in the dining-room, weeping. + +He wanted to open his heart to her and complain of his aunt's treatment, +but she had not the courage to comfort him. So he went into the kitchen +where the maids consoled him with a handful of currants. + +From this day on he was no longer allowed to sleep in the nursery with +his sisters, but his mother had his bed removed to her own bedroom. He +found his mother's room stuffy and the new arrangement dull; she +frequently disturbed his sleep by getting up and coming to his bed in +the night to see whether he was covered up; then he flew into a rage +and answered her questions peevishly. + +He was never allowed to go out without being carefully wrapped up by +someone, and he had so many mufflers that he never knew which one to +put on. Whenever he tried to steal out of the house, someone was sure +to see him from the window and call him back to put on an overcoat. + +By and by his sisters' games began to bore him. His strong arms no +longer wanted to play battledore and shuttlecock, they longed to throw +stones. The squabbles over a petty game of croquet, which demanded +neither muscle nor brain, irritated him. + +The governess was another one of his trials. She always spoke to him +in French and he invariably answered her in Swedish. A vague disgust +with his whole life and surroundings began to stir in him. + +The free and easy manner in which everybody behaved in his presence +offended him, and he retaliated by heartily loathing all with whom he +came in contact. His mother was the only one who considered his feelings +to a certain extent: she had a big screen put round his bed. + +Ultimately the kitchen and the servants' hall became his refuge; there +everything he did was approved of. Occasionally, of course, matters +were discussed there which might have aroused a boy's curiosity, but +for him there were no secrets. On one occasion, for instance, he had +accidentally come to the maids' bathing-place. The governess, who was +with him, screamed, he could not understand why, but he stopped and +talked to the girls who were standing or lying about in the water. +Their nudity made no impression upon him. + +He grew up into a youth. An inspector was engaged to teach him farming +for he was, of course, to take over the management of the estate in +due time. They chose an old man who held the orthodox faith. The old +man's society was not exactly calculated to stimulate a young man's +brain, but it was an improvement on the old conditions. It opened +new points of view to him and roused him to activity. But the +inspector received daily and hourly so many instructions from the +ladies, that he ended by being nothing but their mouth-piece. + +At the age of fifteen Frithiof was confirmed, received a present of a +gold watch and was allowed to go out on horseback; he was not +permitted, however, to realise his greatest ambition, namely to go +shooting. True, there was no longer any fear of a whipping from his +arch-enemy, but he dreaded his mother's tears. He always remained a +child, and never managed to throw off the habit of giving way to the +judgment of other people. + +The years passed; he had attained his twentieth year. One day he was +standing in the kitchen watching the cook, who was busy scaling a +perch. She was a pretty young woman with a delicate complexion. He was +teasing her and finally put his hand down her back. + +"Do behave yourself, now, Mr. Frithiof," said the girl. + +"But I am behaving myself," he replied, becoming more and more +familiar. + +"If mistress should see you!" + +"Well supposing she did?" + +At this moment his mother passed the open kitchen door; she instantly +turned away and walked across the yard. + +Frithiof found the situation awkward and slunk away to his bed-room. + +A new gardener entered their service. In their wisdom, anxious to +avoid trouble with the maids, the ladies had chosen a married man. +But, as misfortune would have it, the gardener had been married long +enough to be the father of an exceedingly pretty young daughter. + +Frithiof quickly discovered the sweet blossom among the other roses in +the garden, and poured out all the good-will which lay stored up in +his heart for _that_ half of humanity to which he did not belong, on +this young girl, who was rather well developed and not without +education. + +He spent a good deal of his time in the garden and stopped to talk to +her whenever he found her working at one of the flower-beds or cutting +flowers. She did not respond to his advances, but this only had the +effect of stimulating his passion. + +One day he was riding through the wood, haunted, as usual, by visions +of her loveliness which, in his opinion, reached the very pinnacle of +perfection. He was sick with longing to meet her alone, freed from all +fear of incurring some watcher's displeasure. In his heated +imagination the desire of being near her had assumed such enormous +proportions, that he felt that life without her would be impossible. + +He held the reins loosely in his hand, and the horse picked his way +leisurely while its rider sat on its back wrapped in deep thought. All +of a sudden something light appeared between the trees and the +gardener's daughter emerged from the underwood and stepped out on the +footpath. + +Frithiof dismounted and took off his hat. They walked on, side by +side, talking, while he dragged his horse behind him. He spoke in +vague words of his love for her; but she rejected all his advances. + +"Why should we talk of the impossible?" she asked. + +"What is impossible?" he exclaimed. + +"That a wealthy gentleman like you should marry a poor girl like me." + +There was no denying the aptitude of her remark, and Frithiof felt +that he was worsted. His love for her was boundless, but he could see +no possibility of bringing his doe safely through the pack which +guarded house and home; they would tear her to pieces. + +After this conversation he gave himself up to mute despair. + +In the autumn the gardener gave notice and left the estate without +giving a reason. For six weeks Frithiof was inconsolable, for he had +lost his first and only love; he would never love again. + +In this way the autumn slowly passed and winter stood before the door. +At Christmas a new officer of health came into the neighbourhood. He +had grown-up children, and as the aunts were always ill, friendly +relations were soon established between the two families. Among the +doctor's children was a young girl and before long Frithiof was head +over ears in love with her. He was at first ashamed of his infidelity +to his first love, but he soon came to the conclusion that love was +something impersonal, because it was possible to change the object of +one's tenderness; it was almost like a power of attorney made out on +the holder. + +As soon as his guardians got wind of this new attachment, the mother +asked her son for a private interview. + +"You have now arrived at that age," she began, "when a man begins to +look out for a wife." + +"I have already done that, my dear mother," he replied. + +"I'm afraid you've been too hasty," she said. "The girl of whom, I +suppose, you are thinking, doesn't possess the moral principles which +an educated man should demand." + +"What? Amy's moral principles! Who has anything to say against them?" + +"I won't say a word against the girl herself, but her father, as you +know, is a freethinker." + +"I shall be proud to be related to a man who can think freely, without +considering his material interests." + +"Well, let's leave him out of the question; you are forgetting, my dear +Frithiof, that you are already bound elsewhere." + +"What? Do you mean...." + +"Yes; you have played with Louisa's heart." + +"Are you talking of cousin Louisa?" + +"I am. Haven't you looked upon yourselves as fiances since your earliest +childhood? Don't you realise that she has put all her faith and trust in +you?" + +"It's you who have played with us, driven us together, not I!" answered +the son. + +"Think of your old mother, think of your sisters, Frithiof. Do you want +to bring a stranger into this house which has always been our home, a +stranger who will have the right to order us about?" + +"Oh! I see; Louisa is the chosen mistress!" + +"There's no chosen mistress, but a mother always has a right to choose +the future wife of her son; nobody is so well fitted to undertake such +a task. Do you doubt my good faith? Can you possibly suspect me, your +mother, of a wish to injure you?" + +"No, no! but I--I don't love Louisa; I like her as a sister, but...." + +"Love? Nothing in all the world is so inconstant as love! It's folly +to rely on it, it passes away like a breath; but friendship, conformity +of views and habits, similar interests and a long acquaintanceship, +these are the surest guarantees of a happy marriage. Louisa is a capable +girl, domesticated and methodical, she will make your home as happy as +you could wish." + +Frithiof's only way of escape was to beg his mother for time to +consider the matter. + +Meanwhile all the ladies of the household had recovered their health, +so that the doctor was no longer required. Still he called one day, +but he was treated like a burglar who had come to spy out the land. He +was a sharp man and saw at once how matters stood. Frithiof returned +his call but was received coldly. This was the end of their friendly +relations. + +Frithiof came of age. + +Frantic attempts were now made to carry the fortress by storm. The +aunts cringed before the new master and tried to prove to him that +they could not be dispensed with, by treating him as if he were a +child. His sisters mothered him more than ever, and Louisa began to +devote a great deal of attention to her dress. She laced herself +tightly and curled her hair. She was by no means a plain girl, but she +had cold eyes and a sharp tongue. + +Frithiof remained indifferent; as far as he was concerned she was +sexless; he had never looked at her with the eyes of a man. But now, +after the conversation with his mother, he could not help a certain +feeling of embarrassment in her presence, especially as she seemed to +seek his society. He met her everywhere; on the stairs, in the garden, +in the stables even. One morning, when he was still in bed, she came +into his room to ask him for a pin; she was wearing a dressing-jacket +and pretended to be very shy. + +He took a dislike to her, but nevertheless she was always in his mind. + +In the meantime the mother had one conversation after another with her +son, and aunt and sisters never ceased hinting at the anticipated +wedding. + +Life was made a burden to him. He saw no way of escape from the net in +which he had been caught. Louisa was no longer his sister and friend, +though he did not like her any the better for it; his constant dwelling +on the thought of marrying her had had the result of making him realise +that she was a woman, an unsympathetic woman, it was true, but still a +woman. His marriage would mean a change in his position, and, perhaps, +delivery from bondage. There were no other girls in the neighbourhood, +and, after all, she was probably as good as any other young woman. + +And so he went one day to his mother and told her that he had made up +his mind. He would marry Louisa on condition that he should have an +establishment of his own in one of the wings of the house, and his own +table. He also insisted that his mother should propose for him, for he +could not bring himself to do it. + +The compromise was accepted and Louisa was called in to receive +Frithiof's embrace and timid kiss. They both wept for reasons which +neither of them understood. They felt ashamed of themselves for the +rest of the day. Afterwards everything went on as before, but the +motherliness of aunts and sisters knew no bounds. They furnished the +wing, arranged the rooms, settled everything; Frithiof was never +consulted in the matter. + +The preparations for the wedding were completed. Old friends, buried +in the provinces, were hunted up and invited to be present at the +ceremony. + +The wedding took place. + +On the morning after his wedding day Frithiof was up early. He left +his bed-room as quickly as possible, pretending that his presence was +necessary in the fields. + +Louisa, who was still sleepy, made no objection. But as he was going +out she called after him: + +"You won't forget breakfast at eleven!" + +It sounded like a command. + +He went to his den, put on a shooting coat and waterproof boots and +took his gun, which he kept concealed in his wardrobe. Then he went +out into the wood. + +It was a beautiful October morning. Everything was covered with hoar +frost. He walked quickly as if he were afraid of being called back, or +as if he were trying to escape from something. The fresh air had the +effect of a bath. He felt a free man, at last, and he used his freedom +to go out for a morning stroll with his gun. But this exhilarating +feeling of bodily freedom soon passed. Up to now he had at least had a +bedroom of his own. He had been master of his thoughts during the day +and his dreams at night. That was over. The thought of that common +bedroom tormented him; there was something unclean about it. Shame was +cast aside like a mask, all delicacy of feeling was dispensed with, +every illusion of the "high origin" of man destroyed; to come into +such close contact with nothing but the beast in man had been too much +for him, for he had been brought up by idealists. He was staggered by +the enormity of the hypocrisy displayed in the intercourse between men +and women; it was a revelation to him to find that the inmost substance +of that indescribable womanliness was nothing but the fear of +consequences. But supposing he had married the doctor's daughter, +or the gardener's little girl? Then to be alone with her would be +bliss, while to be alone with his wife was depressing and unlovely; +then the coarse desire to satisfy a curiosity and a want would be +transformed into an ecstasy more spiritual than carnal. + +He wandered through the wood without a purpose, without an idea of +what he wanted to shoot; be only felt a vague desire to hear a shot +and to kill something; but nothing came before his gun. The birds had +already migrated. Only a squirrel was climbing about the branches of a +pine-tree, staring at him with brilliant eyes. He raised the gun and +pulled the trigger; but the nimble little beast was already on the +other side of the trunk when the shot hit the tree. But the sound +impressed his nerves pleasantly. + +He left the footpath and went through the undergrowth. He stamped on +every fungus that grew on his way. He was in a destructive mood. He +looked for a snake so as to trample on it or kill it with a shot. + +Suddenly he remembered that he ought to go home and that it was the +morning after his wedding day. The mere thought of the curious glances +to which he would be exposed had the effect of making him feel like a +criminal, about to be unmasked and shown up for having committed a +crime against good manners and, what was worse, against nature. Oh! +that he could have left this world behind him! But how was he to do +that? + +His thoughts grew tired at last of revolving round and round the same +problem and he felt a craving for food. + +He decided to return home and have some breakfast. + +On entering the gate which led to the court yard, he saw the whole +house-party standing before the entrance hall. As soon as they caught +sight of him they began to cheer. He crossed the yard with uncertain +footsteps and listened with ill-concealed irritation to the sly +questions after his health. Then he turned away and went into the house, +never noticing his wife, who was standing amongst the group waiting for +him to go up to her and kiss her. + +At the breakfast table he suffered tortures; tortures which he knew +would be burnt into his memory for all times. The insinuations of his +guests offended him and his wife's caresses stung him. His day of +rejoicing was the most miserable day of his life. + +In the course of a few months the young wife, with the assistance of +aunts and sisters, had established her over-rule in the house. Frithiof +remained, what he had always been, the youngest and dullest member of +the household. His advice was sometimes asked for, but never acted +upon; he was looked after as if he were still a child. His wife soon +found it unbearable to dine with him alone, for he kept an obstinate +silence during the meal. Louisa could not stand it; she must have a +lightning conductor; one of the sisters removed into the wing. + +Frithiof made more than one attempt to emancipate himself, but his +attempts were always frustrated by the enemy; they were too many for +him, and they talked and preached until he fled into the wood. + +The evenings held terror for him. He hated the bedroom, and went to it +as to a place of execution. He became morose and avoided everybody. + +They had been married for a year now, and still there was no promise +of a child; his mother took him aside one day to have a talk to him. + +"Wouldn't you like to have a son?" she asked. + +"Of course, I would," he replied. + +"You aren't treating your wife very kindly," said the mother as gently +as possible. + +He lost his temper. + +"What? What do you say? Are you finding fault with me? Do you want me +to toil all day long? H'm! You don't know Louisa! But whose business +is it but mine? Bring your charge against me in such a way that I can +answer it!" + +But the mother was not disposed to do that. + +Lonely and miserable, he made friends with the inspector, a young man, +addicted to wine and cards. He sought his company and spent the evenings +in his room; he went to bed late, as late as possible. + +On coming home one night, he found his wife still awake and waiting +for him. + +"Where have you been?" she asked sharply. + +"That's my business," he replied. + +"To be married and have no husband is anything but pleasant," she +rejoined. "If we had a child, at least!" + +"It isn't my fault that we haven't!" + +"It isn't mine!" + +A quarrel arose as to whose fault it was, and the quarrel lasted for +two years. + +As both of them were too obstinate to take medical advice, the usual +thing happened. The husband cut a ridiculous figure, and the wife a +tragic one. He was told that a childless woman was sacred because, for +some reason or other, "God's" curse rested on her. That "God" could +also stoop to curse a man was beyond the women's comprehension. + +But Frithiof had no doubt that a curse rested on him for his life was +dreary and unhealthy. Nature has created two sexes, which are now +friends, now enemies. He had met the enemy, an overwhelming enemy. + +"What is a capon?" he was asked by one of his sisters one day. She was +busy with her needlework and asked the question a propos of nothing. + +He looked at her suspiciously. No, she did not know the meaning of the +word; she had probably listened to a conversation and her curiosity +was aroused. + +But the iron had entered his soul. He was being laughed at. He grew +suspicious. Everything he heard and saw he connected with that charge. +Beside himself with rage, he seduced one of the maids. + +His act had the desired result. In due time he was a father. + +Now Louisa was looked upon as a martyr and he as a blackguard. The +abuse left him indifferent, for he had vindicated his honour--if it +was an honour and not merely a lucky chance to be born without +defects. + +But the incident roused Louisa's jealousy and--it was a strange +thing--awakened in her a sort of love for her husband. It was a love +which irritated him, for it showed itself in unremitting watchfulness +and nervous obtrusiveness; sometimes even in maternal tenderness and +solicitude which knew no bounds. She wanted to look after his gun, see +whether it was charged; she begged him on her knees to wear his overcoat +when he went out.... She kept his home with scrupulous care, tidied +and dusted all day long; every Saturday the rooms were turned inside +out, the carpets beaten and his clothes aired. He had no peace and +never knew when he would be turned out of his room so that it could +be scrubbed. + +There was not sufficient to do to occupy him during the day, for the +women looked after everything. He studied agriculture and attempted to +make improvements, but all his efforts were frustrated. He was not +master in his own house. + +Finally he lost heart. He had grown taciturn because he was always +contradicted. The want of congenial company and fellows-in-misfortune +gradually dulled his brain; his nerves went to pieces; he neglected +his appearance and took to drink. + +He was hardly ever at home now. Frequently he could be found, +intoxicated, at the public house or in the cottages of the farm +labourers. He drank with everybody and all day long. He stimulated his +brain with alcohol for the sake of the relief he found in talking. It +was difficult to decide whether he drank in order to be able to talk +to somebody who did not contradict him, or whether he drank merely in +order to get drunk. + +He sold privileges and farm produce to the cottagers to provide +himself with money, for the women held the cash. Finally he burgled +his own safe and stole the contents. + +There was an orthodox, church-going inspector on the premises now; the +previous one had been dismissed on account of his intemperate habits. +When at last, through the clergyman's influence, the proprietor of the +inn lost his license Frithiof took to drinking with his own farm +labourers. Scandal followed on scandal. + +He developed into a heavy drinker who had epileptic fits whenever he +was deprived of alcohol. + +He was ultimately committed to an institution where he remained as an +incurable patient. + +At lucid intervals, when he was capable of surveying his life, his +heart was filled with compassion for all women who are compelled to +marry without love; his compassion was all the deeper because he had +suffered in his own flesh the curse which lies on every violation of +nature; and yet he was only a man. + +He saw the cause of his unhappiness in the family--the family as a +social institution, which does not permit the child to become an +independent individual at the proper time. + +He brought no charge against his wife, for was she not equally +unhappy, a victim of the same unfortunate conditions which are +honoured by the sacred name of Law? + + + + +CORINNA + + +Her father was a general, her mother died when she was still a baby. +After her mother's death few ladies visited the house; the callers +were mostly men. And her father took her education into his own hands. + +She went out riding with him, was present at the manoeuvres, took an +interest in gymnastics and attended the musters of the reserves. + +Since her father occupied the highest rank in their circle of friends, +everybody treated him with an amount of respect which is rarely shown +to equals, and as she was the general's daughter, she was treated in +the same way. She held the rank of a general and she knew it. + +There was always an orderly sitting in the hall who rose with much +clanking and clashing of steel and stood at attention whenever she +went in or out. At the balls none but the majors dared to ask her for +a dance; she looked upon a captain as a representative of an inferior +race, and a lieutenant as a naughty boy. + +She fell into the habit of appreciating people entirely according to +their rank. She called all civilians "fishes," poorly-clad people +"rascals," and the very poor "the mob." + +The ladies, however, were altogether outside this scale. Her father, +who occupied a position above all men, and who was saluted respectfully +wherever he went, always stood up before a lady, regardless of her age, +kissed the hands of those he knew, and was at the beck and call of every +pretty woman. The result of this was that very early in life she became +very firmly convinced of the superiority of her own sex, and accustomed +herself to look upon a man as a lower being. + +Whenever she went out on horseback, a groom invariably rode behind +her. When she stopped to admire the landscape, he stopped too. He was +her shadow. But she had no idea what he looked like, or whether he was +young or old. If she had been asked about his sex, she would not have +known how to reply; it had never occurred to her that the shadow could +have a sex; when, in mounting, she placed her little riding-boot in +his hand, she remained quite indifferent, and even occasionally raised +her habit a little as if nobody were present. + +These inbred conceptions of the surpassing importance of rank +influenced her whole life. She found it impossible to make friends +with the daughters of a major or a captain, because their fathers were +her father's social inferiors. Once a lieutenant asked her for a dance. +To punish him for his impudence, she refused to talk to him in the +intervals. But when she heard later on that her partner had been one +of the royal princes, she was inconsolable. She who knew every order +and title, and the rank of every officer, had failed to recognise a +prince! It was too terrible! + +She was beautiful, but pride gave her features a certain rigidity +which scared her admirers away. The thought of marriage had never +occurred to her. The young men were not fully qualified, and those to +whose social position there was no objection, were too old. If she, +the daughter of a general, had married a captain, then a major's wife +would have taken precedence of her. Such a degradation would have +killed her. Moreover, she had no wish to be a man's chattel, or an +ornament for his drawing-room. She was accustomed to command, +accustomed to be obeyed; she could obey no man. The freedom and +independence of a man's life appealed to her; it had fostered in her a +loathing for all womanly occupations. + +Her sexual instinct awoke late. As she belonged to an old family which +on her father's side, had squandered its strength in a soulless +militarism, drink and dissipation, and on her mother's had suppressed +fertility to prevent the splitting up of property, Nature seemed to +have hesitated about her sex at the eleventh hour; or perhaps had +lacked strength to determine on the continuation of the race. Her +figure possessed none of those essentially feminine characteristics, +which Nature requires for her purposes, and she scorned to hide her +defects by artificial means. + +The few women friends she had, found her cold and indifferent towards +everything connected with the sex problem. She treated it with +contempt, considered the relationship between the sexes disgusting, +and could not understand how a woman could give herself to a man. In +her opinion Nature was unclean; to wear clean underlinen, starched +petticoats and stockings without holes was to be virtuous; poor was +merely another term for dirt and vice. + +Every summer she spent with her father on their estate in the country. + +She was no great lover of the country. Nature made her feel small; she +found the woods uncanny, the lake made her shudder, there was danger +hidden in the tall meadow-grass. She regarded the peasants as cunning +and rather filthy beasts. They had so many children, and she had no +doubt that both boys and girls were full of vice. Nevertheless they +were always invited to the manor house on Midsummer day and on the +general's birthday, to play the part of the chorus of grand opera, +that is to say, to cheer and dance, and look like the figures in a +painting. + +It was springtime. Helena, on her thoroughbred mare, had penetrated +into the depths of the country. She felt tired and dismounted; she +fastened her mare to a birchtree which grew near an enclosure. Then +she strolled along by the side of a ditch and began to gather wild +orchids. The air was soft and balmy, steam was rising from the ground. +She could hear the frogs jumping into the ditch which was half-full of +water. + +All at once the mare neighed and, stretching her slender neck over the +fence, drew in the air with wide-open nostrils. + +"Alice!" she called out, "be quiet, old girl!" + +And she continued to gather the modest flowers which so cleverly hide +their secrets behind the prettiest and neatest curtains that for all +the world look like printed calico. + +But the mare neighed again. From behind the hazel bushes on the other +side of the enclosure came an answer, a second neighing, deeper and +fuller. The swampy ground of the enclosure shook, powerful hoofs +scattered the stones, to right and left and a black stallion appeared +at full gallop. The tense neck carried a magnificent head, the muscles +lay like ropes under the glossy skin. As he caught sight of the mare, +his eyes began to flash. He stopped and stretched out his neck as if +he were going to yawn, raised his upper lip and showed his teeth. Then +he galloped across the grass and approached the railings. + +Helena picked up her skirt and ran to her mare; she raised her hand to +seize the bridle, but the mare broke away and took the fence. Then the +wooing began. + +She stood at the fence and called, but the excited mare paid no heed. +Inside the enclosure the horses chased one another; the situation was +a critical one. The breath of the stallion came like smoke from his +nostrils and white foam flecked his shoulders. + +Helena longed to escape, for the scene filled her with horror. She had +never witnessed the raging of a natural instinct in a living body. +This uncontrolled outbreak terrified her. + +She wanted to run after her mare and drag her away by force, but she +was afraid of the savage stallion. She wanted to call for help, but +she was loath to attract other eyewitnesses. She turned her back to +the scene and decided to wait. + +The sound of horses' hoofs came from the direction of the highroad; a +carriage appeared in sight. + +There was no escape; although she was ashamed to stay where she was, +it was too late now to run away, for the horses were slowing down and +the carriage stopped a few yards in front of her. + +"How beautiful!" exclaimed one of the occupants of the carriage, a +lady, and raised her golden lorgnette so as to get a better view of +the spectacle. + +"But why are we stopping?" retorted the other, irritably. "Drive on!" + +"Don't you think it beautiful?" asked the elder lady. + +The coachman's smile was lost in his great beard, as he urged the +horses on. + +"You are such a prude, my dear Milly," said the first voice. "To me +this kind of thing is like a thunderstorm, or a heavy sea...." + +Helena could hear no more. She felt crushed with vexation, shame and +horror. + +A farm labourer came shuffling along the highroad. Helena ran to meet +him, so as to prevent him from witnessing the scene, and at the same +time ask his help. But he was already too near. + +"I believe it's the miller's black stallion," he said gravely. "In +that case it will be better to wait until it's all over, for he won't +brook interference. If the lady will leave it to me, I will bring her +mare home later on." + +Glad to have done with the matter, Helena hurried away. + +When she arrived home, she was ill. + +She refused to ride her mare again, for in her eyes the beast had +become unclean. + +This pretty adventure had a greater influence on Helena's psychic +development than might have been expected. The brutal outbreak of a +natural instinct, the undisguised exhibition of which in the community +of men is punished with a term of imprisonment, haunted her as if she +had been present at an execution. It distressed her during the day and +disturbed her dreams at night. It increased her fear of nature and +made her give up her former amazon's life. She remained at home and +gave herself up to study. + +The house boasted a library. But as misfortune would have it, no +additions had been made since her grandfather's death. All books were +therefore a generation too old, and Helena found antiquated ideals. +The first book which fell into her hands was Madame de Stael's _Corinna_ +The way in which the volume lay on the shelf indicated that it had +served a special purpose. Bound in green and gold, a little shabby at +the edges, full of marginal notes and underlined passages, the work of +her late mother, it became a bridge, as it were, between mother and +daughter, which enabled the now grown-up daughter to make the +acquaintance of the dead mother. These pencil notes were the story +of a soul. Displeasure with the prose of life and the brutality of +nature, had inflamed the writer's imagination and inspired it to +construct a dreamworld in which the souls dwelled, disincarnate. It +was essentially an aristocratic world, this dreamworld, for it +required financial independence from its denizens, so that the soul +might be fed with thoughts. This brain-fever, called romance, was +therefore the gospel of the wealthy, and became absurd and pitiful as +soon as it penetrated to the lower classes. + +Corinna became Helena's ideal: the divinely inspired poetess who like +the nun of the middle-ages, had vowed a vow of chastity, so that she +might lead a life of purity, who was, of course, admired by a brilliant +throng, rose to immeasurable heights above the heads of the petty +every-day mortals. It was the old ideal all over again, transposed: +salutes, standing at attention, rolling of drums, the first place +everywhere. Helena was quite ignorant of the fact that Madame de Stael +outlived the Corinna ideal, and did not become a real influence until +she came out of her dreamworld into the world of facts. + +She ceased to take an interest in everyday affairs, she communed with +herself and brooded over her ego. The inheritance which her mother had +left her in posthumous notes began to germinate. She identified herself +with both Corinna and her mother, and spent much time in meditating on +her mission in life. That nature had intended her to become a mother +and do her share in the propagation of the human race, she refused to +admit her mission was to explain to humanity what Madame de Stael's +Corinna had thought fifty years ago; but she imagined the thoughts were +her own, striving to find expression. + +She began to write. One day she attempted verse. She succeeded. The +lines were of equal length and the last words rhymed. A great light +dawned on her: she was a poetess. One thing more remained: she wanted +ideas; well she could take them from _Corinna_. + +In this way quite a number of poems originated. + +But they had also to be bestowed on the world, and this could not be +done unless they were printed. One day she sent a poem entitled +_Sappho_ and signed _Corinna_ to the _Illustrated Newspaper_. With a +beating heart she went out to post the letter herself, and as it +dropped into the pillarbox, she prayed softly to "God." + +A trying fortnight ensued. She ate nothing, hardly closed her eyes, +and spent her days in solitude. + +When Saturday came and the paper was delivered, she trembled as if she +were fever-stricken, and when she found that her verses were neither +printed nor mentioned in "Letters to Correspondents," she almost broke +down. + +On the following Saturday, when she could count on an answer with some +certainty, she slipped the paper into her pocket without unfolding it, +and went into the woods. When she had arrived at a secluded spot and +made sure that no one was watching her, she unfolded the paper and +hastily glanced at the contents. One poem only was printed, entitled +_Bellman's-day_. She turned to "Letters to Correspondents." Her first +glance at the small print made her start violently. Her fingers +clutched the paper, rolled it into a ball and flung it into the +underwood. Then she stared, fascinated, at the ball of white, +glimmering through the green undergrowth. For the first time in her +life she had received an insult. She was completely unnerved. This +unknown journalist had dared what nobody had dared before: he had been +rude to her. She had come out from behind her trenches into the arena +where high birth counts for nothing, but where victory belongs to that +wonderful natural endowment which we call talent, and before which all +powers bow when it can no longer be denied. But the unknown had also +offended the woman in her, for he had said: + +"The Corinna of 1807 would have cooked dinners and rocked cradles if +she had lived after 1870. But you are no Corinna." + +For the first time she had heard the voice of the enemy, the +arch-enemy, man. Cook dinners and rock cradles! They should see! + +She went home. She felt so crushed that her muscles hardly obeyed her +relaxed nerves. + +When she had gone a little way, she suddenly turned round and retraced +her footsteps. Supposing anybody found that paper! It would give her +away. + +She returned to the spot, and breaking off a hazel switch, dragged the +paper out from where it lay and carefully smoothed it. Then she raised +a piece of turf, hid the paper underneath and rolled a stone on the +top. It was a hope that lay buried there, and also a proof--of what? +That she had committed a crime? She felt that she had. She had done a +wrong, she had shown herself naked before the other sex. + +From this day on a struggle went on in her heart. Ambition and fear of +publicity strove within her, and she was unable to come to a decision. + +In the following autumn her father died. As he had been addicted to +gambling, and more often lost than won, he left debts behind him. But +in smart society these things are of no account. There was no +necessity for Helena to earn her living in a shop, for a hitherto +unknown aunt came forward and offered her a home. + +But her father's death wrought a complete change in her position. No +more salutes; the officers of the regiment nodded to her in a friendly +fashion, the lieutenants asked her to dance. She saw plainly that the +respect shown to her had not been shown to her personally, but merely +to her rank. She felt degraded and a lively sympathy for all subalterns +was born in her; she even felt a sort of hatred for all those who +enjoyed her former privileges. Side by side with this feeling grew up +a yearning for personal appreciation, a desire to win a position +surpassing all others, although it might not figure in the Army list. + +She longed to distinguish herself, to win fame, and, (why not?) to +rule. She possessed one talent which she had cultivated to some +extent, although she had never risen above the average; she played the +piano. She began to study harmony and talked of the sonata in G minor +and the symphony in F major as if she had written them herself. And +forthwith she began to patronise musicians. + +Six months after her father's death, the post of a lady-in-waiting was +offered to her. She accepted it. The rolling of drums and military +salutes recommenced, and Helena gradually lost her sympathy with +subalterns. But the mind is as inconstant as fortune, and fresh +experiences again brought about a change of her views. + +She discovered one day, and the day was not long in coming, that she +was nothing but a servant. She was sitting in the Park with the +Duchess. The Duchess was crocheting. + +"I consider those blue stockings perfectly idiotic," said the Duchess. + +Helena turned pale; she stared at her mistress. + +"I don't," she replied. + +"I didn't ask your opinion," replied the Duchess, letting her ball of +wool roll into the dust. + +Helena's knees trembled; her future, her position passed away before +her eyes like a flash of lightning. She went to pick up the wool. It +seemed to her that her back was breaking as she stooped, and her +cheeks flamed when the Duchess took the ball without a word of thanks. + +"You are not angry?" asked the Duchess, staring impertinently at her +victim. + +"Oh, no, Your Royal Highness," was Helena's untruthful reply. + +"They say that you are a blue-stocking yourself," continued the +Duchess. "Is it true?" + +Helena had a feeling as if she were standing nude before her tormentor +and made no reply. + +For the second time the ball rolled into the dust. Helena pretended +not to notice it, and bit her lips to hold back the angry tears which +were welling up in her eyes. "Pick up my wool, please," said the +Duchess. + +Helena drew herself up, looked the autocrat full in the face and said: + +"I won't." + +And with these words she turned and fled. The sand gritted under her +feet, and little clouds of dust followed in the wake of her train. She +almost ran down the stone steps and disappeared. + +Her career at court was ended; but a sting remained. Helena was made +to feel what it means to be in disgrace, and above all things what it +means to throw up one's post. Society does not approve of changes and +nobody would believe that she had voluntarily renounced the sunshine +of the court. No doubt she had been sent away. Yes, it must be so, she +had been sent away. Never before had she felt so humiliated, so +insulted. It seemed to her that she had lost caste; her relations +treated her with coldness, as if they were afraid that her disgrace +might be infectious; her former friends gave her the cold shoulder +when they met her, and limited their conversation to a minimum. + +On the other hand, as she stooped from her former height, the +middle-classes received her with open arms. It was true, at first +their friendliness offended her more than the coldness of her own +class, but in the end she preferred being first down below to being +last up above. She joined a group of Government officials and +professors who hailed her with acclamations. Animated by the +superstitious awe with which the middle classes regard everybody +connected with the court, they at once began to pay her homage. She +became their chosen leader and hastened to form a regiment. A number +of young professors enlisted at once and she arranged lectures for +women. Old academic rubbish was brought out from the lumber-room, +dusted and sold for new wares. In a dining-room, denuded of its +furniture, lectures on Plato and Aristotle were given to an audience +which unfortunately held no key to this shrine of wisdom. + +Helena, in conquering these pseudo-mysteries felt the intellectual +superior of the ignorant aristocracy. This feeling gave her an +assurance which impressed people. The men worshipped her beauty and +aloofness; but she never felt in the least moved in their company. She +accepted their homage as a tribute due to women and found it +impossible to respect these lackeys who jumped up and stood at +attention whenever she passed. + +But in the long run her position as an unmarried woman failed to +satisfy her, and she noted with envious eyes the freedom enjoyed by +her married sisters. They were at liberty to go wherever they liked, +talk to whom they liked, and always had a footman in their husband to +meet them and accompany them on their way home. In addition, married +women had a better social position, and a great deal more influence. +With what condescension for instance, they treated the spinsters! But +whenever she thought of getting married, the incident with her mare +flashed into her mind and terror made her ill. + +In the second year the wife of a professor from Upsala, who combined +with her official position great personal charm, appeared on the +scene. Helena's star paled; all her worshippers left her to worship +the new sun. As she no longer possessed her former social position, +and the savour of the court had vanished like the scent on a +handkerchief, she was beaten in the fight. One single vassal remained +faithful to her, a lecturer on ethics, who had hitherto not dared to +push himself forward. His attentions were well received, for the +severity of his ethics filled her with unlimited confidence. He wooed +her so assiduously that people began to gossip; Helena, however, took +no notice, she was above that. + +One evening, after a lecture on "The Ethical Moment in Conjugal Love" +or "Marriage as a Manifestation of Absolute Identity," for which the +lecturer received nothing but his expenses and a grateful pressure of +hands, they were sitting in the denuded dining-room on their +uncomfortable cane chairs, discussing the subject. + +"You mean to say then," said Helena, "that marriage is a relationship +of co-existence between two identical Egos?" + +"I mean what I said already in my lecture, that only if there exists +such a relationship between two congruous identities, _being_ can +conflow into _becoming_ of higher potentiality." + +"What do you mean by _becoming?_" asked Helena, blushing. + +"The post-existence of two egos in a new ego." + +"What? You mean that the continuity of the ego, which through the +cohabitation of two analogous beings will necessarily incorporate +itself into a becoming...." + +"No, my dear lady, I only meant to say that marriage, in profane +parlance, can only produce a new spiritual ego, which cannot be +differentiated as to sex, when there is compatibility of souls. I mean +to say that the new being born under those conditions will be a +conglomerate of male and female; a new creature to whom both will have +yielded their personality, a unity in multiplicity, to use a +well-known term, an _'hommefemme.'_ The man will cease to be man, the +woman will cease to be woman." + +"That is the union of souls!" exclaimed Helena, glad to have +successfullly navigated the dangerous cliffs. + +"It is the harmony of souls of which Plato speaks. It is true marriage +as I have sometimes visualised it in my dreams, but which, +unfortunately, I shall hardly be able to realise in actuality." + +Helena stared at the ceiling and whispered: + +"Why shouldn't you, one of the elect, realise this dream?" + +"Because she to whom my soul is drawn with irresistible longing does +not believe in--h'm--love." + +"You cannot be sure of that." + +"Even if she did, she would always be tormented by the suspicion that +the feeling was not sincere. Moreover, there is no woman in the world +who would fall in love with me, no, not one." + +"Yes, there is," said Helena, gazing into his glass eye. (He had a +glass eye, but it was so well made, it was impossible to detect it.) + +"Are you sure?" + +"Quite sure," replied Helena. "For you are different to other men. You +realise what spiritual love means, the love of the souls!" + +"Even if the woman did exist, I could never marry her." + +"Why not?" + +"Share a room with her!" + +"That needn't be the case. Madame de Stael merely lived in the same +house as her husband." + +"Did she?" + +"What interesting topic are you two discussing?" asked the professor's +wife, coming out of the drawing-room. + +"We were talking of _Laocoon_," answered Helena, rising, from her +chair. She was offended by the note of condescension in the lady's +voice. And she made up her mind. + +A week later her engagement to the lecturer was publicly announced. +They decided to be married in the autumn and take up their abode at +Upsala. + +A brilliant banquet, in celebration of the close of his bachelor life, +was given to the lecturer on ethics. A great deal of wine had been +consumed and the only artist the town boasted, the professor of +drawing at the Cathedral School, had depicted in bold outlines the +victim's career up to date. It was the great feature of the whole +entertainment. Ethics was a subject of teaching and a milch cow, like +many others, and need not necessarily influence either the life of the +community, or the life of the individual. The lecturer had not been a +saint, but had had his adventures like everybody else; these were +public property, for he had had no reason to keep them dark. With a +careless smile he watched his career, pictured in chalk and colours, +accompanied by witty verses, unfolding itself before his eyes, but +when at last his approaching bliss was portrayed in simple but +powerful sketches, he became deeply embarrassed, and the thought "If +Helena were to see that!" flashed like lightning through his brain. + +After the banquet, at which according to an old, time-honoured custom, +he had drunk eight glasses of brandy, he was so intoxicated that he +could no longer suppress his fears and apprehensions. Among his hosts +was a married man and to him the victim turned for counsel and advice. +Since neither of them was sober, they chose, as the most secluded spot +in the whole room, two chairs right in the centre, immediately under +the chandelier. Consequently they were soon surrounded by an eagerly +listening crowd. + +"Look here! You are a married man," said the lecturer at the top of +his voice, so as not to be heard by the assembly, as he fondly +imagined. "You must give me a word of advice, just one, only one +little word of advice, for I am extremely sensitive to-night, +especially in regard to this particular point." + +"I will, brother," shouted his friend, "just one word, as you say," +and he put his arm round his shoulders that he might whisper to him; +then he continued, screaming loudly: "Every act consists of three +parts, my brother: _Progresses, culmen, regressus_. I will speak to +you of the first, the second is never mentioned. Well, the initiative, +so to speak, that is the man's privilege--your part! You must take the +initiative, you must attack, do you understand?" + +"But supposing the other party does not approve of the initiative?" + +The friend stared at the novice, taken aback; then he rose and +contemptuously turned his back on him. + +"Fool!" he muttered. + +"Thank you!" was all the grateful pupil could reply. + +Now he understood. + +On the following day he was on fire with all the strong drink he had +consumed; he went and took a hot bath, for on the third day was to be +his wedding. + +The wedding guests had departed; the servant had cleared the table; +they were alone. + +Helena was comparatively calm, but he felt exceedingly nervous. The +period of their engagement had been enhanced by conversations on +serious subjects. They had never behaved liked ordinary, every-day +fiances, had never embraced or kissed. Whenever he had attempted the +smallest familiarity, her cold looks had chilled his ardour. But he +loved her as a man loves a woman, with body and soul. + +They fidgeted about the drawing-room and tried to make conversation. +But an obstinate silence again and again reasserted itself. The +candles in the chandelier had burnt low and the wax fell in greasy +drops on the carpet. The atmosphere was heavy with the smell of food +and the fumes of the wines which mingled with the voluptuous perfume +of carnations and heliotrope, exhaled by Helena's bridal bouquet that +lay on a side-table. + +At last he went up to her, held out his arms, and said in a voice +which he hoped sounded natural: + +"And now you are my wife!" + +"What do you mean?" was Helena's brusque reply. + +Completely taken aback, he allowed his arms to drop to his sides. But +he pulled himself together again, almost immediately, and said with a +self-conscious smile: + +"I mean to say that we are husband and wife." + +Helena looked at him as if she thought that he had taken leave of his +senses. + +"Explain your words!" she said. + +That was just what he couldn't do. Philosophy and ethics failed him; +he was faced by a cold and exceedingly unpleasant reality. + +"It's modesty," he thought. "She's quite right, but I must attack and +do my duty." + +"Have you misunderstood me?" asked Helena and her voice trembled. + +"No, of course not, but, my dear child, h'm--we--h'm...." + +"What language is that? Dear child? What do you take me for? What do +you mean? Albert, Albert!"--she rushed on without waiting for a reply, +which she didn't want--"Be great, be noble, and learn to see in women +something more than sex. Do that, and you will be happy and great!" + +Albert was beaten. Crushed with shame and furious with his false +friend who had counselled him wrongly, he threw himself on his knees +before her and stammered: + +"Forgive me, Helena, you are nobler, purer, better than I; you are +made of finer fibre and you will lift me up when I threaten to perish +in coarse matter." + +"Arise and be strong, Albert," said Helena, with the manner of a +prophetess. "Go in peace and show to the world that love and base +animal passion are two very different things. Good-night!" + +Albert rose from his knees and stared irresolutely after his wife who +went into her room and shut the door behind her. + +Full of the noblest and purest sentiments he also went into his room. +He took off his coat and lighted a cigar. His room was furnished like +a bachelor's room: a bed-sofa, a writing table, some book shelves, a +washstand. + +When he had undressed, he dipped a towel into his ewer and rubbed +himself all over. Then he lay down on his sofa and opened the evening +paper. He wanted to read while he smoked his cigar. He read an article +on Protection. His thoughts began to flow in a more normal channel, +and he considered his position. + +Was he married or was he still a bachelor? He was a bachelor as +before, but there was a difference--he now had a female boarder who +paid nothing for her board. The thought was anything but pleasant, but +it was the truth. The cook kept house, the housemaid attended to the +rooms. Where did Helena come in? She was to develop her individuality! +Oh, rubbish! he thought, I am a fool! Supposing his friend had been +right? Supposing women always behaved in this silly way under these +circumstances? She could not very well come to him--he must go to her. +If he didn't go, she would probably laugh at him to-morrow, or, worse +still, be offended. Women were indeed incomprehensible. He must make +the attempt. + +He jumped up, put on his dressing-gown and went into the drawing-room. +With trembling knees he listened outside Helena's door. + +Not a sound. He took heart of grace, and approached a step or two. +Blue flashes of lightning darted before his eyes as he knocked. + +No answer. He trembled violently and beads of perspiration stood on +his forehead. + +He knocked again. And in a falsetto voice, proceeding from a parched +throat, he said: + +"It's only I." + +No answer. Overwhelmed with shame, he returned to his room, puzzled +and chilled. + +She was in earnest, then. + +He crept between the sheets and again took up the paper. + +He hadn't been reading long when he heard footsteps in the street which +gradually approached and then stopped. Soft music fell on his ear, deep, +strong voices set in: + +"Integer vitae sclerisque purus...." + +He was touched. How beautiful it was! + +Purus! He felt lifted above matter. It was in accordance with the spirit +of the age then, this higher conception of marriage. The current of +ethics which penetrated the epoch was flowing through the youth of the +country.... + +"_Nec venenatis...._" + +Supposing Helena had opened her door! + +He gently beat time and felt himself as great and noble as Helena +desired him to be. + +_"Fusce pharetra!"_ + +Should he open the window and thank the undergraduates in the name of +his wife? + +He got out of bed. + +A fourfold peal of laughter crashed against the windowpanes at the very +moment he lifted his hand to draw up the blind. + +There could be no doubt, they were making fun of him! + +Beside himself with anger he staggered back from the window and +knocked against the writing-table. He was a laughing-stock. A faint +hatred against the woman whom he had to thank for this humiliating +scene, began to stir within him, but his love acquitted her. He was +incensed against the jesters down below, and swore to bring them +before the authorities. + +But again and again he reverted to his unpleasant position, furious +that he had allowed himself to be led by the nose. He paced his room +until dawn broke in the East. Then he threw himself on his bed and +fell asleep, in bitter grief over the dismal ending of his +wedding-day, which ought to have been the happiest day of his life. + +On the following morning he met Helena at the breakfast table. She was +cold and self-possessed as usual. Albert, of course, did not mention +the serenade. Helena made great plans for the future and talked +volumes about the abolition of prostitution. Albert met her half-way +and promised to do all in his power to assist her. Humanity must +become chaste, for only the beasts were unchaste. + +Breakfast over, he went to his lecture. The serenade had roused his +suspicions, and as he watched his audience, he fancied that they were +making signs to each other; his colleagues, too, seemed to congratulate +him in a way which offended him. + +A big, stout colleague, who radiated vigour and _joie de vivre_, stopped +him in the corridor which led to the library, seized him by the collar +and said with a colossal grin on his broad face. + +"Well?" + +"You ought to be ashamed of yourself," was the indignant reply with +which he tore himself away and rushed down stairs. + +When he arrived home, his flat was crowded with his wife's friends. +Women's skirts brushed against his legs, and when he sat down in an +armchair, he seemed to sink out of sight into piles and piles of +women's clothes. + +"I've heard rumours of a serenade last night," said the professor's +wife. + +Albert grew pale, but Helena took up the gauntlet. + +"It was well meant, but they really might have been sober. This +excessive drinking among students is terrible." + +"What did they sing?" asked the professor's wife. + +"Oh! the usual songs: 'My life a sea,' and so on," replied Helena. + +Albert stared at her in amazement, but he couldn't help admiring her. + +The day went with gossip and discussions. Albert felt tired. Been +joyed spending a few hours, after the daily toil was over, in +pleasant conversation with women, but this was really too much. And +moreover, he had to agree to everything they said, for whenever he +attempted to express a contradictory opinion, they were down on him in +a minute. + +Night fell; it was bedtime. Husband and wife wished one another good +night and retired to their separate rooms. + +Again he was attacked by doubt and restlessness. He fancied that he +had seen a tender look on Helena's face, and he wasn't quite sure +whether she hadn't squeezed his hand. He lit a cigar and unfolded his +paper. As soon as he began to read of every-day matters, he seemed to +see clearly. + +"It's sheer madness," he said aloud, throwing the paper aside. + +He slipped on his dressing-gown and went into the drawing-room. + +Somebody was moving in Helena's room. + +He knocked. + +"Is that you, Louise?" asked a voice from inside. + +"No, it's only I," he whispered, hardly able to speak. + +"What's the matter? What do you want?" + +"I want to speak to you, Helena," he answered, hardly knowing what he +was saying. + +The key turned in the lock. Albert could hardly trust his ears. The +door flew open. Helena stood on the threshold, still fully dressed. + +"What is it you want?" she asked. Then she noticed that he was in his +dressing-gown and that his eyes shone strangely. + +She stretched out her hand, pushed him away and slammed the door. + +He heard a thud on the floor and almost simultaneously loud sobs. + +Furious, but abashed, he returned to his room. She was in earnest, +then! But this was certainly anything but normal. + +He lay awake all night, brooding, and on the following morning he +breakfasted alone. + +When he came home for lunch, Helena received him with an expression of +pained resignation. + +"Why do you treat me like that?" she asked. + +He apologised, with as few words as possible. Then he repented his +curtness and climbed down. + +Thus matters stood for six months. He was tossed between doubt, rage +and love, but his chain held. + +His face grew pale and his eyes lost their lustre. His temper had +become uncertain; a sullen fury smouldered beneath his outward calm. + +Helena found him changed, despotic, because he was beginning to oppose +her, and often left the meetings to seek amusement elsewhere. + +One day he was asked to become a candidate for a professorial chair. +He refused, believing that he had no chance, but Helena gave him no +peace until he complied with the conditions. He was elected. He never +knew the reason why, but Helena did. + +A short time after there was a by-election. + +The new professor, who had never dreamed of taking an active interest +in public affairs, was nonplussed when he found himself nominated. His +surprise was even greater when he was elected. He intended to decline, +but Helena's entreaties and her argument that life in a big city was +preferable to an existence in a small provincial town induced him to +accept the mandate. + +They removed to Stockholm. + +During these six months the newly-made professor and member of +Parliament had made himself acquainted with the new ideas which came +from England and purposed to recreate society and the old standards of +morality. At the same time he felt that the moment was not far off +when he would have to break with his "boarder." He recovered his +strength and vigour in Stockholm, where fearless thinkers encouraged +him to profess openly the views which he had long held in secret. + +Helena, on the other hand, scented a favourable opportunity in the +counter-current and threw herself into the arms of the Church Party. +This was too much for Albert and he rebelled. His love had grown cold; +he found compensation elsewhere. He didn't consider himself unfaithful +to his wife for she had never claimed constancy in a relationship +which didn't exist. + +His friendly intercourse with the other sex aroused his manliness and +made him realise his degradation. + +His growing estrangement did not escape Helena. Their home-life became +unpleasant and every moment threatened to bring a catastrophe. + +The opening of Parliament was imminent. Helena became restless and +seemed to have changed her tactics. Her voice was more gentle and she +appeared anxious to please him. She looked after the servants and saw +that the meals were served punctually. + +He grew suspicious and wondered, watched her movements and prepared +for coming events. + +One morning, at breakfast, Helena looked embarrassed and self-conscious. +She played with her dinner napkin and cleared her throat several times. +Then she took her courage in both her hands and made a plunge. + +"Albert," she began, "I can count on you, can't I? You will serve the +Cause to which I have devoted my life?" + +"What cause is that?" he asked curtly, for now he had the upper hand. + +"You will do something for the oppressed women, won't you?" + +"Where are the oppressed women?" + +"What? Have you deserted our great cause? Are you leaving us in the +lurch?" + +"What cause are you talking about?" + +"The Women's Cause!" + +"I know nothing about it." + +"You know nothing about it? Oh, come! You must admit that the position +of the women of the lower classes is deplorable." + +"No, I can't see that their position is any worse than the position of +the men. Deliver the men from their exploiters and the women too will +be free." + +"But the unfortunates who have to sell themselves, and the scoundrels +who--" + +"The scoundrels who pay! Has ever a man taken payment for a pleasure +which both enjoy?" + +"That is not the question! The question is whether it is just that the +law of the land should punish the one and let the other go scotfree." + +"There is no injustice in that. The one has degraded herself until she +has become a source of infection, and therefore the State treats her +as it treats a mad dog. Whenever you find a man, degraded to that +degree, well, put him under police control, too. Oh, you pure angels, +who despise men and look upon them as unclean beasts!..." + +"Well, what is it? What do you want me to do?" + +He noticed that she had taken a manuscript from the sideboard and held +it in her hand. Without waiting for a reply, he took it from her and +began to examine it. "A bill to be introduced into Parliament! I'm to +be the man of straw who introduces it! Is that moral? Strictly speaking, +is it honest?" + +Helena rose from her chair, threw herself on the sofa and burst into +tears. + +He, too, rose and went to her. He took her hand in his and felt her +pulse, afraid lest her attack might be serious. She seized his hand +convulsively, and pressed it against her bosom. + +"Don't leave me," she sobbed, "don't go. Stay, and let me keep faith +in you." + +For the first time in his life he saw her giving way to her emotions. +This delicate body, which he had loved and admired so much, could be +warmed into life! Red, warm blood flowed in those blue veins. Blood +which could distil tears. He gently stroked her brow. + +"Oh!" she sighed, "why aren't you always good to me like that? Why +hasn't it always been so?" + +"Well," he answered, "why hasn't it? Tell me, why not?" + +Helena's eyelids drooped. "Why not?" she breathed, softly. + +She did not withdraw her hand and he felt a gentle warmth radiating +from her velvety skin; his love for her burst into fresh flames, but +this time he felt that there was hope. + +At last she rose to her feet. + +"Don't despise me," she said, "don't despise me, dear." + +And she went into her room. + +What was the matter with her? Albert wondered as he went up to town. +Was she passing through a crisis of some sort? Was she only just +beginning to realise that she was his wife? + +He spent the whole day in town. In the evening he went to the theatre. +They played _Le monde ou l'on s'ennuit_. As he sat and watched platonic +love, the union of souls, unmasked and ridiculed, he felt as if a veil +of close meshed lies were being drawn from his reason; he smiled as he +saw the head of the charming beast peeping from underneath the card-board +wings of the stage-angel; he almost shed tears of amusement at his long, +long self-deception; he laughed at his folly. What filth and corruption +lay behind this hypocritical morality, this insane desire for +emancipation from healthy, natural instincts. It was the ascetic +teaching of idealism and Christianity which had implanted this germ +into the nineteenth century. + +He felt ashamed! How could he have allowed himself to be duped all this +time! + +There was still light in Helena's room as he passed her door on tip-toe +so as not to wake her. He heard her cough. + +He went straight to bed, smoked his cigar and read his paper. He was +absorbed in an article on conscription, when all of a sudden Helena's +door was flung open, and footsteps and screams from the drawing-room +fell on his ears. He jumped up and rushed out of his room, believing +that the house was on fire. + +Helena was standing in the drawing-room in her nightgown. + +She screamed when she saw her husband and ran to her room; on the +threshold she hesitated and turned her head. + +"Forgive me, Albert," she stammered, "it's you. I didn't know that you +were still up. I thought there were burglars in the house. Please, +forgive me." + +And she closed her door. + +What did it all mean? Was she in love with him? + +He went into his room and stood before the looking-glass. Could any +woman fall in love with him? He was plain. But one loves with one's +soul and many a plain man had married a beautiful woman. It was true, +though, that in such cases the man had nearly always possessed wealth +and influence.--Was Helena realising that she had placed herself in a +false position? Or had she become aware of his intention to leave her +and was anxious to win him back? + +When they met at the breakfast table on the following morning, Helena +was unusually gentle, and the professor noticed that she was wearing a +new morning-gown trimmed with lace, which suited her admirably. + +As he was helping himself to sugar, his hand accidentally touched hers. + +"I beg your pardon, dear," she said with an expression on her face which + he had never seen before. She looked like a young girl. + +They talked about indifferent things. + +On the same day Parliament opened. + +Helena's yielding mood lasted and she grew more and more affectionate. + +The period allowed for the introduction of new bills drew to a close. + +One evening the professor came home from his club in an unusually gay +frame of mind. He went to bed with his paper and his cigar. After a +while he heard Helena's door creak. Silence, lasting for a few minutes, +followed. Then there came a knock at his door. + +"Who is there?" he shouted. + +"It's I, Albert, do dress and come into the drawing-room, I want to +speak to you." + +He dressed and went into the drawing-room. + +Helena had lighted the chandelier and was sitting on the sofa, dressed +in her lace morning-gown. + +"Do forgive me," she said, "but I can't sleep. My head feels so +strange. Come here and talk to me." + +"You are all unstrung, little girl," said Albert, taking her hand in +his own. "You ought to take some wine." + +He went into the dining-room and returned with a decanter and two +glasses. + +"Your health, darling," he said. + +Helena drank and her cheeks caught fire. + +"What's wrong?" he asked, putting his arm round her waist. + +"I'm not happy," she replied. + +He was conscious that the words sounded dry and artificial, but his +passion was roused and he didn't care. + +"Do you know why you are unhappy?" he asked. + +"No. I only know one thing, and that is that I love you." + +Albert caught her in his arms and kissed her face. + +"Are you my wife, or aren't you?" he whispered hoarsely. + +"I am your wife," breathed Helena, collapsing, as if every nerve in +her body had snapped. + +"Altogether?" he whispered paralysing her with his kisses. + +"Altogether," she moaned, moving convulsively, like a sleeper +struggling with the horrors of a nightmare. + +When Albert awoke, he felt refreshed, his head was clear and he was +fully conscious of what had happened in the night. He could think +vigorously and logically like a man after a deep and restful sleep. +The whole scene stood vividly before his mind. He saw the full +significance of it, unvarnished, undisguised, in the sober light of +the morning. + +She had sold herself! + +At three o'clock in the morning, intoxicated with love, blind to +everything, half insane, he had promised to introduce her bill. + +And the price! She had given herself to him calmly, coldly, unmoved. + +Who was the first woman who found out that she could sell her favour? +And who was the woman who discovered that man is a buyer? Whoever she +was, she was the founder of marriage and prostitution. And they say +that marriages are made in heaven! + +He realised his degradation and hers. She wanted to triumph over her +friends, to be the first woman who had taken an active share in the +making of her country's laws; for the sake of this triumph she had +sold herself. + +Well, he would tear the mask from her face. He would show her what she +really was. He would tell her that prostitution could never be +abolished while women found an advantage in selling themselves. + +With his mind firmly made up, he got out of bed and dressed. + +He had to wait a little for her in the dining-room. He rehearsed the +scene which would follow and pulled himself together to meet her. + +She came in calm, smiling, triumphant, but more beautiful than he had +ever seen her before. A sombre fire burnt in her eyes, and he, who had +expected that she would meet him with blushes and down-cast eyes, was +crushed. She was the triumphant seducer, and he the bashful victim. + +The words he had meant to say refused to come. Disarmed and humble he +went to meet her and kissed her hand. + +She talked as usual without the slightest indication that a new factor +had entered her life. + +He went to the House, fuming, with her bill in his pocket, and only +the vision of the bliss in store for him, calmed his excited nerves. + +But when, in the evening, he knocked quite boldly at her door, it +remained closed. + +It remained closed for three weeks. He cringed before her like a dog, +obeyed every hint, fulfilled all her wishes--it was all in vain. + +Then his indignation got the better of him and he overwhelmed her with +a flood of angry words. She answered him sharply. But when she +realised that she had gone too far, that his chain was wearing thin, +she gave herself to him. + +And he wore his chain. He bit it, strained every nerve to break it, +but it held. + +She soon learned how far she could go, and whenever he became restive, +she yielded. + +He was seized with a fanatical longing to make her a mother. He +thought it might make a woman of her, bring out all that was good and +wholesome in her. But the future seemed to hold no promise on that +score. + +Had ambition, the selfish passion of the individual, destroyed the +source of life? He wondered.... + +One morning she informed him that she was going away for a few days to +stay with her friends. + +When he came home on the evening of the day of her departure and found +the house empty, his soul was tormented by a cruel feeling of loss and +longing. All of a sudden it became clear to him that he loved her with +every fibre of his being. The house seemed desolate; it was just as if +a funeral had taken place. When dinner was served he stared at her +vacant chair and hardly touched his food. + +After supper he lit the chandelier in the drawing-room. He sat down in +her corner of the sofa. He fingered her needlework which she had left +behind--it was a tiny jacket for a stranger's baby in a newly-founded +creche. There was the needle, still sticking in the calico, just as +she had left it. He pricked his finger with it as if to find solace in +the ecstasy of pain. + +Presently he lighted a candle and went into her bedroom. As he stood +on the threshold, he shaded the flame with his hand and looked round +like a man who is about to commit a crime. The room did not betray the +slightest trace of femininity. A narrow bed without curtains; a +writing-table, bookshelves, a smaller table by the side of her bed, a +sofa. Just like his own room. There was no dressing-table, but a +little mirror hung on the wall. + +Her dress was hanging on a nail. The lines of her body were clearly +defined on the thick, heavy serge. He caressed the material and hid +his face in the lace which trimmed the neck; he put his arm round the +waist, but the dress collapsed like a phantom. "They say the soul is a +spirit," he mused, "but then, it ought to be a tangible spirit, at +least." He approached the bed as if he expected to see an apparition. +He touched everything, took everything in his hand. + +At last, as if he were looking for something, something which should +help him to solve the problem, he began to tug at the handles which +ornamented the drawers of her writing-table; all the drawers were +locked. As if by accident he opened the drawer of the little table by +her bedside, and hastily closed it again, but not before he had read +the title on the paper-cover of a small book and caught sight of a few +strange-looking objects, the purpose of which he could guess. + +That was it then! _Facultative Sterility!_ What was intended for a +remedy for the lower classes, who have been robbed of the means of +existence, had become an instrument in the service of selfishness, the +last consequence of idealism. Were the upper classes so degenerate +that they refused to reproduce their species, or were they morally +corrupt? They must be both, for they considered it immoral to bring +illegitimate children into the world, and degrading to bear children +in wedlock. + +But he wanted children! He could afford to have them, and he considered +it a duty as well as a glorious privilege to pour his individuality into +a new being. It was Nature's way from a true and healthy egoism towards +altruism. But she travelled on another road and made jackets for the +babies of strangers. Was that a better, a nobler thing to do? It stood +for so much, and yet was nothing but fear of the burden of motherhood, +and it was cheaper and less fatiguing to sit in the corner of a +comfortable sofa and make little jackets than to bear the toil and broil +of a nursery. It was looked upon as a disgrace to be a woman, to have +a sex, to become a mother. + +That was it. They called it working for Heaven, for higher interests, +for humanity, but it was merely a pandering to vanity, to selfishness, +to a desire for fame or notoriety. + +And he had pitied her, he had suffered remorse because her sterility +had made him angry. She had told him once that he deserved "the contempt +of all good and honest men" because he had failed to speak of sterile +women with the respect due to misfortune; she had told him that they +were sacred, because their sorrow was the bitterest sorrow a woman +could have to bear. + +What, after all, was this woman working for? For progress? For the +salvation of humanity? No, she was working against progress, against +freedom and enlightenment. Hadn't she recently brought forward a motion +to limit religious liberty? Wasn't she the author of a pamphlet on the +intractability of servants? Wasn't she advocating greater severity in +the administration of the military laws? Was she not a supporter of the +party which strives to ruin our girls by giving them the same miserable +education which our boys receive? + +He hated her soul, for he hated her ideas. And yet he loved her? What +was it then that he loved? + +Probably, he reflected, compelled to take refuge in philosophy, +probably the germ of a new being, which she carries in her womb, but +which she is bent on killing. + +What else could it be? + +But what did she love in him? His title, his position, his influence? + +How could these old and worn-out men and women rebuild society? + +He meant to tell her all this when she returned home; but in his +inmost soul he knew all the time that the words would never be said. +He knew that he would grovel before her and whine for her favour; that +he would remain her slave and sell her his soul again and again, just +as she sold him her body. He knew that that was what he would do, for +he was head over ears in love with her. + + + + +UNMARRIED AND MARRIED + + +The young barrister was strolling on a lovely spring evening through +the old Stockholm Hop-Garden. Snatches of song and music came from the +pavilion; light streamed through the large windows and lit up the +shadows cast by the great lime trees which were just bursting into +leaf. + +He went in, sat down at a vacant table near the platform and asked for +a glass of punch. + +A young comedian was singing a pathetic ballad of a _Dead Rat_. Then a +young girl, dressed in pink, appeared and sang the Danish song: _There +is nothing so charming as a moonshine ride._ She was comparatively +innocent looking and she addressed her song to our innocent barrister. +He felt flattered by this mark of distinction, and at once started +negotiations which began with a bottle of wine and ended in a +furnished flat, containing two rooms, a kitchen and all the usual +conveniences. + +It is not within the scope of this little story to analyse the feelings +of the young man, or give a description of the furniture and the other +conveniences. It must suffice if I say that they were very good friends. + +But, imbued with the socialistic tendencies of our time, and desirous +of having his lady-love always under his eyes, the young man decided +to live in the flat himself and make his little friend his house +keeper. She was delighted at the suggestion. + +But the young man had a family, that is to say, his family looked upon +him as one of its members, and since in their opinion he was committing +an offence against morality, and casting a slur on their good name, he +was summoned to appear before the assembled parents, brothers and +sisters in order to be censured. He considered that he was too old for +such treatment and the family tie was ruptured. + +This made him all the more fond of his own little home, and he +developed into a very domesticated husband, excuse me, lover. They +were happy, for they loved one another, and no fetters bound them. +They lived in the happy dread of losing one another and therefore they +did their utmost to keep each other's love. They were indeed one. + +But there was one thing which they lacked: they had no friends. +Society displayed no wish to know them, and the young man was not +asked to the houses of the "Upper Ten." + +It was Christmas Eve, a day of sadness for all those who once had a +family. As he was sitting at breakfast, he received a letter. It was +from his sister, who implored him to spend Christmas at home, with his +parents. The letter touched upon the strings of old feelings and put +him in a bad temper. Was he to leave his little friend alone on +Christmas Eve? Certainly not! Should his place in the house of his +parents remain vacant for the first time on a Christmas Eve? H'm! This +was the position of affairs when he went to the Law Courts. + +During the interval for lunch a colleague came up to him and asked him +as discreetly as possible: + +"Are you going to spend Christmas Eve with your family?" + +He flared up at once. Was his friend aware of his position? Or what +did he mean? + +The other man saw that he had stepped on a corn, and added hastily, +without waiting for a reply: + +"Because if you are not, you might spend it with us. You know, +perhaps, that I have a little friend, a dear little soul." + +It sounded all right and he accepted the invitation on condition that +they should both be invited. Well, but of course, what else did he +think? And this settled the problem of friends and Christmas Eve. + +They met at six o'clock at the friend's flat, and while the two "old +men" had a glass of punch, the women went into the kitchen. + +All four helped to lay the table. The two "old men" knelt on the floor +and tried to lengthen the table by means of boards and wedges. The +women were on the best of terms at once, for they felt bound together +by that very obvious tie which bears the great name of "public opinion." +They respected one another and saved one another's feelings. They +avoided those innuendoes in which husbands and wives are so fond +of indulging when their children are not listening, just as if they +wanted to say: "We have a right to say these things now we are +married." + +When they had eaten the pudding, the barrister made a speech praising +the delights of one's own fireside, that refuge from the world and +from all men: that harbour where one spends one's happiest hours in +the company of one's real friends. + +Mary-Louisa began to cry, and when he urged her to tell him the cause +of her distress, and the reason of her unhappiness, she told him in a +voice broken by sobs that she could see that he was missing his mother +and sisters. + +He replied that he did not miss them in the least, and that he should +wish them far away if they happened to turn up now. + +"But why couldn't he marry her?" + +"Weren't they as good as married?" + +"No, they weren't married properly." + +"By a clergyman? In his opinion a clergyman was nothing but a student +who had passed his examinations, and his incantations were pure +mythology." + +"That was beyond her, but she knew that something was wrong, and the +other people in the house pointed their fingers at her." + +"Let them point!" + +Sophy joined in the conversation. She said she knew that they were not +good enough for his relations; but she didn't mind. Let everybody keep +his own place and be content. + +Anyhow, they had friends now, and lived together in harmony, which is +more than could be said of many properly constituted families. The tie +which held them together remained intact, but they were otherwise +unfettered. They continued being lovers without contracting any bad +matrimonial habits, as, for example, the habit of being rude to one +another. + +After a year or two their union was blest with a son. The mistress had +thereby risen to the rank of a mother, and everything else was +forgotten. The pangs which she had endured at the birth of the baby, +and her care for the newly born infant, had purged her of her old +selfish claims to all the good things of the earth, including the +monopoly of her husband's love. + +In her new role as mother she gave herself superior little airs with +her friend, and showed a little more assurance in her intercourse with +her lover. + +One day the latter came home with a great piece of news. He had met +his eldest sister in the street and had found her well informed on all +their private affairs. She was very anxious to see her little nephew +and had promised to pay them a call. + +Mary-Louisa was surprised, and at once began to sweep and dust the +flat; in addition she insisted on a new dress for the occasion. And +then she waited for a whole week. The curtains were sent to the +laundry, the brass knobs on the doors of the stoves were made to +shine, the furniture was polished. The sister should see that her +brother was living with a decent person. + +And then she made coffee, one morning at eleven o'clock, the time when +the sister would call. + +She came, straight as if she had swallowed a poker, and gave Mary-Louisa +a hand which was as stiff as a batting staff. She examined the bed-room +furniture, but refused to drink coffee, and never once looked her +sister-in-law in the face. But she showed a faint, though genuine, +interest in the baby. Then she went away again. + +Mary-Louisa in the meantime had carefully examined her coat, priced +the material of her dress and conceived a new idea of doing her hair. +She had not expected any great display of cordiality. As a start, the +fact of the visit was quite sufficient in itself, and she soon let the +house know that her sister-in-law had called. + +The boy grew up and by and by a baby sister arrived. +Now Mary-Louisa began to show the most tender solicitude for the future +of the children, and not a day passed but she tried to convince their +father that nothing but a legal marriage with her would safeguard their +interests. + +In addition to this his sister gave him a very plain hint to the +effect that a reconciliation with his parents was within the scope of +possibility, if he would but legalise his liaison. + +After having fought against it day and night for two years, he +consented at last, and resolved that for the children's sake the +mythological ceremony should be allowed to take place. + +But whom should they ask to the wedding? Mary-Louisa insisted on being +married in church. In this case Sophy could not be invited. That was +an impossibility. A girl like her! Mary-Louisa had already learnt to +pronounce the word "girl" with a decidedly moral accent. He reminded +her that Sophy had been a good friend to her, and that ingratitude was +not a very fine quality. Mary-Louisa, however, pointed out that +parents must be prepared to sacrifice private sympathies at the altar +of their children's prospects; and she carried the day. + +The wedding took place. + +The wedding was over. No invitation arrived from his parents, but a +furious letter from Sophy which resulted in a complete rupture. + +Mary-Louisa was a wedded wife, now. But she was more lonely than she +had been before. Embittered by her disappointment, sure of her husband +who was now legally tied to her, she began to take all those liberties +which married people look upon as their right. What she had once +regarded in the light of a voluntary gift, she now considered a +tribute due to her. She entrenched herself behind the honourable title +of "the mother of his children," and from there she made her sallies. + +Simple-minded, as all duped husbands are, he could never grasp what +constituted the sacredness in the fact that she was the mother of +_his_ children. Why his children should be different from other +children, and from himself, was a riddle to him. + +But, with an easy conscience, because his children had a legal mother +now, he commenced to take again an interest in the world which he had +to a certain extent forgotten in the first ecstasy of his love-dream, +and which later on he had neglected because he hated to leave his wife +and children alone. + +These liberties displeased his wife, and since there was no necessity +for her to mince matters now, and she was of an outspoken disposition, +she made no secrets of her thoughts. + +But he had all the lawyer's tricks at his fingers' ends, and was never +at a loss for a reply. + +"Do you think it right," she asked, "to leave the mother of your +children alone at home with them, while you spend your time at a +public house?" + +"I don't believe you missed me," he answered by way of a preliminary. + +"Missed you? If the husband spends the housekeeping money on drink, +the wife will miss a great many things in the house." + +"To start with I don't drink, for I merely have a mouthful of food and +drink a cup of coffee; secondly, I don't spend the housekeeping money +on drink, for you keep it locked up: I have other funds which I spend +'on drink.'" + +Unfortunately women cannot stand satire, and the noose, made in fun, +was at once thrown round his neck. + +"You do admit, then, that you drink?" + +"No, I don't, I used your expression in fun." + +"In fun? You are making fun of your wife? You never used to do that!" + +"You wanted the marriage ceremony. Why are things so different now?" + +"Because we are married, of course." + +"Partly because of that, and partly because intoxication has the +quality of passing off." + +"It was only intoxication in your case, then?" + +"Not only in my case; in your case, too, and in all others as well. It +passes off more or less quickly." + +"And so love is nothing but intoxication as far as a man is +concerned!" + +"As far as a woman is concerned too!" + +"Nothing but intoxication!" + +"Quite so! But there is no reason why one shouldn't remain friends." + +"One need not get married for that!" + +"No; and that's exactly what I meant to point out." + +"You? Wasn't it you who insisted on our marriage?" + +"Only because you worried me about it day and night three long years." + +"But it was your wish, too!" + +"Only because you wished it. Be grateful to me now that you've got +it!" + +"Shall I be grateful because you leave the mother of your children +alone with them while you spend your time at the public-house?" + +"No, not for that, but because I married you!" +"You really think I ought to be grateful for that?" + +"Yes, like all decent people who have got their way!" + +"Well, there is no happiness in a marriage like ours. Your family +doesn't acknowledge me!" + +"What have you got to do with my family? I haven't married yours?" + +"Because you didn't think it good enough!" + +"But mine was good enough for you. If they had been shoemakers, you +wouldn't mind so much." + +"You talk of shoemakers as if they were beneath your notice. Aren't +they human beings like everybody else?" + +"Of course they are, but I don't think you would have run after them." + +"All right! Have your own way." + +But it was not all right, and it was never again all right. Was it due +to the fact of their being married, or was it due to something else? +Mary-Louisa could not help admitting in her heart that the old times +had been better times; they had been "jollier" she said. + +He did not think that it was only owing to the fact that their marriage +had been legalised for he had observed that other marriages, too, were +not happy. And the worst of it all was this: when one day he went to +see his old friend and Sophy, as he sometimes did, behind his wife's +back, he was told that there was an end to that matter. And they had +not been married. So it could not have been marriage which was to blame. + + + + +A DUEL + + +She was plain and therefore the coarse young men who don't know how to +appreciate a beautiful soul in an ugly body took no notice of her. But +she was wealthy, and she knew that men run after women for the sake of +their wealth; whether they do it because all wealth has been created +by men and they therefore claim the capital for their sex, or on other +grounds, was not quite clear to her. As she was a rich woman, she +learned a good many things, and as she distrusted and despised men, +she was considered an intellectual young woman. + +She had reached the age of twenty. Her mother was still alive, but she +had no intention to wait for another five years before she became her +own mistress. Therefore she quite suddenly surprised her friends with +an announcement of her engagement. + +"She is marrying because she wants a husband," said some. + +"She is marrying because she wants a footman and her liberty," said +others. + +"How stupid of her to get married," said the third; "she doesn't know +that she will be even less her own mistress than she is now." + +"Don't be afraid," said the fourth, "she'll hold her own in spite of +her marriage." + +What was he like? Who was he? Where had she found him? + +He was a young lawyer, rather effeminate in appearance, with broad +hips and a shy manner. He was an only son, brought up by his mother +and aunt. He had always been very much afraid of girls, and he detested +the officers on account of their assurance, and because they were the +favourites at all entertainments. That is what he was like. + +They were staying at a watering place and met at a dance. He had come +late and all the girls' programmes were full. A laughing, triumphant +"No!" was flung into his face wherever he asked for a dance, and a +movement of the programme brushed him away as if he were a buzzing +fly. + +Offended and humiliated he left the ball-room and sat down on the +verandah to smoke a cigar. The moon threw her light on the lime-trees +in the Park and the perfume of the mignonette rose from the flower +beds. + +He watched the dancing couples through the windows with the impotent +yearning of the cripple; the voluptuous rhythm of the waltz thrilled +him through and through. + +"All alone and lost in dreams?" said a voice suddenly. "Why aren't you +dancing?" + +"Why aren't you?" he replied, looking up. + +"Because I am plain and nobody asked me to," she answered. + +He looked at her. They had known each other for some time, but he had +never studied her features. She was exquisitely dressed, and in her +eyes lay an expression of infinite pain, the pain of despair and vain +revolt against the injustice of nature; he felt a lively sympathy for +her. + +"I, too, am scorned by everybody," he said. "All the rights belong to +the officers. Whenever it is a question of natural selection, right is +on the side of the strong and the beautiful. Look at their shoulders +and epaulettes...." + +"How can you talk like that!" + +"I beg your pardon! To have to play a losing game makes a man bitter! +Will you give me a dance?" + +"For pity's sake?" + +"Yes! Out of compassion for me!" + +He threw away his cigar. + +"Have you ever known what it means to be marked by the hand of fate, +and rejected? To be always the last?" he began again, passionately. + +"I have known all that! But the last do not always remain the last," +she added, emphatically. "There are other qualities, besides beauty, +which count." + +"What quality do you appreciate most in a man?" + +"Kindness," she exclaimed, without the slightest hesitation. "For this +is a quality very rarely found in a man." + +"Kindness and weakness usually go hand in hand; women admire +strength." + +"What sort of women are you talking about? Rude strength has had its +day; our civilisation has reached a sufficiently high standard to make +us value muscles and rude strength no more highly than a kind heart." + +"It ought to have! And yet--watch the dancing couples!" + +"To my mind true manliness is shown in loftiness of sentiment and +intelligence of the heart." + +"Consequently a man whom the whole world calls weak and cowardly...." + +"What do I care for the world and its opinion!" + +"Do you know that you are a very remarkable woman?" said the young +lawyer, feeling more and more interested. + +"Not in the least remarkable! But you men are accustomed to regard +women as dolls...." + +"What sort of men do you mean? I, dear lady, have from my childhood +looked up to woman as a higher manifestation of the species man, and +from the day on which I fell in love with a woman, and she returned my +love, I should be her slave." + +Adeline looked at him long and searchingly. + +"You are a remarkable man," she said, after a pause. + +After each of the two had declared the other to be a remarkable +specimen of the species man, and made a good many remarks on the +futility of dancing, they began to talk of the melancholy influence of +the moon. Then they returned to the ball-room and took their place in +a set of quadrilles. + +Adeline was a perfect dancer and the lawyer won her heart completely +because he "danced like an innocent girl." + +When the set was over, they went out again on the verandah and sat +down. + +"What is love?" asked Adeline, looking at the moon as if she expected +an answer from heaven. + +"The sympathy of the souls," he replied, and his voice sounded like +the whispering breeze. + +"But sympathy may turn to antipathy; it has happened frequently," +objected Adeline. + +"Then it wasn't genuine! There are materialists who say that there +would be no such thing as love if there weren't two sexes, and they +dare to maintain that sensual love is more lasting than the love of +the soul. Don't you think it low and bestial to see nothing but sex in +the beloved woman?" + +"Don't speak of the materialists!" + +"Yes, I must, so that you may realise the loftiness of my feelings for +a woman, if ever I fell in love. She need not be beautiful; beauty +soon fades. I should look upon her as a dear friend, a chum. I should +never feel shy in her company, as with any ordinary girl. I should +approach her without fear, as I am approaching you, and I should say: +'Will you be my friend for life?' I should be able to speak to her +without the slightest tremor of that nervousness which a lover is +supposed to feel when he proposes to the object of his tenderness, +because his thoughts are not pure." + +Adeline looked at the young man, who had taken her hand in his, with +enraptured eyes. + +"You are an idealist," she said, "and I agree with you from the very +bottom of my heart. You are asking for my friendship, if I understand +you rightly. It shall be yours, but I must put you to the test first. +Will you prove to me that you can pocket your pride for the sake of a +friend?" + +"Speak and I shall obey!" + +Adeline took off a golden chain with a locket which she had been +wearing round her neck. + +"Wear this as a symbol of our friendship." + +"I will wear it," he said, in an uncertain voice; "but it might make +the people think that we are engaged." + +"And do you object?" + +"No, not if you don't! Will you be my wife?" + +"Yes, Axel! I will! For the world looks askance at friendship between +man and woman; the world is so base that it refuses to believe in the +possibility of such a thing." + +And he wore the chain. + +The world, which is very materialistic at heart, repeated the verdict +of her friends: + +"She marries him in order to be married; he marries her because he +wants a wife." + +The world made nasty remarks, too. It said that he was marrying her +for the sake of her money; for hadn't he himself declared that +anything so degrading as love did not exist between them? There was +no need for friends to live together like married couples. + +The wedding took place. The world had received a hint that they would +live together like brother and sister, and the world awaited with a +malicious grin the result of the great reform which should put +matrimony on another basis altogether. + +The newly married couple went abroad. + +When they returned, the young wife was pale and ill-tempered. She +began at once to take riding-lessons. The world scented mischief and +waited. The man looked as if he were guilty of a base act and was +ashamed of himself. It all came out at last. + +"They have _not_ been living like brother and sister," said the world. + +"What? Without loving one another? But that is--well, what is it?" + +"A forbidden relationship!" said the materialists. + +"It is a spiritual marriage!" + +"Or incest," suggested an anarchist. + +Facts remained facts, but the sympathy was on the wane. Real life, +stripped of All make-believe, confronted them and began to take +revenge. + +The lawyer practised his profession, but the wife's profession was +practised by a maid and a nurse. Therefore she had no occupation. The +want of occupation encouraged brooding, and she brooded a great deal +over her position. She found it unsatisfactory. Was it right that an +intellectual woman like her should spend her days in idleness? Once +her husband had ventured to remark that no one compelled her to live +in idleness. He never did it again. + +"She had no profession." + +"True; to be idle was no profession. Why didn't she nurse the baby?" + +"Nurse the baby? She wanted a profession which brought in money." + +"Was she such a miser, then? She had already more than she knew how to +spend; why should she want to earn money?" + +"To be on an equal footing with him." + +"That could never be, for she would always be in a position to which +he could never hope to attain. It was nature's will that the woman was +to be the mother, not the man." + +"A very stupid arrangement!" + +"Very likely! The opposite might have been the case, but that would +have been equally stupid." + +"Yes; but her life was unbearable. It didn't satisfy her to live for +the family only, she wanted to live for others as well." + +"Hadn't she better begin with the family? There was plenty of time to +think of the others." + +The conversation might have continued through all eternity; as it was +it only lasted an hour. + +The lawyer was, of course, away almost all day long, and even when he +was at home he had his consulting hours. It drove Adeline nearly mad. +He was always locked in his consulting-room with other women who +confided information to him which he was bound to keep secret. These +secrets formed a barrier between them, and made her feel that he was +more than a match for her. + +It roused a sullen hatred in her heart; she resented the injustice of +their mutual relationship; she sought for a means to drag him down. +Come down he must, so that they should be on the same level. + +One day she proposed the foundation of a sanatorium. He said all he +could against it, for he was very busy with his practice. But on +further consideration he thought that occupation of some sort might be +the saving of her; perhaps it would help her to settle down. + +The sanatorium was founded; he was one of the directors. + +She was on the Committee and ruled. When she had ruled for six months, +she imagined herself so well up in the art of healing that she +interviewed patients and gave them advice. + +"It's easy enough," she said. + +Then it happened that the house-surgeon made a mistake, and she +straightway lost all confidence in him. It further happened that one +day, in the full consciousness of her superior wisdom, she prescribed +for a patient herself, in the doctor's absence. The patient had the +prescription made up, took it and died. + +This necessitated a removal to another centre of activity. But it +disturbed the equilibrium. A second child, which was born about the +same time, disturbed it still more and, to make matters worse, a +rumour of the fatal accident was spreading through the town. + +The relations between husband and wife were unlovely and sad, for +there had never been any love between them. The healthy, powerful +natural instinct, which does not reflect, was absent; what remained +was an unpleasant liaison founded on the uncertain calculations of a +selfish friendship. + +She never voiced the thoughts hatched behind her burning brow after +she had discovered that she was mistaken in believing that she had a +higher mission, but she made her husband suffer for it. + +Her health failed; she lost her appetite and refused to go out. She +grew thin and seemed to be suffering from a chronic cough. The husband +made her repeatedly undergo medical examinations, but the doctors were +unable to discover the cause of her malady. In the end he became so +accustomed to her constant complaints that he paid no more attention +to them. + +"I know it's unpleasant to have an invalid wife," she said. + +He admitted in his heart that it was anything but pleasant; had he +loved her, he would neither have felt nor admitted it. + +Her emaciation became so alarming, that he could not shut his eyes to +it any longer, and had to consent to her suggestion that she should +consult a famous professor. + +Adeline was examined by the celebrity. "How long have you been ill?" +he asked. + +"I have never been very strong since I left the country," she replied. +"I was born in the country." + +"Then you don't feel well in town?" + +"Well? Who cares whether I feel well or not?" And her face assumed an +expression which left no room for doubt: she was a martyr. + +"Do you think that country air would do you good?" continued the +professor. + +"Candidly, I believe that it is the only thing which could save my +life." + +"Then why don't you live in the country?" + +"My husband couldn't give up his profession for my sake." + +"He has a wealthy wife and we have plenty of lawyers." + +"You think, then, that we ought to live in the country?" + +"Certainly, if you believe that it would do you good. You are not +suffering from any organic disease, but your nerves are unstrung; +country air would no doubt benefit you." + +Adeline returned home to her husband very depressed. + +"Well?" + +"The professor had sentenced her to death if she remained in town." + +The lawyer was much upset. But since the fact that his distress was +mainly caused by the thought of giving up his practice was very +apparent, she held that she had absolute proof that the question of +her health was a matter of no importance to him. + +"What? He didn't believe that it was a matter of life and death? +Didn't he think the professor knew better than he? Was he going to let +her die?" + +He was not going to let her die. He bought an estate in the country +and engaged an inspector to look after it. + +As a sheriff and a district-judge were living on the spot, the lawyer +had no occupation. The days seemed to him as endless as they were +unpleasant. Since his income had stopped with his practice, he was +compelled to live on his wife's money. In the first six months he read +a great deal and played "Fortuna." In the second six months he gave up +reading, as it served no object. In the third he amused himself by +doing needle-work. + +His wife, on the other hand, devoted herself to the farm, pinned up +her skirts to the knees and went into the stables. She came into the +house dirty, and smelling of the cow-shed. She felt well and ordered +the labourers about that it was a pleasure to hear her, for she had +grown up in the country and knew what she was about. + +When her husband complained of having nothing to do, she laughed at +him. + +"Find some occupation in the house. No one need ever be idle in a +house like this." + +He would have liked to suggest some outside occupation, but he had not +the courage. + +He ate, slept, and went for walks. If he happened to enter the barn or +the stables, he was sure to be in the way and be scolded by his wife. + +One day, when he had grumbled more than usual, while the children had +been running about, neglected by the nurse, she said: + +"Why don't you look after the children? That would give you something +to do." + +He stared at her. Did she really mean it? + +"Well, why shouldn't he look after the children? Was there anything +strange in her suggestion?" + +He thought the matter over and found nothing strange in it. Henceforth +he took the children for a walk every day. + +One morning, when he was ready to go out, the children were not +dressed. The lawyer felt angry and went grumbling to his wife; of the +servants he was afraid. + +"Why aren't the children dressed?" he asked. + +"Because Mary is busy with other things. Why don't you dress them? +You've nothing else to do. Do you consider it degrading to dress your +own children?" + +He considered the matter for a while, but could see nothing degrading +in it. He dressed them. + +One day he felt inclined to take his gun and go out by himself, +although he never shot anything. + +His wife met him on his return. + +"Why didn't you take the children for a walk this morning?" she asked +sharply and reproachfully. + +"Because I didn't feel inclined to do so." + +"You didn't feel inclined? Do you think I want to work all day long in +stable and barn? One ought to do _something_ useful during the day, even +if it does go against one's inclination." + +"So as to pay for one's dinner, you mean?" + +"If you like to put it that way! If I were a big man like you, I +should be ashamed to be lying all day long on a sofa, doing nothing." + +He really felt ashamed, and henceforth he established himself the +children's nurse. He never failed in his duties. He saw no disgrace in +it, yet he was unhappy. Something was wrong, somewhere, he thought, +but his wife always managed to carry her point. + +She sat in the office and interviewed inspector and overseer; she +stood in the store-room and weighed out stores for the cottagers. +Everybody who came on the estate asked for the mistress, nobody ever +wanted to see the master. + +One day he took the children past a field in which cattle were +grazing. He wanted to show them the cows and cautiously took them up +to the grazing herd. All at once a black head, raised above the backs +of the other animals, stared at the visitors, bellowing softly. + +The lawyer picked up the children and ran back to the fence as hard as +he could. He threw them over and tried to jump it himself, but was +caught on the top. Noticing some women on the other side, he shouted: + +"The bull! the bull!" + +But the women merely laughed, and went to pull the children, whose +clothes were covered with mud, out of the ditch. + +"Don't you see the bull?" he screamed. + +"It's no bull, sir," replied the eldest of the women, "the bull was +killed a fortnight ago." + +He came home, angry and ashamed and complained of the women to his +wife. But she only laughed. + +In the afternoon, as husband and wife were together in the drawing-room, +there was a knock at the door. + +"Come in!" she called out. + +One of the women who had witnessed the adventure with the bull came +in, holding in her hand the lawyer's gold chain. + +"I believe this belongs to you, M'm," she said hesitatingly. + +Adeline looked first at the woman and then at her husband, who stared +at the chain with wide-open eyes. + +"No, it belongs to your master," she said, taking the proffered chain. +"Thank you! Your master will give you something for finding it." + +He was sitting there, pale and motionless. + +"I have no money, ask my wife to give you something," he said, taking +the necklet. + +Adeline took a crown out of her big purse and handed it to the woman, +who went away, apparently without understanding the scene. + +"You might have spared me this humiliation!" he said, and his voice +plainly betrayed the pain he felt. + +"Are you not man enough to take the responsibility for your words and +actions on your own shoulders? Are you ashamed to wear a present I +gave you, while you expect me to wear yours? You're a coward! And you +imagine yourself to be a man!" + +Henceforth the poor lawyer had no peace. Wherever he went, he met +grinning faces, and farm-labourers and maid-servants from the safe +retreat of sheltered nooks, shouted "the bull! the bull!" whenever he +went past. + +Adeline had resolved to attend an auction and stay away for a week. +She asked her husband to look after the servants in her absence. + +On the first day the cook came and asked him for money for sugar and +coffee. He gave it to her. Three days later she came again and asked +him for the same thing. He expressed surprise at her having already +spent what he had given her. + +"I don't want it all for myself," she replied, "and mistress doesn't +mind." + +He gave her the money. But, wondering whether he had made a mistake, +he opened his wife's account book and began to add up the columns. + +He arrived at a strange result. When he had added up all the pounds +for a month, he found it came to a lispound. + +He continued checking her figures, and the result was everywhere the +same. He took the principal ledger and found that, leaving the high +figures out of the question, very stupid mistakes in the additions had +been made. Evidently his wife knew nothing of denominate quantities or +decimal fractions. This unheard of cheating of the servants must +certainly lead to ruin. + +His wife came home. After having listened to a detailed account of the +auction, he cleared his throat, intending to tell his tale, but his +wife anticipated his report: + +"Well, and how did you get on with the servants?" + +"Oh! very well, but I am certain that they cheat you." + +"Cheat me!" + +"Yes; for instance the amount spent on coffee and sugar is too large." + +"How do you know?" + +"I saw it in your account book." + +"Indeed! You poked your nose into my books?" + +"Poked my nose into your books? No, but I took it upon me to check +your...." + +"What business was it of yours?" + +"And I found that you keep books without having the slightest +knowledge of denominate quantities or decimal fractions." + +"What? You think I don't know?" + +"No, you don't! And therefore the foundations of the establishment are +shaky. Your book-keeping is all humbug, old girl!" + +"My book-keeping concerns no one but myself." + +"Incorrect book-keeping is an offence punishable by law; if you are +not liable, then I am." + +"The law? I care a fig for the law!" + +"I daresay! But we shall get into its clutches, if not you, then most +certainly I! And therefore I am going to be book-keeper in the future." + +"We can engage a man to do it." + +"No, that's not necessary! I have nothing else to do." + +And that settled the matter. + +But once the husband occupied the chair at the desk and the people +came to see _him_, the wife lost all interest in farming and +cattle-breeding. + +A violent reaction set in; she no longer attended to the cows and +calves, but remained in the house. There she sat, hatching fresh +plots. + +But the husband had regained a fresh hold on life. He took an eager +interest in the estate and woke up the people. Now he held the reins; +managed everything, gave orders and paid the bills. + +One day his wife came into the office and asked him for a thousand +crowns to buy a piano. + +"What are you thinking of?" said the husband. "Just when we are going +to re-build the stables! We haven't the means to buy a piano." + +"What do you mean?" she replied. "Why haven't we got the means? Isn't my +money sufficient?" + +"Your money?" + +"Yes, my money, my dowry." + +"That has now become the property of the family." + +"That is to say yours?" + +"No, the family's. The family is a small community, the only one which +possesses common property which, as a rule, is administered by the +husband." + +"Why should he administer it and not the wife?" + +"Because he has more time to give to it, since he does not bear +children." + +"Why couldn't they administer it jointly?" + +"For the same reason that a joint stock company has only one managing +director. If the wife administered as well, the children would claim +the same right, for it is their property, too." + +"This is mere hair-splitting. I think it's hard that I should have to +ask your permission to buy a piano out of my own money." + +"It's no longer your money." + +"But yours?" + +"No, not mine either, but the family's. And you are wrong when you say +that you 'have to ask for my permission'; it's merely wise that you +should consult with the administrator as to whether the position of +affairs warrants your spending such a large sum on a luxury." + +"Do you call a piano a luxury?" + +"A new piano, when there is an old one, must be termed a luxury. The +position of our affairs is anything but satisfactory, and therefore it +doesn't permit you to buy a new piano at present, but _I_, personally, +can or will have nothing to say against it." + +"An expenditure of a thousand crowns doesn't mean ruin." + +"To incur a debt of a thousand crowns at the wrong time may be the +first step towards ruin." + +"All this means that you refuse to buy me a new piano?" + +"No, I won't say that. The uncertain position of affairs...." + +"When, oh! when will the day dawn on which the wife will manage her +own affairs and have no need to go begging to her husband?" + +"When she works herself. A man, your father, has earned your money. +The men have gained all the wealth there is in the world; therefore it +is but just that a sister should inherit less than her brother, +especially as the brother is born with the duty to provide for a +woman, while the sister need not provide for a man. Do you +understand?" + +"And you call that justice? Can you honestly maintain that it is? +Ought we not all to share and share alike?" + +"No, not always. One ought to share according to circumstances and +merit. The idler who lies in the grass and watches the mason building +a house, should have a smaller share than the mason." + +"Do you mean to insinuate that I am lazy?" + +"H'm! I'd rather not say anything about that. But when I used to lie +on the sofa, reading, you considered me a loafer, and I well remember +that you said something to that effect in very plain language." + +"But what am I to do?" + +"Take the children out for walks." + +"I'm not constituted to look after the children." + +"But there was a time when I had to do it. Let me tell you that a +woman who says that she is not constituted to look after children, +isn't a woman. But that fact doesn't make a man of her, by any means. +What is she, then?" + +"Shame on you that you should speak like that of the mother of your +children!" + +"What does the world call a man who will have nothing to do with +women? Isn't it something very ugly?" + +"I won't hear another word!" + +And she left him and locked herself into her room. + +She fell ill. The doctor, the almighty man, who took over the care of +the body when the priest lost the care of the soul, pronounced country +air and solitude to be harmful. + +They were obliged to return to town so that the wife could have proper +medical treatment. + +Town had a splendid effect on her health; the air of the slums gave +colour to her cheeks. + +The lawyer practised his profession and so husband and wife had found +safety-valves for their temperaments which refused to blend. + + + + +HIS SERVANT OR DEBIT AND CREDIT + + +Mr. Blackwood was a wharfinger at Brooklyn and had married Miss +Dankward, who brought him a dowry of modern ideas. To avoid seeing his +beloved wife playing the part of his servant, Mr. Blackwood had taken +rooms in a boarding house. + +The wife, who had nothing whatever to do, spent the day in playing +billiards and practising the piano, and half the night in discussing +Women's Rights and drinking whiskies and sodas. + +The husband had a salary of five thousand dollars. He handed over his +money regularly to his wife who took charge of it. She had, moreover, +a dress allowance of five hundred dollars with which she did as she +liked. + +Then a baby arrived. A nurse was engaged who, for a hundred dollars, +took upon her shoulders the sacred duties of the mother. + +Two more children were born. + +They grew up and the two eldest went to school. But Mrs. Blackwood was +bored and had nothing with which to occupy her mind. + +One morning she appeared at the breakfast table, slightly intoxicated. + +The husband ventured to tell her that her behaviour was unseemly. + +She had hysterics and went to bed, and all the other ladies in the +house called on her and brought her flowers. + +"Why do you drink so much whisky?" asked her husband, as kindly as +possible. "Is there anything which troubles you?" + +"How could I be happy when my whole life is wasted!" + +"What do you mean by wasted? You are the mother of three children and +you might spend your time in educating them." + +"I can't be bothered with children." + +"Then you ought to be bothered with them! You would be benefiting the +whole community and have a splendid object in life, a far more +honourable one, for instance, than that of being a wharfinger." + +"Yes, if I were free!" + +"You are freer than I am. I am under your rule. You decide how my +earnings are to be spent. You have five hundred dollars pin money to +spend as you like; but I have no pin money. I have to make an +application to the cash-box, in other words, to you, whenever I want +to buy tobacco. Don't you think that you are freer than I am?" + +She made no reply; she tried to think the question out. + +The upshot of it was that they decided to have a home of their own. +And they set up house-keeping. + +"My dear friend," Mrs. Blackwood wrote a little later on to a friend +of hers, "I am ill and tired to death. But I must go on suffering, for +there is no solace for an unhappy woman who has no object in life. I +will show the world that I am not the sort of woman who is content to +live on her husband's bounty, and therefore I shall work myself to +death...." + +On the first day she rose at nine o'clock and turned out her husband's +room. Then she dismissed the cook and at eleven o'clock she went out +to do the catering for the day. + +When the husband came home at one o'clock, lunch was not ready. It was +the maid's fault. + +Mrs. Blackwood was dreadfully tired and in tears. The husband could +not find it in his heart to complain. He ate a burnt cutlet and went +back to his work. + +"Don't work so hard, darling," he said, as he was leaving. + +In the evening his wife was so tired that she could not finish her +work and went to bed at ten o'clock. + +On the following morning, as Mr. Blackwood went into his wife's room +to say good morning to her, he was amazed at her healthy complexion. + +"Have you slept well?" he asked. + +"Why do you ask?" + +"Because you are looking so well." + +"I--am--looking--well?" + +"Yes, a little occupation seems to agree with you." + +"A little occupation? You call it little? I should like to know what +you would call much." + +"Never mind, I didn't mean to annoy you." + +"Yes, you did. You meant to imply that I wasn't working hard enough. +And yet I turned out your room yesterday, just as if I were a +house-maid, and stood in the kitchen like a cook. Can you deny that I +am your servant?" + +In going out the husband said to the maid: + +"You had better get up at seven in future and do my room. Your +mistress shouldn't have to do your work." + +In the evening Mr. Blackwood came home in high spirits but his wife +was angry with him. + +"Why am I not to do your room?" she asked. + +"Because I object to your being my servant." + +"Why do you object?" + +"The thought of it makes me unhappy." + +"But it doesn't make you unhappy to think of me cooking your dinner +and attending to your children?" + +This remark set him thinking. + +He pondered the question during the whole of his tram journey to +Brooklyn. + +When he came home in the evening, he had done a good deal of thinking. + +"Now, listen to me, my love," he began, "I've thought a lot about your +position in the house and, of course, I am far from wishing that you +should be my servant. I think the best thing to do is this: You must +look upon me as your boarder and I'll pay for myself. Then you'll be +mistress in the house, and I'll pay you for my dinner." + +"What do you mean?" asked his wife, a little uneasy. + +"What I say. Let's pretend that you keep a boarding-house and that I'm +your boarder. We'll only pretend it, of course." + +"Very well! And what are you going to pay me?" + +"Enough to prevent me from being under an obligation to you. It will +improve my position, too, for then I shall not feel that I am kept out +of kindness." + +"Out of kindness?" + +"Yes; you give me a dinner which is only half-cooked, and then you go +on repeating that you are my servant, that is to say, that you are +working yourself to death for me." + +"What are you driving at?" + +"Is three dollars a day enough for my board? Any boarding-house will +take me for two." + +"Three dollars ought to be plenty." + +"Very well! Let's say a thousand dollars per annum. Here's the money +in advance!" + +He laid a bill on the table. + +It was made out as follows: + + Rent 500 dollars + Nurse's wages 100 " + Cook's wages 150 " + Wife's maintenance 500 " + Wife's pin money 500 " + Nurse's maintenance 300 " + Cook's maintenance 300 " + Children's maintenance 700 " + Children's clothes 500 " + Wood, light, assistance 500 " + + 4.500 dollars + +"Divide this sum by two, since we share expenses equally, that leaves +2025 dollars. Deduct my thousand dollars and give me 1025 dollars. If +you have got the money by you, all the better." + +"Share expenses equally?" was all the wife could say. "Do you expect +me to pay you, then?" + +"Yes, of course, if we are to be on a footing of equality. I pay for +half of your and the children's support. Or do you want me to pay the +whole? Very well, that would mean that I should have to pay you 4050 +dollars plus 1000 dollars for my board. But I pay separately for rent, +food, light, wood and servants' wages. What do I get for my three +dollars a day for board? The preparation of the food? Nothing else but +that for 4050 dollars? Now, if I subtract really half of this sum, +that is to say, my share of the expenses, 2025 dollars, then the +preparation of my food costs me 2025 dollars. But I have already paid +the cook for doing it; how, then, can I be expected to pay 2025 dollars, +plus 1000 dollars for food?" + +"I don't know." + +"Neither do I. But I know that I owe you nothing after paying for the +whole of your support, the children's support and the servants' +support; the servants who do your work, which, in your opinion, is +equal, or superior, to mine. But even if your work should really be +worth more, you must remember that you have another five hundred +dollars in addition to the household expenses, while I have nothing." + +"I repeat that I don't understand your figures!" + +"Neither do I. Perhaps we had better abandon the idea of the +boarding-house. Let's put down the debit and credit of the +establishment. Here's the account, if you'd like to see it." + + To Mrs. Blackwood for assistance in the house, and to Mrs. Blackwood's + cook and nursemaid: + + Rent and maintenance 1000 dollars + Clothes 500 " + Amusements 100 " + Pin money (by cash) 500 " + Her children's maintenance 1200 " + Her children's education 600 " + On account of the maids who do her + work 850 " + + 4570 dollars + + Paid M. Blackwood, _Wharfinger_ + +"Oh! It's too bad of you to worry your wife with bills!" + +"With counter-bills! And even that one you need not pay, for I pay all +bills." + +The wife crumpled up the paper. + +"Am I to pay for your children's education, too?" + +"No, I will, and I shall, and I will also pay for your children's +education. You shall not pay one single farthing for mine. Is that +being on a footing of equality? But I shall deduct the sum for the +maintenance of my children and servants: then you will still have 2100 +dollars for the assistance you give to my servants. Do you want any +more bills?" + +She wanted no more; never again. + + + + +THE BREADWINNER + + +He wakes up in the morning from evil dreams of bills which have become +due and copy which has not been delivered. His hair is damp with cold +perspiration, and his cheeks tremble as he dresses himself. He listens +to the chirruping of the children in the next room and plunges his +burning face into cold water. He drinks the coffee which he has made +himself, so as not to disturb the nursery maid at the early hour of +eight o'clock. Then he makes his bed, brushes his clothes, and sits +down to write. + +The fever attacks him, the fever which is to create hallucinations of +rooms he has never seen, landscapes which never existed, people whose +names cannot be found in the directory. He sits at his writing table +in mortal anguish. His thoughts must be clear, pregnant and +picturesque, his writing legible, the story dramatic; the interest +must never abate, the metaphors must be striking, the dialogue +brilliant. The faces of those automata, the public, whose brains he is +to wind up, are grinning at him; the critics whose good-will he must +enlist, stare at him through the spectacles of envy; he is haunted by +the gloomy face of the publisher, which it is his task to brighten. He +sees the jurymen sitting round the black table in the centre of which +lies a Bible; he hears the sound of the opening of prison doors behind +which free-thinkers are suffering for the crime of having thought bold +thoughts for the benefit of the sluggards; he listens to the noiseless +footfall of the hotel porter who is coming with the bill.... + +And all the while the fever is raging and his pen flies, flies over +the paper without a moment's delay at the vision of publisher or +jurymen, leaving in its track red lines as of congealed blood which +slowly turn to black. + +When he rises from his chair, after a couple of hours, he has only +enough strength left to stumble across the room. He sinks down on his +bed and lies there as if Death held him in his clutches. It is not +invigorating sleep which has closed his eyes, but a stupor, a long +fainting fit during which he remains conscious, tortured by the +horrible thought that his strength is gone, his nervous system +shattered, his brain empty. + +A ring at the bell of the private hotel! _Voila le facteur_! The mail +has arrived. + +He rouses himself and staggers out of his room. A pile of letters is +handed to him. Proofs which must be read at once; a book from a young +author, begging for a candid criticism: a paper containing a +controversial article to which he must reply without delay, a request +for a contribution to an almanac, an admonishing letter from his +publisher. How can an invalid cope with it all? + +In the meantime the children's nurse has got up and dressed the +children, drunk the coffee made for her in the hotel kitchen, and +eaten the rolls spread with honey which have been sent up for her. +After breakfast she takes a stroll in the park. + +At one o'clock the bell rings for luncheon. All the guests are assembled +in the dining-room. He, too, is there, sitting at the table by himself. + +"Where is your wife?" he is asked on all sides. + +"I don't know," he replies. + +"What a brute!" is the comment of the ladies, who are still in their +morning gowns. + +The entrance of his wife interrupts the progress of the meal, and the +hungry guests who have been punctual are kept waiting for the second +course. + +The ladies enquire anxiously whether his, wife has slept well and +feels refreshed? Nobody asks him how he feels. There is no need to +enquire. + +"He looks like a corpse," says one of the ladies. + +And she is right. + +"Dissipation," says another. + +But that is anything but true. +He takes no part in the conversation, for he has nothing to say to +these women. But his wife talks for two. While he swallows his food, +his ears are made to listen to rich praise of all that is base, and +vile abuse of all that is noble and good. + +When luncheon is over he takes his wife aside. + +"I wish you would send Louisa to the tailor's with my coat; a seam has +come undone and I haven't the time to sew it up myself." + +She makes no reply, but instead of sending the coat by Louisa, she +takes it herself and walks to the village where the tailor lives. + +In the garden she meets some of her emancipated friends who ask her +where she is going. + +She replies, truthfully enough, that she is going to the tailor's for +her husband. + +"Fancy sending her to the tailor's! And she allows him to treat her +like a servant!" + +"While he is lying on the bed, taking an after-dinner nap! A nice +husband!" + +It is quite true, he is taking an after dinner nap, for he is +suffering from anaemia. + +At three o'clock the postman rings again; he is expected to answer a +letter from Berlin in German, one from Paris in French, and one from +London in English. + +His wife, who has returned from the tailor's and refreshed herself +with a cognac, asks him whether he feels inclined to make an excursion +with the children. No, he has letters to write. + +When he has finished his letters, he goes out for a stroll before +dinner. He is longing for somebody to talk to. But he is alone. He +goes into the garden and looks for the children. + +The stout nurse is sitting on a garden seat, reading Mrs. Leffler's +_True Women_ which his wife has lent her. The children are bored, they +want to run about or go for a walk. + +"Why don't you take the children for a walk, Louisa?" he asks. + +"Mistress said it was too hot." + +His wife's orders! + +He calls to the children and walks with them towards the high road; +suddenly he notices that their hands and faces are dirty and their +boots in holes. + +"Why are the children allowed to wear such boots?" he asks Louisa. + +"Mistress said...." + +His wife said! + +He goes for a walk by himself. + +It is seven o'clock and dinner-time. The ladies have not yet returned +to the hotel. The two first courses have been served when they arrive +with flushed faces, talking and laughing loudly. + +His wife and her friend are in high spirits and smell of cognac. + +"What have you been doing with yourself all day, daddy?" she asks her +husband. + +"I went for a walk with the children." + +"Wasn't Louisa there?" + +"Oh! yes, but she was otherwise engaged." + +"Well, I don't think it's too much to ask of a man to keep an eye on +his own children," says the friend. + +"No, of course not," answers the husband. "And therefore I scolded +Louisa for allowing the children to run about with dirty faces and +worn-out boots." + +"I never come home but I am scolded," says the wife; "You spoil every +little pleasure I have with your fault-finding." + +And a tiny tear moistens her reddened eyelids. The friend and all the +rest of the ladies cast indignant glances at the husband. + +An attack is imminent and the friend sharpens her tongue. + +"Has anybody here present read Luther's views on the right of a woman?" + +"What right is that?" asks his wife. + +"To look out for another partner if she is dissatisfied with the one +she has." + +There is a pause. + +"A very risky doctrine as far as a woman's interests are concerned," +says the husband, "for it follows that in similar circumstances a man +is justified in doing the same thing. The latter happens much more +frequently than the former." + +"I don't understand what you mean," says the wife. + +"That's neither Luther's fault nor mine," answers the husband. "Just +as it is not necessarily the husband's fault if he doesn't get on with +his wife. Possibly he would get on excellently with another woman." + +A dead silence follows; the diners rise from their chairs. + +The husband retires to his own room. His wife and her friend leave the +dining-room together and sit down in the pavilion. + +"What brutality!" exclaims the friend. "How can you, a sensitive, +intelligent woman, consent to be the servant of that selfish brute?" + +"He has never understood me," sighs the wife. Her satisfaction in being +able to pronounce these damning words is so great, that it drowns the +memory of a reply which her husband has given her again and again: + +"Do you imagine that your thoughts are so profound that I, a man with +a subtle brain, am unable to fathom them? Has it never occurred to you +that it may be your shallowness which prevents you from understanding +me?" + +He sits down in his room, alone. He suffers from remorse, as if he had +struck his mother. But she struck the first blow; she has struck him +blow after blow, for many years, and never once before has he +retaliated. + +This coarse, heartless, cynical woman, in whose keeping he confided +his whole soul with all its thoughts and emotions, was conscious of +his superiority, and therefore she humiliated him, dragged him down, +pulled him by the hair, covered him with abuse. Was it a crime that he +struck back when she publicly taunted him? Yes--he felt as guilty as +if he had murdered his dearest friend. + +The twilight of the warm summer night deepens and the moon rises. + +The sound of music from the drawing-room floats through his window. He +goes into the garden and sits down under a walnut tree. Alone! The +chords of the piano blend with the words of the song: + + When the veil of night was drawn + And crowded earth, mysterious sea + Became one sweet, enchanted ground + For us, until the starless dawn + Dissolved the failing moon--then we + In one long ecstasy were bound. + Now, I, alone in silence and in pain + Weep for the ache of well-remembered bliss, + For you who never can return again, + For you, my spring time, for your love, your kiss. + +He strolls through the garden and looks through the window. There she +sits, his living poem, which he has composed for his own delight. She +sings with tears in her voice. The ladies on the sofas look at one +another significantly. + +But behind the laurel bushes on a garden seat two men are sitting, +smoking, and chatting. He can hear what they say. + +"Nothing but the effect of the cognac." + +"Yes, they say that she drinks." + +"And blame the husband for it." + +"That's a shame! She took to drinking in Julian's studio. She was +going to be an artist, you know, but she didn't succeed. When they +rejected her picture at the exhibition, she threw herself at the head +of this poor devil and married him to hide her defeat." + +"Yes, I know, and made his life a burden until he is but the shadow of +his former self. They started with a home of their own in Paris, and +he kept two maids for her; still she called herself his servant. +Although she was mistress over everything, she insisted that she was +but his slave She neglected the house, the servants robbed them right +and left, and he saw their home threatened with ruin without being +able to move a finger to avert it. She opposed every suggestion he +made; if he wanted black, she wanted white. In this way she broke his +will and shattered, his nerves. He broke up his home and took her to a +boarding-house to save her the trouble of housekeeping and enable her +to devote herself entirely to her art. But she won't touch a brush and +goes out all day long with her friend. She has tried to come between +him and his work, too, and drive him to drink, but she has not managed +it; therefore she hates him, for he is the better of the two." + +"But the husband must be a fool," remarks the other man. + +"He is a fool wherever his wife is concerned, but he is no exception +to the rule. They have been married for twelve years and he is still +in love with her. The worst of it is that he is a strong man, who +commanded the respect of Parliament and Press, is breaking up. I +talked to him this morning; he is ill, to say the least." + +"Yes; I heard that she tried to have him locked up in a asylum, and +that her friend did everything in her power to assist her." + +"And he works himself to death, so that she can enjoy herself." + +"Do you know why she treats him so contemptuously? Because he cannot +give her all the luxury she wants. 'A man who cannot give his wife all +she wants,' she said the other day at dinner, 'ce n'est pas grand' +chose.' I believe that she counted on his booming her as an artist. +Unfortunately his political views prevent him from being on good terms +with the leading papers, and, moreover, he has no friends in artistic +circles; his interests lie elsewhere." + +"I see; she wanted to make use of him for her own ends; when he +resisted she threw him over; but he serves his purpose as a breadwinner." + + Now, I, alone in silence and in pain, + Weep for the ache of well-remembered bliss.... + +comes her voice from the drawing-room. + +"Bang!" the sound came from behind the walnut tree. It was followed by +a snapping of branches and a crunching of sand. + +The talkers jumped to their feet. + +The body of a well-dressed man lay across the road, with his head +against the leg of a chair. + +The song stopped abruptly. The ladies rushed into the garden. The +friend poured a few drops of eau de Cologne which she held in her +hand, on the face of the prostrate man. + +When she realised that it was no fainting fit, she started back. +"Horrible!" she exclaimed, putting her hand up to her face. + +The elder of the two men, who was stooping over; the dead body, looked +up. + +"Be silent, woman!" he exclaimed. + +"What a brute!" said the friend. + +The dead man's wife fainted, but was caught in the arms of her friend +and tenderly nursed by the rest of the women. + +"Send for a doctor!" shouted the elder of the two men. "Run!" + +Nobody took any notice; everybody was busy with the unconscious wife. + +"To bring such grief on his wife! Oh! what a man! What a man!" sobbed +the friend. + +"Has no one a thought for the dying man? All this' fuss because a woman +has fainted! Give her some brandy, that will revive her!" + +"The wretched man has deserved his fate!" said the friend emphatically. + +"He indeed deserved a better fate than to fall into your hands alive. +Shame on you, woman, and all honour to the breadwinner!" + +He let the hand of the dead man go and rose to his, feet. + +"It's all over!" he said. + + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Married, by August Strindberg + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MARRIED *** + +***** This file should be named 7956.txt or 7956.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/7/9/5/7956/ + +Produced by David Starner, Marc D'Hooghe, Charles Franks +and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team + + +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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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: Married + +Author: August Strindberg + + +Release Date: April, 2005 [EBook #7956] +This file was first posted on June 5, 2003 +Last Updated: October 26, 2016 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MARRIED *** + + + + +Text file produced by David Starner, Marc D'Hooghe, Charles Franks +and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team + +HTML file produced by David Widger + + + + +</pre> + + <div style="height: 8em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h1> + MARRIED + </h1> + <h2> + By August Strindberg + </h2> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <p> + <b>CONTENTS</b> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_BIBL"> BIBLIOGRAPHY </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_INTR"> INTRODUCTION </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0003"> ASRA </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0004"> LOVE AND BREAD </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0005"> COMPELLED TO </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0006"> COMPENSATION </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0007"> FRICTIONS </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0008"> UNNATURAL SELECTION OR THE ORIGIN OF RACE </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0009"> AN ATTEMPT AT REFORM </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0010"> A NATURAL OBSTACLE </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0011"> A DOLL’S HOUSE </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0012"> PHOENIX </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0013"> ROMEO AND JULIA </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0014"> PROLIFICACY </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0015"> AUTUMN </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0016"> COMPULSORY MARRIAGE </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0017"> CORINNA </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0018"> UNMARRIED AND MARRIED </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0019"> A DUEL </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0020"> HIS SERVANT OR DEBIT AND CREDIT </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0021"> THE BREADWINNER </a> + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_BIBL" id="link2H_BIBL"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + BIBLIOGRAPHY + </h2> + <p> + Strindberg’s works in English translation: Plays translated by Edwin + Bjorkman; <i>Master Olof</i>, American Scandinavian Foundation, 1915; <i>The + Dream Play, The Link, The Dance of Death</i>, New York, Charles Scribner’s + Sons, 1912; <i>Swanwhite, Simoon, Debit and Credit, Advent, The + Thunderstorm, After the Fire,</i> the same, 1913; <i>There Are Crimes and + Crimes, Miss Julia, The Stronger, Creditors, Pariah</i>, the same, 1913; + Bridal Crown, <i>The Spook Sonata, The First Warning, Gustavus Vasa</i>, + the same, 1916. Plays translated by Edith and Warner Oland, Boston Luce + & Co., Vol. I (1912), <i>The Father, Countess Julie, The Stronger, The + Outlaw</i>; Vol. II (1912), <i>Facing Death, Easter, Pariah, Comrades</i>; + Vol. III (1914), <i>Swanwhite, Advent, The Storm, Lucky Pehr</i>, tr. by + Velma Swanston Howard, Cincinnati, Stewart & Kidd Co., 1912. <i>The + Red Room</i>, tr. by Ellie Schleussner, New York, Putnam’s, 1913; <i>Confession + of a Fool</i>, tr. by S. Swift, London, F. Palmer, 1912; <i>The German + Lieutenant and Other Stories</i>, Chicago, A. C. McClurg & Co., 1915; + <i>In Midsummer Days and Other Tales</i>, tr. by Ellie Schleussner, + London, H. Latimer, 1913; <i>Motherlove</i>, tr. by Francis J. Ziegler, + Philadelphia, Brown Bros., 2nd ed., 1916, <i>On the Seaboard</i>, tr. by + Elizabeth Clarke Westergren, Cincinnati, Stewart & Kidd Co., 1913; <i>The + Son of a Servant</i>, tr. by. Claud Field, introduction by Henry + Vacher-Burch, New York, Putnam’s, 1913; <i>The Growth of a Soul</i>, tr. + by Claud Field, London, W. Rider & Co., 1913; <i>The Inferno</i>, tr. + by Claud Field, New York, Putnam’s, 1913; <i>Legends, Autobiographical + Sketches</i>, London, A. Melrose, 1912; <i>Zones of the Spirit</i>, tr. by + Claud Field, introduction by Arthur Babillotte, London, G. Allen & Co. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_INTR" id="link2H_INTR"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + INTRODUCTION + </h2> + <p> + These stories originally appeared in two volumes, the first in 1884, the + second in 1886. The latter part of the present edition is thus separated + from the first part by a lapse of two years. + </p> + <p> + Strindberg’s views were continually undergoing changes. Constancy was + never a trait of his. He himself tells us that opinions are but the + reflection of a man’s experiences, changing as his experiences change. In + the two years following the publication of the first volume, Strindberg’s + experiences were such as to exercise a decisive influence on his views on + the woman question and to transmute his early predisposition to + woman-hating from a passive tendency to a positive, active force in his + character and writing. + </p> + <p> + Strindberg’s art in <i>Married</i> is of the propagandist, of the fighter + for a cause. He has a lesson to convey and he makes frankly for his goal + without attempting to conceal his purpose under the gloss of “pure” art. + He chooses the story form in preference to the treatise as a more powerful + medium to drive home his ideas. That the result has proved successful is + due to the happy admixture in Strindberg of thinker and artist. His + artist’s sense never permitted him to distort or misrepresent the truth + for the sake of proving his theories. In fact, he arrived at his theories + not as a scholar through the study of books, but as an artist through the + experience of life. When life had impressed upon him what seemed to him a + truth, he then applied his intellect to it to bolster up that truth. Hence + it is that, however opinionated Strindberg may at times seem, his writings + carry that conviction which we receive only when the author reproduces’ + truths he has obtained first-hand from life. One-sided he may occasionally + be in <i>Married</i>, especially in the later stories, but rarely + unfaithful. His manner is often to throw such a glaring searchlight upon + one spot of life that all the rest of it stays in darkness; but the places + he does show up are never unimportant or trivial. They are well worth + seeing with Strindberg’s brilliant illumination thrown upon them. + </p> + <p> + August Strindberg has left a remarkably rich record of his life in various + works, especially in his autobiographical series of novels. He was born in + 1849 in Stockholm. His was a sad childhood passed in extreme poverty. He + succeeded in entering the University of Upsala in 1867, but was forced for + a time on account of lack of means to interrupt his studies. He tried his + fortune as schoolmaster, actor, and journalist and made an attempt to + study medicine. All the while he was active in a literary way, composing + his first plays in 1869. In 1874 he obtained a position in the Royal + Library, where he devoted himself to scientific studies, learned Chinese + in order to catalogue the Chinese manuscripts, and wrote an erudite + monograph which was read at the Academy of Inscriptions in Paris. + </p> + <p> + His first important literary productions were the drama <i>Master Olof</i> + (1878) and the novel <i>The Red Room</i> (1879). Disheartened by the + failure of <i>Master Olof</i>, he gave up literature for a long time. When + he returned to it, he displayed an amazing productivity. Work followed + work in quick succession—novels, short stories, dramas, histories, + historical studies, and essays. <i>The Swedish People</i> is said to be + the most popular book in Sweden next to the Bible. The mere enumeration of + his writings would occupy more than two pages. His versatility led him to + make researches in physics and chemistry and natural science and to write + on those subjects. + </p> + <p> + Through works like <i>The Red Room</i>, <i>Married</i>, and the dramas <i>The + Father</i> and <i>Miss Julia</i>, Strindberg attached himself to the + naturalistic school of literature. Another period of literary inactivity + followed, during which he passed through a mental crisis akin to insanity. + When he returned to the writing of novels and dramas he was no longer a + naturalist, but a symbolist and mystic. Among the plays he composed in + this style are <i>To Damascus</i>, <i>The Dream Play</i>, and <i>The Great + Highway</i>. + </p> + <p> + Strindberg married three times, divorced his first two wives, but + separated amicably from the third. He died in 1913. The vast demonstration + at his funeral, attended by the laboring classes as well as by the “upper” + classes, proved that, in spite of the antagonisms he had aroused, Sweden + unanimously awarded him the highest place in her literature. + </p> + <p> + THOMAS SELTZER. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0003" id="link2H_4_0003"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + ASRA + </h2> + <p> + He had just completed his thirteenth year when his mother died. He felt + that he had lost a real friend, for during the twelve months of her + illness he had come to know her personally, as it were, and established a + relationship between them which is rare between parents and children. He + was a clever boy and had developed early; he had read a great many books + besides his schoolbooks, for his father, a professor of botany at the + Academy of Science, possessed a very good library. His mother, on the + other hand, was not a well-educated woman; she had merely been head + housekeeper and children’s nurse in her husband’s house. Numerous births + and countless vigils (she had not slept through a single night for the + last sixteen years), had exhausted her strength, and when she became + bedridden, at the age of thirty-nine, and was no longer able to look after + her house, she made the acquaintance of her second son; her eldest boy was + at a military school and only at home during the week ends. Now that her + part as mother of the family was played to the end and nothing remained of + her but a poor invalid, the old-fashioned relationship of strict + discipline, that barrier between parents and children, was superseded. The + thirteen-year-old son was almost constantly at her bedside, reading to her + whenever he was not at school or doing home lessons. She had many + questions to ask and he had a great deal to explain, and therefore all + those distinguishing marks erected by age and position vanished, one after + the other: if there was a superior at all, it was the son. But the mother, + too, had much to teach, for she had learnt her lessons in the school of + life; and so they were alternately teacher and pupil. They discussed all + subjects. With the tact of a mother and the modesty of the other sex she + told her son all he ought to know of the mystery of life. He was still + innocent, but he had heard many things discussed by the boys at school + which had shocked and disgusted him. The mother explained to him all she + could explain; warned him of the greatest danger to a young man, and + exacted a promise from him never to visit a house of ill-fame, not even + out of curiosity, because, as she pointed out, in such a case no man could + ever trust himself. And she implored him to live a temperate life, and + turn to God in prayer whenever temptation assaulted him. + </p> + <p> + His father was entirely devoted to science, which was a sealed book to his + wife. When the mother was already on the point of death, he made a + discovery which he hoped would make his name immortal in the scientific + world. He discovered, on a rubbish heap, outside the gates of Stockholm, a + new kind of goose-foot with curved hairs on the usually straight-haired + calyx. He was in communication with the Berlin Academy of Sciences, and + the latter was even now considering the advisability of including the new + variety in the “Flora Germanica”; he was daily expecting to hear whether + or not the Academy had decided to immortalise his name by calling the + plant Chenopodium Wennerstroemianium. At his wife’s death-bed he was + absentminded, almost unkind, for he had just received an answer in the + affirmative, and he fretted because neither he nor his wife could enjoy + the great news. She thought only of heaven and her children. He could not + help realising that to talk to her now of a calyx with curved hairs would + be the height of absurdity; but, he justified himself, it was not so much + a question of a calyx with straight or curved hairs, as of a scientific + discovery; and, more than that, it was a question of his future and the + future of his children, for their father’s distinction meant bread for + them. + </p> + <p> + When his wife died on the following evening, he cried bitterly; he had not + shed a tear for many years. He was tortured by remorse, remembered even + the tiniest wrong he had ever done her, for he had been, on the whole, an + exemplary husband; his indifference, his absent-mindedness of the previous + day, filled him with shame and regret, and in a moment of blankness he + realised all the pettishness and selfishness of his science which, he had + imagined, was benefiting mankind. But these emotions were short-lived; if + you open a door with a spring behind it, it will close again immediately. + On the following morning, after he had drawn up an announcement of her + death for the papers, he wrote a letter of thanks to the Berlin Academy of + Sciences. After that he resumed his work. + </p> + <p> + When he came home to dinner, he longed for his wife, so that he might tell + her of his success, for she had always been his truest friend, the only + human being who had never been jealous or envious. Now he missed this + loyal companion on whose approval he could count as a matter of course; + never once had she contradicted him, for since he never told her more than + the practical result of his researches, there was no room for argument. + For a moment the thought occurred to him that he might make friends with + his son; but they knew each other too little; their relationship was that + of officer and private soldier. His superior rank did not permit him to + make advances; moreover, he regarded the boy with suspicion, because the + latter possessed a keener intellect and had read a number of new books + which were unknown to him; occasionally it even happened that the father, + the professor, plainly revealed his ignorance to his son, the school-boy. + In such cases the father was either compelled to dismiss the argument, + with a few contemptuous remarks to “these new follies,” or peremptorily + order the school-boy to attend to his lessons. Once or twice, in + self-defence, the son had produced one or other of his school-books; the + professor had lost his temper and wished the new school-books to hell. + </p> + <p> + And so it came about that the father devoted himself to his collections of + dried plants and the son went his own way. + </p> + <p> + They lived in a quiet street to the left of the Observatory, in a small, + one-storey house, built of bricks, and surrounded by a large garden; the + garden was once the property of the Horticultural Society, and had come + into the professor’s possession by inheritance. But since he studied + descriptive botany, and took no interest in the much more interesting + subjects of the physiology and morphology of plants, a science which was + as good as unknown in his youth, he was practically a stranger to living + nature. He allowed the garden with its many splendours to become a + wilderness, and finally let it to a gardener on condition that he and his + children should be allowed certain privileges. The son used the garden as + a park and enjoyed its beauty as he found it, without taking the trouble + to try and understand it scientifically. + </p> + <p> + One might compare the boy’s character to an ill-proportioned compensation + pendulum; it contained too much of the soft metal of the mother, not + enough of the hard metal of the father. Friction and irregular + oscillations were the natural consequences. Now he was full of sentiment, + now hard and sceptical. His mother’s death affected him beyond words. He + mourned her deeply, and she always lived in his memory as the + personification of all that was good and great and beautiful. + </p> + <p> + He wasted the summer following her death in brooding and novel-reading. + Grief, and to no small extent idleness, had shaken his whole nervous + system and quickened his imagination. His tears had been like warm April + showers falling on fruit trees, wakening them to a precocious burgeoning: + but alas! only too often the blossoms are doomed to wither and perish in a + frosty May night, before the fruit has had time to set. + </p> + <p> + He was fifteen years old and had therefore arrived at the age when + civilised man attains to manhood and is ripe to give life to a new + generation, but is prevented from doing so by his inability to maintain a + family. Consequently he was about to begin the ten years’ martyrdom which + a young man is called upon to endure in the struggle against an + overwhelming force of nature, before he is in a position to fulfil her + laws. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <p> + It is a warm afternoon about Whitsuntide. The appletrees are gorgeous in + their white splendour which nature has showered all over them with a + profuse hand. The breeze shakes the crowns and fills the air with pollen; + a part of it fulfils its destination and creates new life, a part sinks to + the ground and dies. What is a handful of pollen more or less in the + inexhaustible store-house of nature! The fertilised blossom casts off its + delicate petals which flutter to the ground and wither; they decay in the + rain and are ground to dust, to rise again through the sap and re-appear + as blossoms, and this time, perhaps, to become fruit. But now the struggle + begins: those which a kind fate has placed on the sunny side, thrive and + prosper; the seed bud swells, and if no frost intervenes, the fruit, in + due time, will set. But those which look towards the North, the poor + things which grow in the shadow of the others and never see the sun, are + predestined to fade and fall off; the gardener rakes them together and + carts them to the pig-sty. + </p> + <p> + Behold the apple-tree now, its branches laden with half-ripe fruit, + little, round, golden apples with rosy cheeks. A fresh struggle begins: if + all remain alive, the branches will not be able to bear their weight, the + tree will perish. A gale shakes the branches. It requires firm stems to + hold on. Woe to the weaklings! they are condemned to destruction. + </p> + <p> + A fresh danger! The apple-weevil appears upon the scene. It, too, has to + maintain life and to fulfil a duty towards its progeny. The grub eats its + way through the fruit to the stem and the apple falls to the ground. But + the dainty beetle chooses the strongest and soundest for its brood, + otherwise too many of the strong ones would be allowed to live, and + competition would become over-keen. + </p> + <p> + The hour of twilight, the gathering dusk, arouses the passionate instincts + of the beast-world. The night-crow crouches on the newly-dug flower-bed to + lure its mate. Which of the eager males shall carry the prize? Let them + decide the question! + </p> + <p> + The cat, sleek and warm, fresh from her evening milk, steals away from her + corner by the hearth and picks her way carefully among daffodils and + lilies, afraid lest the dew make her coat damp and ragged before her lover + joins her. She sniffs at the young lavender and calls. Her call is + answered by the black tom-cat which appears, broad-backed like a marten, + on the neighbour’s fence; but the gardener’s tortoise-shell approaches + from the cow-shed and the fight begins. Handfuls of the rich, black soil + are flying about in all directions, and the newly-planted radishes and + spinach plants are roughly awakened from their quiet sleep and dreams of + the future. The stronger of the two remains in possession of the field, + and the female awaits complacently the frenetic embraces of the victor. + The vanquished flies to engage in a new struggle in which, perhaps, + victory will smile on him. + </p> + <p> + Nature smiles, content, for she knows of no other sin than the sin against + her law; she is on the side of the strong for her desire is for strong + children, even though she should have to kill the “eternal ego” of the + insignificant individual. And there is no prudery, no hesitation, no fear + of consequences, for nature has plenty of food for all her children—except + mankind. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <p> + After supper he went for a walk in the garden while his father sat down at + his bed-room window to smoke a pipe and read the evening paper. He + strolled along the paths, revelling in the delicious odours which a plant + only exhales when it is in full bloom, and which is the finest and + strongest extract of etheric oils, containing in a condensed form the full + strength of the individual, destined to become the representative of the + species. He listened to the nuptial song of the insects above the lime + trees, which rings in our ears like a funeral dirge: he heard the purring + call of the night-crow; the ardent mewing of the cat, which sounds as if + death, and not life, were wooing; the humming note of the dung-beetle, the + fluttering of the large moths, the thin peeping of the bats. + </p> + <p> + He stopped before a bed of narcissus, gathered one of the while, starry + flowers, and inhaled its perfume until he felt the blood hammering in his + temples. He had never examined this flower minutely. But during the last + term they had read Ovid’s story of Narcissus. He had not discovered a + deeper meaning in the legend. What did it mean, this story of a youth who, + from unrequited love, turned his ardour upon himself and was consumed by + the flame when he fell in love with his own likeness seen in a well? As he + stood, examining the white, cup-shaped petals, pale as the cheeks of an + invalid with fine red lines such as one may see in the faces of + consumptives when a pitiless cough forces the blood into the extremest and + tiniest blood-vessels, he thought of a school-fellow, a young aristocrat, + who was a midshipman now; he looked like that. + </p> + <p> + When he had inhaled the scent of the flower for some time, the strong + odour of cloves disappeared and left but a disagreeable, soapy smell which + made him feel sick. + </p> + <p> + He sauntered on to where the path turned to the right and finally lost + itself in an avenue planted on both sides with elm-trees whose branches + had grown together and formed an arch overhead. In the semi-darkness, far + down the perspective, he could see a large green swing, suspended by + ropes, slowly moving backwards and forwards. A girl stood on the back + board, gently swinging herself by bending her knees and throwing her body + forward, while she clung, with arms raised high above her head, to the + ropes at her side. He recognised the gardener’s daughter, a girl who had + been confirmed last Easter and had just begun to wear long skirts. + To-night, however, she was dressed in one of her old dresses which barely + reached to her ankles. + </p> + <p> + The sight of the young man embarrassed her, for she remembered the + shortness of her skirt, but she nevertheless remained on the swing. He + advanced and looked at her. + </p> + <p> + “Go away, Mr. Theodore,” said the girl, giving the swing a vigorous push. + </p> + <p> + “Why should I?” answered the youth, who felt the draught of her fluttering + skirts on his throbbing temples. + </p> + <p> + “Because I want you to,” said the girl. + </p> + <p> + “Let me come up, too, and I’ll swing you, Gussie,” pleaded Theodore, + springing on to the board. + </p> + <p> + Now he was standing on the swing, facing her. And when they rose into the + air, he felt her skirts flapping against his legs, and when they + descended, he bent over her and looked into her eyes which were brilliant + with fear and enjoyment. Her thin cotton blouse fitted tightly and showed + every line of her young figure; her smiling lips were half-open, + displaying two rows of sound white teeth, which looked as if they would + like to bite or kiss him. + </p> + <p> + Higher and higher rose the swing, until it struck the topmost branches of + the maple. The girl screamed and fell forward, into his arms; he was + pushed over, on to the seat. The trembling of the soft warm body which + nestled closely in his arms, sent an electric shock through his whole + nervous system; a black veil descended before his eyes and he would have + let her go if her left shoulder had not been tightly pressed against his + right arm. + </p> + <p> + The speed of the swing slackened. She rose and sat on the seat facing him. + And thus they remained with downcast eyes, not daring to look one another + in the face. + </p> + <p> + When the swing stopped, the girl slipped off the seat and ran away as if + she were answering a call. Theodore was left alone. He felt the blood + surging in his veins. It seemed to him that his strength was redoubled. + But he could not grasp what had happened. He vaguely conceived himself as + an electrophor whose positive electricity, in discharging, had combined + with the negative. It had happened during a quite ordinary, to all + appearances chaste, contact with a young woman. He had never felt the same + emotion in wrestling, for instance, with his school-fellows in the + play-ground. He had come into contact with the opposite polarity of the + female sex and now he knew what it meant to be a man. For he was a man, + not a precocious boy, kicking over the traces; he was a strong, hardy, + healthy youth. + </p> + <p> + As he strolled along, up and down the garden paths, new thoughts formed in + his brain. Life looked at him with graver eyes, he felt conscious of a + sense of duty. But he was only fifteen years old. He was not yet confirmed + and many years would have to elapse before he would be considered an + independent member of the community, before he would be able to earn a + living for himself, let alone maintain a wife and family. He took life + seriously, the thought of light adventures never occurred to him. Women + were to him something sacred, his opposite pole, the supplement and + completion of himself. He was mature now, bodily and mentally, fit to + enter the arena of life and fight his way. What prevented him from doing + so? His education, which had taught him nothing useful; his social + position, which stood between him and a trade he might have learned. The + Church, which had not yet received his vow of loyalty to her priests; the + State, which was still waiting for his oath of allegiance to Bernadotte + and Nassau; the School, which had not yet trained him sufficiently to + consider him ripe for the University; the secret alliance of the upper + against the lower classes. A whole mountain of follies lay on him and his + young strength. Now that he knew himself to be a man, the whole system of + education seemed to him an institution for the mutilation of body and + soul. They must both be mutilated before he could be allowed to enter the + harem of the world, where manhood is considered a danger; he could find no + other excuse for it. And thus he sank back into his former state of + immaturity. He compared himself to a celery plant, tied up and put under a + flower-pot so as to make it as white and soft as possible, unable to put + forth green leaves in the sunshine, flower, and bear seed. + </p> + <p> + Wrapped in these thoughts he remained in the garden until the clock on the + nearest church tower struck ten. Then he turned towards the house, for it + was bed-time. But the front door was locked. The house-maid, a petticoat + thrown over her nightgown, let him in. A glimpse of her bare shoulders + roused him from his sentimental reveries; he tried to put his arm round + her and kiss her, for at the moment he was conscious of nothing but her + sex. But the maid had already disappeared, shutting the door with a bang. + Overwhelmed with shame he opened his window, cooled his head in a basin of + cold water and lighted his lamp. + </p> + <p> + When he had got into bed, he took up a volume of Arndt’s <i>Spiritual + Voices of the Morning</i>, a book which had belonged to his mother; he + read a chapter of it every evening to be on the safe side, for in the + morning his time was short. The book reminded him of the promise of + chastity given to his mother on her death-bed, and he felt a twinge of + conscience. A fly which had singed its wings on his lamp, and was now + buzzing round the little table by his bedside, turned his thoughts into + another channel; he closed the book and lit a cigarette. He heard his + father take off his boots in the room below, knock out his pipe against + the stove, pour out a glass of water and get ready to go to bed. He + thought how lonely he must be since he had become a widower. In days gone + by he had often heard the subdued voices of his parents through the thin + partition, in intimate conversation on matters on which they always + agreed; but now no voice was audible, nothing but the dead sounds which a + man makes in waiting upon himself, sounds which one must put side by side, + like the figures in a rebus, before one can understand their meaning. + </p> + <p> + He finished his cigarette, blew out the lamp and said the Lord’s Prayer in + an undertone, but he got no farther than the fifth petition. Then he fell + asleep. + </p> + <p> + He awoke from a dream in the middle of the night. He had dreamt that he + held the gardener’s daughter in his arms. He could not remember the + circumstances, for he was quite dazed, and fell asleep again directly. + </p> + <p> + On the following morning he was depressed and had a headache. He brooded + over the future which loomed before him threateningly and filled him with + dread. He realised with a pang how quickly the summer was passing, for the + end of the summer meant the degradation of school-life. Every thought of + his own would be stifled by the thoughts of others; there was no advantage + in being able to think independently; it required a fixed number of years + before one could reach one’s goal. It was like a journey on a good’s + train; the engine was bound to remain for a certain time in the stations, + and when the pressure of the steam became too strong, from want of + consumption of energy, a waste-pipe had to be opened. The Board had drawn + up the time-table and the train was not permitted to arrive at the + stations before its appointed time. That was the principal thing which + mattered. + </p> + <p> + The father noticed the boy’s pallor, but he put it down to grief over his + mother’s death. + </p> + <p> + Autumn came and with it the return to school. Theodore, by dint of much + novel-reading during the summer, and coming in this way, as it were, in + constant contact with grown-up people and their problems and struggles, + had come to look upon himself as a grown-up member of society. Now the + masters treated him with familiarity, the boys took liberties which + compelled him to repay them in kind. And this educational institution, + which was to ennoble him and make him fit to take his place in the + community, what did it teach him? How did it ennoble him? The compendiums, + one and all, were written under the control of the upper classes, for the + sole purpose of forcing the lower classes to look up to their betters. The + schoolmasters frequently reproached their pupils with ingratitude and + impressed on them their utter inability to realise, even faintly, the + advantage they enjoyed in receiving an education which so many of their + poorer fellow-creatures would always lack. No, indeed, the boys were not + sophisticated enough to see through the gigantic fraud and its advantages. + </p> + <p> + But did they ever find true joy, real pleasure in the subjects of their + studies for their own sakes? Never! Therefore the teachers had to appeal + incessantly to the lower passions of their pupils, to ambition, + self-interest, material advantages. + </p> + <p> + What a miserable make-believe school was! Not one of the boys believed + that he would reap any benefit from repeating the names and dates of hated + kings in their proper sequence, from learning dead languages, proving + axioms, defining “a matter of course,” and counting the anthers of plants + and the joints on the hindlegs of insects, to knowing the end no more + about them than their Latin names. How many long hours were wasted in the + vain attempt to divide an angle into three equal sections, a thing which + can be done so easily in a minute in an <i>unscientific</i> (that is to + say practical) way by using a graduator. + </p> + <p> + How they scorned everything practical! His sisters, who were taught French + from Ollendorf’s grammar, were able to speak the language after two years’ + study; but the college boys could not say a single sentence after six. + Ollendorf was a name which they pronounced with pity and contempt. It was + the essence of all that was stupid. + </p> + <p> + But when his sister asked for an explanation and enquired whether the + purpose of spoken language was not the expression of human thought, the + young sophist replied with a phrase picked up from one of the masters who + in his turn had borrowed it from Talleyrand. Language was invented to hide + one’s thoughts. This, of course, was beyond the horizon of a young girl + (how well men know how to hide their shortcomings), but henceforth she + believed her brother to be tremendously learned, and stopped arguing with + him. + </p> + <p> + And was there not even a worse stumbling-block in aesthetics, delusive and + deceptive, casting a veil of borrowed splendour and sham beauty over + everything? They sang of “The Knights’ Vigil of Light.” What knights’ + vigil? With patents of nobility and students’ certificates; false + testimonials, as they might have told themselves. Of light? That was to + say of the upper classes who had the greatest interest in keeping the + lower classes in darkness, a task in which they were ably assisted by + church and school. “And onward, onward, on the path of light!” + </p> + <p> + Things were always called by the wrong name. And if it so happened that a + light-bearer arose from the lower classes, everybody was ready and + prepared to extinguish his torch. Oh! youthful, healthy host of fighters! + How healthy they were, all these young men, enervated by idleness, + unsatisfied desires and ambitions, who scorned every man who had not the + means to pay for a University education! What splendid liars they were, + the poets of the upper classes! Were they the deceivers or the deceived? + </p> + <p> + What was the usual subject of the young men’s conversation? Their studies? + Never! Once in a way, perhaps, they would talk of certificates. No, their + conversation was of things obscene; of appointments with women; of + billiards and drink; of certain diseases which they had heard discussed by + their elder brothers. They lounged about in the afternoon and “held the + reviews,” and the best informed of them knew the name of the officer and + could tell the others where his mistress lived. + </p> + <p> + Once two members of the “Knights’ Vigil of Light,” had dined in the + company of two women on the terrace of a high-class restaurant in the + Zoological Gardens. For this offence they were expelled from school. They + were punished for their naïveté, not because their conduct was considered + vicious, for a year after they passed their examinations and went to the + University, gaining in this way a whole year; and when they had completed + their studies at Upsala, they were attached to the Embassy in one of the + capitals of Europe, to represent the United Kingdoms of Sweden and Norway. + </p> + <p> + In these surroundings Theodore spent the best part of his youth. He had + seen through the fraud, but was compelled to acquiesce! Again and again he + asked himself the question: What can I do? There was no answer. And so he + became an accessory and learned to hold his tongue. + </p> + <p> + His confirmation appeared to him to be very much on a level with his + school experience. A young minister, an ardent pietist, was to teach him + in four months Luther’s Catechism, regardless of the fact that he was well + versed in theology, exegesis and dogmatics, besides having read the New + Testament in Greek. Nevertheless the strict pietism, which demanded + absolute truth in thought and action, could not fail to make a great + impression on him. + </p> + <p> + When the catechumens were assembled for the first time, Theodore found + himself quite unexpectedly surrounded by a totally different class of boys + to whom he had been used at school. When he entered the assembly-room he + was met by the stare of something like a hundred inimical eyes. There were + tobacco binders, chimney sweeps, apprentices of all trades. They were on + bad terms and freely abused one another, but this enmity between the + different trades was only superficial; however much they quarrelled, they + yet held together. He seemed to breathe a strangely stifling atmosphere; + the hatred with which they greeted him was not unmixed with contempt, the + reverse of a certain respect or envy. He looked in vain for a friend, for + a companion, like-minded, dressed as he was. There was not a single one. + The parish was poor, the rich people sent their children to the German + church which was then the fashion. It was in the company of the children + of the people, the lower classes, that he was to approach the altar, as + their equal. He asked himself what it was that separated him from these + boys? Were they not, bodily, endowed with the same gifts as he? No doubt, + for every one of them earned his living, and some of them helped to keep + their parents. Were they less gifted, mentally? He did not think so, for + their remarks gave evidence of keen powers of observation; he would have + laughed at many of their witty remarks if he had not been conscious of his + superior caste. There was no definite line of demarcation between him and + the fools who were his school-fellows. But there was a line here Was it + the shabby clothes, the plain faces, the coarse hands, which formed the + barrier? Partly, he thought. Their plainness, especially, repulsed him. + But were they worse than others because they were plain? + </p> + <p> + He was carrying a foil, as he had a fencing lesson later on. He put it in + a corner of the room, hoping that it would escape attention. But it had + been seen already. Nobody knew what kind of a thing it really was, but + everybody recognised it as a weapon of some sort. Some of the boldest + busied themselves about the corner, so as to have a look at it. They + fingered the covering of the handle, scratched the guard with their nails, + bent the blade, handled the small leather ball. They were like hares + sniffing at a gun which had been lost in the wood. They did not understand + its use, but they knew it for something inimical, something with a hidden + meaning. Presently a belt-maker’s apprentice, whose brother was in the + Life Guards, joined the inquisitive throng and at once decided the + question: “Can’t you see that it is a sword, you fools?” he shouted, with + a look at Theodore. It was a respectful look, but a look which also hinted + at a secret understanding between them, which, correctly interpreted, + meant: You and I understand these things! But a young rope-maker, who had + once been a trumpeter in a military band, considered this giving of a + verdict without consulting him a personal slight and declared that he + “would be hanged if it wasn’t a rapier!” The consequence was a fight which + transformed the place into a bear-garden, dense with dust and re-echoing + with screams and yells. + </p> + <p> + The door opened and the minister stood on the threshold. He was a pale + young man, very thin, with watery blue eyes and a face disfigured by a + rash. He shouted at the boys. The wild beasts ceased fighting. He began + talking of the precious blood of Christ and the power of the Evil One over + the human heart. After a little while he succeeded in inducing the hundred + boys to sit down on the forms and chairs. But now he was quite out of + breath and the atmosphere was thick with dust. He glanced at the window + and said in a faint voice: “Open the sash!” This request re-awakened the + only half-subdued passions. Twenty-five boys made a rush for the window + and tried to seize the window cord. + </p> + <p> + “Go to your places at once!” screamed the minister, stretching out his + hand for his cane. + </p> + <p> + There was a momentary silence during which the minister tried to think of + a way of having the sash raised without a fight. + </p> + <p> + “You,” he said at last to a timid little fellow, “go and open the window!” + </p> + <p> + The small boy went to the window and tried to disentangle the window cord. + The others looked on in breathless silence, when suddenly a big lad, in + sailor’s clothes, who had just come home on the brig <i>Carl Johan</i>, + lost patience. + </p> + <p> + “The devil take me if I don’t show you what a lad can do,” he shouted, + throwing off his coat and jumping on the window sill; there was a flash + from his cutlass and the rope was cut. + </p> + <p> + “Cable’s cut!” he laughed, as the minister with a hysterical cry, + literally drove him to his seat. + </p> + <p> + “The rope was so entangled that there was nothing for it but to cut it,” + he assured him, as he sat down. + </p> + <p> + The minister was furious. He had come from a small town in the provinces + and had never conceived the possibility of so much sin, so much wickedness + and immorality. He had never come into contact with lads so far advanced + on the road to damnation. And he talked at great length of the precious + blood of Christ. + </p> + <p> + Not one of them understood what he said, for they did not realise that + they had fallen, since they had never bee different. The boys received his + words with coldness and indifference. + </p> + <p> + The minister rambled on and spoke of Christ’s precious wounds, but not one + of them took his words to heart, for not one of them was conscious of + having wounded Christ. He changed the subject and spoke of the devil, but + that was a topic so familiar to them that it made no impression. At last + he hit on the right thing. He began to talk of their confirmation which + was to take place in the coming spring. He reminded them of their parents, + anxious that their children should play a part in the life of the + community; when he went on to speak of employers who refused to employ + lads who had not been confirmed, his listeners became deeply interested at + once, and every one of them understood the great importance of the coming + ceremony. Now he was sincere, and the young minds grasped what he was + talking about; the noisiest among them became quiet. + </p> + <p> + The registration began. What a number of marriage certificates were + missing! How could the children come to Christ when their parents had not + been legally married? How could they approach the altar when their fathers + had been in prison? Oh! what sinners they were! + </p> + <p> + Theodore was deeply moved by the exhibition of so much shame and disgrace. + He longed to tear his thoughts away from the subject, but was unable to do + so. Now it was his turn to hand in his certificates and the minister read + out: son: Theodore, born on such and such a date; parents: professor and + knight ... a faint smile flickered like a feeble sunbeam over his face, he + gave him a friendly nod and asked: “And how is your dear father?” But when + he saw that the mother was dead (a fact of which he was perfectly well + aware) his face clouded over. “She was a child of God,” he said, as if he + were talking to himself, in a gushing, sympathetic, whining voice, but the + remark conveyed at the same time a certain reproach against the “dear + father,” who was only a professor and knight. After that Theodore could + go. + </p> + <p> + When he left the assembly-room he felt that he had gone through an almost + impossible experience. Were all those lads really depraved because they + used oaths and coarse language, as his companions, his father, his uncle, + and all the upper classes did at times? What did the minister mean when he + talked of immorality? They were more savage than the spoilt children of + the wealthy, but that was because they were more fully alive. It was + unfair to blame them for missing marriage certificates. True, his father + had never committed a theft, but there was no necessity for a man to steal + if he had an income of six thousand crowns and could please himself. The + act would be absurd or abnormal in such a case. + </p> + <p> + Theodore went back to school realising what it meant “to have received an + education”; here nobody was badgered for small faults. As little notice as + possible was taken of one’s own or one’s parent’s weaknesses, one was + among equals and understood one another. + </p> + <p> + After school one “held the reviews,” sneaked into a cafe and drank a + liqueur, and finally went to the fencing-room. He looked at the young + officers who treated him as their equal, observed all those young bloods + with their supple limbs, pleasant manners and smiling faces, every one of + them certain that a good dinner was awaiting him at home, and became + conscious of the existence of two worlds: an upper and an under-world. He + remembered the gloomy assembly-room and the wretched assembly he had just + left with a pang; all their wounds and hidden defects were mercilessly + exposed and examined through a magnifying-glass, so that the lower classes + might acquire that true humility failing which the upper classes cannot + enjoy their amiable weaknesses in peace. And for the first time something + jarring had come into this life. + </p> + <p> + However much Theodore was tossed about between his natural yearning for + the only half-realised temptations of the world, and his newly formed + desire to turn his back on this world and his mind heavenwards, he did not + break the promise given to his mother. The religious teaching which he and + the other catechumens received from the minister in the church, did not + fail to impress him deeply. He was often gloomy and wrapped in thought and + felt that life was not what it ought to be. He had a dim notion that once + upon a time a terrible crime had been committed, which it was now + everybody’s business to hide by practising countless deceptions; he + compared himself to a fly caught in a spider’s web: the more it struggled + to regain its freedom, the more it entangled itself, until at last it died + miserably, strangled by the cruel threads. + </p> + <p> + One evening—the minister scorned no trick likely to produce an + effect on his hard-headed pupils—they were having a lesson in the + choir. It was in January. Two gas jets lighted up the choir, illuminating + and distorting the marble figures on the altar. The whole of the large + church with its two barrel-vaults, which crossed one another, lay in + semi-darkness. In the background the shining organ pipes faintly reflected + the gas flames; above it the angels blowing their trumpets to summon the + sleepers before the judgment seat of their maker, looked merely like + sinister, threatening human figures above life size; the cloisters were + lost in complete darkness. + </p> + <p> + The minister had explained the seventh commandment. He had spoken of + immorality between married and unmarried people. He could not explain to + his pupils what immorality between husband and wife meant, although he was + a married man himself; but on the subject of immorality in all its other + aspects he was well-informed. He went on to the subject of self-abuse. As + he pronounced the word a rustling sound passed through the rows of young + men; they stared at him, with white cheeks and hollow eyes, as if a + phantom had appeared in their midst. As long as he kept to the tortures of + hell fire, they remained fairly indifferent, but when he took up a book + and read to them accounts of youths who had died at the age of twenty-five + of consumption of the spine, they collapsed in their seats, and felt as if + the floor were giving way beneath them! He told them the story of a young + boy who was committed to an asylum at the age of twelve, and died at the + age of fourteen, having found peace in the faith of his Redeemer. They saw + before their shrinking eyes a hundred corpses, washed and shrouded. “There + is but one remedy against this evil,” went on the minister, “the precious + wounds of Christ.” But how this remedy was to be used against sexual + precocity, he did not tell them. He admonished them not to go to dances, + to shun theatres and gaming-houses, and above all things, to avoid women; + that is to say to act in exact contradiction to their inclinations. That + this vice contradicts and utterly confounds he pronouncement of the + community that a man is not mature until he is twenty-one, was passed over + in silence. Whether it could be prevented by early marriages (supposing a + means of providing food for all instead of banquets for a few could be + found) remained an open question. The final issue was that one should + throw oneself into the arms of Christ, that is to say, go to church, and + leave the care of temporal things to the upper classes. + </p> + <p> + After this admonishment the minister requested the first five on the first + form to stay behind. He wished to speak to them in private. The first five + looked as if they had been sentenced to death. Their chests contracted; + they breathed with difficulty, and a careful observer might have noticed + that their hair had risen an inch at the roots and lay over their skulls + in damp strands like the hair of a corpse. Their eyes stared from their + blanched sockets like two round glass bullets set in leather, motionless, + not knowing whether to face the question with a bold front, or hide behind + an impudent lie. + </p> + <p> + After the prayer the hymn of Christ’s wounds was sung; to-night it sounded + like the singing of consumptives; every now and then it died away + altogether, or was interrupted by a dry cough, like the cough of a man who + is dying of thirst. Then they began to file out. One of the five attempted + to steal away, but the minister called him back. + </p> + <p> + It was a terrible moment. Theodore who sat on the first form was one of + the five. He felt sick at heart. Not because he was guilty of the offence + indicated, but because in his heart he considered it an insult to a man + thus to have to lay bare the most secret places of his soul. + </p> + <p> + The other four sat down, as far from each other as they could. The + belt-maker’s apprentice, who was one of them, tried to make a joke, but + the words refused to come. They saw themselves confronted by the + police-court, the prison, the hospital and, in the background, the asylum. + They did not know what was going to happen, but they felt instinctively + that a species of scourging awaited them. Their only comfort in their + distressing situation was the fact that <i>he</i>, Mr. Theodore, was one + of them. It was not clear to them why that fact should be a comfort, but + they knew intuitively that no evil would happen to the son of a professor. + </p> + <p> + “Come along, Wennerstroem,” said the minister, after he had lighted the + gas in the vestry. + </p> + <p> + Wennerstroem went and the door closed behind him. The four remained seated + on their forms, vainly trying to discover a comfortable position for their + limbs. + </p> + <p> + After a while Wennerstroem returned, with red eyes, trembling with + excitement; he immediately went down the corridor and out into the night. + </p> + <p> + When he stood in the churchyard which lay silent under a heavy cover of + snow, he recapitulated all that had happened in the vestry. The minister + had asked him whether he had sinned? No, he had not. Did he have dreams? + Yes! He was told that dreams were equally sinful, because they proved that + the heart was wicked, and God looked at the heart. “He trieth the heart + and reins, and on the last day he will judge every one of us for every + sinful thought, and dreams are thoughts. Christ has said: Give me your + heart, my son! Go to Him! Pray, pray, pray! Whatsoever is chaste, + whatsoever is pure, whatsoever is lovely—that is He. The alpha and + the omega, life and happiness. Chasten the flesh and be strong in prayer. + Go in the name of the Lord and sin no more!” + </p> + <p> + He felt indignant, but he was also crushed. In vain did he struggle to + throw off his depression, he had not been taught sufficient common-sense + at school to use it as a weapon against this Jesuitical sophistry. It was + true, his knowledge of psychology enabled him to modify the statement that + dreams are thoughts; dreams are fancies, he mused, creations of the + imagination; but God has no regard for words! Logic taught him that there + was something unnatural in his premature desires. He could not marry at + the age of sixteen, since he was unable to support a wife; but why he was + unable to support a wife, although he felt himself to be a man, was a + problem which he could not solve. However anxious he might be to get + married, the laws of society which are made by the upper classes and + protected by bayonets, would prevent him. Consequently nature must have + been sinned against in some way, for a man was mature long before he was + able to earn a living. It must be degeneracy. His imagination must be + degenerate; it was for him to purify it by prayer and sacrifice. + </p> + <p> + When he arrived home, he found his father and sisters at supper. He was + ashamed to sit down with them, for he felt degraded. His father asked him, + as usual, whether the date of the confirmation had been fixed. Theodore + did not know. He touched no food, pretending that he was not well; the + truth was that he did not dare to eat any supper. He went into his bedroom + and read an essay by Schartau which the minister had lent him. The subject + was the vanity of reason. And here, just here, where all his hopes of + arriving at a clear understanding were centred, the light failed. Reason + which he had dared to hope would some day guide him out of the darkness + into the light, reason, too, was sin; the greatest of all sins, for it + questioned God’s very existence, tried to understand what was not meant to + be understood. Why <i>it</i> was not meant to be understood, was not + explained; probably it was because if <i>it</i> had been understood the + fraud would have been discovered. + </p> + <p> + He rebelled no longer, but surrendered himself. Before going to bed he + read two <i>Morning Voices</i> from Arndt, recited the Creed, the Lord’s + Prayer and the Blessing. He felt very hungry; a fact which he realised + with a certain spiteful pleasure, for it seemed to him that his enemy was + suffering. + </p> + <p> + With these thoughts he fell asleep. He awoke in the middle of the night. + He had dreamt of a champagne supper in the company of a girl. And the + whole terrible evening arose fresh in his memory. + </p> + <p> + He leapt out of bed with a bound, threw his sheets and blankets on the + floor and lay down to sleep on the bare mattress, covering himself with + nothing but a thin coverlet. He was cold and hungry, but he must subdue + the devil. Again he repeated the Lord’s Prayer, with additions of his own. + By and by his thoughts grew confused, the strained expression of his + features relaxed, a smile softened the expression of his mouth; lovely + figures appeared before him, serene and smiling, he heard subdued voices, + half-stifled laughter, a few bars from a waltz, saw sparkling glasses and + frank and merry faces with candid eyes, which met his own unabashed; + suddenly a curtain was parted in the middle; a charming little face peeped + through the red silk draperies, with smiling lips and dancing eyes; the + slender throat is bare, the beautiful sloping shoulders look as if they + had been modelled by a caressing hand; she holds out her arms and he draws + her to his thumping heart. + </p> + <p> + The clock was striking three. Again he had been worsted in the fight. + </p> + <p> + Determined to win, he picked up the mattress and threw it out of the bed. + Then he knelt on the cold floor and fervently prayed to God for strength, + for he felt that he was indeed wrestling with the devil. When he had + finished his prayer he lay down on the bare frame, and with a feeling of + satisfaction felt the ropes and belting cutting into his arms and shins. + </p> + <p> + He awoke in the morning in a high fever. + </p> + <p> + He was laid up for six weeks. When he arose from his bed of sickness, he + felt better than he had ever felt before. The rest, the good food and the + medicine had increased his strength, and the struggle was now twice as + hard. But he continued to struggle. + </p> + <p> + His confirmation took place in the spring. The moving scene in which the + lower classes promise on oath never to interfere with these things which + the upper classes consider their privilege, made a lasting impression on + him. It didn’t trouble him that the minister offered him wine bought from + the wine-merchant Högstedt at sixty-five öre the pint, and wafers from + Lettstroem, the baker, at one crown a pound, as the flesh and blood of the + great agitator Jesus of Nazareth, who was done to death nineteen hundred + years ago. He didn’t think about it, for one didn’t think in those days, + one had emotions. + </p> + <p> + A year after his confirmation he passed his final examination. The smart + little college cap was a source of great pleasure to him; without being + actually conscious of it, he felt that he, as a member of the upper + classes, had received a charter. They were not a little proud of their + knowledge, too, these young men, for the masters had pronounced them + “mature.” The conceited youths! If at least they had mastered all the + nonsense of which they boasted! If anybody had listened to their + conversation at the banquet given in their honour, it would have been a + revelation to him. They declared openly that they had not acquired five + per cent. of the knowledge which ought to have been in their possession; + they assured everybody who had ears to listen that it was a miracle that + they had passed; the uninitiated would not have believed a word of it. And + some of the young masters, now that the barrier between pupil and teacher + was removed, and simulation was no longer necessary, swore solemnly, with + half-intoxicated gestures, that there was not a single master in the whole + school who would not have been plucked. A sober person could not help + drawing the conclusion that the examination was like a line which could be + drawn at will between upper and lower classes; and then he saw in the + miracle nothing but a gigantic fraud. + </p> + <p> + It was one of the masters who, sipping a glass of punch, maintained that + only an idiot could imagine that a human brain could remember at the same + time: the three thousand dates mentioned in history; the names of the five + thousand towns situated in all parts of the world; the names of six + hundred plants and seven hundred animals; the bones in the human body, the + stones which form the crust of the earth, all theological disputes, one + thousand French words, one thousand English, one thousand German, one + thousand Latin, one thousand Greek, half a million rules and exceptions to + the rules: five hundred mathematical, physical, geometrical, chemical + formulas. He was willing to prove that in order to be capable of such a + feat the brain would have to be as large as the cupola of the Observatory + at Upsala. Humboldt, he went on to say, finally forgot his tables, and the + professor of astronomy at Lund had been unable to divide two whole numbers + of six figures each. The newly-fledged under-graduates imagined that they + knew six languages, and yet they knew no more than five thousand words at + most of the twenty thousand which composed their mother tongue. And hadn’t + he seen how they cheated? Oh! he knew all their tricks! He had seen the + dates written on their finger nails; he had watched them consulting books + under cover of their desks, he had heard them whispering to one another! + But, he concluded, what is one to do? Unless one closes an eye to these + things, the supply of students is bound to come to an end. During the + summer Theodore remained at home, spending much of his time in the garden. + He brooded over the problem of his future; what profession was he to + choose? He had gained so much insight into the methods of the huge + Jesuitical community which, under the name of the upper classes, + constituted society, that he felt dissatisfied with the world and decided + to enter the Church to save himself from despair. And yet the world + beckoned to him. It lay before him, fair and bright, and his young, + fermenting blood yearned for life. He spent himself in the struggle and + his idleness added to his torments. + </p> + <p> + Theodore’s increasing melancholy and waning health began to alarm his + father. He had no doubt about the cause, but he could not bring himself to + talk to his son on such a delicate subject. + </p> + <p> + One Sunday afternoon the Professor’s brother who was an officer in the + Pioneers, called. They were sitting in the garden, sipping their coffee. + </p> + <p> + “Have you noticed the change in Theodore?” asked the Professor. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, his time has come,” answered the Captain. + </p> + <p> + “I believe it has come long ago.” + </p> + <p> + “I wish you’d talk to him, I can’t do it.” + </p> + <p> + “If I were a bachelor, I should play the part of the uncle,” said the + Captain; “as it is, I’ll ask Gustav to do it. The boy must see something + of life, or he’ll go wrong. Hot stuff these Wennerstroems, what?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said the Professor, “I was a man at fifteen, but I had a + school-friend who was never confirmed because he was a father at + thirteen.” + </p> + <p> + “Look at Gustav! Isn’t he a fine fellow? I’m hanged if he isn’t as broad + across the back as an old captain! He’s a handful!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” answered the Professor, “he costs me a lot, but after all, I’d + rather pay than see the boy running any risks. I wish you’d ask Gustav to + take Theodore about with him a little, just to rouse him.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! with pleasure!” answered the Captain. + </p> + <p> + And so the matter was settled. + </p> + <p> + One evening in July, when the summer is in its prime and all the blossoms + which the spring has fertilised ripen into fruit, Theodore was sitting in + his bed-room, waiting. He had pinned a text against his wall. “Come to + Jesus,” it said, and it was intended as a hint to the lieutenant not to + argue with him when he occasionally came home from barracks for a few + minutes. Gustav was of a lively disposition, “a handful,” as his uncle had + said. He wasted no time in brooding. He had promised to call for Theodore + at seven o’clock; they were going to make arrangements for the celebration + of the professor’s birthday. Theodore’s secret plan was to convert his + brother, and Gustav’s equally secret intention was to make his younger + brother take a more reasonable view of life. + </p> + <p> + Punctually at seven o’clock, a cab stopped before the house, (the + lieutenant invariably arrived in a cab) and immediately after Theodore + heard the ringing of his spurs and the rattling of his sword on the + stairs. + </p> + <p> + “Good evening, you old mole,” said the elder brother with a laugh. He was + the picture of health and youth. His highly-polished Hessian boots + revealed a pair of fine legs, his tunic outlined the loins of a + cart-horse; the golden bandolier of his cartridge box made his chest + appear broader and his sword-belt showed off a pair of enormous thighs. + </p> + <p> + He glanced at the text and grinned, but said nothing. + </p> + <p> + “Come along, old man, let’s be off to Bellevue! We’ll call on the gardener + there and make arrangements for the old man’s birthday. Put on your hat, + and come, old chap!” + </p> + <p> + Theodore tried to think of an excuse, but the brother took him by the arm, + put a hat on his head, back to front, pushed a cigarette between his lips + and opened the door. Theodore felt like a fish out of water, but he went + with his brother. + </p> + <p> + “To Bellevue!” said the lieutenant to the cab-driver, “and mind you make + your thoroughbreds fly!” + </p> + <p> + Theodore could not help being amused. It would never have occurred to him + to address an elderly married man, like the cabman, with so much + familiarity. + </p> + <p> + On the way the lieutenant talked of everything under the sun and stared at + every pretty girl they passed. + </p> + <p> + They met a funeral procession on its return from the cemetery. + </p> + <p> + “Did you notice that devilish pretty girl in the last coach?” asked + Gustav. + </p> + <p> + Theodore had not seen her and did not want to see her. + </p> + <p> + They passed an omnibus full of girls of the barmaid type. The lieutenant + stood up, unconcernedly, in the public thoroughfare, and kissed his hands + to them. He really behaved like a madman. + </p> + <p> + The business at Bellevue was soon settled. On their return the cab-driver + drove them, without waiting for an order, to “The Equerry,” a restaurant + where Gustav was evidently well-known. + </p> + <p> + “Let’s go and have something to eat,” said the lieutenant, pushing his + brother out of the cab. + </p> + <p> + Theodore was fascinated. He was no abstainer and saw nothing wrong in + entering a public-house, although it never occurred to him to do so. He + followed, though not without a slight feeling of uneasiness. + </p> + <p> + They were received in the hall by two girls. “Good evening, little doves,” + said the lieutenant, and kissed them both on the lips. “Let me introduce + you to my learned brother; he’s very young and innocent, not at all like + me; what do you say, Jossa?” + </p> + <p> + The girls looked shyly at Theodore, who did not know which way to turn. + His brother’s language appeared to him unutterably impudent. + </p> + <p> + On their way upstairs they met a dark-haired little girl, who had + evidently been crying; she looked quiet and modest and made a good + impression on Theodore. + </p> + <p> + The lieutenant did not kiss her, but he pulled out his handkerchief and + dried her eyes. Then he ordered an extravagant supper. + </p> + <p> + They were in a bright and pretty room, hung with mirrors and containing a + piano, a perfect room for banquetting. The lieutenant opened the piano + with his sword, and before Theodore knew where he was, he was sitting on + the music-stool, and his hands were resting on the keyboard. + </p> + <p> + “Play us a waltz,” commanded the lieutenant, and Theodore played a waltz. + The lieutenant took off his sword and danced with Jossa; Theodore heard + his spurs knocking against the legs of the chairs and tables. Then he + threw himself on the sofa and shouted: + </p> + <p> + “Come here, ye slaves, and fan me!” + </p> + <p> + Theodore began to play softly and presently he was absorbed in the music + of Gounod’s <i>Faust</i>. He did not dare to turn round. + </p> + <p> + “Go and kiss him,” whispered the brother. + </p> + <p> + But the girls felt shy. They were almost afraid of him and his melancholy + music. + </p> + <p> + The boldest of them, however, went up to the piano. + </p> + <p> + “You are playing from the Freischütz, aren’t you?” she asked. + </p> + <p> + “No,” said Theodore, politely, “I’m playing Gounod’s <i>Faust</i>.” + </p> + <p> + “Your brother looks frightfully respectable,” said the little dark one, + whose name was Rieke; “he’s different to you, you old villain.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! well, he’s going into the Church,” whispered the lieutenant. + </p> + <p> + These words made a great impression on the girls, and henceforth they only + kissed the lieutenant when Theodore’s back was turned, and looked at + Theodore shyly and apprehensively, like fowls at a chained mastiff. + </p> + <p> + Supper appeared, a great number of courses. There were eighteen dishes, + not counting the hot ones. + </p> + <p> + Gustav poured out the liqueurs. + </p> + <p> + “Your health, you old hypocrite!” he laughed. + </p> + <p> + Theodore swallowed the liqueur. A delicious warmth ran through his limbs, + a thin, warm veil fell over his eyes, he felt ravenous like a starving + beast. What a banquet it was! The fresh salmon with its peculiar flavour, + and the dill with its narcotic aroma; the radishes which seem to scrape + the throat and call for beer; the small beef-steaks and sweet Portuguese + onions, which made him think of dancing girls; the fried lobster which + smelt of the sea; the chicken stuffed with parsley which reminded him of + the gardener, and the first gerkins with their poisonous flavour of + verdigris which made such a jolly, crackling sound between his crunching + teeth. The porter flowed through his veins like hot streams of lava; they + drank champagne after the strawberries; a waitress brought the foaming + drink which bubbled in the glasses like a fountain. They poured out a + glass for her. And then they talked of all sorts of things. + </p> + <p> + Theodore sat there like a tree in which the sap is rising. He had eaten a + good supper and felt as if a whole volcano was seething in his inside. New + thoughts, new emotions, new ideas, new points of view fluttered round his + brow like butterflies. He went to the piano and played, he himself knew + not what. The ivory keys under his hands were like a heap of bones from + which his spirit drew life and melody. + </p> + <p> + He did not know how long he had been playing, but when he turned, round he + saw his brother entering the room. He looked like a god, radiating life + and strength. Behind him came Rieke with a bowl of punch, and immediately + after all the girls came upstairs. The lieutenant drank to each one of + them separately; Theodore found that everything was as it should be and + finally became so bold that he kissed Rieke on the shoulder. But she + looked annoyed and drew away from him, and he felt ashamed. + </p> + <p> + When Theodore found himself alone in his room, he had a feeling as if the + whole world were turned upside down. He tore the text from the wall, not + because he no longer believed in Jesus, but because its being pinned + against the wall struck him as a species of bragging. He was amazed to + find that religion sat on him as loosely as a Sunday suit, and he asked + himself whether it was not unseemly to go about during the whole week in + Sunday clothes. After all he was but an ordinary, commonplace person with + whom he was well content, and he came to the conclusion that he had a + better chance of living in peace with himself if he lived a simple, + unpretentious, unassuming life. + </p> + <p> + He slept soundly during the night, undisturbed by dreams. + </p> + <p> + When he arose on the following morning, his pale cheeks looked fuller and + there was a new gladness in his heart. He went out for a walk and suddenly + found himself in the country. The thought struck him that he might go to + the restaurant and look up the girls. He went into the large room; there + he found Rieke and Jossa alone, in morning dresses, snubbing gooseberries. + Before he knew what he was doing, he was sitting at the table beside them + with a pair of scissors in his hand, helping them. They talked of + Theodore’s brother and the pleasant evening they had spent together. Not a + single loose remark was made. They were just like a happy family; surely + he had fallen in good hands, he was among friends. + </p> + <p> + When they had finished with the gooseberries, he ordered coffee and + invited the girls to share it with him. Later on the proprietress came and + read the paper to them. He felt at home. + </p> + <p> + He repeated his visit. One afternoon he went upstairs, to look for Rieke. + She was sewing a seam. Theodore asked her whether he was in her way. “Not + at all,” she replied, “on the contrary.” They talked of his brother who + was away at camp, and would be away for another two months. Presently he + ordered some punch and their intimacy grew. + </p> + <p> + On another occasion Theodore met her in the Park. She was gathering + flowers. They both sat down in the grass. She was wearing a light summer + dress, the material of which was so thin that it plainly revealed her + slight girlish figure. He put his arms round her waist and kissed her. She + returned his kisses and he drew her to him in a passionate embrace; but + she tore herself away and told him gravely that if he did not behave + himself she would never meet him again. + </p> + <p> + They went on meeting one another for two months. Theodore had fallen in + love with her. He had long and serious conversations with her on the most + sacred duties of life, on love, on religion, on everything, and + between-whiles he spoke to her of his passion. But she invariably + confounded him with his own arguments. Then he felt ashamed of having + harboured base thoughts of so innocent a girl, and finally his passion was + transformed into admiration for this poor little thing, who had managed to + keep herself unspotted in the midst of temptation. + </p> + <p> + He had given up the idea of going into the Church; he determined to take + the doctor’s degree and—who knows—perhaps marry Rieke. He read + poetry to her while she did needlework. She let him kiss her as much as he + liked, she allowed him to fondle and caress her; but that was the limit. + </p> + <p> + At last his brother returned from camp. He immediately ordered a banquet + at “The Equerry”; Theodore was invited. But he was made to play all the + time. He was in the middle of a waltz, to which nobody danced, when he + happened to look round; he was alone. He rose and went into the corridor, + passed a long row of doors, and at last came to a bed-room. There he saw a + sight which made him turn round, seize his hat and disappear into the + darkness. + </p> + <p> + It was dawn when he reached his own bed-room, alone, annihilated, robbed + of his faith in life, in love, and, of course, in women, for to him there + was but one woman in the world, and that was Rieke from “The Equerry.” On + the fifteenth of September he went to Upsala to study theology. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <p> + The years passed. His sound common-sense was slowly extinguished by all + the nonsense with which he had to fill his brain daily and hourly. But at + night he was powerless to resist. Nature burst her bonds and took by force + what rebellious man denied her. He lost his health; all his skull bones + were visible in his haggard face, his complexion was sallow and his skin + looked damp and clammy; ugly pimples appeared between the scanty locks of + his beard. His eyes were without lustre, his hands so emaciated that the + joints seemed to poke through the skin. He looked like the illustration to + an essay on human vice, and yet he lived a perfectly pure life. + </p> + <p> + One day the professor of Christian Ethics, a married man with very strict + ideas on morality, called on him and asked him pointblank whether he had + anything on his conscience; if so, he advised him to make a clean breast + of it. Theodore answered that he had nothing to confess, but that he was + unhappy. Thereupon the professor exhorted him to watch and pray and be + strong. + </p> + <p> + His brother had written him a long letter, begging him not to take a + certain stupid matter too much to heart. He told him that it was absurd to + take a girl seriously. His philosophy, and he had always found it + answering admirably, was to pay debts incurred and go; to play while one + was young, for the gravity of life made itself felt quite soon enough. + Marriage was nothing but a civil institution for the protection of the + children. There was plenty of time for it. + </p> + <p> + Theodore replied at some length in a letter imbued with true Christian + sentiment, which the lieutenant left unanswered. + </p> + <p> + After passing his first examination in the spring, Theodore was obliged to + spend a summer at Sköfde, in order to undergo the cold water cure. In the + autumn he returned to Upsala. His newly-regained strength was merely so + much fresh fuel to the fire. + </p> + <p> + Matters grew worse and worse. His hair had grown so thin that the scalp + was plainly visible. He walked with dragging footsteps and whenever his + fellow students met him in the street, they cut him as if he were + possessed of all the vices. He noticed it and shunned them in his turn. He + only left his rooms in the evening. He did not dare to go to bed at night. + The iron which he had taken to excess, had ruined his digestion, and in + the following summer the doctors sent him to Karlsbad. + </p> + <p> + On his return to Upsala, in the autumn, a rumour got abroad, an ugly + rumour, which hung over the town like a black cloud. It was as if a drain + had been left open and men were suddenly reminded that the town, that + splendid creation of civilisation, was built over a sea of corruption, + which might at any moment burst its bonds and poison the inhabitants. It + was said that Theodore Wennerstroem, in a paroxysm of passion had + assaulted one of his friends, and the rumour did not lie. + </p> + <p> + His father went to Upsala and had an interview with the Dean of the + Theological Faculty. The professor of pathology was present. What was to + be done? The doctor remained silent. They pressed him for his opinion. + </p> + <p> + “Since you ask me,” he said, “I must give you an answer; but you know as + well as I do that there is but one remedy.” + </p> + <p> + “And that is?” asked the theologian. + </p> + <p> + “Need you ask?” replied the doctor. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said the theologian, who was a married man. “Surely, nature does + not require immorality from a man?” + </p> + <p> + The father said that he quite understood the case, but that he was afraid + of making recommendations to his son, on account of the risks the latter + would run. + </p> + <p> + “If he can’t take care of himself he must be a fool,” said the doctor. + </p> + <p> + The Dean requested them to continue such an agitating conversation in a + more suitable place.... He himself had nothing more to add. + </p> + <p> + This ended the matter. + </p> + <p> + Since Theodore was a member of the upper classes the scandal was hushed + up. A few years later he passed his final, and was sent by the doctor to + Spa. The amount of quinine which he had taken had affected his knees and + he walked with two sticks. At Spa he looked so ill that he was a + conspicuous figure even in a crowd of invalids. + </p> + <p> + But an unmarried woman of thirty-five, a German, took compassion on the + unhappy man. She spent many hours with him in a lonely summer arbour in + the park, discussing the problems of life. She was a member of a big + evangelical society, whose object was the raising of the moral standard. + She showed him prospectuses for newspapers and magazines, the principal + mission of which was the suppression of prostitution. + </p> + <p> + “Look at me,” she said, “I am thirty-five years old and enjoy excellent + health! What fools’ talk it is to say that immorality is a necessary evil. + I have watched and fought a good fight for Christ’s sake.” + </p> + <p> + The young clergyman silently compared her well-developed figure, her large + hips, with his own wasted body. + </p> + <p> + “What a difference there is between human beings in this world,” was his + unspoken comment. + </p> + <p> + In the autumn the Rev. Theodore Wennerstroem and Sophia Leidschütz, + spinster, were engaged to be married. + </p> + <p> + “Saved!” sighed the father, when the news reached him in his house at + Stockholm. + </p> + <p> + “I wonder how it will end,” thought the brother in his barracks. “I’m + afraid that my poor Theodore is ‘one of those Asra who die when they + love.’” + </p> + <p> + Theodore Wennerstroem was married. Nine months after the wedding his wife + presented him with a boy who suffered from rickets—another thirteen + months and Theodore Wennerstroem had breathed his last. + </p> + <p> + The doctor who filled up the certificate of death, looked at the fine + healthy woman, who stood weeping by the small coffin which contained the + skeleton of her young husband of not much over twenty years. + </p> + <p> + “The plus was too great, the minus too small,” he thought, “and therefore + the plus devoured the minus.” + </p> + <p> + But the father, who received the news of his son’s death on a Sunday, sat + down to read a sermon. When he had finished, he fell into a brown study. + </p> + <p> + “There must be something very wrong with a world where virtue is rewarded + with death,” he thought. + </p> + <p> + And the virtuous widow, <i>née</i> Leidschütz, had two more husbands and + eight children, wrote pamphlets on overpopulation and immorality. But her + brother-in-law called her a cursed woman who killed her husbands. + </p> + <p> + The anything but virtuous lieutenant married and was father of six + children. He got promotion and lived happily to the end of his life. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0004" id="link2H_4_0004"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + LOVE AND BREAD + </h2> + <p> + The assistant had not thought of studying the price of wheat before he + called on the major to ask him for the hand of his daughter; but the major + had studied it. + </p> + <p> + “I love her,” said the assistant. + </p> + <p> + “What’s your salary?” said the old man. + </p> + <p> + “Well, twelve hundred crowns, at present; but we love one another....” + </p> + <p> + “That has nothing to do with me; twelve hundred crowns is not enough.” + </p> + <p> + “And then I make a little in addition to my salary, and Louisa knows that + my heart....” + </p> + <p> + “Don’t talk nonsense! How much in addition to your salary?” + </p> + <p> + He seized paper and pencil. + </p> + <p> + “And my feelings....” + </p> + <p> + “How much in addition to your salary?” + </p> + <p> + And he drew hieroglyphics on the blotting paper. + </p> + <p> + “Oh! We’ll get on well enough, if only....” + </p> + <p> + “Are you going to answer my question or not? How much in addition to your + salary? Figures! figures, my boy! Facts!” + </p> + <p> + “I do translations at ten crowns a sheet; I give French lessons, I am + promised proof-correcting....” + </p> + <p> + “Promises aren’t facts! Figures, my boy! Figures! Look here, now, I’ll put + it down. What are you translating?” + </p> + <p> + “What am I translating? I can’t tell you straight off.” + </p> + <p> + “You can’t tell me straight off? You are engaged on a translation, you + say; can’t you tell me what it is? Don’t talk such rubbish!” + </p> + <p> + “I am translating Guizot’s <i>History of Civilisation</i>, twenty-five + sheets.” + </p> + <p> + “At ten crowns a sheet makes two hundred and fifty crowns. And then?” + </p> + <p> + “And then? How can I tell beforehand?” + </p> + <p> + “Indeed, can’t you tell beforehand? But you ought to know. You seem to + imagine that being married simply means living together and amusing + yourselves! No, my dear boy, there will be children, and children require + feeding and clothing.” + </p> + <p> + “There needn’t be babies directly, if one loves <i>as we love</i> one + another.” + </p> + <p> + “How the dickens do you love one another?” + </p> + <p> + “<i>As we love</i> one another.” He put his hand on his waistcoat. + </p> + <p> + “And won’t there be any children if people love as you love? You must be + mad! But you are a decent, respectable member of society, and therefore + I’ll give my consent; but make good use of the time, my boy, and increase + your income, for hard times are coming. The price of wheat is rising.” + </p> + <p> + The assistant grew red in the face when he heard the last words, but his + joy at the old man’s consent was so great that he seized his hand and + kissed it. Heaven knew how happy he was! When he walked for the first time + down the street with his future bride on his arm, they both radiated + light; it seemed to them that the passers-by stood still and lined the + road in honour of their triumphal march; and they walked along with proud + eyes, squared shoulders and elastic steps. + </p> + <p> + In the evening he called at her house; they sat down in the centre of the + room and read proofs; she helped him. “He’s a good sort,” chuckled the old + man. When they had finished, he took her in his arms and said: “Now we + have earned three crowns,” and then he kissed her. On the following + evening they went to the theatre and he took her home in a cab, and that + cost twelve crowns. + </p> + <p> + Sometimes, when he ought to have given a lesson in the evening, he (is + there anything a man will not do for love’s sake?) cancelled his lesson + and took her out for a walk instead. + </p> + <p> + But the wedding-day approached. They were very busy. They had to choose + the furniture. They began with the most important purchases. Louisa had + not intended to be present when he bought the bedroom furniture, but when + it came to the point she went with him. They bought two beds, which were, + of course, to stand side by side. The furniture had to be walnut, every + single piece real walnut. And they must have spring mattresses covered + with red and white striped tick, and bolsters filled with down; and two + eiderdown quilts, exactly alike. Louisa chose blue, because she was very + fair. + </p> + <p> + They went to the best stores. They could not do without a red hanging-lamp + and a Venus made of plaster of Paris. Then they bought a dinner-service; + and six dozen differently shaped glasses with cut edges; and knives and + forks, grooved and engraved with their initials. And then the kitchen + utensils! Mama had to accompany them to see to those. + </p> + <p> + And what a lot he had to do besides! There were bills to accept, journeys + to the banks and interviews with tradespeople and artisans; a flat had to + be found and curtains had to be put up. He saw to everything. Of course he + had to neglect his work; but once he was married, he would soon make up + for it. + </p> + <p> + They were only going to take two rooms to begin with, for they were going + to be frightfully economical. And as they were only going to have two + rooms, they could afford to furnish them well. He rented two rooms and a + kitchen on the first floor in Government Street, for six hundred crowns. + When Louisa remarked that they might just as well have taken three rooms + and a kitchen on the fourth floor for five hundred crowns, he was a little + embarrassed; but what did it matter if only they loved one another? Yes, + of course, Louisa agreed, but couldn’t they have loved one another just as + well in four rooms at a lower rent, as in three at a higher? Yes, he + admitted that he had been foolish, but what <i>did</i> it matter so long + as they loved one another? + </p> + <p> + The rooms were furnished. The bed-room looked like a little temple. The + two beds stood side by side, like two carriages. The rays of the sun fell + on the blue eiderdown quilt, the white, white sheets and the little + pillow-slips which an elderly maiden aunt had embroidered with their + monogram; the latter consisted of two huge letters, formed of flowers, + joined together in one single embrace, and kissing here and there, + wherever they touched, at the corners. The bride had her own little + alcove, which was screened off by a Japanese screen. The drawing-room, + which was also dining-room, study and morning-room, contained her piano, + (which had cost twelve hundred crowns) his writing-table with twelve + pigeon-holes, (every single piece of it real walnut) a pier-glass, + armchairs; a sideboard and a dining-table. “It looks as if nice people + lived here,” they said, and they could not understand why people wanted a + separate dining-room, which always looked so cheerless with its cane + chairs. + </p> + <p> + The wedding took place on a Saturday. Sunday dawned, the first day of + their married life. Oh! what a life it was! Wasn’t it lovely to be + married! Wasn’t marriage a splendid institution! One was allowed one’s own + way in everything, and parents and relations came and congratulated one + into the bargain. + </p> + <p> + At nine o’clock in the morning their bedroom was still dark. He wouldn’t + open the shutters to let in daylight, but re-lighted the red lamp which + threw its bewitching light on the blue eiderdown, the white sheets, a + little crumpled now, and the Venus made of plaster of Paris, who stood + there rosy-red and without shame. And the red light also fell on his + little wife who nestled in her pillows with a look of contrition, and yet + so refreshed as if she had never slept so well in all her life. There was + no traffic in the street to-day for it was Sunday, and the church-bells + were calling people to the morning service with exulting, eager voices, as + if they wanted all the world to come to church and praise Him who had + created men and women. + </p> + <p> + He whispered to his little bride to shut her eyes so that he might get up + and order breakfast. She buried her head in the pillows, while he slipped + on his dressing-gown and went behind the screen to dress. + </p> + <p> + A broad radiant path of sunlight lay on the sitting-room floor; he did not + know whether it was spring or summer, autumn or winter; he only knew that + it was Sunday! + </p> + <p> + His bachelor life was receding into the background like something ugly and + dark; the sight of his little home stirred his heart with a faint + recollection of the home of his childhood, and at the same time held out a + glorious promise for the future. + </p> + <p> + How strong he felt! The future appeared to him like a mountain coming to + meet him. He would breathe on it and the mountain would fall down at his + feet like sand; he would fly away, far above gables and chimneys, holding + his little wife in his arm. + </p> + <p> + He collected his clothes which were scattered all over the room; he found + his white neck-tie hanging on a picture frame; it looked like a big white + butterfly. + </p> + <p> + He went into the kitchen. How the new copper vessels sparkled, the new tin + kettles shone! And all this belonged to him and to her! He called the maid + who came out of her room in her petticoat. But he did not notice it, nor + did he notice that her shoulders were bare. For him there was but one + woman in all the world. He spoke to the girl as a father would to his + daughter. He told her to go to the restaurant and order breakfast, at + once, a first-rate breakfast. Porter and Burgundy! The manager knew his + taste. She was to give him his regards. + </p> + <p> + He went out of the kitchen and knocked at the bed-room door. + </p> + <p> + “May I come in?” + </p> + <p> + There was a little startled scream. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, no, darling, wait a bit!” + </p> + <p> + He laid the breakfast table himself. When the breakfast was brought from + the restaurant, he served it on her new breakfast set. He folded the + dinner napkins according to all the rules of art. He wiped the + wine-glasses, and finally took her bridal-bouquet and put it in a vase + before her place. + </p> + <p> + When she emerged from her bed-room in her embroidered morning gown and + stepped into the brilliant sunlight, she felt just a tiny bit faint; he + helped her into the armchair, made her drink a little liqueur out of a + liqueur glass and eat a caviare sandwich. + </p> + <p> + What fun it all was! One could please oneself when one was married. What + would Mama have said if she had seen her daughter drinking liqueurs at + this hour of the morning! + </p> + <p> + He waited on her as if she were still his fiancee. What a breakfast they + were having on the first morning after their wedding! And nobody had a + right to say a word. Everything was perfectly right and proper, one could + enjoy oneself with the very best of consciences, and that was the most + delightful part of it all. It was not for the first time that he was + eating such a breakfast, but what a difference between then and now! He + had been restless and dissatisfied then; he could not bear to think of it, + now. And as he drank a glass of genuine Swedish porter after the oysters, + he felt the deepest contempt for all bachelors. + </p> + <p> + “How stupid of people not to get married! Such selfishness! They ought to + be taxed like dogs.” + </p> + <p> + “I’m sorry for those poor men who haven’t the means to get married,” + replied his demure little wife kindly, “for I am sure, if they had the + means they would all get married.” + </p> + <p> + A little pang shot through the assistant’s heart; for a moment he felt + afraid, lest he had been a little too venturesome. All his happiness + rested on the solution of a financial problem, and if, if.... Pooh! A + glass of Burgundy! Now he would work! They should see! + </p> + <p> + “Game? With cranberries and cucumbers!” The young wife was a little + startled, but it was really delicious. + </p> + <p> + “Lewis, darling,” she put a trembling little hand on his arm, “can we + afford it?” + </p> + <p> + Fortunately she said “we.” + </p> + <p> + “Pooh! It doesn’t matter for once! Later on we can dine on potatoes and + herrings.” + </p> + <p> + “Can you eat potatoes and herrings?” + </p> + <p> + “I should think so!” + </p> + <p> + “When you have been drinking more than is good for you, and expect a + beefsteak after the herring?” + </p> + <p> + “Nonsense! Nothing of the kind! Your health, sweetheart! The game is + excellent! So are these artichokes!” + </p> + <p> + “No, but you are mad, darling! Artichokes at this time of the year! What a + bill you will have to pay!” + </p> + <p> + “Bill! Aren’t they good? Don’t you think that it is glorious to be alive? + Oh! It’s splendid, splendid!” + </p> + <p> + At six o’clock in the afternoon a carriage drove up to the front door. The + young wife would have been angry if it had not been so pleasant to loll + luxuriously on the soft cushions, while they were being slowly driven to + the Deer Park. + </p> + <p> + “It’s just like lying on a couch,” whispered Lewis. + </p> + <p> + She playfully hit his fingers with her sunshade. Mutual acquaintances + bowed to them from the footpath. Friends waved their hands to him as if + they were saying: + </p> + <p> + “Hallo! you rascal, you have come into a fortune!” + </p> + <p> + How small the passers-by looked, how smooth the street was, how pleasant + their ride on springs and cushions! + </p> + <p> + Life should always be like that. + </p> + <p> + It went on for a whole month. Balls, visits, dinners, theatres. Sometimes, + of course, they remained at home. And at home it was more pleasant than + anywhere else. How lovely, for instance, to carry off one’s wife from her + parents’ house, after supper, without saying as much as “by your leave,” + put her into a closed carriage, slam the door, nod to her people and say: + “Now we’re off home, to our own four walls! And there we’ll do exactly + what we like!” + </p> + <p> + And then to have a little supper at home and sit over it, talking and + gossiping until the small hours of the morning. + </p> + <p> + Lewis was always very sensible at home, at least in theory. One day his + wife put him to the test by giving him salt salmon, potatoes boiled in + milk and oatmeal soup for dinner. Oh! how he enjoyed it! He was sick of + elaborate menus. + </p> + <p> + On the following Friday, when she again suggested salt salmon for dinner, + Lewis came home, carrying two ptarmigans! He called to her from the + threshold: + </p> + <p> + “Just imagine, Lou, a most extraordinary thing happened! A most + extraordinary thing!” + </p> + <p> + “Well, what is it?” + </p> + <p> + “You’ll hardly believe me when I tell you that I bought a brace of + ptarmigans, bought them myself at the market for—guess!” + </p> + <p> + His little wife seemed more annoyed than curious. + </p> + <p> + “Just think! One crown the two!” + </p> + <p> + “I have bought ptarmigans at eightpence the brace; but—” she added + in a more conciliatory tone, so as not to upset him altogether, “that was + in a very cold winter.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, but you must admit that I bought them very cheaply.” + </p> + <p> + Was there anything she would not admit in order to see him happy? + </p> + <p> + She had ordered boiled groats for dinner, as an experiment. But after + Lewis had eaten a ptarmigan, he regretted that he could not eat as much of + the groats as he would have liked, in order to show her that he was really + very fond of groats. He liked groats very much indeed—milk did not + agree with him after his attack of ague. He couldn’t take milk, but groats + he would like to see on his table every evening, every blessed evening of + his life, if only she wouldn’t be angry with him. + </p> + <p> + And groats never again appeared on his table. + </p> + <p> + When they had been married for six weeks, the young wife fell ill. She + suffered from headaches and sickness. It could not be anything serious, + just a little cold. But this sickness? Had she eaten anything which had + disagreed with her? Hadn’t all the copper vessels new coatings of tin? He + sent for the doctor. The doctor smiled and said it was all right. + </p> + <p> + “What was all right? Oh! Nonsense! It wasn’t possible. How could it have + been possible? No, surely, the bed-room paper was to blame. It must + contain arsenic. Let us send a piece to the chemist’s at once and have it + tested.” + </p> + <p> + “Entirely free from arsenic,” reported the chemist. + </p> + <p> + “How strange! No arsenic in the wall papers?” + </p> + <p> + The young wife was still ill. He consulted a medical book and whispered a + question in her ear. “There now! a hot bath!” + </p> + <p> + Four weeks later the midwife declared that everything was “as it should + be.” + </p> + <p> + “As it should be? Well, of course! Only it was somewhat premature!” + </p> + <p> + But as it could not, be helped, they were delighted. Fancy, a baby! They + would be papa and mama! What should they call him? For, of course, it + would be a boy. No doubt, it would. But now she had a serious conversation + with her husband! There had been no translating or proof-correcting since + their marriage. And his salary alone was not sufficient. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, they had given no thought to the morrow. But, dear me, one was young + only once! Now, however, there would be a change.” + </p> + <p> + On the following morning the assistant called on an old schoolfriend, a + registrar, to ask him to stand security for a loan. + </p> + <p> + “You see, my dear fellow, when one is about to become a father, one has to + consider how to meet increasing expenses.” + </p> + <p> + “Quite so, old man,” answered the registrar, “therefore I have been unable + to get married. But you are fortunate in having the means.” + </p> + <p> + The assistant hesitated to make his request. How could he have the + audacity to ask this poor bachelor to help him to provide the expenses for + the coming event? This bachelor, who had not the means to found a family + of his own? He could not bring himself to do it. + </p> + <p> + When he came home to dinner, his wife told him that two gentlemen had + called to see him. + </p> + <p> + “What did they look like? Were they young? Did they wear eye-glasses? Then + there was no doubt, they were two lieutenants, old friends of his whom he + had met at Vaxholm.” + </p> + <p> + “No, they couldn’t have been lieutenants; they were too old for that.” + </p> + <p> + “Then he knew; they were old college friends from Upsala, probably P. who + was a lecturer, and O. who was a curate, now. They had come to see how + their old pal was shaping as a husband.” + </p> + <p> + “No, they didn’t come from Upsala, they came from Stockholm.” + </p> + <p> + The maid was called in and cross-examined. She thought the callers had + been shabbily dressed and had carried sticks. + </p> + <p> + “Sticks! I can’t make out what sort of people they can have been. Well, + we’ll know soon enough, as they said they would call again. But to change + the subject, I happened to see a basket of hothouse strawberries at a + really ridiculous price; it really is absurd! Just imagine, hothouse + strawberries at one and sixpence a basket! And at this time of the year!” + </p> + <p> + “But, my darling, what is this extravagance to lead to?” + </p> + <p> + “It’ll be all right. I have got an order for a translation this very day.” + </p> + <p> + “But you are in debt, Lewis?” + </p> + <p> + “Trifles! Mere nothings! It’ll be all right when I take up a big loan, + presently.” + </p> + <p> + “A loan! But that’ll be a new debt!” + </p> + <p> + “True! But there’ll be easy terms! Don’t let’s talk business now! Aren’t + these strawberries delicious? What? A glass of sherry with them would be + tip-top. Don’t you think so? Lina, run round to the stores and fetch a + bottle of sherry, the best they have.” + </p> + <p> + After his afternoon nap, his wife insisted on a serious conversation. + </p> + <p> + “You won’t be angry, dear, will you?” + </p> + <p> + “Angry? I! Good heavens, no! Is it about household expenses?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes! We owe money at the stores! The butcher is pressing for payment; the + man from the livery stables has called for his money; it’s most + unpleasant.” + </p> + <p> + “Is that all? I shall pay them to the last farthing to-morrow. How dare + they worry you about such trifles? They shall be paid to-morrow, but they + shall lose a customer. Now, don’t let’s talk about it any more. Come out + for a walk. No carriage! Well, we’ll take the car to the Deer Park, it + will cheer us up.” + </p> + <p> + They went to the Deer Park. They asked for a private room at the + restaurant, and people stared at them and whispered. + </p> + <p> + “They think we are out on a spree,” he laughed. “What fun! What madness!” + </p> + <p> + But his wife did not like it. + </p> + <p> + They had a big bill to pay. + </p> + <p> + “If only we had stayed at home! We might have bought such a lot of things + for the money.” + </p> + <p> + Months elapsed. The great event was coming nearer and nearer. A cradle had + to be bought and baby-clothes. A number of things were wanted. The young + husband was out on business all day long. The price of wheat had risen. + Hard times were at hand. He could get no translations, no + proof-correcting. Men had become materialists. They didn’t spend money on + books, they bought food. What a prosaic period we were living in! Ideals + were melting away, one after the other, and ptarmigans were not to be had + under two crowns the brace. The livery stables would not provide carriages + for nothing for the cab-proprietors had wives and families to support, + just as everybody else; at the stores cash had to be paid for goods, Oh! + what realists they all were! + </p> + <p> + The great day had come at last. It was evening. He must run for the + midwife. And while his wife suffered all the pangs of childbirth, he had + to go down into the hall and pacify the creditors. + </p> + <p> + At last he held a daughter in his arms. His tears fell on the baby, for + now he realised his responsibility, a responsibility which he was unable + to shoulder. He made new resolutions. But his nerves were unstrung. He was + working at a translation which he seemed unable to finish, for he had to + be constantly out on business. + </p> + <p> + He rushed to his father-in-law, who was staying in town, to bring him the + glad news. + </p> + <p> + “We have a little daughter!” + </p> + <p> + “Well and good,” replied his father-in-law; “can you support a child?” + </p> + <p> + “Not at present; for heaven’s sake, help us, father!” + </p> + <p> + “I’ll tide you over your present difficulties. I can’t do more. My means + are only sufficient to support my own family.” + </p> + <p> + The patient required chickens which he bought himself at the market, and + wine at six crowns the bottle. It had to be the very best. + </p> + <p> + The midwife expected a hundred crowns. + </p> + <p> + “Why should we pay her less than others? Hasn’t she just received a cheque + for a hundred crowns from the captain?” + </p> + <p> + Very soon the young wife was up again. She looked like a girl, as slender + as a willow, a little pale, it was true, but the pallor suited her. + </p> + <p> + The old man called and had a private conversation with his son-in-law. + </p> + <p> + “No more children, for the present,” he said, “or you’ll be ruined.” + </p> + <p> + “What language from a father! Aren’t we married! Don’t we love one + another? Aren’t we to have a family?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, but not until you can provide for them. It’s all very fine to love + one another, but you musn’t forget that you have responsibilities.” + </p> + <p> + His father-in-law, too, had become a materialist. Oh! what a miserable + world it was! A world without ideals! + </p> + <p> + The home was undermined, but love survived, for love was strong, and the + hearts of the young couple were soft. The bailiff, on the contrary, was + anything but soft. Distraint was imminent, and bankruptcy threatened. + Well, let them distrain then! + </p> + <p> + The father-in-law arrived with a large travelling coach to fetch his + daughter and grand-child. He warned his son-in-law not to show his face at + his house until he could pay his debts and make a home for his wife and + child. He said nothing to his daughter, but it seemed to him that he was + bringing home a girl who had been led astray. It was as if he had lent his + innocent child to a casual admirer and now received her back + “dishonoured.” She would have preferred to stay with her husband, but he + had no home to offer her. + </p> + <p> + And so the husband of one year’s standing was left behind to watch the + pillaging of his home, if he could call it his home, for he had paid for + nothing. The two men with spectacles carted away the beds and bedclothes; + the copper kettles and tin vessels; the dinner set, the chandelier and the + candlesticks; everything, everything! + </p> + <p> + He was left alone in the two empty, wretched rooms! If only <i>she</i> had + been left to him! But what should she do here, in these empty rooms? No, + she was better off where she was! She was being taken care of. + </p> + <p> + Now the struggle for a livelihood began in bitter earnest. He found work + at a daily paper as a proof-corrector. He had to be at the office at + midnight; at three in the morning his work was done. He did not lose his + berth, for bankruptcy had been avoided, but he had lost all chance of + promotion. + </p> + <p> + Later on he is permitted to visit wife and child once a week, but he is + never allowed to see her alone. He spends Saturday night in a tiny room, + close to his father-in-law’s bedroom. On Sunday morning he has to return + to town, for the paper appears on Monday morning.... He says good-bye to + his wife and child who are allowed to accompany him as far as the garden + gate, he waves his hand to them once more from the furthest hillock, and + succumbs to his wretchedness, his misery, his humiliation. And she is no + less unhappy. + </p> + <p> + He has calculated that it will take him twenty years to pay his debts. And + then? Even then he cannot maintain a wife and child. And his prospects? He + has none! If his father-in-law should die, his wife and child would be + thrown on the street; he cannot venture to look forward to the death of + their only support. + </p> + <p> + Oh! How cruel it is of nature to provide food for all her creatures, + leaving the children of men alone to starve! Oh! How cruel, how cruel! + that life has not ptarmigans and strawberries to give to all men. How + cruel! How cruel! + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0005" id="link2H_4_0005"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + COMPELLED TO + </h2> + <p> + Punctually at half past nine on a winter evening he appears at the door + leading to the glass-roofed verandah of the restaurant. While, with + mathematical precision, he takes off his gloves, he peers over his dim + spectacles, first to the right, then to the left, to find out whether any + of his acquaintances are present. Then he hangs up his overcoat on its + special hook, the one to the right of the fireplace. Gustav, the waiter, + an old pupil of his, flies to his table and, without waiting for an order, + brushes the crumbs off the tablecloth, stirs up the mustard, smooths the + salt in the salt-cellar and turns over the dinner napkin. Then he fetches, + still without any order, a bottle of Medhamra, opens half a bottle of + Union beer and, merely for appearance sake, hands the schoolmaster the + bill of fare. + </p> + <p> + “Crabs?” he asks, more as a matter of form than because there is any need + of the question. + </p> + <p> + “Female crabs,” answers the schoolmaster. + </p> + <p> + “Large, female crabs,” repeats Gustav, walks to the speaking tube which + communicates with the kitchen, and shouts: “Large female crabs for Mr. + Blom, and plenty of dill.” + </p> + <p> + He fetches butter and cheese, cuts two very thin slices of rye-bread, and + places them on the schoolmaster’s table. The latter has in the meantime + searched the verandah for the evening papers, but has only found the + official <i>Post</i>. To make up for this very poor success, he takes the + <i>Daily Journal</i>, which he had not had time to finish at lunch, and + after first opening and refolding the <i>Post</i>, and putting it on the + top of the bread basket on his left, sits down to read it. He ornaments + the rye-bread with geometrical butter hieroglyphics, cuts off a piece of + cheese in the shape of a rectangle, fills his liqueur glass three quarters + full and raises it to his lips, hesitates as if the little glass contained + physic, throws back his head and says: Ugh! + </p> + <p> + He has done this for twelve years and will continue doing it until the day + of his death. + </p> + <p> + As soon as the crabs, six of them, have been put before him, he examines + them as to their sex, and everything being as it should be, makes ready to + enjoy himself. He tucks a corner of his dinner napkin into his collar, + places two slices of thin bread and cheese by the side of his plate and + pours out a glass of beer and half a glass of liqueur. Then he takes the + little crab-knife and business begins. He is the only man in Sweden who + knows how to eat a crab, and whenever he sees anybody else engaged in the + same pursuit, he tells him that he has no idea how to do it. He makes an + incision all round the head, and a hole against which he presses his lips + and begins to suck. + </p> + <p> + “This,” he says, “is the best part of the whole animal.” + </p> + <p> + He severs the thorax from the lower part, puts his teeth to the body and + drinks deep draughts; he sucks the little legs as if they were asparagus, + eats a bit of dill, and takes a drink of beer and a mouthful of rye-bread. + When he has carefully taken the shell off the claws and sucked even the + tiniest tubes, he eats the flesh; last of all he attacks the lower part of + the body. When he has eaten three crabs, he drinks half a glass of liqueur + and reads the promotions in the <i>Post</i>. + </p> + <p> + He has done this for twelve years and will continue doing it until he + dies. + </p> + <p> + He was just twenty years old when he first began to patronise the + restaurant, now he is thirty-two, and Gustav has been a waiter for ten + years in the same place. Not one of its frequenters has known the + restaurant longer than the school-master, not even the proprietor who took + it over eight years ago. He has watched generations of diners come and go; + some came for a year, some for two, some for five years; then they + disappeared, went to another restaurant, left the town or got married. He + feels very old, although he is only thirty-two! The restaurant is his + home, for his furnished room is nothing but the place where he sleeps. + </p> + <p> + It is ten o’clock. He leaves his table and goes to the back room where his + grog awaits him. This is the time when the bookseller arrives. They play a + game of chess or talk about books. At half-past ten the second violin from + the Dramatic Theatre drops in. He is an old Pole who, after 1864, escaped + to Sweden, and now makes a living by his former hobby. Both the Pole and + the bookseller are over fifty, but they get on with the schoolmaster as if + he were a contemporary. + </p> + <p> + The proprietor has his place behind the counter. He is an old sea captain + who fell in love with the proprietress and married her. She rules in the + kitchen, but the sliding panel is always open, so that she can keep an eye + on the old man, lest he should take a glass too much before closing time. + Not until the gas has been turned out, and the old man is ready to go to + bed, is he allowed a nightcap in the shape of a stiff glass of rum and + water. + </p> + <p> + At eleven o’clock the young bloods begin to arrive; they approach the + counter diffidently and ask the proprietor in a whisper whether any of the + private rooms upstairs are disengaged, and then there is a rustling of + skirts in the hall and cautious footsteps are creeping upstairs. + </p> + <p> + “Well,” says the bookseller, who has suddenly found a topic of + conversation, “when are you going to be married, Blom, old man?” + </p> + <p> + “I haven’t the means to get married,” answered the school-master. “Why + don’t you take a wife to your bosom yourself?” + </p> + <p> + “No woman would have me, now that my head looks like an old, + leather-covered trunk,” says the bookseller. “And, moreover, there’s my + old Stafva, you know.” + </p> + <p> + Stafva was a legendary person in whom nobody believed. She was the + incarnation of the bookseller’s unrealised dreams. + </p> + <p> + “But you, Mr. Potocki?” suggested the schoolmaster. + </p> + <p> + “He’s been married once, that’s enough,” replies the bookseller. + </p> + <p> + The Pole nods his head like a metrometer. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I was married very happily. Ugh!” he says and finishes his grog. + </p> + <p> + “Well,” continues the schoolmaster, “if women weren’t such fools, one + might consider the matter; but they are infernal fools.” + </p> + <p> + The Pole nods again and smiles; being a Pole, he doesn’t understand what + the word fool means. + </p> + <p> + “I have been married very happily, ugh!” + </p> + <p> + “And then there is the noise of the children, and children’s clothes + always drying near the stove; and servants, and all day long the smells + from the kitchen. No, thank you! And, perhaps, sleepless nights into the + bargain.” + </p> + <p> + “Ugh!” added the Pole, completing the sentence. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Potocki says ‘ugh’ with the malice of the bachelor who listens to the + complaints of the married man,” remarked the bookseller. + </p> + <p> + “What did I say?” asks the astonished widower. “Ugh!” says the bookseller, + mimicking him, and the conversation degenerates into a universal grinning + and a cloud of tobacco smoke. + </p> + <p> + It is midnight. The piano upstairs, which has accompanied a mixed choir of + male and female voices, is silent. The waiter has finished his countless + journeys from the speaking tube to the verandah; the proprietor enters + into his daybook the last few bottles of champagne which have been ordered + upstairs. The three friends rise from their chairs and go home, two to + their “virgin couches,” and the bookseller to his Stafva. + </p> + <p> + When schoolmaster Blom had reached his twentieth year, he was compelled to + interrupt his studies at Upsala and accept a post as assistant teacher at + Stockholm. As he, in addition, gave private lessons, he made quite a good + income. He did not ask much of life. All he wanted was peace and + cleanliness. An elderly lady let him a furnished room and there he found + more than a bachelor finds as a rule. She looked after him and was kind to + him; she gave him all the tenderness which nature had intended her to + bestow on the new generation that was to spring from her. She mended his + clothes and looked after him generally. He had lost his mother when he was + a little boy and had never been accustomed to gratuitous kindness; + therefore he was inclined to look upon her services as an interference + with his liberty, but he accepted them nevertheless. But all the same the + public house was his real home. There he paid for everything and ran up no + bills. + </p> + <p> + He was born in a small town in the interior of Sweden; consequently he was + a stranger in Stockholm. He knew nobody; was not on visiting terms with + any of the families and met his acquaintances nowhere but at the + public-house. He talked to them freely, but never gave them his + confidence, in fact he had no confidence to give. At school he taught the + third class and this gave him a feeling of having been stunted in his + growth. A very long time ago he had been in the third class himself, had + gradually crept up to the seventh, and had spent a few terms at the + University; now he had returned to the third; he had been there for twelve + years without being moved. He taught the second and third books of Euclid; + this was the course of instruction for the whole year. He saw only a + fragment of life; a fragment without beginning or end; the second and + third books. In his spare time he read the newspapers and books on + archaeology. Archaeology is a modern science, one might almost say a + disease of the time. And there is danger in it, for it proves over and + over again that human folly has pretty nearly always been the same. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +Politics was to him nothing but an interesting game of chess—played +for the king, for he was brought up like everybody else; it was an +article of faith with him that nothing which happened in the world, +concerned him, personally; let those look to it whom God had placed in +a position of power. This way of looking at things filled his soul +with peace and tranquillity; he troubled nobody and nothing troubled +him. When he found, as he did occasionally, that an unusually foolish +event had occurred, he consoled himself with the conviction that it +could not have been helped. His education had made him selfish, and +the catechism had taught him that if everybody did his duty, all +things would be well, whatever happened. He did his duty towards his +pupils in an exemplary fashion; he was never late; never ill. In his +private life, too, he was above reproach; he paid his rent on the day +it fell due, never ran up bills at his restaurant, and spent only one +evening a week on pleasure. His life glided along like a railway train + to the second and, being a clever man, he managed to avoid collisions. +He gave no thought to the future; a truly selfish man never does, for +the simple reason that the future belongs to him for no longer than +twenty or thirty years at the most. +</pre> + <p> + And thus his days passed. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <p> + Midsummer morning dawned—radiant and sunny as mid-summer morning + should be. The schoolmaster was still in bed, reading a book on the Art of + Warfare in ancient Egypt, when Miss Augusta came into his room with his + breakfast. She had put on his tray some slices of saffron bread, in honour + of the festival, and on his dinner-napkin lay a spray of elder blossoms. + On the previous night she had decorated his room with branches of the + birch-tree, put clean sand and some cowslips in the spittoon, and a bunch + of lilies-of-the-valley on the dressing table. + </p> + <p> + “Aren’t you going to make an excursion to-day, sir?” she asked, glancing + at the decorations, anxious for a word of thanks or approval. + </p> + <p> + But Mr. Blom had not even noticed the decorations, and therefore he + answered dryly: + </p> + <p> + “Haven’t you realised yet that I never make excursions? I hate elbowing my + way through a crowd, and the noise of the children gets on my nerves.” + </p> + <p> + “But surely you won’t stay in town on such a lovely day! You’ll at least + go to the Deer Park?” + </p> + <p> + “That would be the very last place I should go to, especially to-day, when + it will be crowded. Oh! no, I’m better off in town, and I wish to goodness + that this holiday nuisance would be stopped.” + </p> + <p> + “There are plenty of people who say that there aren’t half enough holidays + these days when everybody has to work so hard,” said the old woman in a + conciliatory tone. “But is there anything else you wish, sir? My sister + and I are making an excursion by steamer, and we shan’t be back until ten + o’clock to-night.” + </p> + <p> + “I hope you’ll enjoy yourselves, Miss Augusta. I want nothing, and am + quite able to look after myself. The caretaker can do my room when I have + gone out.” + </p> + <p> + Miss Augusta left him alone with his breakfast. When he had eaten it, he + lit a cigar and remained in bed with his <i>Egyptian Warfare</i>. The open + window shook softly in the southern breeze. At eight o’clock the bells, + large and small, of the nearest church began to ring, and those of the + other churches of Stockholm, St. Catherine’s, St. Mary’s and St. Jacob’s, + joined in; they tinkled and jingled, enough to make a heathen tear his + hair in despair. When the church bells stopped, a military band on the + bridge of a steamer began to play a set of quadrilles from <i>The Weak + Point</i>. The schoolmaster writhed between his sheets, and would have got + out of bed and shut the window if it had not been so hot. Next there came + a rolling of drums, which was interrupted by the strains of a brass + quintet which played, on another steamer, the Hunter’s Chorus from the <i>Freischütz</i>. + But the cursed rolling of drums approached. They were marching at the head + of the Riflemen on their way to camp. Now he was subjected to a medley of + sounds: the Riflemen’s march, the signals, the bells and the brass bands + on the steamers, until at last the whole crash and din was drowned by the + throbbing of the screw. + </p> + <p> + At ten o’clock he lit his spirit lamp and boiled his shaving water. His + starched shirt lay on his chest of drawers, white and stiff as a board. It + took him a quarter of an hour to push the studs through the button-holes. + He spent half-an-hour in shaving himself. He brushed his hair as if it + were a matter of the utmost importance. When he put on his trousers, he + was careful that the lower ends should not touch the floor and become + dusty. + </p> + <p> + His room was simply furnished, extremely plain and tidy. It was + impersonal, neutral, like the room in a hotel. And yet he had spent in it + twelve years of his life. Most people collect no end of trifles during + such a period; presents, little superfluous nothings, ornaments. Not a + single engraving, not a supplement to an illustrated magazine even, which + at some time or other had appealed to him, hung on the walls; no + antimacassar, no rug worked by a loving sister, lay on the chairs; no + photograph of a beloved face stood on his writing-table, no embroidered + pen-wiper lay by the side of the ink-stand. Everything had been bought as + cheaply as possible with a view to avoiding unnecessary expense which + might have hampered the owner’s independence. + </p> + <p> + He leaned out of the window which gave him a view of the street and, + across Artillery Place, of the harbour. In the house opposite a woman was + dressing. He turned away as if something ugly had met his gaze, or + something which might disturb his peace of mind. The harbour was gay with + the fluttering flags on the steamers and sailing-ships, and the water + glittered in the sunshine. A few old women, prayer-book in hand, passed + his window on their way to church. A sentinel with drawn sword was walking + up and down before the Artillery Barracks, glancing discontentedly at the + clock on the tower every now and then to see how much longer he would have + to wait until the relieving guard arrived. Otherwise the street lay empty + and grey in the hot sunshine. His eyes wandered back to the woman + opposite. She was standing before her looking-glass, powder puff in hand, + intent on powdering the corners of her nose, with a grimace which made her + look like a monkey. He left the window and sat down in his rocking chair. + </p> + <p> + He made his programme for the day, for he had a vague dread of solitude. + On week days he was surrounded by the school-boys, and although he had no + love for those wild beasts whose taming, or rather whose efficient + acquisition of the difficult art of dissembling, was his life task, yet he + felt a certain void when he was not with them. Now, during the long summer + vacations, he had established a holiday school, but even so he had been + compelled to give the boys short summer holidays, and, with the exception + of meal times when he could always count on the bookseller and the second + violin, he had been alone for several days. + </p> + <p> + “At two o’clock,” he mused, “when the guard has been relieved, and the + crowds have dispersed, I’ll go to my restaurant to dine; then I’ll invite + the bookseller to Strömsborg; there won’t be a soul to-day; we can have + coffee there and punch, and stay till the evening when we’ll return to + town and to Rejner’s.” (Rejner’s was the name of his restaurant in + Berzelius Place.) + </p> + <p> + Punctually at two o’clock he took his hat, brushed himself carefully and + went out. + </p> + <p> + “I wonder whether there’ll be stewed perch to-day,” he thought. “And + mightn’t one treat oneself to asparagus, as it’s midsummer-day?” + </p> + <p> + He strolled past the high wall of the Government Bakery. In Berzelius Park + the seats which were usually occupied by the nursemaids of the rich and + their charges, were crowded with the families of the labourers who had + appeared in great numbers with their perambulators. He saw a mother + feeding her baby. She was a large, full-breasted woman, and the baby’s + dimpled hand almost disappeared in her bosom. The schoolmaster turned away + with a feeling of loathing. He was annoyed to see these strangers in <i>his</i> + park. It was very much like the servants using the drawing-room when their + master and mistress had gone out; moreover, he couldn’t forgive them their + plainness. + </p> + <p> + He arrived at the glass verandah, and put his hand on the door handle, + thinking once more of the stewed perch “with lots of parsley,” when his + eyes fell on a notice on the door. There was no necessity to read it, he + knew its purport: the restaurant was closed on midsummer-day; he had + forgotten it. He felt as if he had run with his head into a lamp-post. He + was furious; first of all with the proprietor for closing, then with + himself for having forgotten that the restaurant would be closed. It + seemed to him so monstrous that he could have forgotten an incident of + such importance, that he couldn’t believe it and racked his brain to find + someone on whom he could lay the blame. Of course, it was the fault of the + proprietor. He had run off the lines, come into collision. He was done. He + sat down on the seat and almost shed tears of rage. + </p> + <p> + Thump! a ball hit him right in the middle of his starched shirt front. + Like an infuriated wasp he rose from his seat to find the criminal; a + plain little girl’s face laughed into his; a labourer in his Sunday + clothes and straw hat appeared, took her by the hand and smilingly + expressed a hope that the child had not hurt him; a laughing crowd of + soldiers and servant girls stared at him. He looked round for a constable + for he felt that his rights as a human being had been encroached upon. But + when he saw the constable in familiar conversation with the child’s + mother, he dropped the idea of making a scene, went straight to the + nearest cab-stand, hired a cab, and told the driver to drive him to the + bookseller’s; he could not bear to be alone any longer. + </p> + <p> + In the safe shelter of the cab he took out his handkerchief and flicked + the dust from his shirt front. + </p> + <p> + He dismissed the cab in Goten Street, for he felt sure that he would find + his friend at home. But as he walked upstairs his assurance left him. + Supposing he were out after all! + </p> + <p> + He was out. Not one of the tenants was at home. His knock sounded through + an empty house; his footsteps re-echoed on the deserted stairs. + </p> + <p> + When he was again in the street he was at a loss to know what to do. He + did not know Potocki’s address, and where was he to find an address book + on a day when all the shops were closed? + </p> + <p> + Without knowing where he was going, he went down the street, past the + harbour, across the bridge. He did not meet a single man he knew. The + presence of the crowd which occupied the town during the absence of their + betters annoyed him, for, like the rest of us, the education which he had + received at school had made an aristocrat of him. + </p> + <p> + In his first anger he had forgotten his hunger, but now it re-asserted + itself. A new, terrible thought occurred to him, a thought which up to now + he had put away from him out of sheer cowardice: Where was he to dine? He + had started out with plenty of vouchers in his pocket, but only one crown + and fifty öre in coin. The vouchers were only used at Rejner’s, for + convenience sake, and he had spent a crown on his cabfare. + </p> + <p> + He found himself again in Berzelius Park. Everywhere he met labourers and + their families, eating what they had brought with them in baskets; + hard-boiled eggs, crabs, pancakes. And the police did not interfere. On + the contrary, he saw a policeman with a sandwich in one hand and a glass + of beer in the other. But what irritated him more than anything else was + the fact that these people whom he despised had the advantage of him. But + why couldn’t he go into a dairy and appease his hunger? Yes, why not? The + very thought of it made him shudder. + </p> + <p> + After some little reflection he went down to the harbour, intending to + cross over to the Deer Park. He was bound to find acquaintances there from + whom he could borrow money (hateful thought!) for his dinner. And if so, + he would dine at “Hazelmount,” the best restaurant. + </p> + <p> + The steamer was so crowded that schoolmaster Blom had to stand close to + the engine; the heat at his back was intolerable; his morning coat was + being covered with grease spots, while he stood, with his gaze rivetted on + the untidy head of a servant girl and endured the rancid smell of the + hair-oil. But he did not see a single face he knew. + </p> + <p> + When he entered the restaurant in the Deer Park, he squared his shoulders + and tried to look as distinguished as possible. + </p> + <p> + The space before the restaurant was like the auditorium of a theatre and + seemed to serve the same purpose: that is to say, it was a place where one + met one’s friends and showed off. The verandah was occupied by officers, + blue in the face with eating and drinking; with them were representatives + of the foreign Powers, grown old and grey in their strenuous efforts to + protect fellow-countrymen who had got mixed up with sailors and fishermen + in drunken brawls, or assist at Gala performances, christenings, weddings + and funerals. So much for the aristocracy. In the centre of a large space + Mr. Blom suddenly discovered the chimney sweep of his quarter, the + proprietor of a small inn, the chemist’s assistant and others of the same + standing. He watched the game-keeper in his green coat and silver lace, + with his gilt staff, walking up and down and casting contemptuous glances + at the assembled crowd, as if he were wondering why they were here? The + schoolmaster felt self-conscious under the stare of all those eyes which + seemed to say: “Look at him! there he goes, wondering how to get dinner!” + But there was nothing else for it. He went on to the verandah where the + people sat eating perch and asparagus, and drinking Sauternes and + Champagne. + </p> + <p> + All of a sudden he felt the pressure of a friendly hand on his shoulder, + and as he turned round, he found himself face to face with Gustav, the + waiter, who seized his hand and exclaimed with undisguised pleasure: + </p> + <p> + “Is that really you, Mr. Blom? How are you?” + </p> + <p> + But Gustav, the waiter, who was so pleased to find himself for a few + moments the equal of his master, held a piece of wood in his warm hand and + met a pair of eyes which pierced his soul like gimlets. And yet this same + hand had given him ten crowns only yesterday, and the owner of it had + thanked him for six months’ service and attention in the way one thanks a + friend. The waiter went back to his companions and sat down amongst them, + embarrassed and snubbed. But Mr. Blom left the verandah with bitter + thoughts and pushed his way through the crowd; he fancied that he could + hear a mocking: “He hasn’t been able to get dinner, after all!” + </p> + <p> + He came to a large open space. There was a puppet-show, and Jasper was + being beaten by his wife. A little further off a sailor was showing + servant girls, soldiers and apprentices their future husband or wife in a + wheel of fortune. They all had had dinner and were enjoying themselves; + for a moment he believed himself their inferior, but only for a moment; + then he remembered that they had not the vaguest idea of how an Egyptian + camp was fortified. The thought gave him back his self-respect, and he + wondered how it was possible that people could be so degraded as to find + pleasure in such childishness. + </p> + <p> + In the meantime he had lost all inclination to try the other restaurants; + he passed the Tivoli and went further into the heart of the park. Young + men and women were dancing on the grass to the strains of a violin: a + little further off a whole family was camping under an old oak; the head + of the family was kneeling down, in his shirt sleeves, with bare head, a + glass of beer in one hand, a sandwich in the other; his fat, jolly, + clean-shaven face beamed with pleasure and good-nature as he invited his + guests, who were evidently his wife, parents-in-law, brothers, + shop-assistants and servants, to eat, drink and be merry, for to-day was + Midsummer day, all day long. And the jovial fellow made such droll remarks + that the whole party writhed on the grass with amusement. After the + pancake had been produced and eaten with the fingers, and the port bottle + been round, the senior shop-assistant made a speech which was at once so + moving and so witty that the ladies at one moment pressed their + handkerchiefs to their eyes, while the head of the family bit his lips, + and at the next interrupted the speaker with loud laughter and cheers. + </p> + <p> + The schoolmaster’s mood became more and more morose, but instead of going + away he sat down on a stone under a pinetree and watched “the animals.” + </p> + <p> + When the speech was finished and father and mother had been toasted with + cheers and a flourish of trumpets, executed on a concertina, accompanied + by the rattling of all cups and saucers that happened to be empty, the + party rose to play “Third Man,” while mother and mother-in-law attended to + the babies. + </p> + <p> + “Just like the beasts in the field,” thought the schoolmaster, turning + away, for all that was natural was ugly in his eyes, and only that which + was unnatural could lay any claim to beauty in his opinion, except, of + course, the paintings of “well-known” masters in the National Museum. + </p> + <p> + He watched the young men taking off their coats, the young girls slipping + off their cuffs and hanging them on the blackthorn bushes; then they took + up their positions and the game began. + </p> + <p> + The girls picked up their skirts and threw up their legs so that their + garters, made of blue and red braid such as the grocers sell for tying up + pots, were plainly visible, and whenever the cavalier caught his lady, he + took her in his arms and swung her round so that her skirts flew; and + young and old shrieked so with laughter that the park re-echoed. + </p> + <p> + “Is this innocence or corruption?” wondered the schoolmaster. + </p> + <p> + But evidently the party did not know what the learned word “corruption” + meant, and that was the reason why they were so merry. + </p> + <p> + By the time they were tired of playing “Third Man” tea was ready. The + schoolmaster was puzzled to know where the cavaliers had learnt their fine + manners, for they moved about on all fours to offer the girls sugar and + cake; and the straps of their waistcoats stood out like handles. + </p> + <p> + “The males showing off before the females!” thought the schoolmaster. + “They don’t know what they are in for.” + </p> + <p> + He noticed how the head of the family, the jolly fellow, waited on father + and mother-in-law, wife, shop-assistants and servant girls: and whenever + one of them begged him to help himself first, he invariably answered that + there was plenty of time for that. + </p> + <p> + He watched the father-in-law peeling a willow branch to make a flute for + the little boy; he watched the mother-in-law wash up as if she had been + one of the servants. And he thought that there was something strange about + selfishness, since it could be so cleverly disguised that it looked as if + no one gave more than he received; for it must be selfishness, it couldn’t + be anything else. + </p> + <p> + They played at forfeits and redeemed every forfeit with kisses, true, + genuine, resounding kisses on the lips; and when the jolly book-keeper was + made to kiss the old oak-tree, his conduct was too absurd for anything; he + embraced and caressed the gnarled trunk as if it had been a girl whom he + had met secretly; everybody shouted with laughter, for all knew how to do + it, although none of them would have liked to be caught doing it. + </p> + <p> + The schoolmaster who had begun by watching the spectacle with critical + eyes, fell more and more under the spell of it; he almost believed himself + to be one of the party. He smiled at the sallies of the shop-assistants, + and before an hour was gone the head of the family had won his whole + sympathy. No one could deny that the man was a comedian of the first rank. + He could play “Skin-the-cat”; he could “walk backwards,” “lie” on the + tree-trunks, swallow coins, eat fire, and imitate all sorts of birds. And + when he extracted a saffron cake from the dress of one of the girls and + made it disappear in his right ear, the schoolmaster laughed until his + empty inside ached. + </p> + <p> + Then the dancing began. The schoolmaster had read in Rabe’s grammar: Nemo + saltat sobrius, nisi forte insanit, and had always looked upon dancing as + a species of insanity. True, he had watched puppies and calves dancing + when they felt frisky, but he did not believe that Cicero’s maxim applied + to the animal world, and he was in the habit of drawing a sharp line + between men and animals. Now, as he sat watching these young people who + were quite sober, and neither hungry nor thirsty, moving round and round + to the slow measures of the concertina, he felt as if his soul were in a + swing which was being kept going by his eyes and ears, and his right foot + beat time gently on the springy turf. + </p> + <p> + He spent three hours musing and watching, then he rose. He found it almost + difficult to tear himself away; it was just as if he were leaving a merry + party to which he had been invited; but his mood had changed; he felt more + reconciled. He was at peace with the world and pleasantly tired, as if he + had been enjoying himself. + </p> + <p> + It was evening. Smart carriages passed him, the lady-occupants lolling on + the back seats and looking in their long, white theatre wraps like corpses + in their shrouds; it was fashionable then to look as if one had been + exhumed. The schoolmaster, whose thoughts were running in another + direction, was sure that the ladies must be bored to death and felt no + trace of envy. Below the dusty highroad, far out on the sea, the steamers + with their flags and brass bands were returning from their pleasure trips; + cheers, strains of music and snatches of song were wafted by the sea + breezes to the mountains and the Deer Park. + </p> + <p> + The schoolmaster had never felt so lonely in his life as he did this + evening in the moving throng. He fancied that everybody was looking at him + compassionately as he made his solitary way through the crowd, and almost + gave way to self-pity. He would have liked to talk to the first comer, for + the mere pleasure of hearing his voice, for in his loneliness he felt as + if he were walking by the side of a stranger. And now his conscience smote + him. He remembered the waiter Gustav, who had been unable to hide his + pleasure at meeting him. Now he had arrived at a point when he would have + given worlds if anybody had met him and shown any pleasure at the fact. + But nobody came. + </p> + <p> + Yes, somebody did, after all. As he was sitting by himself on the steamer, + a setter, who had lost his master, came to him and put its head on his + knee. The schoolmaster was not particularly fond of dogs, but he allowed + it to stay; he felt it pressing its soft warm body against his leg, he saw + the eyes of the forsaken brute looking at him in dumb appeal, as if it + were asking him to find its master. + </p> + <p> + But as soon as they landed, the setter ran away. “It needed me no longer,” + thought the schoolmaster, and he walked home and went to bed. + </p> + <p> + These trifling incidents of Midsummer day had robbed the schoolmaster of + his assurance. They taught him that all foresight, all precautions, all + the clever calculations in the world availed nothing. He felt a certain + instability in his surroundings. Even the public house, his home, was not + to be counted on. It might be closed any day. Moreover, a certain reserve + on the part of Gustav troubled him. The waiter was as civil as before, + more attentive even, but his friendship was gone; he had lost confidence. + It afforded the schoolmaster food for thought, and whenever a tough piece + of meat, or too small a dish of potatoes was set before him he thought: + </p> + <p> + “Haha! He’s paying me out!” + </p> + <p> + It was a bad summer for the schoolmaster: the second violin was out of + town and the book-seller frequented “Mosesheight,” a garden restaurant in + his own district, situated on a hill. + </p> + <p> + On an evening in autumn the bookseller and the second violin were sitting + at their favourite table, drinking a glass of punch, when the schoolmaster + entered, carrying under his arm a parcel which he carefully hid in an + empty hamper in a cupboard used for all sorts of lumber. He was + ill-tempered and unusually irritable. + </p> + <p> + “Well, old boy,” the bookseller began for the hundredth time, “and when + are you going to be married?” + </p> + <p> + “Confound your ‘when are you going to be married!’ As if a man hadn’t + enough trouble without it! Why don’t you get married yourself?” growled + the schoolmaster. + </p> + <p> + “Oh! because I have my old Stafva,” answered the bookseller, who always + had a number of stereotyped answers in readiness. + </p> + <p> + “I was married very happily,” said the Pole, “but my wife is dead, now, + ugh!” + </p> + <p> + “Is she?” mimicked the schoolmaster; “and the gentleman is a widower? How + am I to reconcile these facts?” + </p> + <p> + The Pole nodded, for he did not in the least understand what the + schoolmaster was driving at. + </p> + <p> + The latter felt bored by his friends; their topic of conversation was + always the same; he knew their replies by heart. + </p> + <p> + Presently he went into the corridor for a few moments to fetch his + cigar-case which he had left in the pocket of his overcoat. The bookseller + instantly raided the cupboard and returned with the mysterious parcel. As + it was not sealed, he opened it quickly; it contained a beautiful American + sleeping-suit; he hung it carefully over the back of the schoolmaster’s + chair. + </p> + <p> + “Ugh!” said the Pole, grinning, as if he were looking at something + unsightly. + </p> + <p> + The proprietor of the restaurant who loved a practical joke, bent over the + counter, laughing loudly; the waiter stood rooted to the spot, and one of + the cooks peeped through the door which communicated with the kitchen. + </p> + <p> + When the schoolmaster came back and realised the trick played on him, he + grew pale with anger; he immediately suspected the bookseller; but when + his eyes fell on Gustav who was standing in a corner of the room, + laughing, his old obsession returned to him: “He’s paying me out!” Without + a word he seized his property, threw a few coins on the counter and left + the restaurant. + </p> + <p> + Henceforth the schoolmaster avoided Rejner’s. The bookseller had heard + that he dined at a restaurant in his own district. This was true. But he + was very discontented! The food was not actually bad, but it was not + cooked to his liking. The waiters were not attentive. He often thought of + returning to Rejner’s, but his pride would not let him. He had been turned + out of his home; in five minutes a bond of many years’ standing had been + severed. + </p> + <p> + A short time after fate struck him a fresh blow. Miss Augusta had + inherited a little fortune in the provinces and had decided to leave + Stockholm on the first of October. The schoolmaster had to look out for + new lodgings. + </p> + <p> + But he had been spoilt, and there was no pleasing him. He changed his room + every month. There was nothing wrong with the rooms, but they were not + like his old room. It had become such a habit with him to walk through + certain streets, that he often found himself before his old front door + before he realised his mistake. He was like a lost child. + </p> + <p> + Eventually he went to live in a boarding house, a solution which he had + always loathed and dreaded. And then his friends lost sight of him + altogether. + </p> + <p> + One evening, as the Pole was sitting alone over his grog, smoking, + drinking, and nodding with the capacity of the oriental to lapse into + complete stupor, the bookseller burst in on him like a thunderstorm, flung + his hat on the table, and shouted: + </p> + <p> + “Confound him! Has anybody ever heard anything like it?” + </p> + <p> + The Pole roused himself from his brandy-and-tobacco Nirvana, and rolled + his eyes. + </p> + <p> + “I say, confound it! Has anybody ever heard anything like it? He’s going + to be married!” + </p> + <p> + “Who’s going to be married?” asked the Pole, startled by the bookseller’s + violence and emphatic language. + </p> + <p> + “Schoolmaster Blom!” + </p> + <p> + The bookseller expected a glass of grog in exchange for his news. The + proprietor left the counter and came to their table to listen. + </p> + <p> + “Has she any money?” he asked acutely. + </p> + <p> + “I don’t think so,” replied the bookseller, conscious of his temporary + importance and selling his wares one by one. + </p> + <p> + “Is she beautiful?” asked the Pole. “My wife was very beautiful. Ugh!” + </p> + <p> + “No, she’s not beautiful either,” answered the bookseller, “but + nice-looking.” + </p> + <p> + “Have you seen her?” enquired the proprietor. “Is she old?” His eyes + wandered towards the kitchen door. + </p> + <p> + “No, she’s young!” + </p> + <p> + “And her parents?” continued the proprietor. + </p> + <p> + “I heard that her father was a brass founder in Orebro.” + </p> + <p> + “The rascal! Well, I never!” said the proprietor. + </p> + <p> + “Haven’t I always said so? The man is a born husband,” said the + bookseller. + </p> + <p> + “We all of us are,” said the proprietor, “and take my word for it, no one + escapes his fate!” + </p> + <p> + With this philosophical remark he closed the subject and returned to the + counter. + </p> + <p> + When they had settled that the schoolmaster was not marrying for money, + they discussed the problem of “what the young people were going to live + on.” The bookseller made a guess at the schoolmaster’s salary and “what he + might earn besides by giving private lessons.” When that question, too, + had been settled, the proprietor, who had returned to the table, asked for + details. + </p> + <p> + “Where had he met her? Was she fair or dark? Was she in love with him?” + </p> + <p> + The last question was by no means out of the way; the bookseller “thought + she was,” for he had seen them together, arm in arm, looking into shop + windows. + </p> + <p> + “But that he, who was such a stick, could fall in love! It was + incredible!” + </p> + <p> + “And what a husband he would make!” The proprietor knew that he was <i>devilish + particular</i> about his food, and that, he said, was a mistake when one + was married. + </p> + <p> + “And he likes a glass of punch in the evening, and surely a married man + can’t drink punch every evening of his life. And he doesn’t like children! + It won’t turn out well,” he whispered. “Take my word for it, it won’t turn + out well. And, gentlemen, there’s another thing,” (he rose from his seat, + looked round and continued in a whisper), “I believe, I’m hanged if I + don’t, that the old hypocrite has had a love affair of some sort. Do you + remember that incident, gentlemen, with the—hihihi—sleeping + suit? He’s one of those whom you don’t find where you leave them! Take + care, Mrs. Blom! Mind what you are about! I’ll say no more!” + </p> + <p> + It was certainly a fact that the schoolmaster was engaged to be married + and that the wedding was to take place within two months. + </p> + <p> + What happened after, does not belong to this story, and, moreover, it is + difficult to know what goes on behind the convent walls of domesticity + when the vow of silence is being kept. + </p> + <p> + It was also a fact that the schoolmaster, after his marriage, was never + again seen at a public house. + </p> + <p> + The bookseller, who met him by himself in the street one evening, had to + listen to a long exhortation on getting married. The schoolmaster had + inveighed against all bachelors; he had called them egotists, who refused + to do their duty by the State; in his opinion they ought to be heavily + taxed, for all indirect taxes weighed most cruelly on the father of a + family. He went so far as to say that he wished to see bachelorhood + punished by the law of the land as a “crime against nature.” + </p> + <p> + The bookseller had a good memory. He said that he doubted the advisability + of taking a <i>fool</i> into one’s house, permanently. But the + schoolmaster replied that <i>his</i> wife was the most intelligent woman + he had ever met. + </p> + <p> + Two years after the wedding the Pole saw the schoolmaster and his wife in + the theatre; he thought that they looked happy; “ugh!” + </p> + <p> + Another three years went by. On a Midsummer day the proprietor of the + restaurant made a pleasure trip on the Lake of Mälar to Mariafred. There, + before Castle Cripsholm, he saw the schoolmaster, pushing a perambulator + over a green field, and carrying in his disengaged hand a basket + containing food, while a whole crowd of young men and women, “who looked + like country folk,” followed in the rear. After dinner the schoolmaster + sang songs and turned somersaults with the youngsters. He looked ten years + younger and had all the ways of a ladies’ man. + </p> + <p> + The proprietor, who was quite close to the party while they were having + dinner, overheard a little conversation between Mr. and Mrs. Blom. When + the young wife took a dish of crabs from the basket, she apologised to + Albert, because she had not been able to buy a single female crab in the + whole market. Thereupon the schoolmaster put his arm round her, kissed her + and said that it didn’t matter in the least, because male or female crabs, + it was all the same to him. And when one of the babies in the perambulator + began to cry, the schoolmaster lifted it out and hushed it to sleep again. + </p> + <p> + Well, all these things are mere details, but how people can get married + and bring up a family when they have not enough for themselves while they + are bachelors, is a riddle to me. It almost looks as if babies brought + their food with them when they come into this world; it really almost does + look as if they did. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0006" id="link2H_4_0006"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + COMPENSATION + </h2> + <p> + He was considered a genius at College, and no one doubted that he would + one day distinguish himself. But after passing his examinations, he was + obliged to go to Stockholm and look out for a berth. His dissertation, + which was to win him the doctor’s degree, had to be postponed. As he was + very ambitious, but had no private means, he resolved to marry money, and + with this object in view, he visited only the very best families, both at + Upsala where he studied for the bar, and later on at Stockholm. At Upsala + he always fraternised with the new arrivals, that is to say, when they + were members of aristocratic families, and the freshers felt flattered by + the advances made by the older man. In this way he formed many useful + ties, which meant invitations to his friends’ country houses during the + summer. + </p> + <p> + The country houses were his happy hunting ground. He possessed social + talents, he could sing and play and amuse the ladies, and consequently he + was a great favourite. He dressed beyond his means; but he never borrowed + money from any of his friends or aristocratic acquaintances. He even went + to the length of buying two worthless shares and mentioning on every + possible occasion that he had to attend a General Meeting of the + shareholders. + </p> + <p> + For two summers he had paid a great deal of attention to a titled lady who + owned some property, and his prospects were the general topic, when he + suddenly disappeared from high life and became engaged to a poor girl, the + daughter of a cooper, who owned no property whatever. + </p> + <p> + His friends were puzzled and could not understand how he could thus stand + in his own light. He had laid his plans so well, he “had but to stretch + out his hand and success was in his grasp”; he had the morsel firmly stuck + on his fork, it was only necessary for him to open his mouth and swallow + it. He himself was at a loss to understand how it was that the face of a + little girl whom he had met but once on a steamer could have upset all his + plans of many years’ standing. He was bewitched, obsessed. + </p> + <p> + He asked his friends whether they didn’t think her beautiful? + </p> + <p> + Frankly speaking they didn’t. + </p> + <p> + “But she is so clever! Just look into her eyes! What expressive eyes she + has!” + </p> + <p> + His friends could see nothing and hear less, for the girl never opened her + lips. + </p> + <p> + But he spent evening after evening with the cooper’s family; to be sure, + the cooper was a very intelligent man! On his knees before her (a trick + often practised at the country houses) he held her skeins of wool; he + played and sang to her, talked about religion and the drama, and he always + read acquiescence in her eyes. He wrote poetry about her, and sacrificed + at her shrine his laurels, his ambitious dreams, even his dissertation. + </p> + <p> + And then he married her. + </p> + <p> + The cooper drank too much at the wedding and made an improper speech about + girls in general. But the son-in-law found the old man so unsophisticated, + so amiable, that he egged him on instead of shutting him up. He felt at + his ease among these simple folk; in their midst he could be quite + himself. + </p> + <p> + “That’s being in love,” said his friends. “Love is a wonderful thing.” + </p> + <p> + And now they were married. One month—two months. He was unspeakably + happy. Every evening they spent together and he sang a song to her about + the Rose in the Wood, her favourite song. And he talked about religion and + the drama, and she sat and listened eagerly. But she never expressed an + opinion; she listened in silence and went on with her crochet work. + </p> + <p> + In the third month he relapsed into his old habit of taking an afternoon + nap. His wife, who hated being by herself, insisted on sitting by him. It + irritated him, for he felt an overwhelming need to be alone with his + thoughts. + </p> + <p> + Sometimes she met him on his way home from his office, and her heart + swelled with pride when he left his colleagues and crossed the street to + join her. She took him home in triumph: he was <i>her</i> husband! + </p> + <p> + In the fourth month he grew tired of her favourite song. It was stale now! + He took up a book and read, and neither of them spoke. + </p> + <p> + One evening he had to attend a meeting which was followed by a banquet. It + was his first night away from home. He had persuaded his wife to invite a + friend to spend the evening with her, and to go to bed early, for he did + not expect to be home until late. + </p> + <p> + The friend came and stayed until nine o’clock. The young wife sat in the + drawing-room, waiting, for she was determined not to go to bed until her + husband had returned. She felt too restless to go to sleep. + </p> + <p> + She sat alone in the drawing-room. What could she do to make the time pass + more quickly? The maid had gone to bed; the grandfather’s clock ticked and + ticked. But it was only ten o’clock when she put away her crochet work. + She fidgeted, moved the furniture about and felt a little unstrung. + </p> + <p> + So that was what being married meant! One was torn from one’s early + surroundings, and shut up in three solitary rooms to wait until one’s + husband came home, half intoxicated.—Nonsense! he loved her, and he + was out on business. She was a fool to forget that. But <i>did</i> he love + her still? Hadn’t he refused a day or two ago to hold a skein of wool for + her?—a thing he loved to do before they were married. Didn’t he look + rather annoyed yesterday when she met him before lunch? And—after + all—if he had to attend a business meeting to-night, there was no + necessity for him to be present at the banquet. + </p> + <p> + It was half-past ten when her musing had reached this point. She was + surprised that she hadn’t thought of these things before. She relapsed + into her dark mood and the dismal thoughts again passed through her mind, + one by one. But now reinforcements had arrived. He never talked to her + now! He never sang to her, never opened the piano! He had told her a lie + when he had said that he couldn’t do without his afternoon nap, for he was + reading French novels all the time. + </p> + <p> + He had told her a lie! + </p> + <p> + It was only half-past eleven. The silence was oppressive. She opened the + window and looked out into the street. Two men were standing down below, + bargaining with two women. That was men’s way! If he should ever do + anything like that! She should drown herself if he did. + </p> + <p> + She shut the window and lighted the chandelier in the bedroom. “One ought + to be able to see what one is about,” he had once said to her on a certain + occasion.—Everything was still so bright and new! The green coverlet + looked like a mown lawn, and the little pillows reminded her of two white + kittens curled up on the grass. The polish of her dressing-table reflected + the light: the mirror had as yet none of those ugly stains which are made + by the splashing of water. The silver on the back of her hair-brush, her + powder-box, her tooth-brush, all shone and sparkled. Her bedroom slippers + were still so new and pretty that it was impossible to picture them + down-at-heel. Everything looked new, and yet everything seemed to have + lost some of its freshness. She knew all his songs, all his drawing-room + pieces, all his words, all his thoughts. She knew before-hand what he + would say when he sat down to lunch, what he would talk about when they + were alone in the evening. + </p> + <p> + She was sick of it all. Had she been in love with him? Oh, yes! Certainly! + But was this all then? Was she realising all the dreams of her girlhood? + Were things to go on like this until she died? Yes! But—but—but—surely + they would have children! though there was no sign of it as yet. Then she + would no longer be alone! Then he might go out as often as he liked, for + she would always have somebody to talk to, to play with. Perhaps it was a + baby which she wanted to make her happy. Perhaps matrimony really meant + something more than being a man’s legitimate mistress. That must be it! + But then, he would have to love her, and he didn’t do that. And she began + to cry. + </p> + <p> + When her husband came home at one o’clock, he was quite sober. But he was + almost angry with her when he found her still up. + </p> + <p> + “Why didn’t you go to bed?” were the words with which he greeted her. + </p> + <p> + “How can I go to sleep when I am waiting for you?” + </p> + <p> + “A fine look out for me! Am I never to go out then? I believe you have + been crying, too?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I have, and how can I help it if you—don’t—love—me—any—more?” + </p> + <p> + “Do you mean to say I don’t love you because I had to go out on business?” + </p> + <p> + “A banquet isn’t business!” + </p> + <p> + “Good God! Am I not to be allowed to go out? How can women be so + obtrusive?” + </p> + <p> + “Obtrusive? Yes, I noticed that yesterday, when I met you. I’ll never meet + you again.” + </p> + <p> + “But, darling, I was with my chief—” + </p> + <p> + “Huhuhu!” + </p> + <p> + She burst into tears, her body moved convulsively. + </p> + <p> + He had to call the maid and ask her to fetch the hot-water bottle. + </p> + <p> + He, too, was weeping. Scalding tears! He wept over himself, his hardness + of heart, his wickedness, his illusions over everything. + </p> + <p> + Surely his love for her wasn’t an illusion? He did love her! Didn’t he? + And she said she loved him, too, as he was kneeling before her prostrate + figure, kissing her eyes. Yes, they loved one another! It was merely a + dark cloud which had passed, now. Ugly thoughts, born of solitude and + loneliness. She would never, never again stay alone. They fell asleep in + each other’s arms, her face dimpled with smiles. + </p> + <p> + But she did not go to meet him on the following day. He asked no questions + at lunch. He talked a lot, but more for the sake of talking than to amuse + her; it seemed as if he were talking to himself. + </p> + <p> + In the evening he entertained her with long descriptions of the life at + Castle Sjöstaholm; he mimicked the young ladies talking to the Baron, and + told her the names of the Count’s horses. And on the following day he + mentioned his dissertation. + </p> + <p> + One afternoon he came home very tired. She was sitting in the + drawing-room, waiting for him. Her ball of cotton had fallen on the floor. + In passing, his foot got entangled in the cotton; at his next step he + pulled her crochet work out of her hand and dragged it along; then he lost + his temper and kicked it aside. + </p> + <p> + She exclaimed at his rudeness. + </p> + <p> + He retorted that he had no time to bother about her rubbish, and advised + her to spend her time more profitably. He had to think of his + dissertation, if he was to have a career at all. And she ought to consider + the question of how to limit their household expenses. + </p> + <p> + Things had gone far indeed! + </p> + <p> + On the next day the young wife, her eyes swollen with weeping, was + knitting socks for her husband. He told her he could buy them cheaper + ready-made. She burst into tears. What was she to do? The maid did all the + work of the house, there was not enough work in the kitchen for two. She + always dusted the rooms. Did he want her to send the maid away? + </p> + <p> + “No, no!” + </p> + <p> + “What did he want, then?” + </p> + <p> + He didn’t know himself, but he was sure that something was wrong. Their + expenses were too high. That was all. They couldn’t go on living at their + present rate, and then—somehow he could never find time to work at + his dissertation. + </p> + <p> + Tears, kisses, and a grand reconciliation! But now he started staying away + from home in the evening several times a week. Business! A man must show + himself! If he stays at home, he will be overlooked and forgotten! + </p> + <p> + A year had passed; there were no signs of the arrival of a baby. “How like + a little liaison I once had in the old days,” he thought; “there is only + one difference: this one is duller and costs more.” There was no more + conversation, now; they merely talked of household matters. “She has no + brain,” he thought. “I am listening to myself when I am talking to her, + and the apparent depths of her eyes is a delusion, due to the size of her + pupils—the unusual size of her pupils.—” + </p> + <p> + He talked openly about his former love for her as of something that was + over and done with. And yet, whenever he did so, he felt a pain in his + heart, an irritating, cruel pain, a remorseless pain that could never die. + </p> + <p> + “Everything on earth withers and dies,” he mused, “why should her + favourite song alone be an exception to this? When one has heard it three + hundred and sixty-five times, it becomes stale; it can’t be helped. But is + my wife right when she says that our love, also, has died? No, and yet—perhaps + she is. Our marriage is no better than a vulgar liaison, for we have no + child.” + </p> + <p> + One day he made up his mind to talk the matter over with a married friend, + for were they not both members of the “Order of the Married”? + </p> + <p> + “How long have you been married?” + </p> + <p> + “Six years.” + </p> + <p> + “And does matrimony bore you?” + </p> + <p> + “At first it did; but when the children came, matters improved.” + </p> + <p> + “Was that so? It’s strange that we have no child.” + </p> + <p> + “Not your fault, old man! Tell your wife to go and see a doctor about it.” + </p> + <p> + He had an intimate conversation with her and she went. + </p> + <p> + Six weeks after what a change! + </p> + <p> + What a bustle and commotion in the house! The drawing-room table was + littered with baby-clothes which were quickly hidden if anybody entered + unexpectedly, and reappeared as quickly if it was only he who had come in. + A name had to be thought of. It would surely be a boy. The midwife had to + be interviewed, medical books had to be bought, and a cradle and a baby’s + outfit. + </p> + <p> + The baby arrived and it really was a boy! And when he saw the “little + monkey that smelled of butter” clasped to her bosom, which until then had + but been his plaything, he reverently discovered the mother in his little + wife; and “when he saw the big pupils looking at the baby so intently that + they seemed to be looking into the future”, he realised that there were + depths in her eyes after all; depths more profound than he could fathom + for all his drama and religion. And now all his old love, his dear old + love, burst into fresh flames, and there was something new added to it, + which he had dimly divined, but never realised. + </p> + <p> + How beautiful she was when she busied herself about the house again! And + how intelligent in all matters concerning the baby! + </p> + <p> + As for him, he felt a man. Instead of talking of the Baron’s horses and + the Count’s cricket matches, he now talked, too much almost, of his son. + </p> + <p> + And when occasionally he was obliged to be out of an evening, he always + longed for his own fireside; not because his wife sat there waiting for + him, like an evil conscience, but because he knew that she was not alone. + And when he came home, both mother and child were asleep. He was almost + jealous of the baby, for there had been a certain charm in the thought + that while he was out, somebody was sitting alone at home, eagerly + awaiting his return. + </p> + <p> + Now he was allowed his afternoon nap. And as soon as he had gone back to + town, the piano was opened and the favourite song of the <i>Rose in the + Wood</i> was sung, for it was quite new to Harold, and had regained all + its freshness for poor little Laura who hadn’t heard it for so many days. + </p> + <p> + She had no time now for crochet work, but there were plenty of + antimacassars in the house. He, on his part, could not spare the time for + his dissertation. + </p> + <p> + “Harold shall write it,” said the father, for he knew now that his life + would not be over when he came to die. + </p> + <p> + Many an evening they sat together, as before, and gossiped, but now both + took a share in the conversation, for now she understood what they were + talking about. + </p> + <p> + She confessed that she was a silly girl who knew nothing about religion + and the drama; but she said that she had always told him so, and that he + had refused to believe it. + </p> + <p> + But now he believed it less than ever. + </p> + <p> + They sang the old favourite song, and Harold crowed, they danced to the + tune and rocked the baby’s cradle to it, and the song always retained its + freshness and charm. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0007" id="link2H_4_0007"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + FRICTIONS + </h2> + <p> + His eyes had been opened. He realised the perversity of the world, but he + lacked the power to penetrate the darkness and discover the cause of this + perversity; therefore he gave himself up to despair, a disillusioned man. + Then he fell in love with a girl who married somebody else. He complained + of her conduct to his friends, male and female, but they only laughed at + him. For a little while longer he trod his solitary path alone and + misunderstood. He belonged to “society,” and joined in its pursuits, + because it distracted him; but at the bottom of his heart he had nothing + but contempt for its amusements, which he took no pains to conceal. + </p> + <p> + One evening he was present at a ball. He danced with a young woman of + unusual beauty and animation. When the band ceased playing, he remained + standing by her side. He knew he ought to talk to her but he did not know + what to say. After a while the girl broke the silence. + </p> + <p> + “You are fond of dancing, Baron?” she said with a cold, smile. + </p> + <p> + “Oh no! not at all,” he answered. “Are you?” + </p> + <p> + “I can’t imagine anything more foolish,” she replied. + </p> + <p> + He had met his man, or rather his woman. + </p> + <p> + “Why do you dance, then?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “For the same reason that you do.” + </p> + <p> + “Can you read my mind?” + </p> + <p> + “Easily enough; if two people think alike, the other always knows.” + </p> + <p> + “H’m! You’re a strange woman! Do you believe in love?” + </p> + <p> + “No!” + </p> + <p> + “Nor do I! You and I ought to get married.” + </p> + <p> + “I’m beginning to think so myself.” + </p> + <p> + “Would you marry me?” + </p> + <p> + “Why not? At any rate, we shouldn’t fight.” + </p> + <p> + “Horrible idea! But how can you be so sure?” + </p> + <p> + “Because we think alike.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, but that might become monotonous. We should have nothing to talk + about, because the one would always know what the other is thinking.” + </p> + <p> + “True; but wouldn’t it be even more monotonous if we remained unmarried + and misunderstood?” + </p> + <p> + “You are right! Would you like to think it over?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, until the cotillon.” + </p> + <p> + “No longer?” + </p> + <p> + “Why any longer?” + </p> + <p> + He took her back to the drawing-room and left her there, drank several + glasses of champagne and watched her during supper. She allowed two young + members of the Diplomatic Corps to wait on her, but made fun of them all + the time and treated them as if they were footmen. + </p> + <p> + As soon as the cotillon began, he went to her and offered her a bouquet. + </p> + <p> + “Do you accept me?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” she replied. + </p> + <p> + And so they were engaged. + </p> + <p> + It’s a splendid match, said the world. They are made for one another. They + are equals as far as social position and money are concerned. They hold + the same blasé views of life. By blasé the world meant that they cared + very little for dances, theatres, bazaars, and other noble sports without + which life is not really worth living. + </p> + <p> + They were like carefully wiped twin slates, exactly alike; but utterly + unable to surmise whether or not life would write the same legend on both. + They never asked one another during the tender moments of their + engagement: Do you love me? They knew quite well that it was impossible, + because they did not believe in love. They talked little, but they + understood one another perfectly. + </p> + <p> + And they married. + </p> + <p> + He was always attentive, always polite, and they were good friends. + </p> + <p> + When the baby was born, it had but one effect on their relationship; they + had something to talk about now. + </p> + <p> + But by-and-by the husband began to reveal a certain energy. He had a sense + of duty, and moreover, he was sick of being idle. He had a private income, + but was in no way connected with politics or the Government. Now he looked + round for some occupation which would fill the void in his life. He had + heard the first morning call of the awakening spirits and felt it his duty + to do his share of the great work of research into the causes of human + misery. He read much, made a careful study of politics and eventually + wrote an article and sent it to a paper. The consequence was that he was + elected a member of the Board of Education. This necessitated hard reading + in future, for all questions were to be threshed out thoroughly. + </p> + <p> + The Baroness lay on the sofa and read Chateaubriand and Musset. She had no + faith in the improvement of humanity, and this stirring up of the dust and + mould which the centuries had deposited on human institutions irritated + her. Yet she noticed that she did not keep pace with her husband. They + were like two horses at a race. They had been weighed before the start and + been found to be of the same weight; they had promised to keep side by + side during the run; everything was calculated to make them finish the + race and leave the course at the same time. But already the husband had + gained by the length of a neck. Unless she hurried up, she was bound to be + left behind. + </p> + <p> + And the latter really happened. In the following year he was made + controller of the budget. He was away for two months. His absence made the + Baroness realise that she loved him; a fact which was brought home to her + by her fear of losing him. + </p> + <p> + When he returned home, she was all eagerness; but his mind was filled with + the things he had seen and heard abroad. He realised that they had come to + the parting of the ways, but he would have liked to delay it, prevent it, + if possible. He showed her in great living pictures the functioning of the + colossal gigantic machinery of the State, he tried to explain to her the + working of the wheels, the multifarious transmissions, regulators and + detents, unreliable pendulums and untrustworthy safety valves. + </p> + <p> + She was interested at first, but after a while her interest waned. + Conscious of her mental inferiority, her insignificance, she devoted + herself entirely to her baby, anxious to demonstrate to her husband that + she yet had a value as a model mother. But her husband did not appreciate + this value. He had married her for the sake of companionship, and he found + in her an excellent nurse for his child. But how could it be helped now? + Who could have foreseen such a thing? + </p> + <p> + The house was always full of members of Parliament, and politics was the + subject of conversation at dinner. The hostess merely took care that no + fault could be found with the cooking. The Baron never omitted to have one + or two men amongst his guests who could talk to his wife about music and + the drama, but the Baroness wanted to discuss nothing but the nursery and + the bringing up of children. After dessert, as soon as the health of the + hostess was drunk, there was a general stampede to the smoking-room where + the political discussions were continued. The Baroness left her guests and + went to the nursery with a feeling of bitterness in her heart; she + realised that her husband had so far outdistanced her that she could never + again hope to come up with him. + </p> + <p> + He worked much at home in the evening; frequently he was busy at his + writing-table until the small hours of the morning, but always behind + locked doors. When he noticed afterwards, as he sometimes did, that his + wife went about with red eyes, he felt a pain in his heart; but they had + nothing to say to each other. + </p> + <p> + Occasionally however, at those times when his work palled, when he + realised that his inner life was growing poorer and poorer, he felt a void + within him, a longing for warmth, for something intimate, something he had + dreamed of long ago, in the early days of his youth. But every feeling of + that sort he suppressed at once as unfaithfulness to his wife, for he had + a very high conception of the duty of a husband. + </p> + <p> + To bring a little more variety into her daily life, he suggested one day + that she should invite a cousin of whom she had often spoken, but whom he + had never seen, to spend the winter with them in town. + </p> + <p> + This had always been a great wish of the Baroness’s, but now that the + realisation of it was within her power, she changed her mind. She did not + want her in the least now. Her husband pressed her for reasons, but she + could not give him any. It roused his curiosity and finally she confessed + that she was afraid of her cousin; afraid that she might win his heart, + that he might fall in love with her. + </p> + <p> + “She must be a queer girl, we really must have her here!” + </p> + <p> + The Baroness wept and warned, but the Baron laughed and the cousin + arrived. + </p> + <p> + One afternoon the Baron came home, tired as usual; he had forgotten all + about the cousin and his curiosity in regard to her. They sat down to + dinner. The Baron asked the cousin if she was fond of the theatre. She + replied that she was not. She preferred reality to make-believe. At home + she had founded a school for black sheep and a society for the care of + discharged prisoners. Indeed! The Baron was much interested in the + administration of prisons. The cousin was able to give him a good deal of + information, and during the rest of the dinner the conversation was + exclusively about prisons. Eventually the cousin promised to treat the + whole question in a paper which the Baron was going to read and work up. + </p> + <p> + What the Baroness had foreseen, happened. The Baron contracted a spiritual + marriage with the cousin, and his wife was left out in the cold. But the + cousin was also beautiful, and when she leaned over the Baron at his + writing-desk, and he felt her soft arm on his shoulder and her warm breath + against his cheek, he could not suppress a sensation of supreme + well-being. Needless to say, their conversation was not always of prisons. + They also discussed love. She believed in the love of the souls, and she + stated as plainly as she could, that marriage without love was + prostitution. The Baron had not taken much interest in the development of + modern ideas on love, and found that her views on the subject were rather + hard, but after all she was probably quite right. + </p> + <p> + But the cousin possessed other qualities, too, invaluable qualifications + for a true spiritual marriage. She had no objection to tobacco smoke for + instance, in fact, she was very fond of a cigarette herself. There was no + reason, therefore, why she should not go into the smoking-room with the + men after dinner and talk about politics. And then she was charming. + </p> + <p> + Tortured by little twinges of conscience, the Baron would every now and + then disappear from the smoking-room, go into the nursery, kiss his wife + and child, and ask her how she was getting on? The Baroness was grateful, + but she was not happy. After these little journeys the Baron always + returned to his friends in the best of tempers; one might have thought + that he had faithfully performed a sacred duty. At other times it + irritated and distressed him that his wife did not join the party in the + smoking-room, too, as <i>his</i> wife; this thought was a burden which + weighed quite heavily on him. + </p> + <p> + The cousin did not go home in the spring, but accompanied the couple to a + watering-place. There she organised little performances for the benefit of + the poor, in which she and the Baron played the parts of the lovers. This + had the inevitable result that the fire burst into flames. But the flames + were only spiritual flames; mutual interests, like views, and, perhaps, + similar dispositions. + </p> + <p> + The Baroness had ample time to consider her position. The day arrived when + she told her husband that since everything was over between them, the only + decent thing to do was to part. But that was more than he had bargained + for; he was miserable; the cousin had better return to her parents, and he + would prove to his wife that he was a man of honour. + </p> + <p> + The cousin left. A correspondence between her and the Baron began. He made + the Baroness read every letter, however much she hated doing it. After a + while, however, he gave in and read the letters without showing them to + his wife. + </p> + <p> + Finally the cousin returned. Then matters came to a crisis. The Baron + discovered that he could not live without her. + </p> + <p> + What were they to do? Separate? It would be death. Go on as at present? + Impossible! Annul the marriage which the Baron had come to look upon as + legal prostitution and marry his beloved? However painful it might be, it + was the only honest course to take. + </p> + <p> + But that was against the wishes of the cousin. She did not want it said of + her that she had stolen another woman’s husband. And then the scandal! the + scandal! + </p> + <p> + “But it was dishonest not to tell his wife everything; it was dishonest to + allow things to go on; one could never tell how the matter would end.” + </p> + <p> + “What did he mean? How could it end?” + </p> + <p> + “Nobody could tell!” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! How dared he! What did he think of her?” + </p> + <p> + “That she was a woman!” + </p> + <p> + And he fell on his knees and worshipped her; he said that he did not care + if the administration of prisons and the school for black sheep went to + the devil; he did not know what manner of woman she was; he only knew that + he loved her. + </p> + <p> + She replied that she had nothing but contempt for him, and went helter + skelter to Paris. He followed at her heels. At Hamburg he wrote a letter + to his wife in which he said that they had made a mistake and that it was + immoral not to rectify it. He asked her to divorce him. + </p> + <p> + And she divorced him. + </p> + <p> + A year after these events the Baron and the cousin were married. They had + a child. But that was a fact which did not interfere with their happiness. + On the contrary! What a wealth of new ideas germinated in their minds in + their voluntary exile! How strong were the winds which blew here! + </p> + <p> + He encouraged her to write a book on “young criminals.” The press tore it + to pieces. She was furious and swore that she would never write another + book. He asked her whether she wrote for praise, whether she was + ambitious?—She replied by a question: Why did he write?—A + little quarrel arose. He said it was refreshing to hear her express views + which did not echo his own—always his own.—Always his own? + What did he mean? Didn’t she have <i>views of her own</i>? She henceforth + made it her business to prove to him on every occasion that she was + capable of forming her own opinions; and to prevent any errors on his part + she took good care that they always differed from his. He told her he did + not care what views she held as long as she loved him.—Love? What + about it? He was no better than other men and, moreover, he had betrayed + her. He did not love her soul, but her body.—No, he loved both, he + loved her, every bit of her!—Oh! How deceitful he had been!—No, + he had not been deceitful, he had merely deceived himself when he believed + that he loved her soul only. + </p> + <p> + They were tired of strolling up and down the boulevard, and sat down + before a cafe. She lighted a cigarette. A waiter requested her rather + uncivilly, not to smoke. The Baron demanded an explanation and the waiter + said that the cafe was a first-class establishment and the management was + anxious not to drive away respectable people by serving <i>these ladies</i>. + They rose from their seats, paid and went away. The Baron was furious, the + young Baroness had tears in her eyes. + </p> + <p> + “There they had a demonstration of the power of prejudice! Smoking was a + foolish act as far as a man was concerned, but in a woman it was a crime! + Let him who was able to do so, destroy this prejudice! Or, let us say, him + who would care to do so! The Baron had no wish that his wife should be the + first victim, even if it were to win for her the doubtful honour of having + cast aside a prejudice. For it was nothing else. In Russia, ladies + belonging to the best society smoked at the dinner-table during the + courses. Customs changed with the latitudes. And yet those trifles were + not without importance, for life consisted of trifles. If men and women + shared bad habits, intercourse between them would be less stiff and + formal: they would make friends more easily and keep pace with one + another. If they had the same education, they would have the same + interests, and cling together more closely during the whole of their + lives.” + </p> + <p> + The Baron was silent as if he had said something foolish. But she had not + been listening to him; her thoughts had been far away. + </p> + <p> + “She had been insulted by a waiter, told that she was not fit to associate + with respectable people. There was more behind that, than appeared on the + surface. She had been recognised. Yes, she was sure of it, it was not the + first time that she had noticed it.” + </p> + <p> + “What had she noticed?” + </p> + <p> + “That she had been treated with little respect at the restaurants. The + people evidently did not think that they were married; because they were + affectionate and civil to one another. She had borne it in silence for a + long time, but now she had come to the end of her tether. And yet this was + nothing compared to what they were saying at home!” + </p> + <p> + “Well, what were they saying? And why had she never told him anything + about it before?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! horrible things! The letters she had received! Leaving the anonymous + ones quite out of the question. + </p> + <p> + “Well, and what about him? Was he not being treated as if he were a + criminal? And yet he had not committed a crime! He had acted according to + all legal requirements, he had not broken his marriage vows. He had left + the country in compliance with the dictates of the law; the Royal + Consistory has granted his appeal for a divorce; the clergy, Holy Church, + had given him his release from the bonds of his first marriage on stamped + paper; therefore he had not broken them! When a country was conquered, a + whole nation was absolved from its oath of loyalty to its monarch; why did + society look askance at the release from a promise? Had it not conferred + the right on the Consistory to dissolve a marriage? How could it dare to + assume the character of a judge now and condemn its own laws? Society was + at war with itself! He was being treated like a criminal! Hadn’t the + secretary of the Embassy, his old friend, on whom he had left his and his + wife’s cards, acknowledged them by simply returning one card only? And was + he not overlooked at all public functions?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! She had had to put up with worse things! One of her friends in Paris + had closed her door to her, and several had cut her in the street.” + </p> + <p> + “Only the wearer of a boot knew where it pinched. The boots which they + were wearing now were real Spanish boots, and they were at war with + society. The upper classes had cut them. The upper classes! This community + of semi-imbeciles, who secretly lived like dogs, but showed one another + respect as long as there was no public scandal; that was to say as long as + one did not honestly revoke an agreement and wait until it had lapsed + before one made use of one’s newly-regained freedom! And these vicious + upper classes were the awarders of social position and respect, according + to a scale on which honesty ranked far below zero. Society was nothing but + a tissue of lies! It was inexplicable that it hadn’t been found out long + ago! It was high time to examine this fine structure and inquire into the + condition of its foundations.” + </p> + <p> + They were on friendlier terms on arriving home than they had been for many + years. The Baroness stayed at home with her baby, and was soon expecting a + second one. This struggle against the tide was too hard for her, and she + was already growing tired of it. She was tired of everything! To write in + an elegantly furnished, well-heated room on the subject of discharged + prisoners, offering them, at a proper distance, a well-gloved hand, was a + proceeding society approved of; but to hold out the hand of friendship to + a woman who had married a legally divorced man was quite another thing. + Why should it be so? It was difficult to find an answer. + </p> + <p> + The Baron fought in the thick of the battle. He visited the Chamber of + Deputies, was present at meetings, and everywhere he listened to + passionate diatribes against society. He read papers and magazines, kept a + keen eye on literature, studied the subject deeply. His wife was + threatened by the same fate which had overtaken the first one; to be left + behind! It was strange. She seemed unable to take in all the details of + his investigations, she disapproved of much of the new doctrine, but she + felt that he was right and fighting for a good cause. He knew that he + could always count on her never-flagging sympathy; that he had a friend at + home who would always stand by him. Their common fate drove them into each + other’s arms like frightened birds at the approach of a storm. All the + womanliness in her,—however little it may be appreciated now-a-days,—which + is after all nothing but a memory of the great mother, the force of nature + which is woman’s endowment, was roused. It fell on the children like the + warm glow of a fire at eventide; it fell on the husband like a ray of + sunshine; it brought peace to the home. He often wondered how it was that + he did not miss his old comrade, with whom he was wont to discuss + everything; he discovered that his thoughts had gained force and vigour + since he stopped pouring them out as soon as he conceived them; it seemed + to him that he was profiting more by the silent approval, the kindly nod, + the unwavering sympathy. He felt that his strength had increased, that his + views were less under outside control; he was a solitary man, now, and yet + he was less solitary than he had been in the past, for he was no longer + constantly met by contradictions which merely filled his heart with + misgivings. + </p> + <p> + It was Christmas Eve in Paris. A large Christmas tree, grown in the wood + of St. Germain, stood in their little chalet on the Cours de la Reine. + They were going out after breakfast to buy Christmas presents for the + children. The Baron was pre-occupied, for he had just published a little + pamphlet, entitled: “Do the Upper Classes constitute Society?” They were + sitting at breakfast in their cosy dining-room, and the doors which led to + the nursery stood wide open. They listened to the nurse playing with the + children, and the Baroness smiled with contentment and happiness. She had + grown very gentle and her happiness was a quiet one. One of the children + suddenly screamed and she rose from the table to see what was the matter. + At the same moment the footman came into the dining-room with the morning + post. The Baron opened two packets of printed matter. The first was a “big + respectable” newspaper. He opened it and his eyes fell on a headline in + fat type: “A Blasphemer!” + </p> + <p> + He began to read: “Christmas is upon us again! This festival dear to all + pure hearts, this festival sacred to all Christian nations, which has + brought a message of peace and good-will to all men, which makes even the + murderer sheathe his knife, and the thief respect the sacred law of + property; this festival, which is not only of very ancient origin, but + which is also, especially in the countries of the North, surrounded by a + host of historic associations, etc., etc. And then like foul fumes arising + from a drain, an individual suddenly confronts us who does not scruple to + tear asunder the most sacred bonds, who vomits malice on all respectable + members of society; malice, dictated by the pettiest vengeance....” He + refolded the paper and put it into the pocket of his dressing-gown. Then + he opened the second parcel. It contained caricatures of himself and his + wife. It went the same way as the first, but he had to be quick, for his + wife was re-entering the dining-room. He finished his breakfast and went + into his bed-room to get ready to go out. They left the house together. + </p> + <p> + The sunlight fell on the frosted plane-trees of the Champs Elysées, and in + the heart of the stony desert the Place de la Concorde opened out like a + large oasis. He felt her arm on his, and yet he had the feeling as if she + were supporting him. She talked of the presents which they were going to + buy for the children, and he tried to force himself to take an interest in + the subject. But all at once he interrupted her conversation and asked + her, à-propos of nothing: + </p> + <p> + “Do you know the difference between vengeance and punishment?” + </p> + <p> + “No, I’ve never thought about it.” + </p> + <p> + “I wonder whether it isn’t this: When an anonymous journalist revenges + himself, it is punishment; but when a well-known writer, who is not a + pressman, fights with an open visor, meting out punishment, then it is + revenge! Let us join the new prophets!” + </p> + <p> + She begged him not to spoil Christmas by talking of the newspapers. + </p> + <p> + “This festival,” he muttered, “on which peace and good-will....” + </p> + <p> + They passed through the arcades of the Rue de Rivoli, turned into the + boulevards and made their purchases. They dined at the Grand Hotel. She + was in a sunny frame of mind and tried to cheer him up. But he remained + preoccupied. Suddenly he asked, + </p> + <p> + “How is it possible that one can have a bad conscience when one has acted + rightly?” + </p> + <p> + She did not know. + </p> + <p> + “Is it because the upper classes have so trained us, that our conscience + troubles us whenever we rebel against them? Probably it is so. Why + shouldn’t he who has been hurt unjustly, have the right to attack + injustice? Because only he who has been hurt will attack, and the upper + classes hate being attacked. Why did I not strike at the upper classes in + the past, when I belonged to them? Because, of course, I didn’t know them + then. One must look at a picture from a distance in order to find the + correct visual point!” + </p> + <p> + “One shouldn’t talk about such things on Christmas Eve!” + </p> + <p> + “True, it is Christmas. This festival of....” + </p> + <p> + They returned home. They lit the candles on the Christmas tree; it + radiated peace and happiness; but its dark branches smelt of a funeral and + looked sinister, like the Baron’s face. The nurse came in with the little + ones. His face lighted up, for, he thought, when they are grown up they + will reap in joy what we have sown in tears; then their conscience will + only trouble them when they have sinned against the laws of nature; they + won’t have to suffer from whims which have been caned into us at school, + drummed into us by the parsons, invented by the upper classes for their + own benefit. + </p> + <p> + The Baroness sat down at the piano when the maids and the footmen entered. + She played melancholy old dances, dear to the heart of the people of the + North, while the servants danced gravely with the children. It was very + much like the penitential part of divine service. + </p> + <p> + After that the presents were distributed among the children, and the + servants received their gifts. And then the children were put to bed. + </p> + <p> + The Baroness went into the drawing-room and sat down in an arm-chair. The + Baron threw himself on a footstool at her feet. He rested his head on her + knees. It was so heavy—so heavy. She silently stroked his forehead. + “What! was he weeping?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes!” + </p> + <p> + She had never before seen a man weep. It was a terrible sight. His big + strong frame shook, but he made no sound. + </p> + <p> + “Why was he weeping?” + </p> + <p> + “Because he was unhappy.” + </p> + <p> + “Unhappy with her?” + </p> + <p> + “No, no, not with her, but still, unhappy.” + </p> + <p> + “Had anybody treated him badly?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes!” + </p> + <p> + “Couldn’t he tell her all about it?” + </p> + <p> + “No, he only wanted to sit at her knees, as he used to sit long ago, at + his mother’s.” + </p> + <p> + She talked to him as if he had been a child. She kissed his eyes and wiped + his face with her handkerchief. She felt so proud, so strong, there were + no tears in her eyes. The sight of her inspired him with new courage. + </p> + <p> + “How weak he had been! That he should have found the machine-made attacks + of his opponents so hard to bear! Did his enemies really believe what they + said?” + </p> + <p> + “Terrible thought! Probably they did. One often found stones firmly grown + into pine-trees, why should not opinions grow into the brain in the same + way? But she believed in him, she knew that he was fighting for a good + cause?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, she believed it! But—he must not be angry with her for asking + him such a question—but—did he not miss his child, the first + one?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, certainly, but it could not be helped. At least, not yet! But he and + the others who were working for the future would have to find a remedy for + that, too. He did not know, yet, what form that remedy would take, but + stronger brains than his, and many together, would surely one day solve + this problem which at present seemed insolvable.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, she hoped it would be so.” + </p> + <p> + “But their marriage? Was it a marriage in the true sense of the word, + seeing that he couldn’t tell her what troubled him? Wasn’t it, too, + pro...?” + </p> + <p> + “No, it was a true marriage, for they loved one another. There had been no + love between him and his first wife. But he and she did love one another, + could she deny it?” + </p> + <p> + “She couldn’t, he was her dear love.” Then their marriage was a true + marriage before God and before Nature. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0008" id="link2H_4_0008"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + UNNATURAL SELECTION OR THE ORIGIN OF RACE + </h2> + <p> + The Baron had read in <i>The Slaves of Life</i> with disgust and + indignation that the children of the aristocracy were bound to perish + unless they took the mothers’ milk from the children of the lower classes. + He had read Darwin and believed that the gist of his teaching was that + through selection the children of the aristocracy had come to be more + highly developed representatives of the genus “Man.” But the doctrine of + heredity made him look upon the employment of a foster-mother with + aversion; for might not, with the blood of the lower classes, certain + conceptions, ideas and desires be introduced and propagated in the + aristocratic nursling? He was therefore determined that his wife should + nurse her baby herself, and if she should prove incapable of doing so, the + child should be brought up with the bottle. He had a right to the cows’ + milk, for they fed on his hay; without it they would starve, or would not + have come into existence at all. The baby was born. It was a son! The + father had been somewhat anxious before he became certain of his wife’s + condition, for he was, personally, a poor man; his wife, on the other + hand, was very wealthy, but he had no claim to her fortune unless their + union was blest with a legal heir, (in accordance with the law of entail + chap. 00 par. 00). His joy was therefore great and genuine. The baby was a + transparent little thoroughbred, with blue veins shining through his waxen + skin. Nevertheless his blood was poor. His mother who possessed the figure + of an angel, was brought up on choice food, protected by rich furs from + all the eccentricities of the climate, and had that aristocratic pallor + which denotes the woman of noble descent. + </p> + <p> + She nursed the baby herself. There was consequently no need to become + indebted to peasant women for the privilege of enjoying life on this + planet. Nothing but fables, all he had read about it! The baby sucked and + screamed for a fortnight. But all babies scream. It meant nothing. But it + lost flesh. It became terribly emaciated. The doctor was sent for. He had + a private conversation with the father, during which he declared that the + baby would die if the Baroness continued to nurse him, because she was + firstly too highly strung, and secondly had nothing with which to feed + him. He took the trouble to make a quantitative analysis of the milk, and + proved (by equations) that the child was bound to starve unless there was + a change in the method of his feeding. + </p> + <p> + What was to be done? On no account could the baby be allowed to die. + </p> + <p> + Bottle or foster mother? The latter was out of the question. Let us try + the bottle! The doctor, however, prescribed a foster mother. + </p> + <p> + The best Dutch cow, which had received the gold medal for the district, + was isolated and fed with hay; with dry hay of the finest quality. The + doctor analysed the milk, everything was all right. How simple the system + was! How strange that they had not thought of it before! After all, one + need not engage a foster mother a tyrant before whom one had to cringe, a + loafer one had to fatten; not to mention the fact that she might have an + infectious disease. + </p> + <p> + But the baby continued to lose flesh and to scream. It screamed night and + day. There was no doubt it suffered from colic. A new cow was procured and + a fresh analysis made. The milk was mixed with Karlsbad water, genuine + Sprudel, but the baby went on screaming. + </p> + <p> + “There’s no remedy but to engage a foster mother,” said the doctor. + </p> + <p> + “Oh! anything but that! One did not want to rob other children, it was + against nature, and, moreover, what about heredity?” + </p> + <p> + When the Baron began to talk of things natural and unnatural, the doctor + explained to him that if nature were allowed her own way, all noble + families would die out and their estates fall to the crown. This was the + wisdom of nature, and human civilization was nothing but a foolish + struggle against nature, in which man was bound to be beaten. The Baron’s + race was doomed; this was proved by the fact that his wife was unable to + feed the fruit of her womb; in order to live they were bound to buy or + steal the milk of other women. Consequently the race lived on robbery, + down to the smallest detail. + </p> + <p> + “Could the purchase of the milk be called robbery? The purchase of it!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, because the money with which it was bought was produced by labour. + Whose labour? The people’s! For the aristocracy didn’t work.” + </p> + <p> + “The doctor was a socialist!” + </p> + <p> + “No, a follower of Darwin. However, he didn’t care in the least if they + called him a socialist. It made no difference to him.” + </p> + <p> + “But surely, purchase was not robbery! That was too strong a word!” + </p> + <p> + “Well, but if one paid with money one hadn’t earned!” + </p> + <p> + “That was to say, earned by manual labour?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes!” + </p> + <p> + “But in that case the doctor was a robber too!” + </p> + <p> + “Quite so! Nevertheless he would not hold back with the truth! Didn’t the + Baron remember the repenting thief who had spoken such true words?” + </p> + <p> + The conversation was interrupted; the Baron sent for a famous professor. + The latter called him a murderer straight out, because he had not engaged + a nurse long ago. + </p> + <p> + The Baron had to persuade his wife. He had to retract all his former + arguments and emphasize the one simple fact, namely, the love for his + child, (regulated by the law of entail). + </p> + <p> + But where was a foster mother to come from? It was no use thinking of + looking for one in town, for there all people were corrupt. No, it would + have to be a country girl. But the Baroness objected to a girl because, + she argued, a girl with a baby was an immoral person; and her son might + contract a hereditary tendency. + </p> + <p> + The doctor retorted that all foster mothers were unmarried women and that + if the young Baron inherited from her a preference for the other sex, he + would grow into a good fellow; tendencies of that sort ought to be + encouraged. It was not likely that any of the farmers’ wives would accept + the position, because a farmer who owned land, would certainly prefer to + keep his wife and children with him. + </p> + <p> + “But supposing they married a girl to a farm labourer?” + </p> + <p> + “It would mean a delay of nine months.” + </p> + <p> + “But supposing they found a husband for a girl who had a baby?” + </p> + <p> + “That wasn’t a bad idea!” + </p> + <p> + The Baron knew a girl who had a baby just three months old. He knew her + only too well, for he had been engaged for three years and had been + unfaithful to his fiancee by “doctor’s orders.” He went to her himself and + made his suggestion. She should have a farm of her own if she would + consent to marry Anders, a farm labourer, and come to the Manor as foster + mother to the young Baron. Well, was it strange that she should accept the + proffered settlement in preference to her bearing her disgrace alone? It + was arranged there and then that on the following Sunday the banns should + be read for the first, second and third time, and that Anders should go + home to his own village for two months. + </p> + <p> + The Baron looked at her baby with a strange feeling of envy. He was a big, + strong boy. He was not beautiful, but he looked like a guarantee of many + generations to come. The child was born to live but it was not his fate to + fulfil his destination. + </p> + <p> + Anna wept when he was taken to the orphanage, but the good food at the + Manor (her dinner was sent up to her from the dining-room, and she had as + much porter and wine as she wanted) consoled her. She was also allowed to + go out driving in the big carriage, with a footman by the side of the + coachman. And she read <i>A Thousand and One Nights</i>. Never in all her + life had she been so well off. + </p> + <p> + After an absence of two months Anders returned. He had done nothing but + eat, drink, and rest. He took possession of the farm, but he also wanted + his Anna. Couldn’t she, at least, come and see him sometimes? No, the + Baroness objected. No nonsense of that sort! + </p> + <p> + Anna lost flesh and the little Baron screamed. The doctor was consulted. + </p> + <p> + “Let her go and see her husband,” he said. + </p> + <p> + “But supposing it did the baby harm?” + </p> + <p> + “It won’t!” + </p> + <p> + But Anders must be “analysed” first. Anders objected. + </p> + <p> + Anders received a present of a few sheep and was “analysed.” + </p> + <p> + The little Baron stopped screaming. + </p> + <p> + But now news came from the orphanage that Anna’s boy had died of + diphtheria. + </p> + <p> + Anna fretted, and the little Baron screamed louder than ever. She was + discharged and sent back to Anders and a new foster mother was engaged. + </p> + <p> + Anders was glad to have his wife with him at last, but she had contracted + expensive habits. She couldn’t drink Brazilian coffee, for instance, it + had to be Java. And her health did not permit her to eat fish six times a + week, nor could she work in the fields. Food at the farm grew scarce. + </p> + <p> + Anders would have been obliged to give up the farm after twelve months, + but the Baron had a kindly feeling for him and allowed him to stay on as a + tenant. + </p> + <p> + Anna worked daily at the Manor and frequently saw the little Baron; but he + did not recognise her and it was just as well that he did not. And yet he + had lain at her breast! And she had saved his life by sacrificing the life + of her own child. But she was prolific and had several sons, who grew up + and were labourers and railway men; one of them was a convict. + </p> + <p> + But the old Baron looked forward with anxiety to the day on which his son + should marry and have children in his turn. He did not look strong! He + would have been far more reassured if the other little Baron, the one who + had died at the orphanage, had been the heir to the estates. And when he + read <i>The Slaves of Life</i> a second time, he had to admit that the + upper classes live at the mercy of the lower classes, and when he read + Darwin again he could not deny that natural selection, in our time, was + anything but natural. But facts were facts and remained unalterable, in + spite of all the doctor and the socialists might say to the contrary. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0009" id="link2H_4_0009"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + AN ATTEMPT AT REFORM + </h2> + <p> + She had noticed with indignation that girls were solely brought up to be + housekeepers for their future husbands. Therefore she had learnt a trade + which would enable her to keep herself in all circumstances of life. She + made artificial flowers. + </p> + <p> + He had noticed with regret that girls simply waited for a husband who + should keep them; he resolved to marry a free and independent woman who + could earn her own living; such a woman would be his equal and a companion + for life, not a housekeeper. + </p> + <p> + Fate ordained that they should meet. He was an artist and she, as I + already mentioned, made flowers; they were both living in Paris at the + time when they conceived these ideas. + </p> + <p> + There was style in their marriage. They took three rooms at Passy. In the + centre was the studio, to the right of it his room, to the left hers. This + did away with the common bed-room and double bed, that abomination which + has no counterpart in nature and is responsible for a great deal of + dissipation and immorality. It moreover did away with the inconvenience of + having to dress and undress in the same room. It was far better that each + of them should have a separate room and that the studio should be a + neutral, common meeting-place. + </p> + <p> + They required no servant; they were going to do the cooking themselves and + employ an old charwoman in the mornings and evenings. It was all very well + thought out and excellent in theory. + </p> + <p> + “But supposing you had children?” asked the sceptics. + </p> + <p> + “Nonsense, there won’t be any!” + </p> + <p> + It worked splendidly. He went to the market in the morning and did the + catering. Then he made the coffee. She made the beds and put the rooms in + order. And then they sat down and worked. + </p> + <p> + When they were tired of working they gossiped, gave one another good + advice, laughed and were very jolly. + </p> + <p> + At twelve o’clock he lit the kitchen fire and she prepared the vegetables. + He cooked the beef, while she ran across the street to the grocer’s; then + she laid the table and he dished up the dinner. + </p> + <p> + Of course, they loved one another as husbands and wives do. They said + good-night to each other and went into their own rooms, but there was no + lock to keep him out when he knocked at her door; but the accommodation + was small and the morning found them in their own quarters. Then he + knocked at the wall: + </p> + <p> + “Good morning, little girlie, how are you to-day?” + </p> + <p> + “Very well, darling, and you?” + </p> + <p> + Their meeting at breakfast was always like a new experience which never + grew stale. + </p> + <p> + They often went out together in the evening and frequently met their + countrymen. She had no objection to the smell of tobacco, and was never in + the way. Everybody said that it was an ideal marriage; no one had ever + known a happier couple. + </p> + <p> + But the young wife’s parents, who lived a long way off, were always + writing and asking all sorts of indelicate questions; they were longing to + have a grandchild. Louisa ought to remember that the institution of + marriage existed for the benefit of the children, not the parents. Louisa + held that this view was an old-fashioned one. Mama asked her whether she + did not think that the result of the new ideas would be the complete + extirpation of mankind? Louisa had never looked at it in that light, and + moreover the question did not interest her. Both she and her husband were + happy; at last the spectacle of a happy married couple was presented to + the world, and the world was envious. + </p> + <p> + Life was very pleasant. Neither of them was master and they shared + expenses. Now he earned more, now she did, but in the end their + contributions to the common fund amounted to the same figure. + </p> + <p> + Then she had a birthday! She was awakened in the morning by the entrance + of the charwoman with a bunch of flowers and a letter painted all over + with flowers, and containing the following words: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “To the lady flower-bud from her dauber, who wishes her many happy + returns of the day and begs her to honour him with her company at an + excellent little breakfast—at once.” + </pre> + <p> + She knocked at his door—come in! + </p> + <p> + And they breakfasted, sitting on the bed—his bed; and the charwoman + was kept the whole day to do all the work. It was a lovely birthday! + </p> + <p> + Their happiness never palled. It lasted two years. All the prophets had + prophesied falsely. + </p> + <p> + It was a model marriage! + </p> + <p> + But when two years had passed, the young wife fell ill. She put it down to + some poison contained in the wall-paper; he suggested germs of some sort. + Yes, certainly, germs. But something was wrong. Something was not as it + should be. She must have caught cold. Then she grew stout. Was she + suffering from tumour? Yes, they were afraid she was. + </p> + <p> + She consulted a doctor—and came home crying. It was indeed a growth, + but one which would one day see daylight, grow into a flower and bear + fruit. + </p> + <p> + The husband did anything but cry. He found style in it, and then the + wretch went to his club and boasted about it to his friends. But the wife + still wept. What would her position be now? She would soon not be able to + earn money with her work and then she would have to live on him. And they + would have to have a servant! Ugh! those servants! + </p> + <p> + All their care, their caution, their wariness had been wrecked on the rock + of the inevitable. + </p> + <p> + But the mother-in-law wrote enthusiastic letters and repeated over and + over again that marriage was instituted by God for the protection of the + children; the parents’ pleasure counted for very little. + </p> + <p> + Hugo implored her to forget the fact that she would not be able to earn + anything in future. Didn’t she do her full share of the work by mothering + the baby? Wasn’t that as good as money? Money was, rightly understood, + nothing but work. Therefore she paid her share in full. + </p> + <p> + It took her a long time to get over the fact that he had to keep her. But + when the baby came, she forgot all about it. She remained his wife and + companion as before in addition to being the mother of his child, and he + found that this was worth more than anything else. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0010" id="link2H_4_0010"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + A NATURAL OBSTACLE + </h2> + <p> + Her father had insisted on her learning book-keeping, so that she might + escape the common lot of young womanhood; to sit there and wait for a + husband. + </p> + <p> + She was now employed as book-keeper in the goods department of the + Railways, and was universally looked upon as a very capable young woman. + She had a way of getting on with people, and her prospects were excellent. + </p> + <p> + Then she met the green forester from the School of Forestry and married + him. They had made up their minds not to have any children; theirs was to + be a true, spiritual marriage, and the world was to be made to realise + that a woman, too, has a soul, and is not merely sex. Husband and wife met + at dinner in the evening. It really was a true marriage, the union of two + souls; it was, of course, also the union of two bodies, but this is a + point one does not discuss. + </p> + <p> + One day the wife came home and told her husband that her office hours had + been changed. The directors had decided to run a new night train to Malmo, + and in future she would have to be at her office from six to nine in the + evening. It was a nuisance, for he could not come home before six. That + was quite impossible. + </p> + <p> + Henceforth they had to dine separately and meet only at night. He was + dissatisfied. He hated the long evenings. + </p> + <p> + He fell into the habit of calling for her. But he found it dull to sit on + a chair in the goods department and have the porters knocking against him. + He was always in the way. And when he tried to talk to her as she sat at + her desk with the penholder behind her ear, she interrupted him with a + curt: + </p> + <p> + “Oh! do be quiet until I’ve done!” + </p> + <p> + Then the porters turned away their faces and he could see by their backs + that they were laughing. + </p> + <p> + Sometimes one or the other of her colleagues announced him with a: + </p> + <p> + “Your husband is waiting for you, Mrs. X.” + </p> + <p> + “Your husband!” There was something scornful in the very way in which they + pronounced the word. + </p> + <p> + But what irritated him more than anything else was the fact that the desk + nearest to her was occupied by a “young ass” who was always gazing into + her eyes and everlastingly consulting the ledger, bending over her + shoulders so that he almost touched her with his chin. And they talked of + invoices and certificates, of things which might have meant anything for + all he knew. And they compared papers and figures and seemed to be on more + familiar terms with one another than husband and wife were. And that was + quite natural, for she saw more of the young ass than of her husband. It + struck him that their marriage was not a true spiritual marriage after + all; in order to be that he, too, would have had to be employed in the + goods department. But as it happened he was at the School of Forestry. + </p> + <p> + One day, or rather one night, she told him that on the following Saturday + a meeting of railway employés, which was to conclude with a dinner, would + be held, and that she would have to be present. Her husband received the + communication with a little air of constraint. + </p> + <p> + “Do you want to go?” he asked naïvely. + </p> + <p> + “Of course, I do!” + </p> + <p> + “But you will be the only woman amongst so many men, and when men have had + too much to drink, they are apt to become coarse.” + </p> + <p> + “Don’t you attend the meetings of the School of Forestry without me?” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly, but I am not the only man amongst a lot of women.” + </p> + <p> + “Men and women were equals, she was amazed that he, who had always + preached the emancipation of women could have any objection to her + attending the meeting.” + </p> + <p> + “He admitted that it was nothing but prejudice on his part. He admitted + that she was right and that he was wrong, but all the same he begged her + not to go; he hated the idea. He couldn’t get over the fact.” + </p> + <p> + “He was inconsequent.” + </p> + <p> + “He admitted that he was inconsequent, but it would take ten generations + to get used to the new conditions.” + </p> + <p> + “Then he must not go to meetings either?” + </p> + <p> + “That was quite a different matter, for his meetings were attended by men + only. He didn’t mind her going out without him; what he didn’t like was + that she went out alone with so many men.” + </p> + <p> + “She wouldn’t be alone, for the cashier’s wife would be present as—” + </p> + <p> + “As what?” + </p> + <p> + “As the cashier’s wife.” + </p> + <p> + “Then couldn’t he be present as her husband?” + </p> + <p> + “Why did he want to make himself so cheap by being in the way?” + </p> + <p> + “He didn’t mind making himself cheap.” + </p> + <p> + “Was he jealous?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes! Why not? He was afraid that something might come between them.” + </p> + <p> + “What a shame to be jealous! What an insult! What distrust! What did he + think of her?” + </p> + <p> + “That she was perfect. He would prove it. She could go alone!” “Could she + really? How condescending of him!” + </p> + <p> + She went. She did not come home until the early hours of the morning. She + awakened her husband and told him how well it had all gone off. He was + delighted to hear it. Somebody had made a speech about her; they had sung + quartets and ended with a dance. + </p> + <p> + “And how had she come home?” + </p> + <p> + “The young ass had accompanied her to the front door.” + </p> + <p> + “Supposing anybody who knew them had seen her at three o’clock in the + morning in the company of the young ass?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, and what then? She was a respectable woman.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, but she might easily lose her reputation.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah! He was jealous, and what was even worse, he was envious. He grudged + her every little bit of fun. That was what being married meant! To be + scolded if one dared to go out and enjoy oneself a little. What a stupid + institution marriage was! But was their union a true marriage? They met + one another at night, just as other married couples did. Men were all + alike. Civil enough until they were married, but afterwards, oh! + Afterwards.... Her husband was no better than other men: he looked upon + her as his property, he thought he had a right to order her about.” + </p> + <p> + “It was true. There was a time when he had believed that they belonged to + one another, but he had made a mistake. He belonged to her as a dog + belonged to its master. What was he but her footman, who called for her at + night to see her home? He was ‘her husband.’ But did she want to be ‘his + wife’? Were they equals?” + </p> + <p> + “She hadn’t come home to quarrel with him. She wanted to be nothing but + his wife, and she did not want him to be anything but her husband.” + </p> + <p> + The effect of the champagne, he thought, and turned to the wall. + </p> + <p> + She cried and begged him not to be unjust, but to—forgive her. + </p> + <p> + He pulled the blankets over his ears. + </p> + <p> + She asked him again if he—if he didn’t want her to be his wife any + more? + </p> + <p> + “Yes, of course, he wanted her! But he had been so dreadfully bored all + the evening, he could never live through another evening like it.” + </p> + <p> + “Let them forget all about it then!” + </p> + <p> + And they forgot all about it and continued loving one another. + </p> + <p> + On the following evening, when the green forester came for his wife, he + was told that she had gone to the store rooms. He was alone in the + counting-house and sat down on a chair. Presently a glass door was opened + and the young ass put in his head: “Are you here, Annie?” + </p> + <p> + No, it was only her husband! + </p> + <p> + He rose and went away. The young ass called his wife Annie, and was + evidently on very familiar terms with her. It was more than he could bear. + </p> + <p> + When she came home they had a scene. She reproached him with the fact that + he did not take his views on the emancipation of women seriously, + otherwise he could not be annoyed at her being on familiar terms with her + fellow-clerks. He made matters worse by admitting that his views were not + to be taken seriously. + </p> + <p> + “Surely he didn’t mean what he was saying! Had he changed his mind? How + could he!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, he had changed his mind. One could not help modifying one’s views + almost daily, because one had to adapt them to the conditions of life + which were always changing. And if he had believed in spiritual marriages + in the days gone by, he had now come to lose faith in marriages of any + sort whatever. That was progress in the direction of radicalism. And as to + the spiritual, she was spiritually married to the young ass rather than to + him, for they exchanged views on the management of the goods department + daily and hourly, while she took no interest at all in the cultivation of + forests. Was there anything spiritual in their marriage? Was there?” + </p> + <p> + “No, not any longer! Her love was dead! He had killed it when he renounced + his splendid faith in—the emancipation of women.” + </p> + <p> + Matters became more and more unbearable. The green forester began to look + to his fellow-foresters for companionship and gave up thinking of the + goods department and its way of conducting business, matters which he + never understood. + </p> + <p> + “You don’t understand me,” she kept on saying over and over again. + </p> + <p> + “No, I don’t understand the goods department,” he said. + </p> + <p> + One night, or rather one morning, he told her that he was going botanising + with a girls’ class. He was teaching botany in a girls’ school. + </p> + <p> + “Oh! indeed! Why had he never mentioned it before? Big girls?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! very big ones. From sixteen to twenty.” + </p> + <p> + “H’m! In the morning?” + </p> + <p> + “No! In the afternoon! And they would have supper in one of the outlying + little villages.” + </p> + <p> + “Would they? The head-mistress would be there of course?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! no, she had every confidence in him, since he was a married man. It + was an advantage, sometimes, to be married.” + </p> + <p> + On the next day she was ill. + </p> + <p> + “Surely he hadn’t the heart to leave her!” + </p> + <p> + “He must consider his work before anything else. Was she very ill?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! terribly ill!” + </p> + <p> + In spite of her objections he sent for a doctor. The doctor declared that + there was nothing much the matter; it was quite unnecessary for the + husband to stay at home. The green forester returned towards morning. He + was in high spirits. He had enjoyed himself immensely! He had not had such + a day for a long, long time. + </p> + <p> + The storm burst. Huhuhu! This struggle was too much for her! He must swear + a solemn oath never to love any woman but her. Never! + </p> + <p> + She had convulsions; he ran for the smelling salts. + </p> + <p> + He was too generous to give her details of the supper with the + schoolgirls, but he could not forego the pleasure of mentioning his former + simile anent dogs and possession, and he took the occasion to draw her + attention to the fact that love without the conception of a right to + possession—on both sides—was not thinkable. What was making + her cry? The same thing which had made him swear, when she went out with + twenty men. The fear of losing him! But one can lose only that which one + possesses! Possesses! + </p> + <p> + Thus the rent was repaired. But goods department and girls’ school were + ready with their scissors to undo the laborious mending. + </p> + <p> + The harmony was disturbed. + </p> + <p> + The wife fell ill. She was sure that she had hurt herself in lifting a + case which was too heavy for her. She was so keen on her work that she + could not bear to wait while the porters stood about and did nothing. She + was compelled to lend a hand. Now she must have ruptured herself. + </p> + <p> + Yes, indeed, there was something the matter! + </p> + <p> + How angry she was! Angry with her husband who alone was to blame. What + were they going to do with the baby? It would have to be boarded out! + Rousseau had done that. It was true, he was a fool, but on this particular + point he was right. + </p> + <p> + She was full of fads and fancies. The forester had to resign his lessons + at the girls’ school at once. + </p> + <p> + She chafed and fretted because she was no longer able to go into the store + rooms, but compelled to stay in the counting-house all day long and make + entries. But the worst blow which befell her was the arrival of an + assistant whose secret mission it was to take her place when she would be + laid up. + </p> + <p> + The manner of her colleagues had changed, too. The porters grinned. She + felt ashamed and longed to hide herself. It would be better to stay at + home and cook her husband’s dinner than sit here and be stared at. Oh! + What black chasms of prejudice lay concealed in the deceitful hearts of + men! + </p> + <p> + She stayed at home for the last month, for the walk to and from her office + four times a day was too much for her. And she was always so hungry! She + had to send out for sandwiches in the morning. And every now and then she + felt faint and had to take a rest. What a life! A woman’s lot was indeed a + miserable one. + </p> + <p> + The baby was born. + </p> + <p> + “Shall we board it out?” asked the father. + </p> + <p> + “Had he no heart?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! yes, of course he had!” + </p> + <p> + And the baby remained at home. + </p> + <p> + Then a very polite letter arrived from the head office, enquiring after + the young mother’s health. + </p> + <p> + “She was very well and would be back at the office on the day after + to-morrow.” + </p> + <p> + She was still a little weak and had to take a cab; but she soon picked up + her strength. However, a new difficulty now presented itself. She must be + kept informed of the baby’s condition; a messenger boy was despatched to + her home, at first twice a day, then every two hours. + </p> + <p> + And when she was told that the baby had been crying, she put on her hat + and rushed home at once. But the assistant was there, ready to take her + place. The head clerk was very civil and made no comment. + </p> + <p> + One day the young mother discovered accidentally that the nurse was unable + to feed the baby, but had concealed the fact for fear of losing her place. + She had to take a day off in order to find a new foster mother. But they + were all alike; brutal egoists every one of them, who took no interest in + the children of strangers. No one could ever depend on them. + </p> + <p> + “No,” agreed the husband, “in a case of this sort one can only depend on + oneself.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you mean to insinuate that I ought to give up my work?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! You must do as you like about that!” + </p> + <p> + “And become your slave!” + </p> + <p> + “No, I don’t mean that at all!” + </p> + <p> + The little one was not at all well; all children are ill occasionally. He + was teething! One day’s leave after another! The poor baby suffered from + toothache. She had to soothe him at night, work at the office during the + day, sleepy, tired, anxious, and again take a day off. + </p> + <p> + The green forester did his best and carried the baby about in his arms + half the night, but he never said a word about his wife’s work at the + goods department. + </p> + <p> + Nevertheless she knew what was in his mind. He was waiting for her to give + in; but he was deceitful and so he said nothing! How treacherous men were! + She hated him; she would sooner kill herself than throw up her work and + “be his slave.” + </p> + <p> + The forester saw quite clearly now that it was impossible for any woman to + emancipate herself from the laws of nature; <i>under present circumstances</i>, + he was shrewd enough to add. + </p> + <p> + When the baby was five months old, it was plainly evident that the whole + thing would before very long repeat itself. + </p> + <p> + What a catastrophe! + </p> + <p> + But when that sort of thing once begins.... + </p> + <p> + The forester was obliged to resume his lessons at the girls’ school to + augment their income, and now—she laid down her arms. + </p> + <p> + “I am your slave, now,” she groaned, when she came home with her + discharge. + </p> + <p> + Nevertheless she is the head of the house, and he gives her every penny he + earns. When he wants to buy a cigar he makes a long speech before he + ventures to ask for the money. She never refuses it to him, but all the + same he finds the asking for it unpleasant. He is allowed to attend + meetings, but no dinners, and all botanising with girls is strictly + forbidden. He does not miss it much, for he prefers playing with his + children. + </p> + <p> + His colleagues call him henpecked; but he smiles, and tells them that he + is happy in spite of it, because he has in his wife a very sweet and + sensible companion. + </p> + <p> + She, on her part, obstinately maintains that she is nothing but his slave, + whatever he might say to the contrary. It is her one comfort, poor, little + woman! + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0011" id="link2H_4_0011"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + A DOLL’S HOUSE + </h2> + <p> + They had been married for six years, but they were still more like lovers + than husband and wife. He was a captain in the navy, and every summer he + was obliged to leave her for a few months; twice he had been away on a + long voyage. But his short absences were a blessing in disguise, for if + their relations had grown a little stale during the winter, the summer + trip invariably restored them to their former freshness and + delightfulness. + </p> + <p> + During the first summer he wrote veritable love-letters to her and never + passed a sailing ship without signalling: “Will you take letters?” And + when he came in sight of the landmarks of the Stockholm Archipelago, he + did not know how to get to her quickly enough. But she found a way. She + wired him to Landsort that she would meet him at Dalarö. When he anchored, + he saw a little blue scarf fluttering on the verandah of the hotel: then + he knew that it was she. But there was so much to do aboard that it was + evening before he could go ashore. He saw her from his gig on the + landing-stage as the bow held out his oar to fend off; she was every bit + as young, as pretty and as strong as she had been when he left her; it was + exactly as if they were re-living the first spring days of their love. A + delicious little supper waited for him in the two little rooms she had + engaged. What a lot they had to talk about! The voyage, the children, the + future! The wine sparkled in the glasses and his kisses brought the blood + to her cheeks. + </p> + <p> + Tattoo went on the ship, but he took no notice of it, for he did not + intend to leave her before one o’clock. + </p> + <p> + “What? He was going?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; he must get back aboard, but it would do if he was there for the + morning watch.” + </p> + <p> + “When did the morning watch begin?” + </p> + <p> + “At five o’clock.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh!... As early as that!” + </p> + <p> + “But where was she going to stay the night?” + </p> + <p> + “That was her business!” + </p> + <p> + He guessed it and wanted to have a look at her room; but she planted + herself firmly on the threshold. He covered her face with kisses, took her + in his arms as if she were a baby and opened the door. + </p> + <p> + “What an enormous bed! It was like the long boat. Where did the people get + it from?” + </p> + <p> + She blushed crimson. + </p> + <p> + “Of course, she had understood from his letter that they would stay at the + hotel together.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, and so they would, in spite of his having to be back aboard for the + morning watch. What did he care for the stupid morning prayers!” + </p> + <p> + “How could he say such a thing!” + </p> + <p> + “Hadn’t they better have some coffee and a fire? The sheets felt damp! + What a sensible little rogue she was to provide for his staying, too! Who + would have thought that she had so much sense? Where did she get it from?” + </p> + <p> + “She didn’t get it from anywhere!” + </p> + <p> + “No? Well, he might have known! He might have known everything!” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! But he was so stupid!” + </p> + <p> + “Indeed, he was stupid, was he?” + </p> + <p> + And he slipped his arm round her waist. + </p> + <p> + “But he ought to behave himself!” + </p> + <p> + “Behave himself? It was easy to talk!” + </p> + <p> + “The girl was coming with the wood!” + </p> + <p> + When it struck two, and sea and Skerries were flaming in the east, they + were sitting at the open window. + </p> + <p> + “They were lovers still, weren’t they? And now he must go. But he would be + back at ten, for breakfast, and after that they would go for a sail.” + </p> + <p> + He made some coffee on her spirit lamp, and they drank it while the sun + was rising and the seagulls screamed. The gunboat was lying far out at sea + and every now and then he saw the cutlasses of the watch glinting in the + sunlight. It was hard to part, but the certainty of meeting again in a few + hours’ time helped them to bear it. He kissed her for the last time, + buckled on his sword and left her. + </p> + <p> + When he arrived at the bridge and shouted: “boat ahoy!” she hid herself + behind the window curtains as if she were ashamed to be seen. He blew + kisses to her until the sailors came with the gig. Then a last: “Sleep + well and dream of me” and the gig put off. He watched her through his + glasses, and for a long time he could distinguish a little figure with + black hair. The sunbeams fell on her nightdress and bare throat and made + her look like a mermaid. + </p> + <p> + The reveille went. The longdrawn bugle notes rolled out between the green + islands over the shining water and returned from behind the pine woods. + The whole crew assembled on deck and the Lord’s Prayer and “Jesus, at the + day’s beginning” were read. The little church tower of Dalarö answered + with a faint ringing of bells, for it was Sunday. Cutters came up in the + morning breeze: flags were flying, shots resounded, light summer dresses + gleamed on the bridge, the steamer, leaving a crimson track behind her, + steamed up, the fishers hauled in their nets, and the sun shone on the + blue, billowy water and the green islands. + </p> + <p> + At ten o’clock six pairs rowed the gig ashore from the gunboat. They were + together again. And as they sat at breakfast in the large dining-room, the + hotel guests watched and whispered: “Is she his wife?” He talked to her in + an undertone like a lover, and she cast down her eyes and smiled; or hit + his fingers with her dinner napkin. + </p> + <p> + The boat lay alongside the bridge; she sat at the helm, he looked after + the foresail. But he could not take his eyes off her finely shaped figure + in the light summer dress, her determined little face and proud eyes, as + she sat looking to windward, while her little hand in its strong leather + glove held the mainsheet. He wanted to talk to her and was purposely + clumsy in tacking; then she scolded him as if he were a cabin boy, which + amused him immensely. + </p> + <p> + “Why didn’t you bring the baby with you?” he asked her teasingly. + </p> + <p> + “Where should I have put it to sleep?” + </p> + <p> + “In the long boat, of course?” + </p> + <p> + She smiled at him in a way which filled his heart with happiness. + </p> + <p> + “Well, and what did the proprietress say this morning?” + </p> + <p> + “What should she say?” + </p> + <p> + “Did she sleep well last night?” + </p> + <p> + “Why shouldn’t she sleep well?” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t know; she might have been kept awake by rats, or perhaps by the + rattling of a window; who can tell what might not disturb the gentle sleep + of an old maid!” + </p> + <p> + “If you don’t stop talking nonsense, I shall make the sheet fast and sail + you to the bottom of the sea.” + </p> + <p> + They landed at a small island and ate their luncheon which they had + brought with them in a little basket. After lunch they shot at a target + with a revolver. Then they pretended to fish with rods, but they caught + nothing and sailed out again into the open sea where the eidergeese were, + through a strait where they watched the carp playing about the rushes. He + never tired of looking at her, talking to her, kissing her. + </p> + <p> + In this manner they met for six summers, and always they were just as + young, just as mad and just as happy as before. They spent the winter in + Stockholm in their little cabins. He amused himself by rigging boats for + his little boys or telling them stories of his adventures in China and the + South Sea Islands, while his wife sat by him, listening and laughing at + his funny tales. It was a charming room, that could not be equalled in the + whole world. It was crammed full of Japanese sunshades and armour, + miniature pagodas from India, bows and lances from Australia, nigger drums + and dried flying fish, sugar cane and opium pipes. Papa, whose hair was + growing thin at the top, did not feel very happy outside his own four + walls. Occasionally he played at draughts with his friend, the auditor, + and sometimes they had a game at Boston and drank a glass of grog. At + first his wife had joined in the game, but now that she had four children, + she was too busy; nevertheless, she liked to sit with the players for a + little and look at their cards, and whenever she passed Papa’s chair he + caught her round the waist and asked her whether she thought he ought to + be pleased with his hand. + </p> + <p> + This time the corvette was to be away for six months. The captain did not + feel easy about it, for the children were growing up and the + responsibility of the big establishment was too much for Mama. The captain + himself was not quite so young and vigorous as he had been, but—it + could not be helped and so he left. + </p> + <p> + Directly he arrived at Kronborg he posted a letter to her. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “My darling Topmast,” it began. + + “Wind moderate, S.S.E. by E. + 10° C. 6 bells, watch below. I cannot + express in words what I feel on this voyage during which I shall not + see you. When we kedged out (at 6 p.m. while a strong gale blew from + N.E. by N.) I felt as if a belaying pin were suddenly being driven + into my chest and I actually had a sensation as if a chain had been + drawn through the hawsepipes of my ears. They say that sailors can + feel the approach of misfortune. I don’t know whether this is true, + but I shall not feel easy until I have had a letter from you. Nothing + has happened on board, simply because nothing must happen. How are you + all at home? Has Bob had his new boots, and do they fit? I am a + wretched correspondent as you know, so 111 stop now. With a big kiss + right on this x. + + “Your old Pal. + + “P.S. You ought to find a friend (female, of course) and don’t forget + to ask the proprietress at Dalaro to take care of the long boat until + my return. The wind is getting up; it will blow from the North to-night.” + </pre> + <p> + Off Portsmouth the captain received the following letter from his wife: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “Dear old Pal, + + “It’s horrible here without you, believe me. I have had a lot of + worry, too, for little Alice has got a new tooth. The doctor said it + was unusually early, which was a sign of (but I’m not going to tell + you that). Bob’s boots fit him very well and he is very proud of them. + + “You say in your letter that I ought to find a friend of my own sex. + Well, I have found one, or, rather, she has found me. Her name is + Ottilia Sandegren, and she was educated at the seminary. She is rather + grave and takes life very seriously, therefore you need not be afraid, + Pal, that your Topmast will be led astray. Moreover, she is religious. + We really ought to take religion a little more seriously, both of us. + She is a splendid woman. She has just arrived and sends you her kind + regards. + + “Your Gurli.” + </pre> + <p> + The captain was not overpleased with this letter. It was too short and not + half as bright as her letters generally were. Seminary, religion, grave, + Ottilia: Ottilia twice! And then Gurli! Why not Gulla as before? H’m! + </p> + <p> + A week later he received a second letter from Bordeaux, a letter which was + accompanied by a book, sent under separate cover. + </p> + <p> + “Dear William!”—“H’m! William! No longer Pal!”—“Life is a + struggle”—“What the deuce does she mean? What has that to do with + us?”—“from beginning to end. Gently as a river in Kedron”—“Kedron! + she’s quoting the Bible!”—“our life has glided along. Like + sleepwalkers we have been walking on the edge of precipices without being + aware of them”—“The seminary, oh! the seminary!”—“Suddenly we + find ourselves face to face with the ethical”—“The ethical? + Ablative!”—“asserting itself in its higher potencies!”—“Potencies?”—“Now + that I am awake from my long sleep and ask myself: has our marriage been a + marriage in the true sense of the word? I must admit with shame and + remorse that this has not been the case. For love is of divine origin. + (St. Matthew xi. 22, 24.)” + </p> + <p> + The captain had to mix himself a glass of rum and water before he felt + able to continue his reading.—“How earthly, how material our love + has been! Have our souls lived in that harmony of which Plato speaks? + (Phaidon, Book vi. Chap. ii. Par. 9). Our answer is bound to be in the + negative. What have I been to you? A housekeeper and, oh! The disgrace! + your mistress! Have our souls understood one another? Again we are bound + to answer ‘No.’”—“To Hell with all Ottilias and seminaries! Has she + been my housekeeper? She has been my wife and the mother of my children!”—“Read + the book I have sent you! It will answer all your questions. It voices + that which for centuries has lain hidden in the hearts of all women! Read + it, and then tell me if you think that our union has been a true marriage. + Your Gurli.” + </p> + <p> + His presentiment of evil had not deceived him. The captain was beside + himself; he could not understand what had happened to his wife. It was + worse than religious hypocrisy. + </p> + <p> + He tore off the wrapper and read on the title page of a book in a paper + cover: <i>Et Dukkehjem af Henrik Ibsen</i>. A Doll’s House? Well, and—? + His home had been a charming doll’s house; his wife had been his little + doll and he had been her big doll. They had danced along the stony path of + life and had been happy. What more did they want? What was wrong? He must + read the book at once and find out. + </p> + <p> + He finished it in three hours. His brain reeled. How did it concern him + and his wife? Had they forged bills? No! Hadn’t they loved one another? Of + course they had! + </p> + <p> + He locked himself into his cabin and read the book a second time; he + underlined passages in red and blue, and when the dawn broke, he took “A + well-meant little ablative on the play <i>A Doll’s House</i>, written by + the old Pal on board the Vanadis in the Atlantic off Bordeaux. (Lat. 45° + Long. 16°.) + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “1. She married him because he was in love with her and that was a + deuced clever thing to do. For if she had waited until she had fallen + in love with someone, it might have happened that <i>he</i> would not have + fallen in love with her, and then there would have been the devil to + pay. For it happens very rarely that both parties are equally in love.” + + “2. She forges a bill. That was foolish, but it is not true that it + was done for the husband’s sake only, for she has never loved him; it + would have been the truth if she had said that she had done it for him, + herself and the children. Is that clear?” + + “3. That he wants to embrace her after the ball is only a proof of his + love for her, and there is no wrong in that; but it should not be done + on the stage. “<i>Il y a des choses qui se font mais que ne se disent + point</i>,’ as the French say, Moreover, if the poet had been fair, he + would also save shown an opposite case. ‘<i>La petite chienne veut, mais + le grand chien ne veut pas</i>,’ says Ollendorf. (Vide the long boat at + Dalarö.)” + + “4. That she, when she discovers that her husband is a fool (and that + he is when he offers to condone her offence because it has not leaked + out) decides to leave her children ‘not considering herself worthy of + bringing them up,’ is a not very clever trick of coquetry. If they have + both been fools (and surely they don’t teach at the seminary that it + is right to forge bills) they should pull well together in future in + double harness.” + + “Least of all is she justified in leaving her children’s education in + the hands of the father whom she despises.” + + “5. Nora has consequently every reason for staying with her children + when she discovers what an imbecile her husband is.” + + “6. The husband cannot be blamed for not sufficiently appreciating + her, for she doesn’t reveal her true character until after the row.” + + “7. Nora has undoubtedly been a fool; she herself does not deny it.” + + “8. There is every guarantee of their pulling together more happily + in future; he has repented and promised to turn over a new leaf. So + has she. Very well! Here’s my hand, let’s begin again at the beginning. + Birds of a feather flock together. There’s nothing lost, we’ve both + been fools! You, little Nora, were badly brought up. I, old rascal, + didn’t know any better. We are both to be pitied. Pelt our teachers + with rotten eggs, but don’t hit me alone on the head. I, though a man, + am every bit as innocent as you are! Perhaps even a little more so, + for I married for love, you for a home. Let us be friends, therefore, + and together teach our children the valuable lesson we have learnt + in the school of life.” + + Is that clear? All right then! + + This was written by Captain Pal with his stiff fingers and slow brain! + + And now, my darling dolly, I have read your book and given you my + opinion. But what have we to do with it? Didn’t we love one another? + Haven’t we educated one another and helped one another to rub off our + sharp corners? Surely you’ll remember that we had many a little + encounter in the beginning! What fads of yours are those? To hell with + all Ottilias and seminaries! + + The book you sent me is a queer book. It is like a watercourse with + an insufficient number of buoys, so that one might run aground at any + moment. But I pricked the chart and found calm waters. Only, I + couldn’t do it again. The devil may crack these nuts which are rotten + inside when one has managed to break the shell. I wish you peace and + happiness and the recovery of your sound common sense. + + “How are the little ones? You forgot to mention them. Probably you + were thinking too much of Nora’s unfortunate kiddies, (which exist + only in a play of that sort). Is my little boy crying? My nightingale + singing, my dolly dancing? She must always do that if she wants to + make her old pal happy. And now may God bless you and prevent evil + thoughts from rising between us. My heart is sadder than I can tell. + And I am expected to sit down and write a critique on a play. God + bless you and the babies; kiss their rosy cheeks for your faithful + old Pal.” + </pre> + <p> + When the captain had sent off his letter, he went into the officers’ mess + and drank a glass of punch. The doctor was there, too. + </p> + <p> + “Have you noticed a smell of old black breeches?” he asked. “I should like + to hoist myself up to the cat block and let a good old N.W. by N. blow + right through me.” + </p> + <p> + But the doctor did not understand what he was driving at. + </p> + <p> + “Ottilia, Ottilia!... What she wants is a taste of the handspike. Send the + witch to the quarterdeck and let the second mess loose on her behind + closed hatches. One knows what is good for an old maid.” + </p> + <p> + “What’s the matter with you, old chap?” asked the doctor. + </p> + <p> + “Plato! Plato! To the devil with Plato! To be six months at sea makes one + sick of Plato. That teaches one ethics! Ethics? I bet a marlinspike to a + large rifle: if Ottilia were married she would cease talking of Plato.” + </p> + <p> + “What on earth <i>is</i> the matter?” + </p> + <p> + “Nothing. Do you hear? You’re a doctor. What’s the matter with those + women? Isn’t it bad for them to remain unmarried? Doesn’t it make them...? + What?” + </p> + <p> + The doctor gave him his candid opinion and added that he was sorry that + there were not enough men to go round. + </p> + <p> + “In a state of nature the male is mostly polygamous; in most cases there + is no obstacle to this, as there is plenty of food for the young ones + (beasts of prey excepted): abnormalities like unmated females do not exist + in nature. But in civilised countries, where a man is lucky if he earns + enough bread, it is a common occurrence, especially as the females are in + preponderance. One ought to treat unmarried women with kindness, for their + lot is a melancholy one.” + </p> + <p> + “With kindness! That’s all very well; but supposing they are anything but + kind themselves!” + </p> + <p> + And he told the doctor the whole story, even confessing that he had + written a critique on a play. + </p> + <p> + “Oh! well, no end of nonsense is written,” said the doctor, putting his + hand on the lid of the jug which contained the punch. “In the end science + decides all great questions! Science, and nothing else.” + </p> + <p> + When the six months were over and the captain, who had been in constant, + but not very pleasant, correspondence with his wife, (she had sharply + criticised his critique), at last landed at Dalarö, he was received by his + wife, all the children, two servants and Ottilia. His wife was + affectionate, but not cordial. She held up her brow to be kissed. Ottilia + was as tall as a stay, and wore her hair short; seen from the back she + looked like a swab. The supper was dull and they drank only tea. The long + boat took in a cargo of children and the captain was lodged in one of the + attics. + </p> + <p> + What a change! Poor old Pal looked old and felt puzzled. + </p> + <p> + “To be married and yet not have a wife,” he thought, “it’s intolerable!” + </p> + <p> + On the following morning he wanted to take his wife for a sail. But the + sea did not agree with Ottilia. She had been ill on the steamer. And, + moreover, it was Sunday. Sunday? That was it! Well, they would go for a + walk. They had a lot to talk about. Of course, they had a lot to say to + each other. But Ottilia was not to come with them! + </p> + <p> + They went out together, arm in arm. But they did not talk much; and what + they said were words uttered for the sake of concealing their thoughts + more than for the sake of exchanging ideas. + </p> + <p> + They passed the little cholera cemetery and took the road leading to the + Swiss Valley. A faint breeze rustled through the pine trees and glimpses + of the blue sea flashed through the dark branches. + </p> + <p> + They sat down on a stone. He threw himself on the turf at her feet. Now + the storm is going to burst, he thought, and it did. + </p> + <p> + “Have you thought at all about our marriage?” she began. + </p> + <p> + “No,” he replied, with every appearance of having fully considered the + matter, “I have merely felt about it. In my opinion love is a matter of + sentiment; one steers by landmarks and makes port; take compass and chart + and you are sure to founder.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, but our home has been nothing but a doll’s house.” + </p> + <p> + “Excuse me, but this is not quite true. You have never forged a bill; you + have never shown your ankles to a syphilitic doctor of whom you wanted to + borrow money against security <i>in natura</i>; you have never been so + romantically silly as to expect your husband to give himself up for a + crime which his wife had committed from ignorance, and which was not a + crime because there was no plaintiff; and you have never lied to me. I + have treated you every bit as honestly as Helmer treated his wife when he + took her into his full confidence and allowed her to have a voice in the + banking business; tolerated her interference with the appointment of an + employee. We have therefore been husband and wife according to all + conceptions, old and new-fashioned.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, but I have been your housekeeper!” + </p> + <p> + “Pardon me, you are wrong. You have never had a meal in the kitchen, you + have never received wages, you have never had to account for money spent. + I have never scolded you because one thing or the other was not to my + liking. And do you consider my work: to reckon and to brace, to ease off + and call out ‘Present arms,’ count herrings and measure rum, weigh peas + and examine flour, more honourable than yours: to look after the servants, + cater for the house and bring up the children?” + </p> + <p> + “No, but you are paid for your work! You are your own master! You are a + man!” + </p> + <p> + “My dear child, do you want me to give you wages? Do you want to be my + housekeeper in real earnest? That I was born a man is an accident. I might + almost say a pity, for it’s very nearly a crime to be a man now-a-days, + but it isn’t my fault. The devil take him who has stirred up the two + halves of humanity, one against the other! He has much to answer for. Am I + the master? Don’t we both rule? Have I ever decided any important matter + without asking for your advice? What? But you—you bring up the + children exactly as you like! Don’t you remember that I wanted you to stop + rocking them to sleep because I said it produced a sort of intoxication? + But you had your own way! Another time I had mine, and then it was your + turn again. There was no compromise possible, because there was no middle + course to steer between rocking and not rocking. We got on very well until + now. But you have thrown me over for Ottilia’s sake!” + </p> + <p> + “Ottilia! always Ottilia! Didn’t you yourself send her to me?” + </p> + <p> + “No, not her personally! But there can be no doubt that it is she who + rules now.” + </p> + <p> + “You want to separate me from all I care for!” + </p> + <p> + “Is Ottilia all you care for? It almost looks like it!” + </p> + <p> + “But I can’t send her away now that I have engaged her to teach the girls + pedagogics and Latin.” + </p> + <p> + “Latin! Great Scott! Are the girls to be ruined?” + </p> + <p> + “They are to know everything a man knows, so that when the time comes, + their marriage will be a true marriage.” + </p> + <p> + “But, my love, all husbands don’t know Latin! I don’t know more than one + single word, and that is ‘ablative.’ And we have been happy in spite of + it. Moreover, there is a movement to strike off Latin from the plan of + instruction for boys, as a superfluous accomplishment. Doesn’t this teach + you a lot? Isn’t it enough that the men are ruined, are the women to be + ruined, too? Ottilia, Ottilia, what have I done to you, that you should + treat me like this!” + </p> + <p> + “Supposing we dropped that matter.—Our love, William, has not been + what it should be. It has been sensual!” + </p> + <p> + “But, my darling, how could we have had children, if it hadn’t? And it has + not been sensual only.” + </p> + <p> + “Can a thing be both black and white? Tell me that!” + </p> + <p> + “Of course, it can. There’s your sunshade for instance, it is black + outside and white inside.” + </p> + <p> + “Sophist!” + </p> + <p> + “Listen to me, sweetheart, tell me in your own way the thoughts which are + in your heart; don’t talk like Ottilia’s books. Don’t let your head run + away with you; be yourself again, my sweet, darling little wife.” + </p> + <p> + “Yours, your property, bought with your labour.” + </p> + <p> + “Just as I am your property, your husband, at whom no other woman is + allowed to look if she wants to keep her eyes in her head; your husband, + who made a present of himself to you, or rather, gave himself to you in + exchange. Are we not quits?” + </p> + <p> + “But we have trifled away our lives! Have we ever had any higher + interests, William?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, the very highest, Gurli; we have not always been playing, we have + had grave hours, too. Have we not called into being generations to come? + Have we not both bravely worked and striven for the little ones, who are + to grow up into men and women? Have you not faced death four times for + their sakes? Have you not robbed yourself of your nights’ rest in order to + rock their cradle, and of your days’ pleasures, in order to attend to + them? Couldn’t we now have a large six-roomed flat in the main street, and + a footman to open the door, if it were not for the children? Wouldn’t you + be able to wear silk dresses and pearls? And I, your old Pal, wouldn’t + have <i>crows’ nests</i> in my knees, if it hadn’t been for the kiddies. + Are we really no better than dolls? Are we as selfish as old maids say? + Old maids, rejected by men as no good. Why are so many girls unmarried? + They all boast of proposals and yet they pose as martyrs! Higher + interests! Latin! To dress in low neck dresses for charitable purposes and + leave the children at home, neglected! I believe that my interests are + higher than Ottilia’s, when I want strong and healthy children, who will + succeed where we have failed. But Latin won’t help them! Goodbye, Gurli! I + have to go back on board. Are you coming?” + </p> + <p> + But she remained sitting on the stone and made no answer. He went with + heavy footsteps, very heavy footsteps. And the blue sea grew dark and the + sun ceased shining. + </p> + <p> + “Pal, Pal, where is this to lead to?” he sighed, as he stepped over the + fence of the cemetery. “I wish I lay there, with a wooden cross to mark my + place, among the roots of the trees. But I am sure I couldn’t rest, if I + were there without her! Oh! Gurli! Gurli! + </p> + <p> + “Everything has gone wrong, now, mother,” said the captain on a chilly + autumn day to his mother-in-law, to whom he was paying a visit. + </p> + <p> + “What’s the matter, Willy, dear?” + </p> + <p> + “Yesterday they met at our house. On the day before yesterday at the + Princess’s. Little Alice was suddenly taken ill. It was unfortunate, of + course, but I didn’t dare to send for Gurli, for fear she might think that + it was done on purpose to annoy her! Oh! when once one has lost faith.... + I asked a friend at the Admiralty yesterday whether it was legal in Sweden + to kill one’s wife’s friends with tobacco smoke. I was told it wasn’t, and + that even if it were it was better not to do it, for fear of doing more + harm than good. If only it happened to be an admirer! I should take him by + the neck and throw him out of the window. What am I to do?” + </p> + <p> + “It’s a difficult matter, Willy, dear, but we shall be able to think of a + way out of it. You can’t go on living like a bachelor.” + </p> + <p> + “No, of course, I can’t.” + </p> + <p> + “I spoke very plainly to her, a day or two ago. I told her that she would + lose you if she didn’t mend her ways.” + </p> + <p> + “And what did she say?” + </p> + <p> + “She said you had a right to do as you liked with your body.” + </p> + <p> + “Indeed! And she, too? A fine theory! My hair is fast turning grey, + mother!” + </p> + <p> + “It’s a good old scheme to make a wife jealous. It’s generally kill or + cure, for if there is any love left, it brings it out.” + </p> + <p> + “There is, I know, there is!” + </p> + <p> + “Of course, there is. Love doesn’t die suddenly; it gets used up in the + course of the years, perhaps. Have a flirtation with Ottilia, and we shall + see!” + </p> + <p> + “Flirt with Ottilia? With Ottilia?” + </p> + <p> + “Try it. Aren’t you up in any of the subjects which interest her?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, yes! They are deep in statistics, now. Fallen women, infectious + diseases. If I could lead the conversation to mathematics! I am well up in + that!” + </p> + <p> + “There you are! Begin with mathematics—by and by put her shawl round + her shoulders and button her overshoes. Take her home in the evening. + Drink her health and kiss her when Gurli is sure to see it. If necessary, + be a little officious. She won’t be angry, believe me. And give her a big + dose of mathematics, so big that Gurli has no option but to sit and listen + to it quietly. Come again in a week’s time and tell me the result.” + </p> + <p> + The captain went home, read the latest pamphlets on immorality and at once + started to carry out his scheme. + </p> + <p> + A week later he called on his mother-in-law, serene and smiling, and + greatly enjoying a glass of good sherry. He was in high spirits. + </p> + <p> + “Now tell me all about it,” said the old woman, pushing her spectacles up + on her forehead. + </p> + <p> + “It was difficult work at first,” he began, “for she distrusted me. She + thought I was making fun of her. Then I mentioned the effect which the + computation of probabilities had had on the statistics of morality in + America. I told her that it had simply been epoch-making. She knew nothing + about it, but the subject attracted her. I gave her examples and proved in + figures that it was possible to calculate with a certain amount of + probability the percentage of women who are bound to fall. She was amazed. + I saw that her curiosity was aroused and that she was eager to provide + herself with a trump-card for the next meeting. Gurli was pleased to see + that Ottilia and I were making friends, and did everything to further my + scheme. She pushed her into my room and closed the door; and there we sat + all afternoon, making calculations. The old witch was happy, for she felt + that she was making use of me, and after three hours’ work we were fast + friends. At supper my wife found that such old friends as Ottilia and I + ought to call one another by their Christian names. I brought out my good + old sherry to celebrate the occasion. And then I kissed her on the lips, + may God forgive me for my sins! Gurli looked a little startled, but did + not seem to mind. She was radiant with happiness. The sherry was strong + and Ottilia was weak. I wrapped her in her cloak and took her home. I + gently squeezed her arm and told her the names of the stars. She became + enthusiastic! She had always loved the stars, but had never been able to + remember their names. The poor women were not allowed to acquire any + knowledge. Her enthusiasm grew and we parted as the very best of friends + who had been kept apart through misunderstanding each other for such a + long, long time. + </p> + <p> + “On the next day more mathematics. We worked until supper time. Gurli came + in once or twice and gave us an encouraging nod. At supper we talked of + nothing but stars and mathematics, and Gurli sat there, silently, + listening to us. Again I took her home. On my way back I met a friend. We + went to the Grand Hotel and drank a glass of punch. It was one o’clock + when I came home. Gurli was still up waiting for me. + </p> + <p> + “‘Where have you been all this time, William?’ she asked. + </p> + <p> + “Then the devil entered into my soul and I replied: + </p> + <p> + “‘We had such a lot to talk about that I forgot all about the time.’ + </p> + <p> + “<i>That</i> blow struck home. + </p> + <p> + “‘I don’t think it’s nice to run about half the night with a young woman,’ + she said. + </p> + <p> + “I pretended to be embarrassed and stammered: + </p> + <p> + “‘If one has so much to say to one another, one forgets sometimes what is + nice and what is not.’ + </p> + <p> + “‘What on earth did you talk about?’ asked Gurli, pouting. “‘I really + can’t remember.’ + </p> + <p> + “You managed very well, my boy,” said the old woman. “Go on!” + </p> + <p> + “On the third day,” continued the captain, “Gurli came in with her + needlework and remained in the room until the lesson in mathematics was + over. Supper was not quite as merry as usual, but on the other hand, very + astronomical. I assisted the old witch with her overshoes, a fact which + made a great impression on Gurli. When Ottilia said good-night, she only + offered her cheek to be kissed. On the way home I pressed her arm and + talked of the sympathy of souls and of the stars as the home of the souls. + I went to the Grand Hotel, had some punch and arrived home at two o’clock. + Gurli was still up; I saw it, but I went straight to my room, like the + bachelor I was, and Gurli did not like to follow me and ply me with + questions. + </p> + <p> + “On the following day I gave Ottilia a lesson in astronomy. Gurli declared + that she was much interested and would like to be present; but Ottilia + said we were already too far advanced and she would instruct her in the + rudiments later on. This annoyed Gurli and she went away. We had a great + deal of sherry for supper. When Ottilia thanked me for a jolly evening, I + put my arm round her waist and kissed her. Gurli grew pale. When I + buttoned her overshoes, I ... I....” + </p> + <p> + “Never mind me,” said the old lady, “I am an old woman.” + </p> + <p> + He laughed. “All the same, mother, she’s not so bad, really she isn’t. But + when I was going to put on my overcoat, I found to my astonishment the + maid waiting in the hall, ready to accompany Ottilia home. Gurli made + excuses for me; she said I had caught a cold on the previous evening, and + that she was afraid the night air might do me harm. Ottilia looked + self-conscious and left without kissing Gurli. + </p> + <p> + “I had promised to show Ottilia some astronomical instruments at the + College at twelve o’clock on the following day. She kept her appointment, + but she was much depressed. She had been to see Gurli, who had treated her + very unkindly, so she said. She could not imagine why. When I came home to + dinner I found a great change in Gurli. She was cold and mute as a fish. I + could see that she was suffering. Now was the time to apply the knife. + </p> + <p> + “‘What did you say to Ottilia?’ I commenced. ‘She was so unhappy.’” + </p> + <p> + ‘What did I say to her? Well, I said to her that she was a flirt. That’s + what I said.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘How could you say such a thing?’ I replied. ‘Surely, you’re not jealous!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I! Jealous of her!’ she burst out. + </p> + <p> + ‘Yes, that’s what puzzles me, for I am sure an intelligent and sensible + person like Ottilia could never have designs on another woman’s husband!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘No,’ (she was coming to the point) ‘but another woman’s husband might + have designs on her.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Huhuhu!’ she went for me tooth and nail. I took Ottilia’s part; Gurli + called her an old maid; I continued to champion her. On this afternoon + Ottilia did not turn up. She wrote a chilly letter, making excuses and + winding up by saying she could see that she was not wanted. I protested + and suggested that I should go and fetch her. That made Gurli wild! She + was sure that I was in love with Ottilia and cared no more for herself. + She knew that she was only a silly girl, who didn’t know anything, was no + good at anything, and—huhuhu!—could never understand + mathematics. I sent for a sleigh and we went for a ride. In a hotel, + overlooking the sea, we drank mulled wine and had an excellent little + supper. It was just as if we were having our wedding day over again, and + then we drove home.” + </p> + <p> + “And then—?” asked the old woman, looking at him over her + spectacles. + </p> + <p> + “And then? H’m! May God forgive me for my sins! I seduced my own little + wife. What do you say now, granny?” + </p> + <p> + “I say that you did very well, my boy! And then?” + </p> + <p> + “And then? Since then everything has been all right, and now we discuss + the education of the children and the emancipation of women from + superstition and old-maidishness, from sentimentality and the devil and + his ablative, but we talk when we are alone together and that is the best + way of avoiding misunderstandings. Don’t you think so, old lady?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, Willy, dear, and now I shall come and pay you a call.” + </p> + <p> + “Do come! And you will see the dolls dance and the larks and the + woodpeckers sing and chirrup; you will see a home filled with happiness up + to the roof, for there is no one there waiting for miracles which only + happen in fairy tales. You will see a real doll’s house.” + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0012" id="link2H_4_0012"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + PHOENIX + </h2> + <p> + The wild strawberries were getting ripe when he met her for the first time + at the vicarage. He had met many girls before, but when he saw <i>her</i> + he knew; this was she! But he did not dare to tell her so, and she only + teased him for he was still at school. + </p> + <p> + He was an undergraduate when he met her for the second time. And as he put + his arms round her and kissed her, he saw showers of rockets, heard the + ringing of bells and bugle calls, and felt the earth trembling under his + feet. + </p> + <p> + She was a woman at the age of fourteen. Her young bosom seemed to be + waiting for hungry little mouths and eager baby fists. With her firm and + elastic step, her round and swelling hips, she looked fit to bear at any + moment a baby under her heart. Her hair was of a pale gold, like clarified + honey, and surrounded her face like an aureole; her eyes were two flames + and her skin was as soft as a glove. + </p> + <p> + They were engaged to be married and billed and cooed in the wood like the + birds in the garden under the lime trees; life lay before them like a + sunny meadow which the scythe had not yet touched. But he had to pass his + examinations in mining first, and that would take him,—including the + journey abroad—ten years. Ten years! + </p> + <p> + He returned to the University. In the summer he came back to the vicarage + and found her every bit as beautiful. Three summers he came—and the + fourth time she was pale. There were tiny red lines in the corners of her + nose and her shoulders drooped a little. When the summer returned for the + sixth time, she was taking iron. In the seventh she went to a + watering-place. In the eighth she suffered from tooth-ache and her nerves + were out of order. Her hair had lost its gloss, her voice had grown + shrill, her nose was covered with little black specks; she had lost her + figure, dragged her feet, and her cheeks were hollow. In the winter she + had an attack of nervous fever, and her hair had to be cut off. When it + grew again, it was a dull brown. He had fallen in love with a + golden-haired girl of fourteen—brunettes did not attract him—and + he married a woman of twenty-four, with dull brown hair, who refused to + wear her dresses open at the throat. + </p> + <p> + But in spite of all this he loved her. His love was less passionate than + it had been; it had become calm and steadfast. And there was nothing in + the little mining-town which could disturb their happiness. + </p> + <p> + She bore him two boys, but he was always wishing for a girl. And at last a + fair-haired baby girl arrived. + </p> + <p> + She was the apple of his eye, and as she grew up she resembled her mother + more and more. When she was eight years old, she was just what her mother + had been. And the father devoted all his spare time to his little + daughter. + </p> + <p> + The housework had coarsened the mother’s hands. Her nose had lost its + shape and her temples had fallen in. Constant stooping over the kitchen + range had made her a little round-shouldered. Father and mother met only + at meals and at night. They did not complain, but things had changed. + </p> + <p> + But the daughter was the father’s delight. It was almost as if he were in + love with her. He saw in her the re-incarnation of her mother, his first + impression of her, as beautiful as it had been fleeting. He was almost + self-conscious in her company and never went into her room when she was + dressing. He worshipped her. + </p> + <p> + But one morning the child remained in bed and refused to get up. Mama put + it down to laziness, but papa sent for the doctor. The shadow of the angel + of death lay over the house: the child was suffering from diphtheria. + Either father or mother must take the other children away. He refused. The + mother took them to a little house in one of the suburbs and the father + remained at home to nurse the invalid. There she lay! The house was + disinfected with sulphur which turned the gilded picture frames black and + tarnished the silver on the dressing-table. He walked through the empty + rooms in silent anguish, and at night, alone in his big bed, he felt like + a widower. He bought toys for the little girl, and she smiled at him as he + sat on the edge of the bed trying to amuse her with a Punch and Judy show, + and asked after mama and her little brothers. And the father had to go and + stand in the street before the house in the suburbs, and nod to his wife + who was looking at him from the window, and blow kisses to the children. + And his wife signalled to him with sheets of blue and red paper. + </p> + <p> + But a day came when the little girl took no more pleasure in Punch and + Judy, and ceased smiling; and ceased talking too, for Death had stretched + out his long bony arm and suffocated her. It had been a hard struggle. + </p> + <p> + Then the mother returned, full of remorse because she had deserted her + little daughter. There was great misery in the home, and great + wretchedness. When the doctor wanted to make a post mortem examination, + the father objected. No knife should touch her, for she was not dead to + him; but his resistance was overborne. Then he flew into a passion and + tried to kick and bite the doctor. + </p> + <p> + When they had bedded her into the earth, he built a monument over her + grave, and for a whole year he visited it every day. In the second year he + did not go quite so often. His work was heavy and he had little spare + time. He began to feel the burden of the years; his step was less elastic; + his wound was healing. Sometimes he felt ashamed when he realised that he + was mourning less and less for his child as time went by; and finally he + forgot all about it. + </p> + <p> + Two more girls were born to him, but it was not the same thing; the void + left by the one who had passed away could never be filled. + </p> + <p> + Life was a hard struggle. The young wife who had once been like—like + no other woman on earth, had gradually lost her glamour; the gilding had + worn off the home which had once been so bright and beautiful. The + children had bruised and dented their mother’s wedding presents, spoiled + the beds and kicked the legs of the furniture. The stuffing of the sofa + was plainly visible here and there, and the piano had not been opened for + years. The noise made by the children had drowned the music and the voices + had become harsh. The words of endearment had been cast off with the baby + clothes, caresses had deteriorated into a sort of massage. They were + growing old and weary. Papa was no longer on his knees before mama, he sat + in his shabby armchair and asked her for a match when he wanted to light + his pipe. Yes, they were growing old. + </p> + <p> + When papa had reached his fiftieth year, mama died. Then the past awoke + and knocked at his heart. When her broken body, which the last agony had + robbed of its few remaining charms, had been laid in its grave, the + picture of his fourteen-year-old sweetheart arose in his memory. It was + for her, whom he had lost so long ago that he mourned now, and with his + yearning for her came remorse. But he had never been unkind to the old + mama; he had been faithful to the fourteen-year-old vicar’s daughter whom + he had worshipped on his knees but had never led to the altar, for he had + married an anaemic young woman of twenty-four. If he were to be quite + candid, he would have to confess that it was she for whom he mourned; it + was true, he also missed the good cooking and unremitting care of the old + mama, but that was a different thing. + </p> + <p> + He was on more intimate terms with his children, now; some of them had + left the old nest, but others were still at home. + </p> + <p> + When he had bored his friends for a whole year with anecdotes of the + deceased, an extraordinary coincidence happened. He met a young girl of + eighteen, with fair hair, and a striking resemblance to his late wife, as + she had been at fourteen. He saw in this coincidence the finger of a + bountiful providence, willing to bestow on him at last the first one, the + well-beloved. He fell in love with her because she resembled the first + one. And he married her. He had got her at last. + </p> + <p> + But his children, especially the girls, resented his second marriage. They + found the relationship between their father and step-mother improper; in + their opinion he had been unfaithful to their mother. And they left his + house and went out into the world. + </p> + <p> + He was happy! And his pride in his young wife exceeded even his happiness. + </p> + <p> + “Only the aftermath!” said his old friends. + </p> + <p> + When a year had gone by, the young wife presented him with a baby. Papa, + of course, was no longer used to a baby’s crying, and wanted his night’s + rest. He insisted on a separate bed-room for himself, heedless of his + wife’s tears; really, women were a nuisance sometimes. And, moreover, she + was jealous of his first wife. He had been fool enough to tell her of the + extraordinary likeness which existed between the two and had let her read + his first wife’s love-letters. She brooded over these facts now that he + neglected her. She realised that she had inherited all the first one’s pet + names, that she was only her understudy, as it were. It irritated her and + the attempt to win him for herself led her into all sorts of mischief. But + she only succeeded in boring him, and in silently comparing the two women, + his verdict was entirely in favour of the first one. She had been so much + more gentle than the second who exasperated him. The longing for his + children, whom he had driven from their home increased his regret, and his + sleep was disturbed by bad dreams for he was haunted by the idea that he + had been unfaithful to his first wife. + </p> + <p> + His home was no longer a happy one. He had done a deed, which he would + much better have left undone. + </p> + <p> + He began to spend a good deal of time at his club. But now his wife was + furious. He had deceived her. He was an old man and he had better look + out! An old man who left his young wife so much alone ran a certain risk. + He might regret it some day! + </p> + <p> + “Old? She called him old? He would show her that he was not old!” + </p> + <p> + They shared the same room again. But now matters were seven times worse. + He did not want to be bothered with the baby at night. The proper place + for babies was the nursery. No! he hadn’t thought so in the case of the + first wife. + </p> + <p> + He had to submit to the torture. + </p> + <p> + Twice he had believed in the miracle of Phoenix rising from the ashes of + his fourteen year old love, first in his daughter, then in his second + wife. But in his memory lived the first one only, the little one from the + vicarage, whom he had met when the wild strawberries were ripe, and kissed + under the lime trees in the wood, but whom he had never married. + </p> + <p> + But now, as his sun was setting and his days grew short, he saw in his + dark hours only the picture of the old mama, who had been kind to him and + his children, who had never scolded, who was plain, who cooked the meals + and patched the little boys’ knickers and the skirts of the little girls. + His flush of victory being over, he was able to see facts clearly. He + wondered whether it was not, after all, the old mama who had been the real + true Phoenix, rising, calm and beautiful, from the ashes of the fourteen + year old bird of paradise, laying its eggs, plucking the feathers from its + breast to line the nest for the young ones, and nourishing them with its + life-blood until it died. + </p> + <p> + He wondered ... but when at last he laid his weary head on the pillow, + never again to lift it up, he was convinced that it was so. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0013" id="link2H_4_0013"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + ROMEO AND JULIA + </h2> + <p> + One evening the husband came home with a roll of music under his arm and + said to his wife: + </p> + <p> + “Let us play duets after supper!” + </p> + <p> + “What have you got there?” asked his wife. + </p> + <p> + “Romeo and Julia, arranged for the piano. Do you know it?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, of course I do,” she replied, “but I don’t remember ever having seen + it on the stage.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! It’s splendid! To me it is like a dream of my youth, but I’ve only + heard it once, and that was about twenty years ago.” + </p> + <p> + After supper, when the children had been put to bed and the house lay + silent, the husband lighted the candles on the piano. He looked at the + lithographed title-page and read the title: Romeo and Julia. + </p> + <p> + “This is Gounod’s most beautiful composition,” he said, “and I don’t + believe that it will be too difficult for us.” + </p> + <p> + As usual his wife undertook to play the treble and they began. D major, + common time, <i>allegro giusto</i>. + </p> + <p> + “It is beautiful, isn’t it?” asked the husband, when they had finished the + overture. + </p> + <p> + “Y—es,” admitted the wife, reluctantly. + </p> + <p> + “Now the martial music,” said the husband; “it is exceptionally fine. I + can remember the splendid choruses at the Royal Theatre.” + </p> + <p> + They played a march. + </p> + <p> + “Well, wasn’t I right?” asked the husband, triumphantly, as if he had + composed “Romeo and Julia” himself. + </p> + <p> + “I don’t know; it rather sounds like a brass band,” answered the wife. + </p> + <p> + The husband’s honour and good taste were involved; he looked for the + Moonshine Aria in the fourth act. After a little searching he came across + an aria for soprano. That must be it. + </p> + <p> + And he began again. + </p> + <p> + Tram-tramtram, tram-tramtram, went the bass; it was very easy to play. + </p> + <p> + “Do you know,” said his wife, when it was over, “I don’t think very much + of it.” + </p> + <p> + The husband, quite depressed, admitted that it reminded him of a barrel + organ. + </p> + <p> + “I thought so all along,” confessed the wife. + </p> + <p> + “And I find it antiquated, too. I am surprised that Gounod should be out + of date, already,” he added dejectedly. “Would you like to go on playing? + Let’s try the Cavatina and the Trio; I particularly remember the soprano; + she was divine.” + </p> + <p> + When they stopped playing, the husband looked crestfallen and put the + music away, as if he wanted to shut the door on the past. + </p> + <p> + “Let’s have a glass of beer,” he said. They sat down at the table and had + a glass of beer. + </p> + <p> + “It’s extraordinary,” he began, after a little while, “I never realised + before that we’ve grown old, for we really must have vied with Romeo and + Julia as to who should age faster. It’s twenty years ago since I heard the + opera for the first time. I was a newly fledged undergraduate then, I had + many friends and the future smiled at me. I was immensely proud of the + first down on my upper lip and my little college cap, and I remember as if + it were to-day, the evening when Fritz, Phil and myself went to hear this + opera. We had heard ‘Faust’ some years before and were great admirers of + Gounod’s genius. But Romeo beat all our expectations. The music roused our + wildest enthusiasm. Now both my friends are dead. Fritz, who was + ambitious, was a private secretary when he died, Phil a medical student; I + who aspired to the position of a minister of state have to content myself + with that of a regimental judge. The years have passed by quickly and + imperceptibly. Of course I have noticed that the lines under my eyes have + grown deeper and that my hair has turned grey at the temples, but I should + never have thought that we had travelled so far on the road to the grave.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, my dear, we’ve grown old; our children could teach us that. And you + must see it in me too, although you don’t say anything.” + </p> + <p> + “How can you say that!” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! I know only too well, my dear,” continued the wife, sadly; “I know + that I am beginning to lose my good looks, that my hair is growing thin, + that I shall soon lose my front teeth....” + </p> + <p> + “Just consider how quickly everything passes away”—interrupted her + husband. “It seems to me that one grows old much more rapidly now-a-days, + than one used to do. In my father’s house Haydn and Mozart were played a + great deal, although they were dead long before he was born. And now—now + Gounod has grown old-fashioned already! How distressing it is to meet + again the ideals of one’s youth under these altered circumstances! And how + horrible it is to feel old age approaching!” + </p> + <p> + He got up and sat down again at the piano; he took the music and turned + over the pages as if he were looking for keepsakes, locks of hair, dried + flowers and ends of ribbon in the drawer of a writing-table. His eyes were + riveted on the black notes which looked like little birds climbing up and + down a wire fencing; but where were the spring songs, the passionate + protestations, the jubilant avowals of the rosy days of first love? The + notes stared back at him like strangers; as if the memory of life’s + spring-time were grown over with weeds. + </p> + <p> + Yes, that was it; the strings were covered with dust, the sounding board + was dried up, the felt worn away. + </p> + <p> + A heavy sigh echoed through the room, heavy as if it came from a hollow + chest, and then silence fell. + </p> + <p> + “But all the same, it is strange,” the husband said suddenly, “that the + glorious prologue is missing in this arrangement. I remember distinctly + that there was a prologue with an accompaniment of harps and a chorus + which went like this.” + </p> + <p> + He softly hummed the tune, which bubbled up like a stream in a mountain + glen; note succeeded note, his face cleared, his lips smiled, the lines + disappeared, his fingers touched the keys, and drew from them melodies, + powerful, caressing and full of eternal youth, while with a strong and + ringing voice he sang the part of the bass. + </p> + <p> + His wife started from her melancholy reverie and listened with tears in + her eyes. + </p> + <p> + “What are you singing?” she asked, full of amazement. + </p> + <p> + “Romeo and Julia! Our Romeo and our Julia!” + </p> + <p> + He jumped up from the music stool and pushed the music towards his + astonished wife. + </p> + <p> + “Look! This was the Romeo of our uncles and aunts, this was—read it—Bellini! + Oh! We are not old, after all!” + </p> + <p> + The wife looked at the thick, glossy hair of her husband, his smooth brow + and flashing eyes, with joy. + </p> + <p> + “And you? You look like a young girl. We have allowed old Bellini to make + fools of us. I felt that something was wrong.” + </p> + <p> + “No, darling, I thought so first.” + </p> + <p> + “Probably you did; that is because you are younger than I am.” + </p> + <p> + “No, you....” + </p> + <p> + And husband and wife, like a couple of children, laughingly quarrel over + the question of which of them is the elder of the two, and cannot + understand how they could have discovered lines and grey hairs where there + are none. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0014" id="link2H_4_0014"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + PROLIFICACY + </h2> + <p> + He was a supernumerary at the Board of Trade and drew a salary of twelve + hundred crowns. He had married a young girl without a penny; for love, as + he himself said, to be no longer compelled to go to dances and run about + the streets, as his friends maintained. But be that as it may, the life of + the newly-wedded couple was happy enough to begin with. + </p> + <p> + “How cheaply married people can live,” he said one day, after the wedding + was a thing of the past. The same sum which had been barely enough to + cover the wants of the bachelor now sufficed for husband and wife. Really, + marriage was an excellent institution. One had all one’s requirements + within one’s four walls: club, cafe, everything; no more bills of fare, no + tips, no inquisitive porter watching one as one went out with one’s wife + in the morning. + </p> + <p> + Life smiled at him, his strength increased and he worked for two. Never in + all his life had he felt so full of overflowing energy; he jumped out of + bed as soon as he woke up in the morning, buoyantly, and in the highest + spirits, he was rejuvenated. + </p> + <p> + When two months had elapsed, long before his new circumstances had begun + to pall, his wife whispered a certain piece of information into his ear. + New joys! New cares! But cares so pleasant to bear! It was necessary, + however, to increase their income at once, so as to receive the unknown + world-citizen in a manner befitting his dignity. He managed to obtain an + order for a translation. + </p> + <p> + Baby-clothes lay scattered about all over the furniture, a cradle stood + waiting in the hall, and at last a splendid boy arrived in this world of + sorrows. + </p> + <p> + The father was delighted. And yet he could not help a vague feeling of + uneasiness whenever he thought of the future. Income and expenditure did + not balance. Nothing remained but to reduce his dress allowance. + </p> + <p> + His frock coat began to look threadbare at the seams; his shirt front was + hidden underneath a large tie, his trousers were frayed. It was an + undeniable fact that the porters at the office looked down on him on + account of his shabbiness. + </p> + <p> + In addition to this he was compelled to lengthen his working day. + </p> + <p> + “It must be the first and last,” he said. But how was it to be done? + </p> + <p> + He was at a loss to know. + </p> + <p> + Three months later his wife prepared him in carefully chosen words that + his paternal joys would soon be doubled. It would not be true to say that + he rejoiced greatly at the news. But there was no alternative now; he must + travel along the road he had chosen, even if married life should prove to + be anything but cheap. + </p> + <p> + “It’s true,” he thought, his face brightening, “the younger one will + inherit the baby-clothes of his elder brother. This will save a good deal + of expense, and there will be food enough for them—I shall be able + to feed them just as well as others.” + </p> + <p> + And the second baby was born. + </p> + <p> + “You are going it,” said a friend of his, who was a married man himself, + but father of one child only. + </p> + <p> + “What is a man to do?” + </p> + <p> + “Use his common-sense.” + </p> + <p> + “Use his common-sense? But, my dear fellow, a man gets married in order to + ... I mean to say, not only in order to ... but yet in order to.... Well, + anyhow, we are married and that settles the matter.” + </p> + <p> + “Not at all. Let me tell you something, my dear boy; if you are at all + hoping for promotion it is absolutely necessary that you should wear clean + linen, trousers which are not frayed at the bottom, and a hat which is not + of a rusty brown.” + </p> + <p> + And the sensible man whispered sensible words into his ear. As the result, + the poor husband was put on short commons in the midst of plenty. + </p> + <p> + But now his troubles began. + </p> + <p> + To start with his nerves went to pieces, he suffered from insomnia and did + his work badly. He consulted a doctor. The prescription cost him three + crowns; and such a prescription! He was to stop working; he had worked too + hard, his brain was overtaxed. To stop work would mean starvation for all + of them, and to work spelt death, too! + </p> + <p> + He went on working. + </p> + <p> + One day, as he was sitting at his desk, stooping over endless rows of + figures, he had an attack of faintness, slipped off his chair and fell to + the ground. + </p> + <p> + A visit to a specialist—eighteen crowns. A new prescription; he must + ask for sick leave at once, take riding exercise every morning and have + steak and a glass of port for breakfast. + </p> + <p> + Riding exercise and port! + </p> + <p> + But the worst feature of the whole business was a feeling of alienation + from his wife which had sprung up in his heart—he did not know + whence it came. He was afraid to go near her and at the same time he + longed for her presence. He loved her, loved her still, but a certain + bitterness was mingled with his love. + </p> + <p> + “You are growing thin,” said a friend. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I believe I’ve grown thinner,” said the poor husband. + </p> + <p> + “You are playing a dangerous game, old boy!” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t know what you mean!” + </p> + <p> + “A married man in half mourning! Take care, my friend!” + </p> + <p> + “I really don’t know what you’re driving at.”. + </p> + <p> + “It’s impossible to go against the wind for any length of time. Set all + sails and run, old chap, and you will see that everything will come right. + Believe me, I know what I’m talking about. You understand me.” + </p> + <p> + He took no notice of the advice for a time, fully aware of the fact that a + man’s income does not increase in proportion to his family; at the same + time he had no longer any doubt about the cause of his malady. + </p> + <p> + It was summer again. The family had gone into the country. On a beautiful + evening husband and wife were strolling along the steep shore, in the + shade of the alder trees, resplendent in their young green. They sat down + on the turf, silent and depressed. He was morose and disheartened; gloomy + thoughts revolved behind his aching brow. Life seemed a great chasm which + had opened to engulf all he loved. + </p> + <p> + They talked of the probable loss of his appointment; his chief had been + annoyed at his second application for sick leave. He complained of the + conduct of his colleagues, he felt himself deserted by everyone; but the + fact which hurt him more than anything else was the knowledge that she, + too, had grown tired of him. + </p> + <p> + “Oh! but she hadn’t! She loved him every bit as much as she did in those + happy days when they were first engaged. How could he doubt it?” + </p> + <p> + “No, he didn’t doubt it; but he had suffered so much, he wasn’t master of + his own thoughts.” + </p> + <p> + He pressed his burning cheek against hers, put his arm round her and + covered her eyes with passionate kisses. + </p> + <p> + The gnats danced their nuptial dance above the birch tree without a + thought of the thousands of young ones which their ecstasy would call into + being; the carp laid their eggs in the reed grass, careless of the + millions of their kind to which they gave birth; the swallow made love in + broad daylight, not in the least afraid of the consequences of their + irregular liaisons. + </p> + <p> + All of a sudden he sprang to his feet and stretched himself like a sleeper + awakening from a long sleep, which had been haunted by evil dreams, he + drank in the balmy air in deep draughts. + </p> + <p> + “What’s the matter?” whispered his wife, while a crimson blush spread over + her face. + </p> + <p> + “I don’t know. All I know is that I live, that I breathe again.” + </p> + <p> + And radiant, with laughing face and shining eyes, he held out his arms to + her, picked her up as if she were a baby and pressed his lips to her + forehead. The muscles of his legs swelled until they looked like the + muscles of the leg of an antique god, he held his body erect like a young + tree and intoxicated with strength and happiness, he carried his beloved + burden as far as the footpath where he put her down. + </p> + <p> + “You will strain yourself, sweetheart,” she said, making a vain attempt to + free herself from his encircling arms. + </p> + <p> + “Never, you darling! I could carry you to the end of the earth, and I + shall carry you, all of you, no matter how many you are now, or how many + you may yet become.” + </p> + <p> + And they returned home, arm in arm, their hearts singing with gladness. + </p> + <p> + “If the worst comes to the worst, sweet love, one must admit that it is + very easy to jump that abyss which separates body and soul!” + </p> + <p> + “What a thing to say!” + </p> + <p> + “If I had only realised it before, I should have been less unhappy. Oh! + those idealists!” + </p> + <p> + And they entered their cottage. + </p> + <p> + The good old times had returned and had, apparently, come to stay. The + husband went to work to his office as before. They lived again through + love’s spring time. No doctor was required and the high spirits never + flagged. + </p> + <p> + After the third christening, however, he came to the conclusion that + matters were serious and started playing his old game with the inevitable + results: doctor, sick-leave, riding-exercise, port! But there must be an + end of it, at all costs. Every time the balance-sheet showed a deficit. + </p> + <p> + But when, finally, his whole nervous system went out of joint, he let + nature have her own way. Immediately expenses went up and he was beset + with difficulties. + </p> + <p> + He was not a poor man, it is true, but on the other hand he was not blest + with too many of this world’s riches. + </p> + <p> + “To tell you the truth, old girl,” he said to his wife, “it will be the + same old story over again.” + </p> + <p> + “I am afraid it will, my dear,” replied the poor woman, who, in addition + to her duties as a mother, had to do the whole work of the house now. + </p> + <p> + After the birth of her fourth child, the work grew too hard for her and a + nursemaid had to be engaged. + </p> + <p> + “Now it must stop,” avowed the disconsolate husband. “This must be the + last.” + </p> + <p> + Poverty looked in at the door. The foundations on which the house was + built were tottering. + </p> + <p> + And thus, at the age of thirty, in the very prime of their life, the young + husband and wife found themselves condemned to celibacy. He grew moody, + his complexion became grey and his eyes lost their lustre. Her rich beauty + faded, her fine figure wasted away, and she suffered all the sorrows of a + mother who sees her children growing up in poverty and rags. + </p> + <p> + One day, as she was standing in the kitchen, frying herrings, a neighbour + called in for a friendly chat. + </p> + <p> + “How are you?” she began. + </p> + <p> + “Thank you, I’m not up to very much. How are you?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! I’m not at all well. Married life is a misery if one has to be + constantly on one’s guard.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you think you are the only one?” + </p> + <p> + “What do you mean?” + </p> + <p> + “Do you know what my husband said to me the other day? One ought to spare + the draught cattle! And I suffer under it all, I can tell you. No, there’s + no happiness in marriage. Either husband or wife is bound to suffer. It’s + one or the other!” + </p> + <p> + “Or both!” + </p> + <p> + “But what about the men of science who grow fat at the expense of the + Government?” + </p> + <p> + “They have to think of so many things, and moreover, it is improper to + write about such problems; they must not be discussed openly.” + </p> + <p> + “But that would be the first necessity!” And the two women fell to + discussing their bitter experiences. + </p> + <p> + In the following summer they were compelled to remain in town; they were + living in a basement with a view of the gutter, the smell of which was so + objectionable that it was impossible to keep the windows open. + </p> + <p> + The wife did needlework in the same room in which the children were + playing; the husband, who had lost his appointment on account of his + extreme shabbiness, was copying a manuscript in the adjoining room, and + grumbling at the children’s noise. Hard words were bandied through the + open door. + </p> + <p> + It was Whitsuntide. In the afternoon the husband was lying on the ragged + leather sofa, gazing at a window on the other side of the street. He was + watching a woman of evil reputation who was dressing for her evening + stroll. A spray of lilac and two oranges were lying by the side of her + looking-glass. + </p> + <p> + She was fastening her dress without taking the least notice of his + inquisitive glances. + </p> + <p> + “She’s not having a bad time,” mused the celibate, suddenly kindled into + passion. “One lives but once in this world, and one must live one’s life, + happen what will!” + </p> + <p> + His wife entered the room and caught sight of the object of his scrutiny. + Her eyes blazed; the last feeble sparks of her dead love glowed under the + ashes and revealed themselves in a temporary flash of jealousy. + </p> + <p> + “Hadn’t we better take the children to the Zoo?” she asked. + </p> + <p> + “To make a public show of our misery? No, thank you!” + </p> + <p> + “But it’s so hot in here. I shall have to pull down the blinds.” + </p> + <p> + “You had better open a window!” + </p> + <p> + He divined his wife’s thoughts and rose to do it himself. Out there, on + the edge of the pavement, his four little ones were sitting, in close + proximity of the waste pipes. Their feet were in the dry gutter, and they + were playing with orange peels which they had found in the sweepings of + the road. The sight stabbed his heart, and he felt a lump rising in his + throat. But poverty had so blunted his feelings that he remained standing + at the window with his arms crossed. + </p> + <p> + All at once two filthy streams gushed from the waste pipes, inundated the + gutter and saturated the feet of the children who screamed, half + suffocated by the stench. + </p> + <p> + “Get the children ready as quickly as you can,” he called, giving way at + the heart-rending scene. + </p> + <p> + The father pushed the perambulator with the baby, the other children clung + to the hands and skirts of the mother. + </p> + <p> + They arrived at the cemetery with its dark-stemmed lime-trees, their usual + place of refuge; here the trees grew luxuriantly, as if the soil were + enriched by the bodies which lay buried underneath it. + </p> + <p> + The bells were ringing for evening prayers. The inmates of the poorhouse + flocked to the church and sat down in the pews left vacant by their + wealthy owners, who had attended to their souls at the principal service + of the day, and were now driving in their carriages to the Royal Deer + Park. + </p> + <p> + The children climbed about the shallow graves, most of which were + decorated with armorial bearings and inscriptions. + </p> + <p> + Husband and wife sat down on a seat and placed the perambulator, in which + the baby lay sucking at its bottle, by their side. Two puppies were + disporting themselves on a grave close by, half hidden by the high grass. + </p> + <p> + A young and well dressed couple, leading by the hand a little girl clothed + in silk and velvet, passed the seat on which they sat. The poor copyist + raised his eyes to the young dandy and recognised a former colleague from + the Board of Trade who, however, did not seem to see him. A feeling of + bitter envy seized him with such intensity that he felt more humiliated by + this “ignoble sentiment” than by his deplorable condition. Was he angry + with the other man because he filled a position which he himself had + coveted? Surely not. But of a sense of justice, and his suffering was all + the deeper because it was shared by the whole class of the disinherited. + He was convinced that the inmates of the poorhouse, bowed down under the + yoke of public charity, envied his wife; and he was quite sure that many + of the aristocrats who slept all around him in their graves, under their + coats of arms, would have envied him his children if it had been their lot + to die without leaving an heir to their estates. Certainly, nobody under + the sun enjoyed complete happiness, but why did the plums always fall to + the lot of those who were already sitting in the lap of luxury? And how + was it that the prizes always fell to the organisers of the great lottery? + The disinherited had to be content with the mass said at evening prayers; + to their share fell morality and those virtues which the others despised + and of which they had no need because the gates of heaven opened readily + enough to their wealth. But what about the good and just God who had + distributed His gifts so unevenly? It would be better, indeed, to live + one’s life without this unjust God, who had, moreover, candidly admitted + that the “wind blew where it listed”; had He not himself confessed, in + these words, that He did not interfere in the concerns of man? But failing + the church, where should we look for comfort? And yet, why ask for + comfort? Wouldn’t it be far better to strive to make such arrangements + that no comfort was needed? Wouldn’t it? + </p> + <p> + His speculations were interrupted by his eldest daughter who asked him for + a leaf of the lime-tree, which she wanted for a sunshade for her doll. He + stepped on the seat and raised his hand to break off a little twig, when a + constable appeared and rudely ordered him not to touch the trees. A fresh + humiliation. At the same time the constable requested him not to allow his + children to play on the graves, which was against the regulations. + </p> + <p> + “We’d better go home,” said the distressed father. “How carefully they + guard the interests of the dead, and how indifferent they are to the + interests of the living.” + </p> + <p> + And they returned home. + </p> + <p> + He sat down and began to work. He had to copy the manuscript of an + academical treatise on over-population. + </p> + <p> + The subject interested him and he read the contents of the whole book. + </p> + <p> + The young author who belonged to what was called the ethical school, was + preaching against vice. + </p> + <p> + “What vice?” mused the copyist. “That which is responsible for our + existence? Which the priest orders us to indulge in at every wedding when + he says: Be fruitful and multiply and fill the earth?” + </p> + <p> + The manuscript ran on: Propagation, without holy matrimony, is a + destructive vice, because the fate of the children, who do not receive + proper care and nursing, is a sad one. In the case of married couples, on + the other hand, it becomes a sacred duty to indulge one’s desires. This is + proved, among other things, by the fact that the law protects even the + female ovum, and it is right that it should be so. + </p> + <p> + “Consequently,” thought the copyist, “there is a providence for legitimate + children, but not for illegitimate ones Oh! this young philosopher! And + the law which protects the female ovum! What business, then, have those + microscopic things to detach themselves at every change of the moon? Those + sacred objects ought to be most carefully guarded by the police!” + </p> + <p> + All these futilities he had to copy in his best handwriting. + </p> + <p> + They overflowed with morality, but contained not a single word of + enlightenment. + </p> + <p> + The moral or rather the immoral gist of the whole argument was: There is a + God who feeds and clothes all children born in wedlock; a God in His + heaven, probably, but what about the earth? Certainly, it was said that He + came to earth once and allowed himself to be crucified, after vainly + trying to establish something like order in the confused affairs of + mankind; He did not succeed. + </p> + <p> + The philosopher wound up by screaming himself hoarse in trying to convince + his audience that the abundant supply of wheat was an irrefutable proof + that the problem of over-population did not exist; that the doctrine of + Malthus was not only false, but criminal, socially as well as morally. + </p> + <p> + And the poor father of a family who had not tasted wheaten bread for + years, laid down the manuscript and urged his little ones to fill + themselves with gruel made of rye flour and bluish milk, a dish which + satisfied their craving, but contained no nourishment. + </p> + <p> + He was wretched, not because he considered water gruel objectionable, but + because he had lost his precious sense of humour, that magician who can + transform the dark rye into golden wheat; almighty love, emptying his horn + of plenty over his poor home, had vanished. The children had become + burdens, and the once beloved wife a secret enemy despised and despising + him. + </p> + <p> + And the cause of all this unhappiness? The want of bread! And yet the + large store houses of the new world were breaking down under the weight of + the over-abundant supply of wheat. What a world of contradictions! The + manner in which bread was distributed must be at fault. + </p> + <p> + Science, which has replaced religion, has no answer to give; it merely + states facts and allows the children to die of hunger and the parents of + thirst. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0015" id="link2H_4_0015"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + AUTUMN + </h2> + <p> + They had been married for ten years. Happily? Well, as happily as + circumstances permitted. They had been running in double harness, like two + young oxen of equal strength, each of which is conscientiously doing his + own share. + </p> + <p> + During the first year of their marriage they buried many illusions and + realised that marriage was not perfect bliss. In the second year the + babies began to arrive, and the daily toil left them no time for brooding. + </p> + <p> + He was very domesticated, perhaps too much so; his family was his world, + the centre and pivot of which he was. The children were the radii. His + wife attempted to be a centre, too, but never in the middle of the circle, + for that was exclusively occupied by him, and therefore the radii fell now + on the top of one another, now far apart, and their life lacked harmony. + </p> + <p> + In the tenth year of their marriage he obtained the post of secretary to + the Board of Prisons, and in that capacity he was obliged to travel about + the country. This interfered seriously with his daily routine; the thought + of leaving his world for a whole month upset him. He wondered whom he + would miss more, his wife or his children, and he was sure he would miss + them both. + </p> + <p> + On the eve of his departure he sat in the corner of the sofa and watched + his portmanteau being packed. His wife was kneeling on the She brushed his + black suit and folded it carefully, so that it should take up as little + space as possible. He had no idea how to do these things. + </p> + <p> + She had never looked upon herself as his housekeeper, hardly as his wife, + she was above all things mother: a mother to the children, a mother to + him. She darned his socks without the slightest feeling of degradation, + and asked for no thanks. She never even considered him indebted to her for + it, for did he not give her and the children new stockings whenever they + wanted them, and a great many other things into the bargain? But for him, + she would have to go out and earn her own living, and the children would + be left alone all day. + </p> + <p> + He sat in the sofa corner and looked at her. Now that the parting was + imminent, he began to feel premature little twinges of longing. He gazed + at her figure. Her shoulders were a little rounded; much bending over the + cradle, ironing board and kitchen range had robbed her back of its + straightness. He, too, stooped a little, the result of his toil at the + writing-table, and he was obliged to wear spectacles. But at the moment he + really was not thinking of himself. He noticed that her plaits were + thinner than they had been and that a faint suggestion of silver lay on + her hair. Had she sacrificed her beauty to him, to him alone? No, surely + not to him, but to the little community which they formed; for, after all, + she had also worked for herself. His hair, too, had grown thin in the + struggle to provide for all of them. He might have retained his youth a + little longer, if there hadn’t been so many mouths to fill, if he had + remained a bachelor; but he didn’t regret his marriage for one second. + </p> + <p> + “It will be a good thing for you to get away for a bit,” said his wife; + “you have been too much at home.” + </p> + <p> + “I suppose you are glad to get rid of me,” he replied, not without + bitterness; “but I—I shall miss you very much.” + </p> + <p> + “You are like a cat, you’ll miss your cosy fireside, but not me; you know + you won’t.” + </p> + <p> + “And the kiddies?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes! I daresay you’ll miss them when you are away, for all your + scolding when you are with them. No, no, I don’t mean that you are unkind + to them, but you do grumble a lot! All the same I won’t be unjust, and I + know that you love them.” + </p> + <p> + At supper he was very tired and depressed. He didn’t read the evening + paper, he wanted to talk to his wife. But she was too busy to pay much + attention to him; she had no time to waste; moreover, her ten years’ + campaign in kitchen and nursery had taught her self-control. + </p> + <p> + He felt more sentimental than he cared to show, and the topsy-turvydom of + the room made him fidgety. Scraps of his daily life lay scattered all over + chairs and chests of drawers; his black portmanteau yawned wide-open like + a coffin; his white linen was carefully laid on the top of his black suit, + which showed slight traces of wear and tear at the knees and elbows. It + seemed to him that he himself was lying there, wearing a white shirt with + a starched front. Presently they would close the coffin and carry it away. + </p> + <p> + On the following morning—it was in August—he rose early and + dressed hurriedly. His nerves were unstrung. He went into the nursery and + kissed the children who stared at him with sleepy eyes. Then he kissed his + wife, got into a cab, and told the driver to drive him to the station. + </p> + <p> + The journey, which he made in the company of his Board, did him good; it + really was a good thing for him to get out of his groove; domesticity lay + behind him like a stuffy bedroom, and on the arrival of the train at + Linkoping he was in high spirits. + </p> + <p> + An excellent dinner had been ordered at the best hotel and the remainder + of the day was spent in eating it. They drank the health of the Lord + Lieutenant; no one thought of the prisoners on whose behalf the journey + had been undertaken. + </p> + <p> + Dinner over, he had to face a lonely evening in his solitary room. A bed, + two chairs, a table, a washing-stand and a wax candle, which threw its dim + light on bare walls. He couldn’t suppress a feeling of nervousness. He + missed all his little comforts,—slippers, dressing-gown, pipe rack + and writing table; all the little details which played an important part + in his daily life. And the kiddies? And his wife? What were they doing? + Were they all right? He became restless and depressed. When he wanted to + wind up his watch, he found that he had left his watch-key at home. It was + hanging on the watch-stand which his wife had given him before they were + married. He went to bed and lit a cigar. Then he wanted a book out of his + portmanteau and he had to get up again. Everything was packed so + beautifully, it was a pity to disturb it. In looking for the book, he came + across his slippers. She had forgotten nothing. Then he found the book. + But he couldn’t read. He lay in bed and thought of the past, of his wife, + as she had been ten years ago. He saw her as she had been then; the + picture of her, as she now was, disappeared in the blue-grey clouds of + smoke which rose in rings and wreaths to the rain-stained ceiling. An + infinite yearning came over him. Every harsh word he had ever spoken to + her now grated on his ears; he thought remorsefully of every hour of + anguish he had caused her. At last he fell asleep. + </p> + <p> + The following day brought much work and another banquet with a toast to + the Prison-Governor—the prisoners were still unremembered. In the + evening solitude, emptiness, coldness. He felt a pressing need to talk to + her. He fetched some notepaper and sat down to write. But at the very + outset he was confronted by a difficulty. How was he to address her? + Whenever he had sent her a few lines to say that he would not be home for + dinner, he had always called her “Dear Mother.” But now he was not going + to write to the mother, but to his fiancée, to his beloved one. At last he + made up his mind and commenced his letter with “My Darling Lily,” as he + had done in the old days. At first he wrote slowly and with difficulty, + for so many beautiful words and phrases seemed to have disappeared from + the clumsy, dry language of every-day life; but as he warmed to his work, + they awakened in his memory like forgotten melodies, valse tunes, + fragments of poems, elder-blossoms, and swallows, sunsets on a mirror-like + sea. All his memories of the springtime of life came dancing along in + clouds of gossamer and enveloped her. He drew a cross at the bottom of the + page, as lovers do, and by the side of it he wrote the words: “Kiss here.” + </p> + <p> + When the letter was finished and he read it through, his cheeks burnt and + he became self-conscious. He couldn’t account for the reason. + </p> + <p> + But somehow he felt that he had shown his naked soul to a stranger. + </p> + <p> + In spite of this feeling he posted the letter. + </p> + <p> + A few days elapsed before he received a reply. While he was waiting for + it, he was a prey to an almost childish bashfulness and embarrassment. + </p> + <p> + At last the answer came. He had struck the right note, and from the din + and clamour of the nursery, and the fumes and smell of the kitchen, a song + arose, clear and beautiful, tender and pure, like first love. + </p> + <p> + Now an exchange of love-letters began. He wrote to her every night, and + sometimes he sent her a postcard as well during the day. His colleagues + didn’t know what to think of him. He was so fastidious about his dress and + personal appearance, that they suspected him of a love affair. And he was + in love—in love again. He sent her his photograph, without the + spectacles, and she sent him a lock of her hair. + </p> + <p> + Their language was simple like a child’s, and he wrote on coloured paper + ornamented with little doves. Why shouldn’t they? They were a long way off + forty yet, even though the struggle for an existence had made them feel + that they were getting old. He had neglected her during the last + twelvemonth, not so much from indifference as from respect—he always + saw in her the mother of his children. + </p> + <p> + The tour of inspection was approaching its end. He was conscious of a + certain feeling of apprehension when he thought of their meeting. He had + corresponded with his sweetheart; should he find her in the mother and + housewife? He dreaded a disappointment. He shrank at the thought of + finding her with a kitchen towel in her hand, or the children clinging to + her skirts. Their first meeting must be somewhere else, and they must meet + alone. Should he ask her to join him at Waxholm, in the Stockholm + Archipelago, at the hotel where they had spent so many happy hours during + the period of their engagement? Splendid idea! There they could, for two + whole days, re-live in memory the first beautiful spring days of their + lives, which had flown, never to return again. + </p> + <p> + He sat down and made the suggestion in an impassioned love-letter. She + answered by return agreeing to his proposal, happy that the same idea had + occurred to both of them. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <p> + Two days later he arrived at Waxholm and engaged rooms at the hotel. It + was a beautiful September day. He dined alone, in the great dining-room, + drank a glass of wine and felt young again. Everything was so bright and + beautiful. There was the blue sea outside; only the birch trees on the + shore had changed their tints. In the garden the dahlias were still in + full splendour, and the perfume of the mignonette rose from the borders of + the flower beds. A few bees still visited the dying calyces but returned + disappointed to their hives. The fishing boats sailed up the Sound before + a faint breeze, and in tacking the sails fluttered and the sheets shook; + the startled seagulls rose into the air screaming, and circled round the + fishermen who were fishing from their boats for small herring. + </p> + <p> + He drank his coffee on the verandah, and began to look out for the steamer + which was due at six o’clock. + </p> + <p> + Restlessly, apprehensively, he paced the verandah, anxiously watching + fiord and Sound on the side where Stockholm lay, so as to sight the + steamer as soon as she came into view. + </p> + <p> + At last a little cloud of smoke showed like a dark patch on the horizon. + His heart thumped against his ribs and he drank a liqueur. Then he went + down to the shore. + </p> + <p> + Now he could see the funnel right in the centre of the Sound, and soon + after he noticed the flag on the fore-topmast.... Was she really on the + steamer, or had she been prevented from keeping the tryst? It was only + necessary for one of the children to be ill, and she wouldn’t be there, + and he would have to spend a solitary night at the hotel. The children, + who during the last few weeks had receded into the background, now stepped + between her and him. They had hardly mentioned them in their last letters, + just as if they had been anxious to be rid of all eyewitnesses and + spoil-sports. + </p> + <p> + He stamped on the creaking landing-stage and then remained standing + motionless near a bollard staring straight at the steamer which increased + in size as she approached, followed in her wake by a river of molten gold + that spread over the blue, faintly rippled expanse. Now he could + distinguish people on the upper deck, a moving crowd, and sailors busy + with the ropes, now a fluttering speck of white near the wheel-house. + There was no one besides him on the landing-stage, the moving white speck + could only be meant for him, and no one would wave to him but her. He + pulled out his handkerchief and answered her greeting, and in doing so he + noticed that his handkerchief was not a white one; he had been using + coloured ones for years for the sake of economy. + </p> + <p> + The steamer whistled, signalled, the engines stopped, she came alongside, + and now he recognised her. Their eyes met in greeting; the distance was + still too great for words. Now he could see her being pushed slowly by the + crowd across the little bridge. It was she, and yet it wasn’t. + </p> + <p> + Ten years stretched between her and the picture of her which he had had in + his mind. Fashion had changed, the cut of the clothes was different. Ten + years ago her delicate face with its olive complexion was framed by the + cap which was then worn, and which left the forehead free; now her + forehead was hidden by a wicked imitation of a bowler hat. Ten years ago + the beautiful lines of her figure were clearly definable under the + artistic draperies of her cloak which playfully now hid, now emphasised + the curve of her shoulders and the movement of her arms; now her figure + was completely disguised by a long driving coat which followed the lines + of her dress but completely concealed her figure. As she stepped off the + landing-bridge, he caught sight of her little foot with which he had + fallen in love, when it was encased in a buttoned boot, shaped on natural + lines; the shoe which she was now wearing resembled a pointed Chinese + slipper, and did not allow her foot to move in those dancing rhythms which + had bewitched him. + </p> + <p> + It was she and yet it was not she! He embraced and kissed her. She + enquired after his health and he asked after the children. Then they + walked up the strand. + </p> + <p> + Words came slowly and sounded dry and forced. How strange! They were + almost shy in each other’s presence, and neither of them mentioned the + letters. + </p> + <p> + In the end he took heart of grace and asked: + </p> + <p> + “Would you like to go for a walk before sunset?” + </p> + <p> + “I should love to,” she replied, taking his arm. + </p> + <p> + They went along the high-road in the direction of the little town. The + shutters of all the summer residences were closed; the gardens plundered. + Here and there an apple, hidden among the foliage, might still be found + hanging on the trees, but there wasn’t a single flower in the flower beds. + The verandahs, stripped of their sunblinds, looked like skeletons; where + there had been bright eyes and gay laughter, silence reigned. + </p> + <p> + “How autumnal!” she said. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, the forsaken villas look horrible.” + </p> + <p> + They walked on. + </p> + <p> + “Let us go and look at the house where we used to live.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes! It will be fun.” + </p> + <p> + They passed the bathing vans. + </p> + <p> + Over there, squeezed in between the pilot’s and the gardener’s cottages, + stood the little house with its red fence, its verandah and its little + garden. + </p> + <p> + Memories of past days awoke. There was the bedroom where their first baby + had been born. What rejoicing! What laughter! Oh! youth and gaiety! The + rose-tree which they had planted was still there. And the strawberry-bed + which they had made—no, it existed no longer, grass had grown over + it. In the little plantation traces of the swing which they had put up + were still visible, but the swing itself had disappeared. + </p> + <p> + “Thank you so much for your beautiful letters,” she said, gently pressing + his arm. + </p> + <p> + He blushed and made no reply. + </p> + <p> + Then they returned to the hotel, and he told her anecdotes, in connection + with his tour. + </p> + <p> + He had ordered dinner to be served in the large dining-room at the table + where they used to sit. They sat down without saying grace. + </p> + <p> + It was a tête-à-tête dinner. He took the bread-basket and offered her the + bread. She smiled. It was a long time since he had been so attentive. But + dinner at a seaside hotel was a pleasant change and soon they were engaged + in a lively conversation. It was a duet in which one of them extolled the + days that had gone, and the other revived memories of “once upon a time.” + They were re-living the past. Their eyes shone and the little lines in + their faces disappeared. Oh! golden days! Oh! time of roses which comes + but once, if it comes at all, and which is denied to so many of us—so + many of us. + </p> + <p> + At dessert he whispered a few words into the ear of the waitress; she + disappeared and returned a few seconds later with a bottle of champagne. + </p> + <p> + “My dear Axel, what are you thinking of?” + </p> + <p> + “I am thinking of the spring that has past, but will return again.” + </p> + <p> + But he wasn’t thinking of it exclusively, for at his wife’s reproachful + words there glided through the room, catlike, a dim vision of the nursery + and the porridge bowl. + </p> + <p> + However—the atmosphere cleared again; the golden wine stirred their + memories, and again they lost themselves in the intoxicating rapture of + the past. + </p> + <p> + He leaned his elbow on the table and shaded his eyes with his hand, as if + he were determined to shut out the present—this very present which,—after + all, had been of his own seeking. + </p> + <p> + The hours passed. They left the dining-room and went into the drawing-room + which boasted a piano, ordering their coffee to be brought there. + </p> + <p> + “I wonder how the kiddies are?” said she, awakening to the hard facts of + real life. + </p> + <p> + “Sit down and sing to me,” he answered, opening the instrument. + </p> + <p> + “What would you like me to sing? You know I haven’t sung a note for many + days.” + </p> + <p> + He was well aware of it, but he <i>did</i> want a song. + </p> + <p> + She sat down before the piano and began to play. It was a squeaking + instrument that reminded one of the rattling of loose teeth. + </p> + <p> + “What shall I sing?” she asked, turning round on the music-stool. + </p> + <p> + “You know, darling,” he replied, not daring to meet her eyes. + </p> + <p> + “Your song! Very well, if I can remember it.” And she sang: “Where is the + blessed country where my beloved dwells?” + </p> + <p> + But alas! Her voice was thin and shrill and emotion made her sing out of + tune. At times it sounded like a cry from the bottom of a soul which feels + that noon is past and evening approaching. The fingers which had done hard + work strayed on the wrong keys. The instrument, too, had seen its best + days; the cloth on the hammers had worn away; it sounded as if the springs + touched the bare wood. + </p> + <p> + When she had finished her song, she sat for a while without turning round, + as if she expected him to come and speak to her. But he didn’t move; not a + sound broke the deep silence. When she turned round at last, she saw him + sitting on the sofa, his cheeks wet with tears. She felt a strong impulse + to jump up, take his head between her hands and kiss him as she had done + in days gone by, but she remained where she was, immovable, with downcast + eyes. + </p> + <p> + He held a cigar between his thumb and first finger. When the song was + finished, he bit off the end and struck a match. + </p> + <p> + “Thank you, Lily,” he said, puffing at his cigar, “will you have your + coffee now?” + </p> + <p> + They drank their coffee, talked of summer holidays in general and + suggested two or three places where they might go next summer. But their + conversation languished and they repeated themselves. + </p> + <p> + At last he yawned openly and said: “I’m off to bed.” + </p> + <p> + “I’m going, too,” she said, getting up. “But I’ll get a breath of fresh + air first, on the balcony.” + </p> + <p> + He went into the bed-room. She lingered for a few moments in the + dining-room, and then talked to the landlady for about half an hour of + spring-onions and woollen underwear. + </p> + <p> + When the landlady had left her she went into the bedroom and stood for a + few minutes at the door, listening. No sound came from within. His boots + stood in the corridor. She opened the door gently and went in. He was + asleep. + </p> + <p> + He was asleep! + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <p> + At breakfast on the following morning he had a headache, and she fidgeted. + </p> + <p> + “What horrible coffee,” he said, with a grimace. + </p> + <p> + “Brazilian,” she said, shortly. + </p> + <p> + “What shall we do to-day?” he asked, looking at his watch. + </p> + <p> + “Hadn’t you better eat some bread and butter, instead of grumbling at the + coffee?” she said. + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps you’re right,” he answered, “and I’ll have a liqueur at the same + time. That champagne last night, ugh!” + </p> + <p> + He asked for bread and butter and a liqueur and his temper improved. + </p> + <p> + “Let’s go to the Pilot’s Hill and look at the view.” + </p> + <p> + They rose from the breakfast table and went out. + </p> + <p> + The weather was splendid and the walk did them good. But they walked + slowly; she panted, and his knees were stiff; they drew no more parallels + with the past. + </p> + <p> + They walked across the fields. The grass had been cut long ago, there + wasn’t a single flower anywhere. They sat down on some large stones. + </p> + <p> + He talked of the Board of Prisons and his office. She talked of the + children. + </p> + <p> + Then they walked on in silence. He looked at his watch. + </p> + <p> + “Three hours yet till dinner time,” he said. And he wondered how they + could kill time on the next day. + </p> + <p> + They returned to the hotel. He asked for the papers. She sat down by the + side of him with a smile on her lips. + </p> + <p> + They talked little during dinner. After dinner she mentioned the servants. + </p> + <p> + “For heaven’s sake, leave the servants alone!” he exclaimed. + </p> + <p> + “Surely we haven’t come here to quarrel!” + </p> + <p> + “Am I quarrelling?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I’m not!” + </p> + <p> + An awkward pause followed. He wished somebody would come. The children! + Yes! This tête-à-tête embarrassed him, but he felt a pain in his heart + when he thought of the bright hours of yesterday. + </p> + <p> + “Let’s go to Oak Hill,” she said, “and gather wild strawberries.” + </p> + <p> + “There are no wild strawberries at this time of the year, it’s autumn.” + </p> + <p> + “Let’s go all the same.” + </p> + <p> + And they went. But conversation was difficult. His eyes searched for some + object on the roadside which would serve for a peg on which to hang a + remark, but there was nothing. There was no subject which they hadn’t + discussed. She knew all his views on everything and disagreed with most of + them. She longed to go home, to the children, to her own fireside. She + found it absurd to make a spectacle of herself in this place and be on the + verge of a quarrel with her husband all the time. + </p> + <p> + After a while they stopped, for they were tired. He sat down and began to + write in the sand with his walking stick. He hoped she would provoke a + scene. + </p> + <p> + “What are you thinking of?” she asked at last. + </p> + <p> + “I?” he replied, feeling as if a burden were falling off his shoulders, “I + am thinking that we are getting old, mother: our innings are over, and we + have to be content with what has been. If you are of the same mind, we’ll + go home by the night boat.” + </p> + <p> + “I have thought so all along, old man, but I wanted to please you.” + </p> + <p> + “Then come along, we’ll go home. It’s no longer summer, autumn is here.” + </p> + <p> + They returned to the hotel, much relieved. + </p> + <p> + He was a little embarrassed on account of the prosaic ending of the + adventure, and felt an irresistible longing to justify it from a + philosophical standpoint. + </p> + <p> + “You see, mother,” he said, “my lo—h’m” (the word was too strong) + “my affection for you has undergone a change in the course of time. It has + developed, broadened; at first it was centred on the individual, but later + on, on the family as a whole. It is not now you, personally, that I love, + nor is it the children, but it is the whole.... + </p> + <p> + “Yes, as my uncle used to say, children are lightning conductors!” + </p> + <p> + After his philosophical explanation he became his old self again. It was + pleasant to take off his frock coat; he felt, as if he were getting into + his dressing-gown. + </p> + <p> + When they entered the hotel, she began at once to pack, and there she was + in her element. + </p> + <p> + They went downstairs into the saloon as soon as they got on board. For + appearance sake, however, he asked her whether she would like to watch the + sunset; but she declined. + </p> + <p> + At supper he helped himself first, and she asked the waitress the price of + black bread. + </p> + <p> + When he had finished his supper, he remained sitting at the table, + lingering over a glass of porter. A thought which had amused him for some + time, would no longer be suppressed. + </p> + <p> + “Old fool, what?” he said, lifting his glass and smiling at his wife who + happened to look at him at the moment. + </p> + <p> + She did not return his smile but her eyes, which had flashed for a second, + assumed so withering an expression of dignity that he felt crushed. + </p> + <p> + The spell was broken, the last trace of his old love had vanished; he was + sitting opposite the mother of his children; he felt small. + </p> + <p> + “No need to look down upon me because I have made a fool of myself for a + moment,” she said gravely. “But in a man’s love there is always a good + deal of contempt; it is strange.” + </p> + <p> + “And in the love of a woman?” + </p> + <p> + “Even more, it is true! But then, she has every cause.” + </p> + <p> + “It’s the same thing—with a difference. Probably both of them are + wrong. That which one values too highly, because it is difficult of + attainment, is easily underrated when one has obtained it.” + </p> + <p> + “Why does one value it too highly?” + </p> + <p> + “Why is it so difficult of attainment?” + </p> + <p> + The steam whistle above their heads interrupted their conversation. + </p> + <p> + They landed. + </p> + <p> + When they had arrived home, and he saw her again among her children, he + realised that his affection for her had undergone a change, and that her + affection for him had been transferred to and divided amongst all these + little screamers. Perhaps her love for him had only been a means to an + end. His part had been a short one, and he felt deposed. If he had not + been required to earn bread and butter, he would probably have been cast + off long ago. + </p> + <p> + He went into his study, put on his dressing-gown and slippers, lighted his + pipe and felt at home. + </p> + <p> + Outside the wind lashed the rain against the window panes, and whistled in + the chimney. + </p> + <p> + When the children had been put to bed, his wife came and sat by him. + </p> + <p> + “No weather to gather wild strawberries,” she said. + </p> + <p> + “No, my dear, the summer is over and autumn is here.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, it is autumn,” she replied, “but it is not yet winter, there is + comfort in that.” + </p> + <p> + “Very poor comfort if we consider that we live but once.” + </p> + <p> + “Twice when one has children; three times if one lives to see one’s + grandchildren.” + </p> + <p> + “And after that, the end.” + </p> + <p> + “Unless there is a life after death.” + </p> + <p> + “We cannot be sure of that! Who knows? I believe it, but my faith is no + proof.” + </p> + <p> + “But it is good to believe it. Let us have faith! Let us believe that + spring will come again! Let us believe it!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, let us believe it,” he said, gathering her to his breast. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0016" id="link2H_4_0016"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + COMPULSORY MARRIAGE + </h2> + <p> + His father died early and from that time forth he was in the hands of a + mother, two sisters and several aunts. He had no brother. They lived on an + estate in the Swedish province, Soedermanland, and had no neighbours with + whom they <i>could be</i> on friendly terms. When he was seven years old, + a governess was engaged to teach him and his sisters, and about the same + time a girl cousin came to live with them. + </p> + <p> + He shared his sisters’ bedroom, played their games and went bathing with + them; nobody looked upon him as a member of the other sex. Before long his + sisters took him in hand and became his schoolmasters and tyrants. + </p> + <p> + He was a strong boy to start with, but left to the mercy of so many doting + women, he gradually became a helpless molly-coddle. + </p> + <p> + Once he made an attempt to emancipate himself and went to play with the + boys of the cottagers. They spent the day in the woods, climbed the trees, + robbed the birds’ nests and threw stones at the squirrels. Frithiof was as + happy as a released prisoner, and did not come home to dinner. The boys + gathered whortle-berries, and bathed in the lake. It was the first really + enjoyable day of his life. + </p> + <p> + When he came home in the evening, he found the whole house in great + commotion. His mother though anxious and upset, did not conceal her joy at + his return; Aunt Agatha, however, a spinster, and his mother’s eldest + sister, who ruled the house, was furious. She maintained that it would be + a positive crime not to punish him. Frithiof could not understand why it + should be a crime, but his aunt told him that disobedience was a sin. He + protested that he had never been forbidden to play with the children of + the cottagers. She admitted it but said that, of course, there could never + have been two questions about it. And she remained firm, and regardless of + his mother’s pleading eyes, took him away to give him a whipping in her + own room. He was eight years old and fairly big for his age. + </p> + <p> + When the aunt touched his waist-belt to unbutton his knickers, a cold + shiver ran down his back; he gasped and his heart thumped against his + ribs. He made no sound, but stared, horror-struck, at the old woman who + asked him, almost caressingly, to be obedient and not to offer any + resistance. But when she laid hands on his shirt, he grew hot with shame + and fury. He sprang from the sofa on which she had pushed him, hitting out + right and left. Something unclean, something dark and repulsive, seemed to + emanate from this woman, and the shame of his sex rose up in him as + against an assailant. + </p> + <p> + But the aunt, mad with passion, seized him, threw him on a chair and beat + him. He screamed with rage, pain he did not feel, and with convulsive + kicks tried to release himself; but all of a sudden he lay still and was + silent. + </p> + <p> + When the old woman let him go, he remained where he was, motionless. + </p> + <p> + “Get up!” she said, in a broken voice. + </p> + <p> + He stood up and looked at her. One of her cheeks was pale, the other + crimson. Her eyes glowed strangely and she trembled all over. He looked at + her curiously, as one might examine a wild beast, and all of a sudden a + supercilious smile raised his upper lip; it seemed to him as if his + contempt gave him an advantage over her. “She-devil!” He flung the word, + newly acquired from the children of the cottagers, into her face, + defiantly and scornfully, seized his clothes and flew downstairs to his + mother, who was sitting in the dining-room, weeping. + </p> + <p> + He wanted to open his heart to her and complain of his aunt’s treatment, + but she had not the courage to comfort him. So he went into the kitchen + where the maids consoled him with a handful of currants. + </p> + <p> + From this day on he was no longer allowed to sleep in the nursery with his + sisters, but his mother had his bed removed to her own bedroom. He found + his mother’s room stuffy and the new arrangement dull; she frequently + disturbed his sleep by getting up and coming to his bed in the night to + see whether he was covered up; then he flew into a rage and answered her + questions peevishly. + </p> + <p> + He was never allowed to go out without being carefully wrapped up by + someone, and he had so many mufflers that he never knew which one to put + on. Whenever he tried to steal out of the house, someone was sure to see + him from the window and call him back to put on an overcoat. + </p> + <p> + By and by his sisters’ games began to bore him. His strong arms no longer + wanted to play battledore and shuttlecock, they longed to throw stones. + The squabbles over a petty game of croquet, which demanded neither muscle + nor brain, irritated him. + </p> + <p> + The governess was another one of his trials. She always spoke to him in + French and he invariably answered her in Swedish. A vague disgust with his + whole life and surroundings began to stir in him. + </p> + <p> + The free and easy manner in which everybody behaved in his presence + offended him, and he retaliated by heartily loathing all with whom he came + in contact. His mother was the only one who considered his feelings to a + certain extent: she had a big screen put round his bed. + </p> + <p> + Ultimately the kitchen and the servants’ hall became his refuge; there + everything he did was approved of. Occasionally, of course, matters were + discussed there which might have aroused a boy’s curiosity, but for him + there were no secrets. On one occasion, for instance, he had accidentally + come to the maids’ bathing-place. The governess, who was with him, + screamed, he could not understand why, but he stopped and talked to the + girls who were standing or lying about in the water. Their nudity made no + impression upon him. + </p> + <p> + He grew up into a youth. An inspector was engaged to teach him farming for + he was, of course, to take over the management of the estate in due time. + They chose an old man who held the orthodox faith. The old man’s society + was not exactly calculated to stimulate a young man’s brain, but it was an + improvement on the old conditions. It opened new points of view to him and + roused him to activity. But the inspector received daily and hourly so + many instructions from the ladies, that he ended by being nothing but + their mouth-piece. + </p> + <p> + At the age of fifteen Frithiof was confirmed, received a present of a gold + watch and was allowed to go out on horseback; he was not permitted, + however, to realise his greatest ambition, namely to go shooting. True, + there was no longer any fear of a whipping from his arch-enemy, but he + dreaded his mother’s tears. He always remained a child, and never managed + to throw off the habit of giving way to the judgment of other people. + </p> + <p> + The years passed; he had attained his twentieth year. One day he was + standing in the kitchen watching the cook, who was busy scaling a perch. + She was a pretty young woman with a delicate complexion. He was teasing + her and finally put his hand down her back. + </p> + <p> + “Do behave yourself, now, Mr. Frithiof,” said the girl. + </p> + <p> + “But I am behaving myself,” he replied, becoming more and more familiar. + </p> + <p> + “If mistress should see you!” + </p> + <p> + “Well supposing she did?” + </p> + <p> + At this moment his mother passed the open kitchen door; she instantly + turned away and walked across the yard. + </p> + <p> + Frithiof found the situation awkward and slunk away to his bed-room. + </p> + <p> + A new gardener entered their service. In their wisdom, anxious to avoid + trouble with the maids, the ladies had chosen a married man. But, as + misfortune would have it, the gardener had been married long enough to be + the father of an exceedingly pretty young daughter. + </p> + <p> + Frithiof quickly discovered the sweet blossom among the other roses in the + garden, and poured out all the good-will which lay stored up in his heart + for <i>that</i> half of humanity to which he did not belong, on this young + girl, who was rather well developed and not without education. + </p> + <p> + He spent a good deal of his time in the garden and stopped to talk to her + whenever he found her working at one of the flower-beds or cutting + flowers. She did not respond to his advances, but this only had the effect + of stimulating his passion. + </p> + <p> + One day he was riding through the wood, haunted, as usual, by visions of + her loveliness which, in his opinion, reached the very pinnacle of + perfection. He was sick with longing to meet her alone, freed from all + fear of incurring some watcher’s displeasure. In his heated imagination + the desire of being near her had assumed such enormous proportions, that + he felt that life without her would be impossible. + </p> + <p> + He held the reins loosely in his hand, and the horse picked his way + leisurely while its rider sat on its back wrapped in deep thought. All of + a sudden something light appeared between the trees and the gardener’s + daughter emerged from the underwood and stepped out on the footpath. + </p> + <p> + Frithiof dismounted and took off his hat. They walked on, side by side, + talking, while he dragged his horse behind him. He spoke in vague words of + his love for her; but she rejected all his advances. + </p> + <p> + “Why should we talk of the impossible?” she asked. + </p> + <p> + “What is impossible?” he exclaimed. + </p> + <p> + “That a wealthy gentleman like you should marry a poor girl like me.” + </p> + <p> + There was no denying the aptitude of her remark, and Frithiof felt that he + was worsted. His love for her was boundless, but he could see no + possibility of bringing his doe safely through the pack which guarded + house and home; they would tear her to pieces. + </p> + <p> + After this conversation he gave himself up to mute despair. + </p> + <p> + In the autumn the gardener gave notice and left the estate without giving + a reason. For six weeks Frithiof was inconsolable, for he had lost his + first and only love; he would never love again. + </p> + <p> + In this way the autumn slowly passed and winter stood before the door. At + Christmas a new officer of health came into the neighbourhood. He had + grown-up children, and as the aunts were always ill, friendly relations + were soon established between the two families. Among the doctor’s + children was a young girl and before long Frithiof was head over ears in + love with her. He was at first ashamed of his infidelity to his first + love, but he soon came to the conclusion that love was something + impersonal, because it was possible to change the object of one’s + tenderness; it was almost like a power of attorney made out on the holder. + </p> + <p> + As soon as his guardians got wind of this new attachment, the mother asked + her son for a private interview. + </p> + <p> + “You have now arrived at that age,” she began, “when a man begins to look + out for a wife.” + </p> + <p> + “I have already done that, my dear mother,” he replied. + </p> + <p> + “I’m afraid you’ve been too hasty,” she said. “The girl of whom, I + suppose, you are thinking, doesn’t possess the moral principles which an + educated man should demand.” + </p> + <p> + “What? Amy’s moral principles! Who has anything to say against them?” + </p> + <p> + “I won’t say a word against the girl herself, but her father, as you know, + is a freethinker.” + </p> + <p> + “I shall be proud to be related to a man who can think freely, without + considering his material interests.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, let’s leave him out of the question; you are forgetting, my dear + Frithiof, that you are already bound elsewhere.” + </p> + <p> + “What? Do you mean....” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; you have played with Louisa’s heart.” + </p> + <p> + “Are you talking of cousin Louisa?” + </p> + <p> + “I am. Haven’t you looked upon yourselves as fiancés since your earliest + childhood? Don’t you realise that she has put all her faith and trust in + you?” + </p> + <p> + “It’s you who have played with us, driven us together, not I!” answered + the son. + </p> + <p> + “Think of your old mother, think of your sisters, Frithiof. Do you want to + bring a stranger into this house which has always been our home, a + stranger who will have the right to order us about?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! I see; Louisa is the chosen mistress!” + </p> + <p> + “There’s no chosen mistress, but a mother always has a right to choose the + future wife of her son; nobody is so well fitted to undertake such a task. + Do you doubt my good faith? Can you possibly suspect me, your mother, of a + wish to injure you?” + </p> + <p> + “No, no! but I—I don’t love Louisa; I like her as a sister, but....” + </p> + <p> + “Love? Nothing in all the world is so inconstant as love! It’s folly to + rely on it, it passes away like a breath; but friendship, conformity of + views and habits, similar interests and a long acquaintanceship, these are + the surest guarantees of a happy marriage. Louisa is a capable girl, + domesticated and methodical, she will make your home as happy as you could + wish.” + </p> + <p> + Frithiof’s only way of escape was to beg his mother for time to consider + the matter. + </p> + <p> + Meanwhile all the ladies of the household had recovered their health, so + that the doctor was no longer required. Still he called one day, but he + was treated like a burglar who had come to spy out the land. He was a + sharp man and saw at once how matters stood. Frithiof returned his call + but was received coldly. This was the end of their friendly relations. + </p> + <p> + Frithiof came of age. + </p> + <p> + Frantic attempts were now made to carry the fortress by storm. The aunts + cringed before the new master and tried to prove to him that they could + not be dispensed with, by treating him as if he were a child. His sisters + mothered him more than ever, and Louisa began to devote a great deal of + attention to her dress. She laced herself tightly and curled her hair. She + was by no means a plain girl, but she had cold eyes and a sharp tongue. + </p> + <p> + Frithiof remained indifferent; as far as he was concerned she was sexless; + he had never looked at her with the eyes of a man. But now, after the + conversation with his mother, he could not help a certain feeling of + embarrassment in her presence, especially as she seemed to seek his + society. He met her everywhere; on the stairs, in the garden, in the + stables even. One morning, when he was still in bed, she came into his + room to ask him for a pin; she was wearing a dressing-jacket and pretended + to be very shy. + </p> + <p> + He took a dislike to her, but nevertheless she was always in his mind. + </p> + <p> + In the meantime the mother had one conversation after another with her + son, and aunt and sisters never ceased hinting at the anticipated wedding. + </p> + <p> + Life was made a burden to him. He saw no way of escape from the net in + which he had been caught. Louisa was no longer his sister and friend, + though he did not like her any the better for it; his constant dwelling on + the thought of marrying her had had the result of making him realise that + she was a woman, an unsympathetic woman, it was true, but still a woman. + His marriage would mean a change in his position, and, perhaps, delivery + from bondage. There were no other girls in the neighbourhood, and, after + all, she was probably as good as any other young woman. + </p> + <p> + And so he went one day to his mother and told her that he had made up his + mind. He would marry Louisa on condition that he should have an + establishment of his own in one of the wings of the house, and his own + table. He also insisted that his mother should propose for him, for he + could not bring himself to do it. + </p> + <p> + The compromise was accepted and Louisa was called in to receive Frithiof’s + embrace and timid kiss. They both wept for reasons which neither of them + understood. They felt ashamed of themselves for the rest of the day. + Afterwards everything went on as before, but the motherliness of aunts and + sisters knew no bounds. They furnished the wing, arranged the rooms, + settled everything; Frithiof was never consulted in the matter. + </p> + <p> + The preparations for the wedding were completed. Old friends, buried in + the provinces, were hunted up and invited to be present at the ceremony. + </p> + <p> + The wedding took place. + </p> + <p> + On the morning after his wedding day Frithiof was up early. He left his + bed-room as quickly as possible, pretending that his presence was + necessary in the fields. + </p> + <p> + Louisa, who was still sleepy, made no objection. But as he was going out + she called after him: + </p> + <p> + “You won’t forget breakfast at eleven!” + </p> + <p> + It sounded like a command. + </p> + <p> + He went to his den, put on a shooting coat and waterproof boots and took + his gun, which he kept concealed in his wardrobe. Then he went out into + the wood. + </p> + <p> + It was a beautiful October morning. Everything was covered with hoar + frost. He walked quickly as if he were afraid of being called back, or as + if he were trying to escape from something. The fresh air had the effect + of a bath. He felt a free man, at last, and he used his freedom to go out + for a morning stroll with his gun. But this exhilarating feeling of bodily + freedom soon passed. Up to now he had at least had a bedroom of his own. + He had been master of his thoughts during the day and his dreams at night. + That was over. The thought of that common bedroom tormented him; there was + something unclean about it. Shame was cast aside like a mask, all delicacy + of feeling was dispensed with, every illusion of the “high origin” of man + destroyed; to come into such close contact with nothing but the beast in + man had been too much for him, for he had been brought up by idealists. He + was staggered by the enormity of the hypocrisy displayed in the + intercourse between men and women; it was a revelation to him to find that + the inmost substance of that indescribable womanliness was nothing but the + fear of consequences. But supposing he had married the doctor’s daughter, + or the gardener’s little girl? Then to be alone with her would be bliss, + while to be alone with his wife was depressing and unlovely; then the + coarse desire to satisfy a curiosity and a want would be transformed into + an ecstasy more spiritual than carnal. + </p> + <p> + He wandered through the wood without a purpose, without an idea of what he + wanted to shoot; be only felt a vague desire to hear a shot and to kill + something; but nothing came before his gun. The birds had already + migrated. Only a squirrel was climbing about the branches of a pine-tree, + staring at him with brilliant eyes. He raised the gun and pulled the + trigger; but the nimble little beast was already on the other side of the + trunk when the shot hit the tree. But the sound impressed his nerves + pleasantly. + </p> + <p> + He left the footpath and went through the undergrowth. He stamped on every + fungus that grew on his way. He was in a destructive mood. He looked for a + snake so as to trample on it or kill it with a shot. + </p> + <p> + Suddenly he remembered that he ought to go home and that it was the + morning after his wedding day. The mere thought of the curious glances to + which he would be exposed had the effect of making him feel like a + criminal, about to be unmasked and shown up for having committed a crime + against good manners and, what was worse, against nature. Oh! that he + could have left this world behind him! But how was he to do that? + </p> + <p> + His thoughts grew tired at last of revolving round and round the same + problem and he felt a craving for food. + </p> + <p> + He decided to return home and have some breakfast. + </p> + <p> + On entering the gate which led to the court yard, he saw the whole + house-party standing before the entrance hall. As soon as they caught + sight of him they began to cheer. He crossed the yard with uncertain + footsteps and listened with ill-concealed irritation to the sly questions + after his health. Then he turned away and went into the house, never + noticing his wife, who was standing amongst the group waiting for him to + go up to her and kiss her. + </p> + <p> + At the breakfast table he suffered tortures; tortures which he knew would + be burnt into his memory for all times. The insinuations of his guests + offended him and his wife’s caresses stung him. His day of rejoicing was + the most miserable day of his life. + </p> + <p> + In the course of a few months the young wife, with the assistance of aunts + and sisters, had established her over-rule in the house. Frithiof + remained, what he had always been, the youngest and dullest member of the + household. His advice was sometimes asked for, but never acted upon; he + was looked after as if he were still a child. His wife soon found it + unbearable to dine with him alone, for he kept an obstinate silence during + the meal. Louisa could not stand it; she must have a lightning conductor; + one of the sisters removed into the wing. + </p> + <p> + Frithiof made more than one attempt to emancipate himself, but his + attempts were always frustrated by the enemy; they were too many for him, + and they talked and preached until he fled into the wood. + </p> + <p> + The evenings held terror for him. He hated the bedroom, and went to it as + to a place of execution. He became morose and avoided everybody. + </p> + <p> + They had been married for a year now, and still there was no promise of a + child; his mother took him aside one day to have a talk to him. + </p> + <p> + “Wouldn’t you like to have a son?” she asked. + </p> + <p> + “Of course, I would,” he replied. + </p> + <p> + “You aren’t treating your wife very kindly,” said the mother as gently as + possible. + </p> + <p> + He lost his temper. + </p> + <p> + “What? What do you say? Are you finding fault with me? Do you want me to + toil all day long? H’m! You don’t know Louisa! But whose business is it + but mine? Bring your charge against me in such a way that I can answer + it!” + </p> + <p> + But the mother was not disposed to do that. + </p> + <p> + Lonely and miserable, he made friends with the inspector, a young man, + addicted to wine and cards. He sought his company and spent the evenings + in his room; he went to bed late, as late as possible. + </p> + <p> + On coming home one night, he found his wife still awake and waiting for + him. + </p> + <p> + “Where have you been?” she asked sharply. + </p> + <p> + “That’s my business,” he replied. + </p> + <p> + “To be married and have no husband is anything but pleasant,” she + rejoined. “If we had a child, at least!” + </p> + <p> + “It isn’t my fault that we haven’t!” + </p> + <p> + “It isn’t mine!” + </p> + <p> + A quarrel arose as to whose fault it was, and the quarrel lasted for two + years. + </p> + <p> + As both of them were too obstinate to take medical advice, the usual thing + happened. The husband cut a ridiculous figure, and the wife a tragic one. + He was told that a childless woman was sacred because, for some reason or + other, “God’s” curse rested on her. That “God” could also stoop to curse a + man was beyond the women’s comprehension. + </p> + <p> + But Frithiof had no doubt that a curse rested on him for his life was + dreary and unhealthy. Nature has created two sexes, which are now friends, + now enemies. He had met the enemy, an overwhelming enemy. + </p> + <p> + “What is a capon?” he was asked by one of his sisters one day. She was + busy with her needlework and asked the question à propos of nothing. + </p> + <p> + He looked at her suspiciously. No, she did not know the meaning of the + word; she had probably listened to a conversation and her curiosity was + aroused. + </p> + <p> + But the iron had entered his soul. He was being laughed at. He grew + suspicious. Everything he heard and saw he connected with that charge. + Beside himself with rage, he seduced one of the maids. + </p> + <p> + His act had the desired result. In due time he was a father. + </p> + <p> + Now Louisa was looked upon as a martyr and he as a blackguard. The abuse + left him indifferent, for he had vindicated his honour—if it was an + honour and not merely a lucky chance to be born without defects. + </p> + <p> + But the incident roused Louisa’s jealousy and—it was a strange thing—awakened + in her a sort of love for her husband. It was a love which irritated him, + for it showed itself in unremitting watchfulness and nervous + obtrusiveness; sometimes even in maternal tenderness and solicitude which + knew no bounds. She wanted to look after his gun, see whether it was + charged; she begged him on her knees to wear his overcoat when he went + out.... She kept his home with scrupulous care, tidied and dusted all day + long; every Saturday the rooms were turned inside out, the carpets beaten + and his clothes aired. He had no peace and never knew when he would be + turned out of his room so that it could be scrubbed. + </p> + <p> + There was not sufficient to do to occupy him during the day, for the women + looked after everything. He studied agriculture and attempted to make + improvements, but all his efforts were frustrated. He was not master in + his own house. + </p> + <p> + Finally he lost heart. He had grown taciturn because he was always + contradicted. The want of congenial company and fellows-in-misfortune + gradually dulled his brain; his nerves went to pieces; he neglected his + appearance and took to drink. + </p> + <p> + He was hardly ever at home now. Frequently he could be found, intoxicated, + at the public house or in the cottages of the farm labourers. He drank + with everybody and all day long. He stimulated his brain with alcohol for + the sake of the relief he found in talking. It was difficult to decide + whether he drank in order to be able to talk to somebody who did not + contradict him, or whether he drank merely in order to get drunk. + </p> + <p> + He sold privileges and farm produce to the cottagers to provide himself + with money, for the women held the cash. Finally he burgled his own safe + and stole the contents. + </p> + <p> + There was an orthodox, church-going inspector on the premises now; the + previous one had been dismissed on account of his intemperate habits. When + at last, through the clergyman’s influence, the proprietor of the inn lost + his license Frithiof took to drinking with his own farm labourers. Scandal + followed on scandal. + </p> + <p> + He developed into a heavy drinker who had epileptic fits whenever he was + deprived of alcohol. + </p> + <p> + He was ultimately committed to an institution where he remained as an + incurable patient. + </p> + <p> + At lucid intervals, when he was capable of surveying his life, his heart + was filled with compassion for all women who are compelled to marry + without love; his compassion was all the deeper because he had suffered in + his own flesh the curse which lies on every violation of nature; and yet + he was only a man. + </p> + <p> + He saw the cause of his unhappiness in the family—the family as a + social institution, which does not permit the child to become an + independent individual at the proper time. + </p> + <p> + He brought no charge against his wife, for was she not equally unhappy, a + victim of the same unfortunate conditions which are honoured by the sacred + name of Law? + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0017" id="link2H_4_0017"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CORINNA + </h2> + <p> + Her father was a general, her mother died when she was still a baby. After + her mother’s death few ladies visited the house; the callers were mostly + men. And her father took her education into his own hands. + </p> + <p> + She went out riding with him, was present at the manoeuvres, took an + interest in gymnastics and attended the musters of the reserves. + </p> + <p> + Since her father occupied the highest rank in their circle of friends, + everybody treated him with an amount of respect which is rarely shown to + equals, and as she was the general’s daughter, she was treated in the same + way. She held the rank of a general and she knew it. + </p> + <p> + There was always an orderly sitting in the hall who rose with much + clanking and clashing of steel and stood at attention whenever she went in + or out. At the balls none but the majors dared to ask her for a dance; she + looked upon a captain as a representative of an inferior race, and a + lieutenant as a naughty boy. + </p> + <p> + She fell into the habit of appreciating people entirely according to their + rank. She called all civilians “fishes,” poorly-clad people “rascals,” and + the very poor “the mob.” + </p> + <p> + The ladies, however, were altogether outside this scale. Her father, who + occupied a position above all men, and who was saluted respectfully + wherever he went, always stood up before a lady, regardless of her age, + kissed the hands of those he knew, and was at the beck and call of every + pretty woman. The result of this was that very early in life she became + very firmly convinced of the superiority of her own sex, and accustomed + herself to look upon a man as a lower being. + </p> + <p> + Whenever she went out on horseback, a groom invariably rode behind her. + When she stopped to admire the landscape, he stopped too. He was her + shadow. But she had no idea what he looked like, or whether he was young + or old. If she had been asked about his sex, she would not have known how + to reply; it had never occurred to her that the shadow could have a sex; + when, in mounting, she placed her little riding-boot in his hand, she + remained quite indifferent, and even occasionally raised her habit a + little as if nobody were present. + </p> + <p> + These inbred conceptions of the surpassing importance of rank influenced + her whole life. She found it impossible to make friends with the daughters + of a major or a captain, because their fathers were her father’s social + inferiors. Once a lieutenant asked her for a dance. To punish him for his + impudence, she refused to talk to him in the intervals. But when she heard + later on that her partner had been one of the royal princes, she was + inconsolable. She who knew every order and title, and the rank of every + officer, had failed to recognise a prince! It was too terrible! + </p> + <p> + She was beautiful, but pride gave her features a certain rigidity which + scared her admirers away. The thought of marriage had never occurred to + her. The young men were not fully qualified, and those to whose social + position there was no objection, were too old. If she, the daughter of a + general, had married a captain, then a major’s wife would have taken + precedence of her. Such a degradation would have killed her. Moreover, she + had no wish to be a man’s chattel, or an ornament for his drawing-room. + She was accustomed to command, accustomed to be obeyed; she could obey no + man. The freedom and independence of a man’s life appealed to her; it had + fostered in her a loathing for all womanly occupations. + </p> + <p> + Her sexual instinct awoke late. As she belonged to an old family which on + her father’s side, had squandered its strength in a soulless militarism, + drink and dissipation, and on her mother’s had suppressed fertility to + prevent the splitting up of property, Nature seemed to have hesitated + about her sex at the eleventh hour; or perhaps had lacked strength to + determine on the continuation of the race. Her figure possessed none of + those essentially feminine characteristics, which Nature requires for her + purposes, and she scorned to hide her defects by artificial means. + </p> + <p> + The few women friends she had, found her cold and indifferent towards + everything connected with the sex problem. She treated it with contempt, + considered the relationship between the sexes disgusting, and could not + understand how a woman could give herself to a man. In her opinion Nature + was unclean; to wear clean underlinen, starched petticoats and stockings + without holes was to be virtuous; poor was merely another term for dirt + and vice. + </p> + <p> + Every summer she spent with her father on their estate in the country. + </p> + <p> + She was no great lover of the country. Nature made her feel small; she + found the woods uncanny, the lake made her shudder, there was danger + hidden in the tall meadow-grass. She regarded the peasants as cunning and + rather filthy beasts. They had so many children, and she had no doubt that + both boys and girls were full of vice. Nevertheless they were always + invited to the manor house on Midsummer day and on the general’s birthday, + to play the part of the chorus of grand opera, that is to say, to cheer + and dance, and look like the figures in a painting. + </p> + <p> + It was springtime. Helena, on her thoroughbred mare, had penetrated into + the depths of the country. She felt tired and dismounted; she fastened her + mare to a birchtree which grew near an enclosure. Then she strolled along + by the side of a ditch and began to gather wild orchids. The air was soft + and balmy, steam was rising from the ground. She could hear the frogs + jumping into the ditch which was half-full of water. + </p> + <p> + All at once the mare neighed and, stretching her slender neck over the + fence, drew in the air with wide-open nostrils. + </p> + <p> + “Alice!” she called out, “be quiet, old girl!” + </p> + <p> + And she continued to gather the modest flowers which so cleverly hide + their secrets behind the prettiest and neatest curtains that for all the + world look like printed calico. + </p> + <p> + But the mare neighed again. From behind the hazel bushes on the other side + of the enclosure came an answer, a second neighing, deeper and fuller. The + swampy ground of the enclosure shook, powerful hoofs scattered the stones, + to right and left and a black stallion appeared at full gallop. The tense + neck carried a magnificent head, the muscles lay like ropes under the + glossy skin. As he caught sight of the mare, his eyes began to flash. He + stopped and stretched out his neck as if he were going to yawn, raised his + upper lip and showed his teeth. Then he galloped across the grass and + approached the railings. + </p> + <p> + Helena picked up her skirt and ran to her mare; she raised her hand to + seize the bridle, but the mare broke away and took the fence. Then the + wooing began. + </p> + <p> + She stood at the fence and called, but the excited mare paid no heed. + Inside the enclosure the horses chased one another; the situation was a + critical one. The breath of the stallion came like smoke from his nostrils + and white foam flecked his shoulders. + </p> + <p> + Helena longed to escape, for the scene filled her with horror. She had + never witnessed the raging of a natural instinct in a living body. This + uncontrolled outbreak terrified her. + </p> + <p> + She wanted to run after her mare and drag her away by force, but she was + afraid of the savage stallion. She wanted to call for help, but she was + loath to attract other eyewitnesses. She turned her back to the scene and + decided to wait. + </p> + <p> + The sound of horses’ hoofs came from the direction of the highroad; a + carriage appeared in sight. + </p> + <p> + There was no escape; although she was ashamed to stay where she was, it + was too late now to run away, for the horses were slowing down and the + carriage stopped a few yards in front of her. + </p> + <p> + “How beautiful!” exclaimed one of the occupants of the carriage, a lady, + and raised her golden lorgnette so as to get a better view of the + spectacle. + </p> + <p> + “But why are we stopping?” retorted the other, irritably. “Drive on!” + </p> + <p> + “Don’t you think it beautiful?” asked the elder lady. + </p> + <p> + The coachman’s smile was lost in his great beard, as he urged the horses + on. + </p> + <p> + “You are such a prude, my dear Milly,” said the first voice. “To me this + kind of thing is like a thunderstorm, or a heavy sea....” + </p> + <p> + Helena could hear no more. She felt crushed with vexation, shame and + horror. + </p> + <p> + A farm labourer came shuffling along the highroad. Helena ran to meet him, + so as to prevent him from witnessing the scene, and at the same time ask + his help. But he was already too near. + </p> + <p> + “I believe it’s the miller’s black stallion,” he said gravely. “In that + case it will be better to wait until it’s all over, for he won’t brook + interference. If the lady will leave it to me, I will bring her mare home + later on.” + </p> + <p> + Glad to have done with the matter, Helena hurried away. + </p> + <p> + When she arrived home, she was ill. + </p> + <p> + She refused to ride her mare again, for in her eyes the beast had become + unclean. + </p> + <p> + This pretty adventure had a greater influence on Helena’s psychic + development than might have been expected. The brutal outbreak of a + natural instinct, the undisguised exhibition of which in the community of + men is punished with a term of imprisonment, haunted her as if she had + been present at an execution. It distressed her during the day and + disturbed her dreams at night. It increased her fear of nature and made + her give up her former amazon’s life. She remained at home and gave + herself up to study. + </p> + <p> + The house boasted a library. But as misfortune would have it, no additions + had been made since her grandfather’s death. All books were therefore a + generation too old, and Helena found antiquated ideals. The first book + which fell into her hands was Madame de Staël’s <i>Corinna</i> The way in + which the volume lay on the shelf indicated that it had served a special + purpose. Bound in green and gold, a little shabby at the edges, full of + marginal notes and underlined passages, the work of her late mother, it + became a bridge, as it were, between mother and daughter, which enabled + the now grown-up daughter to make the acquaintance of the dead mother. + These pencil notes were the story of a soul. Displeasure with the prose of + life and the brutality of nature, had inflamed the writer’s imagination + and inspired it to construct a dreamworld in which the souls dwelled, + disincarnate. It was essentially an aristocratic world, this dreamworld, + for it required financial independence from its denizens, so that the soul + might be fed with thoughts. This brain-fever, called romance, was + therefore the gospel of the wealthy, and became absurd and pitiful as soon + as it penetrated to the lower classes. + </p> + <p> + Corinna became Helena’s ideal: the divinely inspired poetess who like the + nun of the middle-ages, had vowed a vow of chastity, so that she might + lead a life of purity, who was, of course, admired by a brilliant throng, + rose to immeasurable heights above the heads of the petty every-day + mortals. It was the old ideal all over again, transposed: salutes, + standing at attention, rolling of drums, the first place everywhere. + Helena was quite ignorant of the fact that Madame de Staël outlived the + Corinna ideal, and did not become a real influence until she came out of + her dreamworld into the world of facts. + </p> + <p> + She ceased to take an interest in everyday affairs, she communed with + herself and brooded over her ego. The inheritance which her mother had + left her in posthumous notes began to germinate. She identified herself + with both Corinna and her mother, and spent much time in meditating on her + mission in life. That nature had intended her to become a mother and do + her share in the propagation of the human race, she refused to admit her + mission was to explain to humanity what Madame de Staël’s Corinna had + thought fifty years ago; but she imagined the thoughts were her own, + striving to find expression. + </p> + <p> + She began to write. One day she attempted verse. She succeeded. The lines + were of equal length and the last words rhymed. A great light dawned on + her: she was a poetess. One thing more remained: she wanted ideas; well + she could take them from <i>Corinna</i>. + </p> + <p> + In this way quite a number of poems originated. + </p> + <p> + But they had also to be bestowed on the world, and this could not be done + unless they were printed. One day she sent a poem entitled <i>Sappho</i> + and signed <i>Corinna</i> to the <i>Illustrated Newspaper</i>. With a + beating heart she went out to post the letter herself, and as it dropped + into the pillarbox, she prayed softly to “God.” + </p> + <p> + A trying fortnight ensued. She ate nothing, hardly closed her eyes, and + spent her days in solitude. + </p> + <p> + When Saturday came and the paper was delivered, she trembled as if she + were fever-stricken, and when she found that her verses were neither + printed nor mentioned in “Letters to Correspondents,” she almost broke + down. + </p> + <p> + On the following Saturday, when she could count on an answer with some + certainty, she slipped the paper into her pocket without unfolding it, and + went into the woods. When she had arrived at a secluded spot and made sure + that no one was watching her, she unfolded the paper and hastily glanced + at the contents. One poem only was printed, entitled <i>Bellman’s-day</i>. + She turned to “Letters to Correspondents.” Her first glance at the small + print made her start violently. Her fingers clutched the paper, rolled it + into a ball and flung it into the underwood. Then she stared, fascinated, + at the ball of white, glimmering through the green undergrowth. For the + first time in her life she had received an insult. She was completely + unnerved. This unknown journalist had dared what nobody had dared before: + he had been rude to her. She had come out from behind her trenches into + the arena where high birth counts for nothing, but where victory belongs + to that wonderful natural endowment which we call talent, and before which + all powers bow when it can no longer be denied. But the unknown had also + offended the woman in her, for he had said: + </p> + <p> + “The Corinna of 1807 would have cooked dinners and rocked cradles if she + had lived after 1870. But you are no Corinna.” + </p> + <p> + For the first time she had heard the voice of the enemy, the arch-enemy, + man. Cook dinners and rock cradles! They should see! + </p> + <p> + She went home. She felt so crushed that her muscles hardly obeyed her + relaxed nerves. + </p> + <p> + When she had gone a little way, she suddenly turned round and retraced her + footsteps. Supposing anybody found that paper! It would give her away. + </p> + <p> + She returned to the spot, and breaking off a hazel switch, dragged the + paper out from where it lay and carefully smoothed it. Then she raised a + piece of turf, hid the paper underneath and rolled a stone on the top. It + was a hope that lay buried there, and also a proof—of what? That she + had committed a crime? She felt that she had. She had done a wrong, she + had shown herself naked before the other sex. + </p> + <p> + From this day on a struggle went on in her heart. Ambition and fear of + publicity strove within her, and she was unable to come to a decision. + </p> + <p> + In the following autumn her father died. As he had been addicted to + gambling, and more often lost than won, he left debts behind him. But in + smart society these things are of no account. There was no necessity for + Helena to earn her living in a shop, for a hitherto unknown aunt came + forward and offered her a home. + </p> + <p> + But her father’s death wrought a complete change in her position. No more + salutes; the officers of the regiment nodded to her in a friendly fashion, + the lieutenants asked her to dance. She saw plainly that the respect shown + to her had not been shown to her personally, but merely to her rank. She + felt degraded and a lively sympathy for all subalterns was born in her; + she even felt a sort of hatred for all those who enjoyed her former + privileges. Side by side with this feeling grew up a yearning for personal + appreciation, a desire to win a position surpassing all others, although + it might not figure in the Army list. + </p> + <p> + She longed to distinguish herself, to win fame, and, (why not?) to rule. + She possessed one talent which she had cultivated to some extent, although + she had never risen above the average; she played the piano. She began to + study harmony and talked of the sonata in G minor and the symphony in F + major as if she had written them herself. And forthwith she began to + patronise musicians. + </p> + <p> + Six months after her father’s death, the post of a lady-in-waiting was + offered to her. She accepted it. The rolling of drums and military salutes + recommenced, and Helena gradually lost her sympathy with subalterns. But + the mind is as inconstant as fortune, and fresh experiences again brought + about a change of her views. + </p> + <p> + She discovered one day, and the day was not long in coming, that she was + nothing but a servant. She was sitting in the Park with the Duchess. The + Duchess was crocheting. + </p> + <p> + “I consider those blue stockings perfectly idiotic,” said the Duchess. + </p> + <p> + Helena turned pale; she stared at her mistress. + </p> + <p> + “I don’t,” she replied. + </p> + <p> + “I didn’t ask your opinion,” replied the Duchess, letting her ball of wool + roll into the dust. + </p> + <p> + Helena’s knees trembled; her future, her position passed away before her + eyes like a flash of lightning. She went to pick up the wool. It seemed to + her that her back was breaking as she stooped, and her cheeks flamed when + the Duchess took the ball without a word of thanks. + </p> + <p> + “You are not angry?” asked the Duchess, staring impertinently at her + victim. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, no, Your Royal Highness,” was Helena’s untruthful reply. + </p> + <p> + “They say that you are a blue-stocking yourself,” continued the Duchess. + “Is it true?” + </p> + <p> + Helena had a feeling as if she were standing nude before her tormentor and + made no reply. + </p> + <p> + For the second time the ball rolled into the dust. Helena pretended not to + notice it, and bit her lips to hold back the angry tears which were + welling up in her eyes. “Pick up my wool, please,” said the Duchess. + </p> + <p> + Helena drew herself up, looked the autocrat full in the face and said: + </p> + <p> + “I won’t.” + </p> + <p> + And with these words she turned and fled. The sand gritted under her feet, + and little clouds of dust followed in the wake of her train. She almost + ran down the stone steps and disappeared. + </p> + <p> + Her career at court was ended; but a sting remained. Helena was made to + feel what it means to be in disgrace, and above all things what it means + to throw up one’s post. Society does not approve of changes and nobody + would believe that she had voluntarily renounced the sunshine of the + court. No doubt she had been sent away. Yes, it must be so, she had been + sent away. Never before had she felt so humiliated, so insulted. It seemed + to her that she had lost caste; her relations treated her with coldness, + as if they were afraid that her disgrace might be infectious; her former + friends gave her the cold shoulder when they met her, and limited their + conversation to a minimum. + </p> + <p> + On the other hand, as she stooped from her former height, the + middle-classes received her with open arms. It was true, at first their + friendliness offended her more than the coldness of her own class, but in + the end she preferred being first down below to being last up above. She + joined a group of Government officials and professors who hailed her with + acclamations. Animated by the superstitious awe with which the middle + classes regard everybody connected with the court, they at once began to + pay her homage. She became their chosen leader and hastened to form a + regiment. A number of young professors enlisted at once and she arranged + lectures for women. Old academic rubbish was brought out from the + lumber-room, dusted and sold for new wares. In a dining-room, denuded of + its furniture, lectures on Plato and Aristotle were given to an audience + which unfortunately held no key to this shrine of wisdom. + </p> + <p> + Helena, in conquering these pseudo-mysteries felt the intellectual + superior of the ignorant aristocracy. This feeling gave her an assurance + which impressed people. The men worshipped her beauty and aloofness; but + she never felt in the least moved in their company. She accepted their + homage as a tribute due to women and found it impossible to respect these + lackeys who jumped up and stood at attention whenever she passed. + </p> + <p> + But in the long run her position as an unmarried woman failed to satisfy + her, and she noted with envious eyes the freedom enjoyed by her married + sisters. They were at liberty to go wherever they liked, talk to whom they + liked, and always had a footman in their husband to meet them and + accompany them on their way home. In addition, married women had a better + social position, and a great deal more influence. With what condescension + for instance, they treated the spinsters! But whenever she thought of + getting married, the incident with her mare flashed into her mind and + terror made her ill. + </p> + <p> + In the second year the wife of a professor from Upsala, who combined with + her official position great personal charm, appeared on the scene. + Helena’s star paled; all her worshippers left her to worship the new sun. + As she no longer possessed her former social position, and the savour of + the court had vanished like the scent on a handkerchief, she was beaten in + the fight. One single vassal remained faithful to her, a lecturer on + ethics, who had hitherto not dared to push himself forward. His attentions + were well received, for the severity of his ethics filled her with + unlimited confidence. He wooed her so assiduously that people began to + gossip; Helena, however, took no notice, she was above that. + </p> + <p> + One evening, after a lecture on “The Ethical Moment in Conjugal Love” or + “Marriage as a Manifestation of Absolute Identity,” for which the lecturer + received nothing but his expenses and a grateful pressure of hands, they + were sitting in the denuded dining-room on their uncomfortable cane + chairs, discussing the subject. + </p> + <p> + “You mean to say then,” said Helena, “that marriage is a relationship of + co-existence between two identical Egos?” + </p> + <p> + “I mean what I said already in my lecture, that only if there exists such + a relationship between two congruous identities, <i>being</i> can conflow + into <i>becoming</i> of higher potentiality.” + </p> + <p> + “What do you mean by <i>becoming?</i>” asked Helena, blushing. + </p> + <p> + “The post-existence of two egos in a new ego.” + </p> + <p> + “What? You mean that the continuity of the ego, which through the + cohabitation of two analogous beings will necessarily incorporate itself + into a becoming....” + </p> + <p> + “No, my dear lady, I only meant to say that marriage, in profane parlance, + can only produce a new spiritual ego, which cannot be differentiated as to + sex, when there is compatibility of souls. I mean to say that the new + being born under those conditions will be a conglomerate of male and + female; a new creature to whom both will have yielded their personality, a + unity in multiplicity, to use a well-known term, an <i>‘hommefemme.‘</i> + The man will cease to be man, the woman will cease to be woman.” + </p> + <p> + “That is the union of souls!” exclaimed Helena, glad to have successfullly + navigated the dangerous cliffs. + </p> + <p> + “It is the harmony of souls of which Plato speaks. It is true marriage as + I have sometimes visualised it in my dreams, but which, unfortunately, I + shall hardly be able to realise in actuality.” + </p> + <p> + Helena stared at the ceiling and whispered: + </p> + <p> + “Why shouldn’t you, one of the elect, realise this dream?” + </p> + <p> + “Because she to whom my soul is drawn with irresistible longing does not + believe in—h’m—love.” + </p> + <p> + “You cannot be sure of that.” + </p> + <p> + “Even if she did, she would always be tormented by the suspicion that the + feeling was not sincere. Moreover, there is no woman in the world who + would fall in love with me, no, not one.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, there is,” said Helena, gazing into his glass eye. (He had a glass + eye, but it was so well made, it was impossible to detect it.) + </p> + <p> + “Are you sure?” + </p> + <p> + “Quite sure,” replied Helena. “For you are different to other men. You + realise what spiritual love means, the love of the souls!” + </p> + <p> + “Even if the woman did exist, I could never marry her.” + </p> + <p> + “Why not?” + </p> + <p> + “Share a room with her!” + </p> + <p> + “That needn’t be the case. Madame de Staël merely lived in the same house + as her husband.” + </p> + <p> + “Did she?” + </p> + <p> + “What interesting topic are you two discussing?” asked the professor’s + wife, coming out of the drawing-room. + </p> + <p> + “We were talking of <i>Laocoon</i>,” answered Helena, rising, from her + chair. She was offended by the note of condescension in the lady’s voice. + And she made up her mind. + </p> + <p> + A week later her engagement to the lecturer was publicly announced. They + decided to be married in the autumn and take up their abode at Upsala. + </p> + <p> + A brilliant banquet, in celebration of the close of his bachelor life, was + given to the lecturer on ethics. A great deal of wine had been consumed + and the only artist the town boasted, the professor of drawing at the + Cathedral School, had depicted in bold outlines the victim’s career up to + date. It was the great feature of the whole entertainment. Ethics was a + subject of teaching and a milch cow, like many others, and need not + necessarily influence either the life of the community, or the life of the + individual. The lecturer had not been a saint, but had had his adventures + like everybody else; these were public property, for he had had no reason + to keep them dark. With a careless smile he watched his career, pictured + in chalk and colours, accompanied by witty verses, unfolding itself before + his eyes, but when at last his approaching bliss was portrayed in simple + but powerful sketches, he became deeply embarrassed, and the thought “If + Helena were to see that!” flashed like lightning through his brain. + </p> + <p> + After the banquet, at which according to an old, time-honoured custom, he + had drunk eight glasses of brandy, he was so intoxicated that he could no + longer suppress his fears and apprehensions. Among his hosts was a married + man and to him the victim turned for counsel and advice. Since neither of + them was sober, they chose, as the most secluded spot in the whole room, + two chairs right in the centre, immediately under the chandelier. + Consequently they were soon surrounded by an eagerly listening crowd. + </p> + <p> + “Look here! You are a married man,” said the lecturer at the top of his + voice, so as not to be heard by the assembly, as he fondly imagined. “You + must give me a word of advice, just one, only one little word of advice, + for I am extremely sensitive to-night, especially in regard to this + particular point.” + </p> + <p> + “I will, brother,” shouted his friend, “just one word, as you say,” and he + put his arm round his shoulders that he might whisper to him; then he + continued, screaming loudly: “Every act consists of three parts, my + brother: <i>Progresses, culmen, regressus</i>. I will speak to you of the + first, the second is never mentioned. Well, the initiative, so to speak, + that is the man’s privilege—your part! You must take the initiative, + you must attack, do you understand?” + </p> + <p> + “But supposing the other party does not approve of the initiative?” + </p> + <p> + The friend stared at the novice, taken aback; then he rose and + contemptuously turned his back on him. + </p> + <p> + “Fool!” he muttered. + </p> + <p> + “Thank you!” was all the grateful pupil could reply. + </p> + <p> + Now he understood. + </p> + <p> + On the following day he was on fire with all the strong drink he had + consumed; he went and took a hot bath, for on the third day was to be his + wedding. + </p> + <p> + The wedding guests had departed; the servant had cleared the table; they + were alone. + </p> + <p> + Helena was comparatively calm, but he felt exceedingly nervous. The period + of their engagement had been enhanced by conversations on serious + subjects. They had never behaved liked ordinary, every-day fiancés, had + never embraced or kissed. Whenever he had attempted the smallest + familiarity, her cold looks had chilled his ardour. But he loved her as a + man loves a woman, with body and soul. + </p> + <p> + They fidgeted about the drawing-room and tried to make conversation. But + an obstinate silence again and again reasserted itself. The candles in the + chandelier had burnt low and the wax fell in greasy drops on the carpet. + The atmosphere was heavy with the smell of food and the fumes of the wines + which mingled with the voluptuous perfume of carnations and heliotrope, + exhaled by Helena’s bridal bouquet that lay on a side-table. + </p> + <p> + At last he went up to her, held out his arms, and said in a voice which he + hoped sounded natural: + </p> + <p> + “And now you are my wife!” + </p> + <p> + “What do you mean?” was Helena’s brusque reply. + </p> + <p> + Completely taken aback, he allowed his arms to drop to his sides. But he + pulled himself together again, almost immediately, and said with a + self-conscious smile: + </p> + <p> + “I mean to say that we are husband and wife.” + </p> + <p> + Helena looked at him as if she thought that he had taken leave of his + senses. + </p> + <p> + “Explain your words!” she said. + </p> + <p> + That was just what he couldn’t do. Philosophy and ethics failed him; he + was faced by a cold and exceedingly unpleasant reality. + </p> + <p> + “It’s modesty,” he thought. “She’s quite right, but I must attack and do + my duty.” + </p> + <p> + “Have you misunderstood me?” asked Helena and her voice trembled. + </p> + <p> + “No, of course not, but, my dear child, h’m—we—h’m....” + </p> + <p> + “What language is that? Dear child? What do you take me for? What do you + mean? Albert, Albert!”—she rushed on without waiting for a reply, + which she didn’t want—“Be great, be noble, and learn to see in women + something more than sex. Do that, and you will be happy and great!” + </p> + <p> + Albert was beaten. Crushed with shame and furious with his false friend + who had counselled him wrongly, he threw himself on his knees before her + and stammered: + </p> + <p> + “Forgive me, Helena, you are nobler, purer, better than I; you are made of + finer fibre and you will lift me up when I threaten to perish in coarse + matter.” + </p> + <p> + “Arise and be strong, Albert,” said Helena, with the manner of a + prophetess. “Go in peace and show to the world that love and base animal + passion are two very different things. Good-night!” + </p> + <p> + Albert rose from his knees and stared irresolutely after his wife who went + into her room and shut the door behind her. + </p> + <p> + Full of the noblest and purest sentiments he also went into his room. He + took off his coat and lighted a cigar. His room was furnished like a + bachelor’s room: a bed-sofa, a writing table, some book shelves, a + washstand. + </p> + <p> + When he had undressed, he dipped a towel into his ewer and rubbed himself + all over. Then he lay down on his sofa and opened the evening paper. He + wanted to read while he smoked his cigar. He read an article on + Protection. His thoughts began to flow in a more normal channel, and he + considered his position. + </p> + <p> + Was he married or was he still a bachelor? He was a bachelor as before, + but there was a difference—he now had a female boarder who paid + nothing for her board. The thought was anything but pleasant, but it was + the truth. The cook kept house, the housemaid attended to the rooms. Where + did Helena come in? She was to develop her individuality! Oh, rubbish! he + thought, I am a fool! Supposing his friend had been right? Supposing women + always behaved in this silly way under these circumstances? She could not + very well come to him—he must go to her. If he didn’t go, she would + probably laugh at him to-morrow, or, worse still, be offended. Women were + indeed incomprehensible. He must make the attempt. + </p> + <p> + He jumped up, put on his dressing-gown and went into the drawing-room. + With trembling knees he listened outside Helena’s door. + </p> + <p> + Not a sound. He took heart of grace, and approached a step or two. Blue + flashes of lightning darted before his eyes as he knocked. + </p> + <p> + No answer. He trembled violently and beads of perspiration stood on his + forehead. + </p> + <p> + He knocked again. And in a falsetto voice, proceeding from a parched + throat, he said: + </p> + <p> + “It’s only I.” + </p> + <p> + No answer. Overwhelmed with shame, he returned to his room, puzzled and + chilled. + </p> + <p> + She was in earnest, then. + </p> + <p> + He crept between the sheets and again took up the paper. + </p> + <p> + He hadn’t been reading long when he heard footsteps in the street which + gradually approached and then stopped. Soft music fell on his ear, deep, + strong voices set in: + </p> + <p> + “Integer vitae sclerisque purus....” + </p> + <p> + He was touched. How beautiful it was! + </p> + <p> + Purus! He felt lifted above matter. It was in accordance with the spirit + of the age then, this higher conception of marriage. The current of ethics + which penetrated the epoch was flowing through the youth of the + country.... + </p> + <p> + “<i>Nec venenatis....</i>” + </p> + <p> + Supposing Helena had opened her door! + </p> + <p> + He gently beat time and felt himself as great and noble as Helena desired + him to be. + </p> + <p> + <i>“Fusce pharetra!”</i> + </p> + <p> + Should he open the window and thank the undergraduates in the name of his + wife? + </p> + <p> + He got out of bed. + </p> + <p> + A fourfold peal of laughter crashed against the windowpanes at the very + moment he lifted his hand to draw up the blind. + </p> + <p> + There could be no doubt, they were making fun of him! + </p> + <p> + Beside himself with anger he staggered back from the window and knocked + against the writing-table. He was a laughing-stock. A faint hatred against + the woman whom he had to thank for this humiliating scene, began to stir + within him, but his love acquitted her. He was incensed against the + jesters down below, and swore to bring them before the authorities. + </p> + <p> + But again and again he reverted to his unpleasant position, furious that + he had allowed himself to be led by the nose. He paced his room until dawn + broke in the East. Then he threw himself on his bed and fell asleep, in + bitter grief over the dismal ending of his wedding-day, which ought to + have been the happiest day of his life. + </p> + <p> + On the following morning he met Helena at the breakfast table. She was + cold and self-possessed as usual. Albert, of course, did not mention the + serenade. Helena made great plans for the future and talked volumes about + the abolition of prostitution. Albert met her half-way and promised to do + all in his power to assist her. Humanity must become chaste, for only the + beasts were unchaste. + </p> + <p> + Breakfast over, he went to his lecture. The serenade had roused his + suspicions, and as he watched his audience, he fancied that they were + making signs to each other; his colleagues, too, seemed to congratulate + him in a way which offended him. + </p> + <p> + A big, stout colleague, who radiated vigour and <i>joie de vivre</i>, + stopped him in the corridor which led to the library, seized him by the + collar and said with a colossal grin on his broad face. + </p> + <p> + “Well?” + </p> + <p> + “You ought to be ashamed of yourself,” was the indignant reply with which + he tore himself away and rushed down stairs. + </p> + <p> + When he arrived home, his flat was crowded with his wife’s friends. + Women’s skirts brushed against his legs, and when he sat down in an + armchair, he seemed to sink out of sight into piles and piles of women’s + clothes. + </p> + <p> + “I’ve heard rumours of a serenade last night,” said the professor’s wife. + </p> + <p> + Albert grew pale, but Helena took up the gauntlet. + </p> + <p> + “It was well meant, but they really might have been sober. This excessive + drinking among students is terrible.” + </p> + <p> + “What did they sing?” asked the professor’s wife. + </p> + <p> + “Oh! the usual songs: ‘My life a sea,’ and so on,” replied Helena. + </p> + <p> + Albert stared at her in amazement, but he couldn’t help admiring her. + </p> + <p> + The day went with gossip and discussions. Albert felt tired. Been joyed + spending a few hours, after the daily toil was over, in pleasant + conversation with women, but this was really too much. And moreover, he + had to agree to everything they said, for whenever he attempted to express + a contradictory opinion, they were down on him in a minute. + </p> + <p> + Night fell; it was bedtime. Husband and wife wished one another good night + and retired to their separate rooms. + </p> + <p> + Again he was attacked by doubt and restlessness. He fancied that he had + seen a tender look on Helena’s face, and he wasn’t quite sure whether she + hadn’t squeezed his hand. He lit a cigar and unfolded his paper. As soon + as he began to read of every-day matters, he seemed to see clearly. + </p> + <p> + “It’s sheer madness,” he said aloud, throwing the paper aside. + </p> + <p> + He slipped on his dressing-gown and went into the drawing-room. + </p> + <p> + Somebody was moving in Helena’s room. + </p> + <p> + He knocked. + </p> + <p> + “Is that you, Louise?” asked a voice from inside. + </p> + <p> + “No, it’s only I,” he whispered, hardly able to speak. + </p> + <p> + “What’s the matter? What do you want?” + </p> + <p> + “I want to speak to you, Helena,” he answered, hardly knowing what he was + saying. + </p> + <p> + The key turned in the lock. Albert could hardly trust his ears. The door + flew open. Helena stood on the threshold, still fully dressed. + </p> + <p> + “What is it you want?” she asked. Then she noticed that he was in his + dressing-gown and that his eyes shone strangely. + </p> + <p> + She stretched out her hand, pushed him away and slammed the door. + </p> + <p> + He heard a thud on the floor and almost simultaneously loud sobs. + </p> + <p> + Furious, but abashed, he returned to his room. She was in earnest, then! + But this was certainly anything but normal. + </p> + <p> + He lay awake all night, brooding, and on the following morning he + breakfasted alone. + </p> + <p> + When he came home for lunch, Helena received him with an expression of + pained resignation. + </p> + <p> + “Why do you treat me like that?” she asked. + </p> + <p> + He apologised, with as few words as possible. Then he repented his + curtness and climbed down. + </p> + <p> + Thus matters stood for six months. He was tossed between doubt, rage and + love, but his chain held. + </p> + <p> + His face grew pale and his eyes lost their lustre. His temper had become + uncertain; a sullen fury smouldered beneath his outward calm. + </p> + <p> + Helena found him changed, despotic, because he was beginning to oppose + her, and often left the meetings to seek amusement elsewhere. + </p> + <p> + One day he was asked to become a candidate for a professorial chair. He + refused, believing that he had no chance, but Helena gave him no peace + until he complied with the conditions. He was elected. He never knew the + reason why, but Helena did. + </p> + <p> + A short time after there was a by-election. + </p> + <p> + The new professor, who had never dreamed of taking an active interest in + public affairs, was nonplussed when he found himself nominated. His + surprise was even greater when he was elected. He intended to decline, but + Helena’s entreaties and her argument that life in a big city was + preferable to an existence in a small provincial town induced him to + accept the mandate. + </p> + <p> + They removed to Stockholm. + </p> + <p> + During these six months the newly-made professor and member of Parliament + had made himself acquainted with the new ideas which came from England and + purposed to recreate society and the old standards of morality. At the + same time he felt that the moment was not far off when he would have to + break with his “boarder.” He recovered his strength and vigour in + Stockholm, where fearless thinkers encouraged him to profess openly the + views which he had long held in secret. + </p> + <p> + Helena, on the other hand, scented a favourable opportunity in the + counter-current and threw herself into the arms of the Church Party. This + was too much for Albert and he rebelled. His love had grown cold; he found + compensation elsewhere. He didn’t consider himself unfaithful to his wife + for she had never claimed constancy in a relationship which didn’t exist. + </p> + <p> + His friendly intercourse with the other sex aroused his manliness and made + him realise his degradation. + </p> + <p> + His growing estrangement did not escape Helena. Their home-life became + unpleasant and every moment threatened to bring a catastrophe. + </p> + <p> + The opening of Parliament was imminent. Helena became restless and seemed + to have changed her tactics. Her voice was more gentle and she appeared + anxious to please him. She looked after the servants and saw that the + meals were served punctually. + </p> + <p> + He grew suspicious and wondered, watched her movements and prepared for + coming events. + </p> + <p> + One morning, at breakfast, Helena looked embarrassed and self-conscious. + She played with her dinner napkin and cleared her throat several times. + Then she took her courage in both her hands and made a plunge. + </p> + <p> + “Albert,” she began, “I can count on you, can’t I? You will serve the + Cause to which I have devoted my life?” + </p> + <p> + “What cause is that?” he asked curtly, for now he had the upper hand. + </p> + <p> + “You will do something for the oppressed women, won’t you?” + </p> + <p> + “Where are the oppressed women?” + </p> + <p> + “What? Have you deserted our great cause? Are you leaving us in the + lurch?” + </p> + <p> + “What cause are you talking about?” + </p> + <p> + “The Women’s Cause!” + </p> + <p> + “I know nothing about it.” + </p> + <p> + “You know nothing about it? Oh, come! You must admit that the position of + the women of the lower classes is deplorable.” + </p> + <p> + “No, I can’t see that their position is any worse than the position of the + men. Deliver the men from their exploiters and the women too will be + free.” + </p> + <p> + “But the unfortunates who have to sell themselves, and the scoundrels who—” + </p> + <p> + “The scoundrels who pay! Has ever a man taken payment for a pleasure which + both enjoy?” + </p> + <p> + “That is not the question! The question is whether it is just that the law + of the land should punish the one and let the other go scotfree.” + </p> + <p> + “There is no injustice in that. The one has degraded herself until she has + become a source of infection, and therefore the State treats her as it + treats a mad dog. Whenever you find a man, degraded to that degree, well, + put him under police control, too. Oh, you pure angels, who despise men + and look upon them as unclean beasts!...” + </p> + <p> + “Well, what is it? What do you want me to do?” + </p> + <p> + He noticed that she had taken a manuscript from the sideboard and held it + in her hand. Without waiting for a reply, he took it from her and began to + examine it. “A bill to be introduced into Parliament! I’m to be the man of + straw who introduces it! Is that moral? Strictly speaking, is it honest?” + </p> + <p> + Helena rose from her chair, threw herself on the sofa and burst into + tears. + </p> + <p> + He, too, rose and went to her. He took her hand in his and felt her pulse, + afraid lest her attack might be serious. She seized his hand convulsively, + and pressed it against her bosom. + </p> + <p> + “Don’t leave me,” she sobbed, “don’t go. Stay, and let me keep faith in + you.” + </p> + <p> + For the first time in his life he saw her giving way to her emotions. This + delicate body, which he had loved and admired so much, could be warmed + into life! Red, warm blood flowed in those blue veins. Blood which could + distil tears. He gently stroked her brow. + </p> + <p> + “Oh!” she sighed, “why aren’t you always good to me like that? Why hasn’t + it always been so?” + </p> + <p> + “Well,” he answered, “why hasn’t it? Tell me, why not?” + </p> + <p> + Helena’s eyelids drooped. “Why not?” she breathed, softly. + </p> + <p> + She did not withdraw her hand and he felt a gentle warmth radiating from + her velvety skin; his love for her burst into fresh flames, but this time + he felt that there was hope. + </p> + <p> + At last she rose to her feet. + </p> + <p> + “Don’t despise me,” she said, “don’t despise me, dear.” + </p> + <p> + And she went into her room. + </p> + <p> + What was the matter with her? Albert wondered as he went up to town. Was + she passing through a crisis of some sort? Was she only just beginning to + realise that she was his wife? + </p> + <p> + He spent the whole day in town. In the evening he went to the theatre. + They played <i>Le monde où l’on s’ennuit</i>. As he sat and watched + platonic love, the union of souls, unmasked and ridiculed, he felt as if a + veil of close meshed lies were being drawn from his reason; he smiled as + he saw the head of the charming beast peeping from underneath the + card-board wings of the stage-angel; he almost shed tears of amusement at + his long, long self-deception; he laughed at his folly. What filth and + corruption lay behind this hypocritical morality, this insane desire for + emancipation from healthy, natural instincts. It was the ascetic teaching + of idealism and Christianity which had implanted this germ into the + nineteenth century. + </p> + <p> + He felt ashamed! How could he have allowed himself to be duped all this + time! + </p> + <p> + There was still light in Helena’s room as he passed her door on tip-toe so + as not to wake her. He heard her cough. + </p> + <p> + He went straight to bed, smoked his cigar and read his paper. He was + absorbed in an article on conscription, when all of a sudden Helena’s door + was flung open, and footsteps and screams from the drawing-room fell on + his ears. He jumped up and rushed out of his room, believing that the + house was on fire. + </p> + <p> + Helena was standing in the drawing-room in her nightgown. + </p> + <p> + She screamed when she saw her husband and ran to her room; on the + threshold she hesitated and turned her head. + </p> + <p> + “Forgive me, Albert,” she stammered, “it’s you. I didn’t know that you + were still up. I thought there were burglars in the house. Please, forgive + me.” + </p> + <p> + And she closed her door. + </p> + <p> + What did it all mean? Was she in love with him? + </p> + <p> + He went into his room and stood before the looking-glass. Could any woman + fall in love with him? He was plain. But one loves with one’s soul and + many a plain man had married a beautiful woman. It was true, though, that + in such cases the man had nearly always possessed wealth and influence.—Was + Helena realising that she had placed herself in a false position? Or had + she become aware of his intention to leave her and was anxious to win him + back? + </p> + <p> + When they met at the breakfast table on the following morning, Helena was + unusually gentle, and the professor noticed that she was wearing a new + morning-gown trimmed with lace, which suited her admirably. + </p> + <p> + As he was helping himself to sugar, his hand accidentally touched hers. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +“I beg your pardon, dear,” she said with an expression on her face which + he had never seen before. She looked like a young girl. +</pre> + <p> + They talked about indifferent things. + </p> + <p> + On the same day Parliament opened. + </p> + <p> + Helena’s yielding mood lasted and she grew more and more affectionate. + </p> + <p> + The period allowed for the introduction of new bills drew to a close. + </p> + <p> + One evening the professor came home from his club in an unusually gay + frame of mind. He went to bed with his paper and his cigar. After a while + he heard Helena’s door creak. Silence, lasting for a few minutes, + followed. Then there came a knock at his door. + </p> + <p> + “Who is there?” he shouted. + </p> + <p> + “It’s I, Albert, do dress and come into the drawing-room, I want to speak + to you.” + </p> + <p> + He dressed and went into the drawing-room. + </p> + <p> + Helena had lighted the chandelier and was sitting on the sofa, dressed in + her lace morning-gown. + </p> + <p> + “Do forgive me,” she said, “but I can’t sleep. My head feels so strange. + Come here and talk to me.” + </p> + <p> + “You are all unstrung, little girl,” said Albert, taking her hand in his + own. “You ought to take some wine.” + </p> + <p> + He went into the dining-room and returned with a decanter and two glasses. + </p> + <p> + “Your health, darling,” he said. + </p> + <p> + Helena drank and her cheeks caught fire. + </p> + <p> + “What’s wrong?” he asked, putting his arm round her waist. + </p> + <p> + “I’m not happy,” she replied. + </p> + <p> + He was conscious that the words sounded dry and artificial, but his + passion was roused and he didn’t care. + </p> + <p> + “Do you know why you are unhappy?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “No. I only know one thing, and that is that I love you.” + </p> + <p> + Albert caught her in his arms and kissed her face. + </p> + <p> + “Are you my wife, or aren’t you?” he whispered hoarsely. + </p> + <p> + “I am your wife,” breathed Helena, collapsing, as if every nerve in her + body had snapped. + </p> + <p> + “Altogether?” he whispered paralysing her with his kisses. + </p> + <p> + “Altogether,” she moaned, moving convulsively, like a sleeper struggling + with the horrors of a nightmare. + </p> + <p> + When Albert awoke, he felt refreshed, his head was clear and he was fully + conscious of what had happened in the night. He could think vigorously and + logically like a man after a deep and restful sleep. The whole scene stood + vividly before his mind. He saw the full significance of it, unvarnished, + undisguised, in the sober light of the morning. + </p> + <p> + She had sold herself! + </p> + <p> + At three o’clock in the morning, intoxicated with love, blind to + everything, half insane, he had promised to introduce her bill. + </p> + <p> + And the price! She had given herself to him calmly, coldly, unmoved. + </p> + <p> + Who was the first woman who found out that she could sell her favour? And + who was the woman who discovered that man is a buyer? Whoever she was, she + was the founder of marriage and prostitution. And they say that marriages + are made in heaven! + </p> + <p> + He realised his degradation and hers. She wanted to triumph over her + friends, to be the first woman who had taken an active share in the making + of her country’s laws; for the sake of this triumph she had sold herself. + </p> + <p> + Well, he would tear the mask from her face. He would show her what she + really was. He would tell her that prostitution could never be abolished + while women found an advantage in selling themselves. + </p> + <p> + With his mind firmly made up, he got out of bed and dressed. + </p> + <p> + He had to wait a little for her in the dining-room. He rehearsed the scene + which would follow and pulled himself together to meet her. + </p> + <p> + She came in calm, smiling, triumphant, but more beautiful than he had ever + seen her before. A sombre fire burnt in her eyes, and he, who had expected + that she would meet him with blushes and down-cast eyes, was crushed. She + was the triumphant seducer, and he the bashful victim. + </p> + <p> + The words he had meant to say refused to come. Disarmed and humble he went + to meet her and kissed her hand. + </p> + <p> + She talked as usual without the slightest indication that a new factor had + entered her life. + </p> + <p> + He went to the House, fuming, with her bill in his pocket, and only the + vision of the bliss in store for him, calmed his excited nerves. + </p> + <p> + But when, in the evening, he knocked quite boldly at her door, it remained + closed. + </p> + <p> + It remained closed for three weeks. He cringed before her like a dog, + obeyed every hint, fulfilled all her wishes—it was all in vain. + </p> + <p> + Then his indignation got the better of him and he overwhelmed her with a + flood of angry words. She answered him sharply. But when she realised that + she had gone too far, that his chain was wearing thin, she gave herself to + him. + </p> + <p> + And he wore his chain. He bit it, strained every nerve to break it, but it + held. + </p> + <p> + She soon learned how far she could go, and whenever he became restive, she + yielded. + </p> + <p> + He was seized with a fanatical longing to make her a mother. He thought it + might make a woman of her, bring out all that was good and wholesome in + her. But the future seemed to hold no promise on that score. + </p> + <p> + Had ambition, the selfish passion of the individual, destroyed the source + of life? He wondered.... + </p> + <p> + One morning she informed him that she was going away for a few days to + stay with her friends. + </p> + <p> + When he came home on the evening of the day of her departure and found the + house empty, his soul was tormented by a cruel feeling of loss and + longing. All of a sudden it became clear to him that he loved her with + every fibre of his being. The house seemed desolate; it was just as if a + funeral had taken place. When dinner was served he stared at her vacant + chair and hardly touched his food. + </p> + <p> + After supper he lit the chandelier in the drawing-room. He sat down in her + corner of the sofa. He fingered her needlework which she had left behind—it + was a tiny jacket for a stranger’s baby in a newly-founded crèche. There + was the needle, still sticking in the calico, just as she had left it. He + pricked his finger with it as if to find solace in the ecstasy of pain. + </p> + <p> + Presently he lighted a candle and went into her bedroom. As he stood on + the threshold, he shaded the flame with his hand and looked round like a + man who is about to commit a crime. The room did not betray the slightest + trace of femininity. A narrow bed without curtains; a writing-table, + bookshelves, a smaller table by the side of her bed, a sofa. Just like his + own room. There was no dressing-table, but a little mirror hung on the + wall. + </p> + <p> + Her dress was hanging on a nail. The lines of her body were clearly + defined on the thick, heavy serge. He caressed the material and hid his + face in the lace which trimmed the neck; he put his arm round the waist, + but the dress collapsed like a phantom. “They say the soul is a spirit,” + he mused, “but then, it ought to be a tangible spirit, at least.” He + approached the bed as if he expected to see an apparition. He touched + everything, took everything in his hand. + </p> + <p> + At last, as if he were looking for something, something which should help + him to solve the problem, he began to tug at the handles which ornamented + the drawers of her writing-table; all the drawers were locked. As if by + accident he opened the drawer of the little table by her bedside, and + hastily closed it again, but not before he had read the title on the + paper-cover of a small book and caught sight of a few strange-looking + objects, the purpose of which he could guess. + </p> + <p> + That was it then! <i>Facultative Sterility!</i> What was intended for a + remedy for the lower classes, who have been robbed of the means of + existence, had become an instrument in the service of selfishness, the + last consequence of idealism. Were the upper classes so degenerate that + they refused to reproduce their species, or were they morally corrupt? + They must be both, for they considered it immoral to bring illegitimate + children into the world, and degrading to bear children in wedlock. + </p> + <p> + But he wanted children! He could afford to have them, and he considered it + a duty as well as a glorious privilege to pour his individuality into a + new being. It was Nature’s way from a true and healthy egoism towards + altruism. But she travelled on another road and made jackets for the + babies of strangers. Was that a better, a nobler thing to do? It stood for + so much, and yet was nothing but fear of the burden of motherhood, and it + was cheaper and less fatiguing to sit in the corner of a comfortable sofa + and make little jackets than to bear the toil and broil of a nursery. It + was looked upon as a disgrace to be a woman, to have a sex, to become a + mother. + </p> + <p> + That was it. They called it working for Heaven, for higher interests, for + humanity, but it was merely a pandering to vanity, to selfishness, to a + desire for fame or notoriety. + </p> + <p> + And he had pitied her, he had suffered remorse because her sterility had + made him angry. She had told him once that he deserved “the contempt of + all good and honest men” because he had failed to speak of sterile women + with the respect due to misfortune; she had told him that they were + sacred, because their sorrow was the bitterest sorrow a woman could have + to bear. + </p> + <p> + What, after all, was this woman working for? For progress? For the + salvation of humanity? No, she was working against progress, against + freedom and enlightenment. Hadn’t she recently brought forward a motion to + limit religious liberty? Wasn’t she the author of a pamphlet on the + intractability of servants? Wasn’t she advocating greater severity in the + administration of the military laws? Was she not a supporter of the party + which strives to ruin our girls by giving them the same miserable + education which our boys receive? + </p> + <p> + He hated her soul, for he hated her ideas. And yet he loved her? What was + it then that he loved? + </p> + <p> + Probably, he reflected, compelled to take refuge in philosophy, probably + the germ of a new being, which she carries in her womb, but which she is + bent on killing. + </p> + <p> + What else could it be? + </p> + <p> + But what did she love in him? His title, his position, his influence? + </p> + <p> + How could these old and worn-out men and women rebuild society? + </p> + <p> + He meant to tell her all this when she returned home; but in his inmost + soul he knew all the time that the words would never be said. He knew that + he would grovel before her and whine for her favour; that he would remain + her slave and sell her his soul again and again, just as she sold him her + body. He knew that that was what he would do, for he was head over ears in + love with her. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0018" id="link2H_4_0018"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + UNMARRIED AND MARRIED + </h2> + <p> + The young barrister was strolling on a lovely spring evening through the + old Stockholm Hop-Garden. Snatches of song and music came from the + pavilion; light streamed through the large windows and lit up the shadows + cast by the great lime trees which were just bursting into leaf. + </p> + <p> + He went in, sat down at a vacant table near the platform and asked for a + glass of punch. + </p> + <p> + A young comedian was singing a pathetic ballad of a <i>Dead Rat</i>. Then + a young girl, dressed in pink, appeared and sang the Danish song: <i>There + is nothing so charming as a moonshine ride.</i> She was comparatively + innocent looking and she addressed her song to our innocent barrister. He + felt flattered by this mark of distinction, and at once started + negotiations which began with a bottle of wine and ended in a furnished + flat, containing two rooms, a kitchen and all the usual conveniences. + </p> + <p> + It is not within the scope of this little story to analyse the feelings of + the young man, or give a description of the furniture and the other + conveniences. It must suffice if I say that they were very good friends. + </p> + <p> + But, imbued with the socialistic tendencies of our time, and desirous of + having his lady-love always under his eyes, the young man decided to live + in the flat himself and make his little friend his house keeper. She was + delighted at the suggestion. + </p> + <p> + But the young man had a family, that is to say, his family looked upon him + as one of its members, and since in their opinion he was committing an + offence against morality, and casting a slur on their good name, he was + summoned to appear before the assembled parents, brothers and sisters in + order to be censured. He considered that he was too old for such treatment + and the family tie was ruptured. + </p> + <p> + This made him all the more fond of his own little home, and he developed + into a very domesticated husband, excuse me, lover. They were happy, for + they loved one another, and no fetters bound them. They lived in the happy + dread of losing one another and therefore they did their utmost to keep + each other’s love. They were indeed one. + </p> + <p> + But there was one thing which they lacked: they had no friends. Society + displayed no wish to know them, and the young man was not asked to the + houses of the “Upper Ten.” + </p> + <p> + It was Christmas Eve, a day of sadness for all those who once had a + family. As he was sitting at breakfast, he received a letter. It was from + his sister, who implored him to spend Christmas at home, with his parents. + The letter touched upon the strings of old feelings and put him in a bad + temper. Was he to leave his little friend alone on Christmas Eve? + Certainly not! Should his place in the house of his parents remain vacant + for the first time on a Christmas Eve? H’m! This was the position of + affairs when he went to the Law Courts. + </p> + <p> + During the interval for lunch a colleague came up to him and asked him as + discreetly as possible: + </p> + <p> + “Are you going to spend Christmas Eve with your family?” + </p> + <p> + He flared up at once. Was his friend aware of his position? Or what did he + mean? + </p> + <p> + The other man saw that he had stepped on a corn, and added hastily, + without waiting for a reply: + </p> + <p> + “Because if you are not, you might spend it with us. You know, perhaps, + that I have a little friend, a dear little soul.” + </p> + <p> + It sounded all right and he accepted the invitation on condition that they + should both be invited. Well, but of course, what else did he think? And + this settled the problem of friends and Christmas Eve. + </p> + <p> + They met at six o’clock at the friend’s flat, and while the two “old men” + had a glass of punch, the women went into the kitchen. + </p> + <p> + All four helped to lay the table. The two “old men” knelt on the floor and + tried to lengthen the table by means of boards and wedges. The women were + on the best of terms at once, for they felt bound together by that very + obvious tie which bears the great name of “public opinion.” They respected + one another and saved one another’s feelings. They avoided those + innuendoes in which husbands and wives are so fond of indulging when their + children are not listening, just as if they wanted to say: “We have a + right to say these things now we are married.” + </p> + <p> + When they had eaten the pudding, the barrister made a speech praising the + delights of one’s own fireside, that refuge from the world and from all + men: that harbour where one spends one’s happiest hours in the company of + one’s real friends. + </p> + <p> + Mary-Louisa began to cry, and when he urged her to tell him the cause of + her distress, and the reason of her unhappiness, she told him in a voice + broken by sobs that she could see that he was missing his mother and + sisters. + </p> + <p> + He replied that he did not miss them in the least, and that he should wish + them far away if they happened to turn up now. + </p> + <p> + “But why couldn’t he marry her?” + </p> + <p> + “Weren’t they as good as married?” + </p> + <p> + “No, they weren’t married properly.” + </p> + <p> + “By a clergyman? In his opinion a clergyman was nothing but a student who + had passed his examinations, and his incantations were pure mythology.” + </p> + <p> + “That was beyond her, but she knew that something was wrong, and the other + people in the house pointed their fingers at her.” + </p> + <p> + “Let them point!” + </p> + <p> + Sophy joined in the conversation. She said she knew that they were not + good enough for his relations; but she didn’t mind. Let everybody keep his + own place and be content. + </p> + <p> + Anyhow, they had friends now, and lived together in harmony, which is more + than could be said of many properly constituted families. The tie which + held them together remained intact, but they were otherwise unfettered. + They continued being lovers without contracting any bad matrimonial + habits, as, for example, the habit of being rude to one another. + </p> + <p> + After a year or two their union was blest with a son. The mistress had + thereby risen to the rank of a mother, and everything else was forgotten. + The pangs which she had endured at the birth of the baby, and her care for + the newly born infant, had purged her of her old selfish claims to all the + good things of the earth, including the monopoly of her husband’s love. + </p> + <p> + In her new role as mother she gave herself superior little airs with her + friend, and showed a little more assurance in her intercourse with her + lover. + </p> + <p> + One day the latter came home with a great piece of news. He had met his + eldest sister in the street and had found her well informed on all their + private affairs. She was very anxious to see her little nephew and had + promised to pay them a call. + </p> + <p> + Mary-Louisa was surprised, and at once began to sweep and dust the flat; + in addition she insisted on a new dress for the occasion. And then she + waited for a whole week. The curtains were sent to the laundry, the brass + knobs on the doors of the stoves were made to shine, the furniture was + polished. The sister should see that her brother was living with a decent + person. + </p> + <p> + And then she made coffee, one morning at eleven o’clock, the time when the + sister would call. + </p> + <p> + She came, straight as if she had swallowed a poker, and gave Mary-Louisa a + hand which was as stiff as a batting staff. She examined the bed-room + furniture, but refused to drink coffee, and never once looked her + sister-in-law in the face. But she showed a faint, though genuine, + interest in the baby. Then she went away again. + </p> + <p> + Mary-Louisa in the meantime had carefully examined her coat, priced the + material of her dress and conceived a new idea of doing her hair. She had + not expected any great display of cordiality. As a start, the fact of the + visit was quite sufficient in itself, and she soon let the house know that + her sister-in-law had called. + </p> + <p> + The boy grew up and by and by a baby sister arrived. Now Mary-Louisa began + to show the most tender solicitude for the future of the children, and not + a day passed but she tried to convince their father that nothing but a + legal marriage with her would safeguard their interests. + </p> + <p> + In addition to this his sister gave him a very plain hint to the effect + that a reconciliation with his parents was within the scope of + possibility, if he would but legalise his liaison. + </p> + <p> + After having fought against it day and night for two years, he consented + at last, and resolved that for the children’s sake the mythological + ceremony should be allowed to take place. + </p> + <p> + But whom should they ask to the wedding? Mary-Louisa insisted on being + married in church. In this case Sophy could not be invited. That was an + impossibility. A girl like her! Mary-Louisa had already learnt to + pronounce the word “girl” with a decidedly moral accent. He reminded her + that Sophy had been a good friend to her, and that ingratitude was not a + very fine quality. Mary-Louisa, however, pointed out that parents must be + prepared to sacrifice private sympathies at the altar of their children’s + prospects; and she carried the day. + </p> + <p> + The wedding took place. + </p> + <p> + The wedding was over. No invitation arrived from his parents, but a + furious letter from Sophy which resulted in a complete rupture. + </p> + <p> + Mary-Louisa was a wedded wife, now. But she was more lonely than she had + been before. Embittered by her disappointment, sure of her husband who was + now legally tied to her, she began to take all those liberties which + married people look upon as their right. What she had once regarded in the + light of a voluntary gift, she now considered a tribute due to her. She + entrenched herself behind the honourable title of “the mother of his + children,” and from there she made her sallies. + </p> + <p> + Simple-minded, as all duped husbands are, he could never grasp what + constituted the sacredness in the fact that she was the mother of <i>his</i> + children. Why his children should be different from other children, and + from himself, was a riddle to him. + </p> + <p> + But, with an easy conscience, because his children had a legal mother now, + he commenced to take again an interest in the world which he had to a + certain extent forgotten in the first ecstasy of his love-dream, and which + later on he had neglected because he hated to leave his wife and children + alone. + </p> + <p> + These liberties displeased his wife, and since there was no necessity for + her to mince matters now, and she was of an outspoken disposition, she + made no secrets of her thoughts. + </p> + <p> + But he had all the lawyer’s tricks at his fingers’ ends, and was never at + a loss for a reply. + </p> + <p> + “Do you think it right,” she asked, “to leave the mother of your children + alone at home with them, while you spend your time at a public house?” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t believe you missed me,” he answered by way of a preliminary. + </p> + <p> + “Missed you? If the husband spends the housekeeping money on drink, the + wife will miss a great many things in the house.” + </p> + <p> + “To start with I don’t drink, for I merely have a mouthful of food and + drink a cup of coffee; secondly, I don’t spend the housekeeping money on + drink, for you keep it locked up: I have other funds which I spend ‘on + drink.’” + </p> + <p> + Unfortunately women cannot stand satire, and the noose, made in fun, was + at once thrown round his neck. + </p> + <p> + “You do admit, then, that you drink?” + </p> + <p> + “No, I don’t, I used your expression in fun.” + </p> + <p> + “In fun? You are making fun of your wife? You never used to do that!” + </p> + <p> + “You wanted the marriage ceremony. Why are things so different now?” + </p> + <p> + “Because we are married, of course.” + </p> + <p> + “Partly because of that, and partly because intoxication has the quality + of passing off.” + </p> + <p> + “It was only intoxication in your case, then?” + </p> + <p> + “Not only in my case; in your case, too, and in all others as well. It + passes off more or less quickly.” + </p> + <p> + “And so love is nothing but intoxication as far as a man is concerned!” + </p> + <p> + “As far as a woman is concerned too!” + </p> + <p> + “Nothing but intoxication!” + </p> + <p> + “Quite so! But there is no reason why one shouldn’t remain friends.” + </p> + <p> + “One need not get married for that!” + </p> + <p> + “No; and that’s exactly what I meant to point out.” + </p> + <p> + “You? Wasn’t it you who insisted on our marriage?” + </p> + <p> + “Only because you worried me about it day and night three long years.” + </p> + <p> + “But it was your wish, too!” + </p> + <p> + “Only because you wished it. Be grateful to me now that you’ve got it!” + </p> + <p> + “Shall I be grateful because you leave the mother of your children alone + with them while you spend your time at the public-house?” + </p> + <p> + “No, not for that, but because I married you!” “You really think I ought + to be grateful for that?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, like all decent people who have got their way!” + </p> + <p> + “Well, there is no happiness in a marriage like ours. Your family doesn’t + acknowledge me!” + </p> + <p> + “What have you got to do with my family? I haven’t married yours?” + </p> + <p> + “Because you didn’t think it good enough!” + </p> + <p> + “But mine was good enough for you. If they had been shoemakers, you + wouldn’t mind so much.” + </p> + <p> + “You talk of shoemakers as if they were beneath your notice. Aren’t they + human beings like everybody else?” + </p> + <p> + “Of course they are, but I don’t think you would have run after them.” + </p> + <p> + “All right! Have your own way.” + </p> + <p> + But it was not all right, and it was never again all right. Was it due to + the fact of their being married, or was it due to something else? + Mary-Louisa could not help admitting in her heart that the old times had + been better times; they had been “jollier” she said. + </p> + <p> + He did not think that it was only owing to the fact that their marriage + had been legalised for he had observed that other marriages, too, were not + happy. And the worst of it all was this: when one day he went to see his + old friend and Sophy, as he sometimes did, behind his wife’s back, he was + told that there was an end to that matter. And they had not been married. + So it could not have been marriage which was to blame. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0019" id="link2H_4_0019"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + A DUEL + </h2> + <p> + She was plain and therefore the coarse young men who don’t know how to + appreciate a beautiful soul in an ugly body took no notice of her. But she + was wealthy, and she knew that men run after women for the sake of their + wealth; whether they do it because all wealth has been created by men and + they therefore claim the capital for their sex, or on other grounds, was + not quite clear to her. As she was a rich woman, she learned a good many + things, and as she distrusted and despised men, she was considered an + intellectual young woman. + </p> + <p> + She had reached the age of twenty. Her mother was still alive, but she had + no intention to wait for another five years before she became her own + mistress. Therefore she quite suddenly surprised her friends with an + announcement of her engagement. + </p> + <p> + “She is marrying because she wants a husband,” said some. + </p> + <p> + “She is marrying because she wants a footman and her liberty,” said + others. + </p> + <p> + “How stupid of her to get married,” said the third; “she doesn’t know that + she will be even less her own mistress than she is now.” + </p> + <p> + “Don’t be afraid,” said the fourth, “she’ll hold her own in spite of her + marriage.” + </p> + <p> + What was he like? Who was he? Where had she found him? + </p> + <p> + He was a young lawyer, rather effeminate in appearance, with broad hips + and a shy manner. He was an only son, brought up by his mother and aunt. + He had always been very much afraid of girls, and he detested the officers + on account of their assurance, and because they were the favourites at all + entertainments. That is what he was like. + </p> + <p> + They were staying at a watering place and met at a dance. He had come late + and all the girls’ programmes were full. A laughing, triumphant “No!” was + flung into his face wherever he asked for a dance, and a movement of the + programme brushed him away as if he were a buzzing fly. + </p> + <p> + Offended and humiliated he left the ball-room and sat down on the verandah + to smoke a cigar. The moon threw her light on the lime-trees in the Park + and the perfume of the mignonette rose from the flower beds. + </p> + <p> + He watched the dancing couples through the windows with the impotent + yearning of the cripple; the voluptuous rhythm of the waltz thrilled him + through and through. + </p> + <p> + “All alone and lost in dreams?” said a voice suddenly. “Why aren’t you + dancing?” + </p> + <p> + “Why aren’t you?” he replied, looking up. + </p> + <p> + “Because I am plain and nobody asked me to,” she answered. + </p> + <p> + He looked at her. They had known each other for some time, but he had + never studied her features. She was exquisitely dressed, and in her eyes + lay an expression of infinite pain, the pain of despair and vain revolt + against the injustice of nature; he felt a lively sympathy for her. + </p> + <p> + “I, too, am scorned by everybody,” he said. “All the rights belong to the + officers. Whenever it is a question of natural selection, right is on the + side of the strong and the beautiful. Look at their shoulders and + epaulettes....” + </p> + <p> + “How can you talk like that!” + </p> + <p> + “I beg your pardon! To have to play a losing game makes a man bitter! Will + you give me a dance?” + </p> + <p> + “For pity’s sake?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes! Out of compassion for me!” + </p> + <p> + He threw away his cigar. + </p> + <p> + “Have you ever known what it means to be marked by the hand of fate, and + rejected? To be always the last?” he began again, passionately. + </p> + <p> + “I have known all that! But the last do not always remain the last,” she + added, emphatically. “There are other qualities, besides beauty, which + count.” + </p> + <p> + “What quality do you appreciate most in a man?” + </p> + <p> + “Kindness,” she exclaimed, without the slightest hesitation. “For this is + a quality very rarely found in a man.” + </p> + <p> + “Kindness and weakness usually go hand in hand; women admire strength.” + </p> + <p> + “What sort of women are you talking about? Rude strength has had its day; + our civilisation has reached a sufficiently high standard to make us value + muscles and rude strength no more highly than a kind heart.” + </p> + <p> + “It ought to have! And yet—watch the dancing couples!” + </p> + <p> + “To my mind true manliness is shown in loftiness of sentiment and + intelligence of the heart.” + </p> + <p> + “Consequently a man whom the whole world calls weak and cowardly....” + </p> + <p> + “What do I care for the world and its opinion!” + </p> + <p> + “Do you know that you are a very remarkable woman?” said the young lawyer, + feeling more and more interested. + </p> + <p> + “Not in the least remarkable! But you men are accustomed to regard women + as dolls....” + </p> + <p> + “What sort of men do you mean? I, dear lady, have from my childhood looked + up to woman as a higher manifestation of the species man, and from the day + on which I fell in love with a woman, and she returned my love, I should + be her slave.” + </p> + <p> + Adeline looked at him long and searchingly. + </p> + <p> + “You are a remarkable man,” she said, after a pause. + </p> + <p> + After each of the two had declared the other to be a remarkable specimen + of the species man, and made a good many remarks on the futility of + dancing, they began to talk of the melancholy influence of the moon. Then + they returned to the ball-room and took their place in a set of + quadrilles. + </p> + <p> + Adeline was a perfect dancer and the lawyer won her heart completely + because he “danced like an innocent girl.” + </p> + <p> + When the set was over, they went out again on the verandah and sat down. + </p> + <p> + “What is love?” asked Adeline, looking at the moon as if she expected an + answer from heaven. + </p> + <p> + “The sympathy of the souls,” he replied, and his voice sounded like the + whispering breeze. + </p> + <p> + “But sympathy may turn to antipathy; it has happened frequently,” objected + Adeline. + </p> + <p> + “Then it wasn’t genuine! There are materialists who say that there would + be no such thing as love if there weren’t two sexes, and they dare to + maintain that sensual love is more lasting than the love of the soul. + Don’t you think it low and bestial to see nothing but sex in the beloved + woman?” + </p> + <p> + “Don’t speak of the materialists!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I must, so that you may realise the loftiness of my feelings for a + woman, if ever I fell in love. She need not be beautiful; beauty soon + fades. I should look upon her as a dear friend, a chum. I should never + feel shy in her company, as with any ordinary girl. I should approach her + without fear, as I am approaching you, and I should say: ‘Will you be my + friend for life?’ I should be able to speak to her without the slightest + tremor of that nervousness which a lover is supposed to feel when he + proposes to the object of his tenderness, because his thoughts are not + pure.” + </p> + <p> + Adeline looked at the young man, who had taken her hand in his, with + enraptured eyes. + </p> + <p> + “You are an idealist,” she said, “and I agree with you from the very + bottom of my heart. You are asking for my friendship, if I understand you + rightly. It shall be yours, but I must put you to the test first. Will you + prove to me that you can pocket your pride for the sake of a friend?” + </p> + <p> + “Speak and I shall obey!” + </p> + <p> + Adeline took off a golden chain with a locket which she had been wearing + round her neck. + </p> + <p> + “Wear this as a symbol of our friendship.” + </p> + <p> + “I will wear it,” he said, in an uncertain voice; “but it might make the + people think that we are engaged.” + </p> + <p> + “And do you object?” + </p> + <p> + “No, not if you don’t! Will you be my wife?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, Axel! I will! For the world looks askance at friendship between man + and woman; the world is so base that it refuses to believe in the + possibility of such a thing.” + </p> + <p> + And he wore the chain. + </p> + <p> + The world, which is very materialistic at heart, repeated the verdict of + her friends: + </p> + <p> + “She marries him in order to be married; he marries her because he wants a + wife.” + </p> + <p> + The world made nasty remarks, too. It said that he was marrying her for + the sake of her money; for hadn’t he himself declared that anything so + degrading as love did not exist between them? There was no need for + friends to live together like married couples. + </p> + <p> + The wedding took place. The world had received a hint that they would live + together like brother and sister, and the world awaited with a malicious + grin the result of the great reform which should put matrimony on another + basis altogether. + </p> + <p> + The newly married couple went abroad. + </p> + <p> + When they returned, the young wife was pale and ill-tempered. She began at + once to take riding-lessons. The world scented mischief and waited. The + man looked as if he were guilty of a base act and was ashamed of himself. + It all came out at last. + </p> + <p> + “They have <i>not</i> been living like brother and sister,” said the + world. + </p> + <p> + “What? Without loving one another? But that is—well, what is it?” + </p> + <p> + “A forbidden relationship!” said the materialists. + </p> + <p> + “It is a spiritual marriage!” + </p> + <p> + “Or incest,” suggested an anarchist. + </p> + <p> + Facts remained facts, but the sympathy was on the wane. Real life, + stripped of All make-believe, confronted them and began to take revenge. + </p> + <p> + The lawyer practised his profession, but the wife’s profession was + practised by a maid and a nurse. Therefore she had no occupation. The want + of occupation encouraged brooding, and she brooded a great deal over her + position. She found it unsatisfactory. Was it right that an intellectual + woman like her should spend her days in idleness? Once her husband had + ventured to remark that no one compelled her to live in idleness. He never + did it again. + </p> + <p> + “She had no profession.” + </p> + <p> + “True; to be idle was no profession. Why didn’t she nurse the baby?” + </p> + <p> + “Nurse the baby? She wanted a profession which brought in money.” + </p> + <p> + “Was she such a miser, then? She had already more than she knew how to + spend; why should she want to earn money?” + </p> + <p> + “To be on an equal footing with him.” + </p> + <p> + “That could never be, for she would always be in a position to which he + could never hope to attain. It was nature’s will that the woman was to be + the mother, not the man.” + </p> + <p> + “A very stupid arrangement!” + </p> + <p> + “Very likely! The opposite might have been the case, but that would have + been equally stupid.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; but her life was unbearable. It didn’t satisfy her to live for the + family only, she wanted to live for others as well.” + </p> + <p> + “Hadn’t she better begin with the family? There was plenty of time to + think of the others.” + </p> + <p> + The conversation might have continued through all eternity; as it was it + only lasted an hour. + </p> + <p> + The lawyer was, of course, away almost all day long, and even when he was + at home he had his consulting hours. It drove Adeline nearly mad. He was + always locked in his consulting-room with other women who confided + information to him which he was bound to keep secret. These secrets formed + a barrier between them, and made her feel that he was more than a match + for her. + </p> + <p> + It roused a sullen hatred in her heart; she resented the injustice of + their mutual relationship; she sought for a means to drag him down. Come + down he must, so that they should be on the same level. + </p> + <p> + One day she proposed the foundation of a sanatorium. He said all he could + against it, for he was very busy with his practice. But on further + consideration he thought that occupation of some sort might be the saving + of her; perhaps it would help her to settle down. + </p> + <p> + The sanatorium was founded; he was one of the directors. + </p> + <p> + She was on the Committee and ruled. When she had ruled for six months, she + imagined herself so well up in the art of healing that she interviewed + patients and gave them advice. + </p> + <p> + “It’s easy enough,” she said. + </p> + <p> + Then it happened that the house-surgeon made a mistake, and she + straightway lost all confidence in him. It further happened that one day, + in the full consciousness of her superior wisdom, she prescribed for a + patient herself, in the doctor’s absence. The patient had the prescription + made up, took it and died. + </p> + <p> + This necessitated a removal to another centre of activity. But it + disturbed the equilibrium. A second child, which was born about the same + time, disturbed it still more and, to make matters worse, a rumour of the + fatal accident was spreading through the town. + </p> + <p> + The relations between husband and wife were unlovely and sad, for there + had never been any love between them. The healthy, powerful natural + instinct, which does not reflect, was absent; what remained was an + unpleasant liaison founded on the uncertain calculations of a selfish + friendship. + </p> + <p> + She never voiced the thoughts hatched behind her burning brow after she + had discovered that she was mistaken in believing that she had a higher + mission, but she made her husband suffer for it. + </p> + <p> + Her health failed; she lost her appetite and refused to go out. She grew + thin and seemed to be suffering from a chronic cough. The husband made her + repeatedly undergo medical examinations, but the doctors were unable to + discover the cause of her malady. In the end he became so accustomed to + her constant complaints that he paid no more attention to them. + </p> + <p> + “I know it’s unpleasant to have an invalid wife,” she said. + </p> + <p> + He admitted in his heart that it was anything but pleasant; had he loved + her, he would neither have felt nor admitted it. + </p> + <p> + Her emaciation became so alarming, that he could not shut his eyes to it + any longer, and had to consent to her suggestion that she should consult a + famous professor. + </p> + <p> + Adeline was examined by the celebrity. “How long have you been ill?” he + asked. + </p> + <p> + “I have never been very strong since I left the country,” she replied. “I + was born in the country.” + </p> + <p> + “Then you don’t feel well in town?” + </p> + <p> + “Well? Who cares whether I feel well or not?” And her face assumed an + expression which left no room for doubt: she was a martyr. + </p> + <p> + “Do you think that country air would do you good?” continued the + professor. + </p> + <p> + “Candidly, I believe that it is the only thing which could save my life.” + </p> + <p> + “Then why don’t you live in the country?” + </p> + <p> + “My husband couldn’t give up his profession for my sake.” + </p> + <p> + “He has a wealthy wife and we have plenty of lawyers.” + </p> + <p> + “You think, then, that we ought to live in the country?” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly, if you believe that it would do you good. You are not + suffering from any organic disease, but your nerves are unstrung; country + air would no doubt benefit you.” + </p> + <p> + Adeline returned home to her husband very depressed. + </p> + <p> + “Well?” + </p> + <p> + “The professor had sentenced her to death if she remained in town.” + </p> + <p> + The lawyer was much upset. But since the fact that his distress was mainly + caused by the thought of giving up his practice was very apparent, she + held that she had absolute proof that the question of her health was a + matter of no importance to him. + </p> + <p> + “What? He didn’t believe that it was a matter of life and death? Didn’t he + think the professor knew better than he? Was he going to let her die?” + </p> + <p> + He was not going to let her die. He bought an estate in the country and + engaged an inspector to look after it. + </p> + <p> + As a sheriff and a district-judge were living on the spot, the lawyer had + no occupation. The days seemed to him as endless as they were unpleasant. + Since his income had stopped with his practice, he was compelled to live + on his wife’s money. In the first six months he read a great deal and + played “Fortuna.” In the second six months he gave up reading, as it + served no object. In the third he amused himself by doing needle-work. + </p> + <p> + His wife, on the other hand, devoted herself to the farm, pinned up her + skirts to the knees and went into the stables. She came into the house + dirty, and smelling of the cow-shed. She felt well and ordered the + labourers about that it was a pleasure to hear her, for she had grown up + in the country and knew what she was about. + </p> + <p> + When her husband complained of having nothing to do, she laughed at him. + </p> + <p> + “Find some occupation in the house. No one need ever be idle in a house + like this.” + </p> + <p> + He would have liked to suggest some outside occupation, but he had not the + courage. + </p> + <p> + He ate, slept, and went for walks. If he happened to enter the barn or the + stables, he was sure to be in the way and be scolded by his wife. + </p> + <p> + One day, when he had grumbled more than usual, while the children had been + running about, neglected by the nurse, she said: + </p> + <p> + “Why don’t you look after the children? That would give you something to + do.” + </p> + <p> + He stared at her. Did she really mean it? + </p> + <p> + “Well, why shouldn’t he look after the children? Was there anything + strange in her suggestion?” + </p> + <p> + He thought the matter over and found nothing strange in it. Henceforth he + took the children for a walk every day. + </p> + <p> + One morning, when he was ready to go out, the children were not dressed. + The lawyer felt angry and went grumbling to his wife; of the servants he + was afraid. + </p> + <p> + “Why aren’t the children dressed?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “Because Mary is busy with other things. Why don’t you dress them? You’ve + nothing else to do. Do you consider it degrading to dress your own + children?” + </p> + <p> + He considered the matter for a while, but could see nothing degrading in + it. He dressed them. + </p> + <p> + One day he felt inclined to take his gun and go out by himself, although + he never shot anything. + </p> + <p> + His wife met him on his return. + </p> + <p> + “Why didn’t you take the children for a walk this morning?” she asked + sharply and reproachfully. + </p> + <p> + “Because I didn’t feel inclined to do so.” + </p> + <p> + “You didn’t feel inclined? Do you think I want to work all day long in + stable and barn? One ought to do <i>something</i> useful during the day, + even if it does go against one’s inclination.” + </p> + <p> + “So as to pay for one’s dinner, you mean?” + </p> + <p> + “If you like to put it that way! If I were a big man like you, I should be + ashamed to be lying all day long on a sofa, doing nothing.” + </p> + <p> + He really felt ashamed, and henceforth he established himself the + children’s nurse. He never failed in his duties. He saw no disgrace in it, + yet he was unhappy. Something was wrong, somewhere, he thought, but his + wife always managed to carry her point. + </p> + <p> + She sat in the office and interviewed inspector and overseer; she stood in + the store-room and weighed out stores for the cottagers. Everybody who + came on the estate asked for the mistress, nobody ever wanted to see the + master. + </p> + <p> + One day he took the children past a field in which cattle were grazing. He + wanted to show them the cows and cautiously took them up to the grazing + herd. All at once a black head, raised above the backs of the other + animals, stared at the visitors, bellowing softly. + </p> + <p> + The lawyer picked up the children and ran back to the fence as hard as he + could. He threw them over and tried to jump it himself, but was caught on + the top. Noticing some women on the other side, he shouted: + </p> + <p> + “The bull! the bull!” + </p> + <p> + But the women merely laughed, and went to pull the children, whose clothes + were covered with mud, out of the ditch. + </p> + <p> + “Don’t you see the bull?” he screamed. + </p> + <p> + “It’s no bull, sir,” replied the eldest of the women, “the bull was killed + a fortnight ago.” + </p> + <p> + He came home, angry and ashamed and complained of the women to his wife. + But she only laughed. + </p> + <p> + In the afternoon, as husband and wife were together in the drawing-room, + there was a knock at the door. + </p> + <p> + “Come in!” she called out. + </p> + <p> + One of the women who had witnessed the adventure with the bull came in, + holding in her hand the lawyer’s gold chain. + </p> + <p> + “I believe this belongs to you, M’m,” she said hesitatingly. + </p> + <p> + Adeline looked first at the woman and then at her husband, who stared at + the chain with wide-open eyes. + </p> + <p> + “No, it belongs to your master,” she said, taking the proffered chain. + “Thank you! Your master will give you something for finding it.” + </p> + <p> + He was sitting there, pale and motionless. + </p> + <p> + “I have no money, ask my wife to give you something,” he said, taking the + necklet. + </p> + <p> + Adeline took a crown out of her big purse and handed it to the woman, who + went away, apparently without understanding the scene. + </p> + <p> + “You might have spared me this humiliation!” he said, and his voice + plainly betrayed the pain he felt. + </p> + <p> + “Are you not man enough to take the responsibility for your words and + actions on your own shoulders? Are you ashamed to wear a present I gave + you, while you expect me to wear yours? You’re a coward! And you imagine + yourself to be a man!” + </p> + <p> + Henceforth the poor lawyer had no peace. Wherever he went, he met grinning + faces, and farm-labourers and maid-servants from the safe retreat of + sheltered nooks, shouted “the bull! the bull!” whenever he went past. + </p> + <p> + Adeline had resolved to attend an auction and stay away for a week. She + asked her husband to look after the servants in her absence. + </p> + <p> + On the first day the cook came and asked him for money for sugar and + coffee. He gave it to her. Three days later she came again and asked him + for the same thing. He expressed surprise at her having already spent what + he had given her. + </p> + <p> + “I don’t want it all for myself,” she replied, “and mistress doesn’t + mind.” + </p> + <p> + He gave her the money. But, wondering whether he had made a mistake, he + opened his wife’s account book and began to add up the columns. + </p> + <p> + He arrived at a strange result. When he had added up all the pounds for a + month, he found it came to a lispound. + </p> + <p> + He continued checking her figures, and the result was everywhere the same. + He took the principal ledger and found that, leaving the high figures out + of the question, very stupid mistakes in the additions had been made. + Evidently his wife knew nothing of denominate quantities or decimal + fractions. This unheard of cheating of the servants must certainly lead to + ruin. + </p> + <p> + His wife came home. After having listened to a detailed account of the + auction, he cleared his throat, intending to tell his tale, but his wife + anticipated his report: + </p> + <p> + “Well, and how did you get on with the servants?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! very well, but I am certain that they cheat you.” + </p> + <p> + “Cheat me!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; for instance the amount spent on coffee and sugar is too large.” + </p> + <p> + “How do you know?” + </p> + <p> + “I saw it in your account book.” + </p> + <p> + “Indeed! You poked your nose into my books?” + </p> + <p> + “Poked my nose into your books? No, but I took it upon me to check + your....” + </p> + <p> + “What business was it of yours?” + </p> + <p> + “And I found that you keep books without having the slightest knowledge of + denominate quantities or decimal fractions.” + </p> + <p> + “What? You think I don’t know?” + </p> + <p> + “No, you don’t! And therefore the foundations of the establishment are + shaky. Your book-keeping is all humbug, old girl!” + </p> + <p> + “My book-keeping concerns no one but myself.” + </p> + <p> + “Incorrect book-keeping is an offence punishable by law; if you are not + liable, then I am.” + </p> + <p> + “The law? I care a fig for the law!” + </p> + <p> + “I daresay! But we shall get into its clutches, if not you, then most + certainly I! And therefore I am going to be book-keeper in the future.” + </p> + <p> + “We can engage a man to do it.” + </p> + <p> + “No, that’s not necessary! I have nothing else to do.” + </p> + <p> + And that settled the matter. + </p> + <p> + But once the husband occupied the chair at the desk and the people came to + see <i>him</i>, the wife lost all interest in farming and cattle-breeding. + </p> + <p> + A violent reaction set in; she no longer attended to the cows and calves, + but remained in the house. There she sat, hatching fresh plots. + </p> + <p> + But the husband had regained a fresh hold on life. He took an eager + interest in the estate and woke up the people. Now he held the reins; + managed everything, gave orders and paid the bills. + </p> + <p> + One day his wife came into the office and asked him for a thousand crowns + to buy a piano. + </p> + <p> + “What are you thinking of?” said the husband. “Just when we are going to + re-build the stables! We haven’t the means to buy a piano.” + </p> + <p> + “What do you mean?” she replied. “Why haven’t we got the means? Isn’t my + money sufficient?” + </p> + <p> + “Your money?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, my money, my dowry.” + </p> + <p> + “That has now become the property of the family.” + </p> + <p> + “That is to say yours?” + </p> + <p> + “No, the family’s. The family is a small community, the only one which + possesses common property which, as a rule, is administered by the + husband.” + </p> + <p> + “Why should he administer it and not the wife?” + </p> + <p> + “Because he has more time to give to it, since he does not bear children.” + </p> + <p> + “Why couldn’t they administer it jointly?” + </p> + <p> + “For the same reason that a joint stock company has only one managing + director. If the wife administered as well, the children would claim the + same right, for it is their property, too.” + </p> + <p> + “This is mere hair-splitting. I think it’s hard that I should have to ask + your permission to buy a piano out of my own money.” + </p> + <p> + “It’s no longer your money.” + </p> + <p> + “But yours?” + </p> + <p> + “No, not mine either, but the family’s. And you are wrong when you say + that you ‘have to ask for my permission’; it’s merely wise that you should + consult with the administrator as to whether the position of affairs + warrants your spending such a large sum on a luxury.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you call a piano a luxury?” + </p> + <p> + “A new piano, when there is an old one, must be termed a luxury. The + position of our affairs is anything but satisfactory, and therefore it + doesn’t permit you to buy a new piano at present, but <i>I</i>, + personally, can or will have nothing to say against it.” + </p> + <p> + “An expenditure of a thousand crowns doesn’t mean ruin.” + </p> + <p> + “To incur a debt of a thousand crowns at the wrong time may be the first + step towards ruin.” + </p> + <p> + “All this means that you refuse to buy me a new piano?” + </p> + <p> + “No, I won’t say that. The uncertain position of affairs....” + </p> + <p> + “When, oh! when will the day dawn on which the wife will manage her own + affairs and have no need to go begging to her husband?” + </p> + <p> + “When she works herself. A man, your father, has earned your money. The + men have gained all the wealth there is in the world; therefore it is but + just that a sister should inherit less than her brother, especially as the + brother is born with the duty to provide for a woman, while the sister + need not provide for a man. Do you understand?” + </p> + <p> + “And you call that justice? Can you honestly maintain that it is? Ought we + not all to share and share alike?” + </p> + <p> + “No, not always. One ought to share according to circumstances and merit. + The idler who lies in the grass and watches the mason building a house, + should have a smaller share than the mason.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you mean to insinuate that I am lazy?” + </p> + <p> + “H’m! I’d rather not say anything about that. But when I used to lie on + the sofa, reading, you considered me a loafer, and I well remember that + you said something to that effect in very plain language.” + </p> + <p> + “But what am I to do?” + </p> + <p> + “Take the children out for walks.” + </p> + <p> + “I’m not constituted to look after the children.” + </p> + <p> + “But there was a time when I had to do it. Let me tell you that a woman + who says that she is not constituted to look after children, isn’t a + woman. But that fact doesn’t make a man of her, by any means. What is she, + then?” + </p> + <p> + “Shame on you that you should speak like that of the mother of your + children!” + </p> + <p> + “What does the world call a man who will have nothing to do with women? + Isn’t it something very ugly?” + </p> + <p> + “I won’t hear another word!” + </p> + <p> + And she left him and locked herself into her room. + </p> + <p> + She fell ill. The doctor, the almighty man, who took over the care of the + body when the priest lost the care of the soul, pronounced country air and + solitude to be harmful. + </p> + <p> + They were obliged to return to town so that the wife could have proper + medical treatment. + </p> + <p> + Town had a splendid effect on her health; the air of the slums gave colour + to her cheeks. + </p> + <p> + The lawyer practised his profession and so husband and wife had found + safety-valves for their temperaments which refused to blend. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0020" id="link2H_4_0020"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + HIS SERVANT OR DEBIT AND CREDIT + </h2> + <p> + Mr. Blackwood was a wharfinger at Brooklyn and had married Miss Dankward, + who brought him a dowry of modern ideas. To avoid seeing his beloved wife + playing the part of his servant, Mr. Blackwood had taken rooms in a + boarding house. + </p> + <p> + The wife, who had nothing whatever to do, spent the day in playing + billiards and practising the piano, and half the night in discussing + Women’s Rights and drinking whiskies and sodas. + </p> + <p> + The husband had a salary of five thousand dollars. He handed over his + money regularly to his wife who took charge of it. She had, moreover, a + dress allowance of five hundred dollars with which she did as she liked. + </p> + <p> + Then a baby arrived. A nurse was engaged who, for a hundred dollars, took + upon her shoulders the sacred duties of the mother. + </p> + <p> + Two more children were born. + </p> + <p> + They grew up and the two eldest went to school. But Mrs. Blackwood was + bored and had nothing with which to occupy her mind. + </p> + <p> + One morning she appeared at the breakfast table, slightly intoxicated. + </p> + <p> + The husband ventured to tell her that her behaviour was unseemly. + </p> + <p> + She had hysterics and went to bed, and all the other ladies in the house + called on her and brought her flowers. + </p> + <p> + “Why do you drink so much whisky?” asked her husband, as kindly as + possible. “Is there anything which troubles you?” + </p> + <p> + “How could I be happy when my whole life is wasted!” + </p> + <p> + “What do you mean by wasted? You are the mother of three children and you + might spend your time in educating them.” + </p> + <p> + “I can’t be bothered with children.” + </p> + <p> + “Then you ought to be bothered with them! You would be benefiting the + whole community and have a splendid object in life, a far more honourable + one, for instance, than that of being a wharfinger.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, if I were free!” + </p> + <p> + “You are freer than I am. I am under your rule. You decide how my earnings + are to be spent. You have five hundred dollars pin money to spend as you + like; but I have no pin money. I have to make an application to the + cash-box, in other words, to you, whenever I want to buy tobacco. Don’t + you think that you are freer than I am?” + </p> + <p> + She made no reply; she tried to think the question out. + </p> + <p> + The upshot of it was that they decided to have a home of their own. And + they set up house-keeping. + </p> + <p> + “My dear friend,” Mrs. Blackwood wrote a little later on to a friend of + hers, “I am ill and tired to death. But I must go on suffering, for there + is no solace for an unhappy woman who has no object in life. I will show + the world that I am not the sort of woman who is content to live on her + husband’s bounty, and therefore I shall work myself to death....” + </p> + <p> + On the first day she rose at nine o’clock and turned out her husband’s + room. Then she dismissed the cook and at eleven o’clock she went out to do + the catering for the day. + </p> + <p> + When the husband came home at one o’clock, lunch was not ready. It was the + maid’s fault. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Blackwood was dreadfully tired and in tears. The husband could not + find it in his heart to complain. He ate a burnt cutlet and went back to + his work. + </p> + <p> + “Don’t work so hard, darling,” he said, as he was leaving. + </p> + <p> + In the evening his wife was so tired that she could not finish her work + and went to bed at ten o’clock. + </p> + <p> + On the following morning, as Mr. Blackwood went into his wife’s room to + say good morning to her, he was amazed at her healthy complexion. + </p> + <p> + “Have you slept well?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “Why do you ask?” + </p> + <p> + “Because you are looking so well.” + </p> + <p> + “I—am—looking—well?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, a little occupation seems to agree with you.” + </p> + <p> + “A little occupation? You call it little? I should like to know what you + would call much.” + </p> + <p> + “Never mind, I didn’t mean to annoy you.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, you did. You meant to imply that I wasn’t working hard enough. And + yet I turned out your room yesterday, just as if I were a house-maid, and + stood in the kitchen like a cook. Can you deny that I am your servant?” + </p> + <p> + In going out the husband said to the maid: + </p> + <p> + “You had better get up at seven in future and do my room. Your mistress + shouldn’t have to do your work.” + </p> + <p> + In the evening Mr. Blackwood came home in high spirits but his wife was + angry with him. + </p> + <p> + “Why am I not to do your room?” she asked. + </p> + <p> + “Because I object to your being my servant.” + </p> + <p> + “Why do you object?” + </p> + <p> + “The thought of it makes me unhappy.” + </p> + <p> + “But it doesn’t make you unhappy to think of me cooking your dinner and + attending to your children?” + </p> + <p> + This remark set him thinking. + </p> + <p> + He pondered the question during the whole of his tram journey to Brooklyn. + </p> + <p> + When he came home in the evening, he had done a good deal of thinking. + </p> + <p> + “Now, listen to me, my love,” he began, “I’ve thought a lot about your + position in the house and, of course, I am far from wishing that you + should be my servant. I think the best thing to do is this: You must look + upon me as your boarder and I’ll pay for myself. Then you’ll be mistress + in the house, and I’ll pay you for my dinner.” + </p> + <p> + “What do you mean?” asked his wife, a little uneasy. + </p> + <p> + “What I say. Let’s pretend that you keep a boarding-house and that I’m + your boarder. We’ll only pretend it, of course.” + </p> + <p> + “Very well! And what are you going to pay me?” + </p> + <p> + “Enough to prevent me from being under an obligation to you. It will + improve my position, too, for then I shall not feel that I am kept out of + kindness.” + </p> + <p> + “Out of kindness?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; you give me a dinner which is only half-cooked, and then you go on + repeating that you are my servant, that is to say, that you are working + yourself to death for me.” + </p> + <p> + “What are you driving at?” + </p> + <p> + “Is three dollars a day enough for my board? Any boarding-house will take + me for two.” + </p> + <p> + “Three dollars ought to be plenty.” + </p> + <p> + “Very well! Let’s say a thousand dollars per annum. Here’s the money in + advance!” + </p> + <p> + He laid a bill on the table. + </p> + <p> + It was made out as follows: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Rent 500 dollars + Nurse’s wages 100 ” + Cook’s wages 150 ” + Wife’s maintenance 500 ” + Wife’s pin money 500 ” + Nurse’s maintenance 300 ” + Cook’s maintenance 300 ” + Children’s maintenance 700 ” + Children’s clothes 500 ” + Wood, light, assistance 500 ” + + 4.500 dollars +</pre> + <p> + “Divide this sum by two, since we share expenses equally, that leaves 2025 + dollars. Deduct my thousand dollars and give me 1025 dollars. If you have + got the money by you, all the better.” + </p> + <p> + “Share expenses equally?” was all the wife could say. “Do you expect me to + pay you, then?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, of course, if we are to be on a footing of equality. I pay for half + of your and the children’s support. Or do you want me to pay the whole? + Very well, that would mean that I should have to pay you 4050 dollars plus + 1000 dollars for my board. But I pay separately for rent, food, light, + wood and servants’ wages. What do I get for my three dollars a day for + board? The preparation of the food? Nothing else but that for 4050 + dollars? Now, if I subtract really half of this sum, that is to say, my + share of the expenses, 2025 dollars, then the preparation of my food costs + me 2025 dollars. But I have already paid the cook for doing it; how, then, + can I be expected to pay 2025 dollars, plus 1000 dollars for food?” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t know.” + </p> + <p> + “Neither do I. But I know that I owe you nothing after paying for the + whole of your support, the children’s support and the servants’ support; + the servants who do your work, which, in your opinion, is equal, or + superior, to mine. But even if your work should really be worth more, you + must remember that you have another five hundred dollars in addition to + the household expenses, while I have nothing.” + </p> + <p> + “I repeat that I don’t understand your figures!” + </p> + <p> + “Neither do I. Perhaps we had better abandon the idea of the + boarding-house. Let’s put down the debit and credit of the establishment. + Here’s the account, if you’d like to see it.” + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + To Mrs. Blackwood for assistance in the house, and to Mrs. Blackwood’s + cook and nursemaid: + + Rent and maintenance 1000 dollars + Clothes 500 ” + Amusements 100 ” + Pin money (by cash) 500 ” + Her children’s maintenance 1200 ” + Her children’s education 600 ” + On account of the maids who do her + work 850 ” + + 4570 dollars + + Paid M. Blackwood, <i>Wharfinger</i> +</pre> + <p> + “Oh! It’s too bad of you to worry your wife with bills!” + </p> + <p> + “With counter-bills! And even that one you need not pay, for I pay all + bills.” + </p> + <p> + The wife crumpled up the paper. + </p> + <p> + “Am I to pay for your children’s education, too?” + </p> + <p> + “No, I will, and I shall, and I will also pay for your children’s + education. You shall not pay one single farthing for mine. Is that being + on a footing of equality? But I shall deduct the sum for the maintenance + of my children and servants: then you will still have 2100 dollars for the + assistance you give to my servants. Do you want any more bills?” + </p> + <p> + She wanted no more; never again. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0021" id="link2H_4_0021"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + THE BREADWINNER + </h2> + <p> + He wakes up in the morning from evil dreams of bills which have become due + and copy which has not been delivered. His hair is damp with cold + perspiration, and his cheeks tremble as he dresses himself. He listens to + the chirruping of the children in the next room and plunges his burning + face into cold water. He drinks the coffee which he has made himself, so + as not to disturb the nursery maid at the early hour of eight o’clock. + Then he makes his bed, brushes his clothes, and sits down to write. + </p> + <p> + The fever attacks him, the fever which is to create hallucinations of + rooms he has never seen, landscapes which never existed, people whose + names cannot be found in the directory. He sits at his writing table in + mortal anguish. His thoughts must be clear, pregnant and picturesque, his + writing legible, the story dramatic; the interest must never abate, the + metaphors must be striking, the dialogue brilliant. The faces of those + automata, the public, whose brains he is to wind up, are grinning at him; + the critics whose good-will he must enlist, stare at him through the + spectacles of envy; he is haunted by the gloomy face of the publisher, + which it is his task to brighten. He sees the jurymen sitting round the + black table in the centre of which lies a Bible; he hears the sound of the + opening of prison doors behind which free-thinkers are suffering for the + crime of having thought bold thoughts for the benefit of the sluggards; he + listens to the noiseless footfall of the hotel porter who is coming with + the bill.... + </p> + <p> + And all the while the fever is raging and his pen flies, flies over the + paper without a moment’s delay at the vision of publisher or jurymen, + leaving in its track red lines as of congealed blood which slowly turn to + black. + </p> + <p> + When he rises from his chair, after a couple of hours, he has only enough + strength left to stumble across the room. He sinks down on his bed and + lies there as if Death held him in his clutches. It is not invigorating + sleep which has closed his eyes, but a stupor, a long fainting fit during + which he remains conscious, tortured by the horrible thought that his + strength is gone, his nervous system shattered, his brain empty. + </p> + <p> + A ring at the bell of the private hotel! <i>Voilà le facteur</i>! The mail + has arrived. + </p> + <p> + He rouses himself and staggers out of his room. A pile of letters is + handed to him. Proofs which must be read at once; a book from a young + author, begging for a candid criticism: a paper containing a controversial + article to which he must reply without delay, a request for a contribution + to an almanac, an admonishing letter from his publisher. How can an + invalid cope with it all? + </p> + <p> + In the meantime the children’s nurse has got up and dressed the children, + drunk the coffee made for her in the hotel kitchen, and eaten the rolls + spread with honey which have been sent up for her. After breakfast she + takes a stroll in the park. + </p> + <p> + At one o’clock the bell rings for luncheon. All the guests are assembled + in the dining-room. He, too, is there, sitting at the table by himself. + </p> + <p> + “Where is your wife?” he is asked on all sides. + </p> + <p> + “I don’t know,” he replies. + </p> + <p> + “What a brute!” is the comment of the ladies, who are still in their + morning gowns. + </p> + <p> + The entrance of his wife interrupts the progress of the meal, and the + hungry guests who have been punctual are kept waiting for the second + course. + </p> + <p> + The ladies enquire anxiously whether his, wife has slept well and feels + refreshed? Nobody asks him how he feels. There is no need to enquire. + </p> + <p> + “He looks like a corpse,” says one of the ladies. + </p> + <p> + And she is right. + </p> + <p> + “Dissipation,” says another. + </p> + <p> + But that is anything but true. He takes no part in the conversation, for + he has nothing to say to these women. But his wife talks for two. While he + swallows his food, his ears are made to listen to rich praise of all that + is base, and vile abuse of all that is noble and good. + </p> + <p> + When luncheon is over he takes his wife aside. + </p> + <p> + “I wish you would send Louisa to the tailor’s with my coat; a seam has + come undone and I haven’t the time to sew it up myself.” + </p> + <p> + She makes no reply, but instead of sending the coat by Louisa, she takes + it herself and walks to the village where the tailor lives. + </p> + <p> + In the garden she meets some of her emancipated friends who ask her where + she is going. + </p> + <p> + She replies, truthfully enough, that she is going to the tailor’s for her + husband. + </p> + <p> + “Fancy sending her to the tailor’s! And she allows him to treat her like a + servant!” + </p> + <p> + “While he is lying on the bed, taking an after-dinner nap! A nice + husband!” + </p> + <p> + It is quite true, he is taking an after dinner nap, for he is suffering + from anaemia. + </p> + <p> + At three o’clock the postman rings again; he is expected to answer a + letter from Berlin in German, one from Paris in French, and one from + London in English. + </p> + <p> + His wife, who has returned from the tailor’s and refreshed herself with a + cognac, asks him whether he feels inclined to make an excursion with the + children. No, he has letters to write. + </p> + <p> + When he has finished his letters, he goes out for a stroll before dinner. + He is longing for somebody to talk to. But he is alone. He goes into the + garden and looks for the children. + </p> + <p> + The stout nurse is sitting on a garden seat, reading Mrs. Leffler’s <i>True + Women</i> which his wife has lent her. The children are bored, they want + to run about or go for a walk. + </p> + <p> + “Why don’t you take the children for a walk, Louisa?” he asks. + </p> + <p> + “Mistress said it was too hot.” + </p> + <p> + His wife’s orders! + </p> + <p> + He calls to the children and walks with them towards the high road; + suddenly he notices that their hands and faces are dirty and their boots + in holes. + </p> + <p> + “Why are the children allowed to wear such boots?” he asks Louisa. + </p> + <p> + “Mistress said....” + </p> + <p> + His wife said! + </p> + <p> + He goes for a walk by himself. + </p> + <p> + It is seven o’clock and dinner-time. The ladies have not yet returned to + the hotel. The two first courses have been served when they arrive with + flushed faces, talking and laughing loudly. + </p> + <p> + His wife and her friend are in high spirits and smell of cognac. + </p> + <p> + “What have you been doing with yourself all day, daddy?” she asks her + husband. + </p> + <p> + “I went for a walk with the children.” + </p> + <p> + “Wasn’t Louisa there?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! yes, but she was otherwise engaged.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I don’t think it’s too much to ask of a man to keep an eye on his + own children,” says the friend. + </p> + <p> + “No, of course not,” answers the husband. “And therefore I scolded Louisa + for allowing the children to run about with dirty faces and worn-out + boots.” + </p> + <p> + “I never come home but I am scolded,” says the wife; “You spoil every + little pleasure I have with your fault-finding.” + </p> + <p> + And a tiny tear moistens her reddened eyelids. The friend and all the rest + of the ladies cast indignant glances at the husband. + </p> + <p> + An attack is imminent and the friend sharpens her tongue. + </p> + <p> + “Has anybody here present read Luther’s views on the right of a woman?” + </p> + <p> + “What right is that?” asks his wife. + </p> + <p> + “To look out for another partner if she is dissatisfied with the one she + has.” + </p> + <p> + There is a pause. + </p> + <p> + “A very risky doctrine as far as a woman’s interests are concerned,” says + the husband, “for it follows that in similar circumstances a man is + justified in doing the same thing. The latter happens much more frequently + than the former.” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t understand what you mean,” says the wife. + </p> + <p> + “That’s neither Luther’s fault nor mine,” answers the husband. “Just as it + is not necessarily the husband’s fault if he doesn’t get on with his wife. + Possibly he would get on excellently with another woman.” + </p> + <p> + A dead silence follows; the diners rise from their chairs. + </p> + <p> + The husband retires to his own room. His wife and her friend leave the + dining-room together and sit down in the pavilion. + </p> + <p> + “What brutality!” exclaims the friend. “How can you, a sensitive, + intelligent woman, consent to be the servant of that selfish brute?” + </p> + <p> + “He has never understood me,” sighs the wife. Her satisfaction in being + able to pronounce these damning words is so great, that it drowns the + memory of a reply which her husband has given her again and again: + </p> + <p> + “Do you imagine that your thoughts are so profound that I, a man with a + subtle brain, am unable to fathom them? Has it never occurred to you that + it may be your shallowness which prevents you from understanding me?” + </p> + <p> + He sits down in his room, alone. He suffers from remorse, as if he had + struck his mother. But she struck the first blow; she has struck him blow + after blow, for many years, and never once before has he retaliated. + </p> + <p> + This coarse, heartless, cynical woman, in whose keeping he confided his + whole soul with all its thoughts and emotions, was conscious of his + superiority, and therefore she humiliated him, dragged him down, pulled + him by the hair, covered him with abuse. Was it a crime that he struck + back when she publicly taunted him? Yes—he felt as guilty as if he + had murdered his dearest friend. + </p> + <p> + The twilight of the warm summer night deepens and the moon rises. + </p> + <p> + The sound of music from the drawing-room floats through his window. He + goes into the garden and sits down under a walnut tree. Alone! The chords + of the piano blend with the words of the song: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + When the veil of night was drawn + And crowded earth, mysterious sea + Became one sweet, enchanted ground + For us, until the starless dawn + Dissolved the failing moon—then we + In one long ecstasy were bound. + Now, I, alone in silence and in pain + Weep for the ache of well-remembered bliss, + For you who never can return again, + For you, my spring time, for your love, your kiss. +</pre> + <p> + He strolls through the garden and looks through the window. There she + sits, his living poem, which he has composed for his own delight. She + sings with tears in her voice. The ladies on the sofas look at one another + significantly. + </p> + <p> + But behind the laurel bushes on a garden seat two men are sitting, + smoking, and chatting. He can hear what they say. + </p> + <p> + “Nothing but the effect of the cognac.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, they say that she drinks.” + </p> + <p> + “And blame the husband for it.” + </p> + <p> + “That’s a shame! She took to drinking in Julian’s studio. She was going to + be an artist, you know, but she didn’t succeed. When they rejected her + picture at the exhibition, she threw herself at the head of this poor + devil and married him to hide her defeat.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I know, and made his life a burden until he is but the shadow of his + former self. They started with a home of their own in Paris, and he kept + two maids for her; still she called herself his servant. Although she was + mistress over everything, she insisted that she was but his slave She + neglected the house, the servants robbed them right and left, and he saw + their home threatened with ruin without being able to move a finger to + avert it. She opposed every suggestion he made; if he wanted black, she + wanted white. In this way she broke his will and shattered, his nerves. He + broke up his home and took her to a boarding-house to save her the trouble + of housekeeping and enable her to devote herself entirely to her art. But + she won’t touch a brush and goes out all day long with her friend. She has + tried to come between him and his work, too, and drive him to drink, but + she has not managed it; therefore she hates him, for he is the better of + the two.” + </p> + <p> + “But the husband must be a fool,” remarks the other man. + </p> + <p> + “He is a fool wherever his wife is concerned, but he is no exception to + the rule. They have been married for twelve years and he is still in love + with her. The worst of it is that he is a strong man, who commanded the + respect of Parliament and Press, is breaking up. I talked to him this + morning; he is ill, to say the least.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; I heard that she tried to have him locked up in a asylum, and that + her friend did everything in her power to assist her.” + </p> + <p> + “And he works himself to death, so that she can enjoy herself.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you know why she treats him so contemptuously? Because he cannot give + her all the luxury she wants. ‘A man who cannot give his wife all she + wants,’ she said the other day at dinner, ‘ce n’est pas grand’ chose.’ I + believe that she counted on his booming her as an artist. Unfortunately + his political views prevent him from being on good terms with the leading + papers, and, moreover, he has no friends in artistic circles; his + interests lie elsewhere.” + </p> + <p> + “I see; she wanted to make use of him for her own ends; when he resisted + she threw him over; but he serves his purpose as a breadwinner.” + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Now, I, alone in silence and in pain, + Weep for the ache of well-remembered bliss.... +</pre> + <p> + comes her voice from the drawing-room. + </p> + <p> + “Bang!” the sound came from behind the walnut tree. It was followed by a + snapping of branches and a crunching of sand. + </p> + <p> + The talkers jumped to their feet. + </p> + <p> + The body of a well-dressed man lay across the road, with his head against + the leg of a chair. + </p> + <p> + The song stopped abruptly. The ladies rushed into the garden. The friend + poured a few drops of eau de Cologne which she held in her hand, on the + face of the prostrate man. + </p> + <p> + When she realised that it was no fainting fit, she started back. + “Horrible!” she exclaimed, putting her hand up to her face. + </p> + <p> + The elder of the two men, who was stooping over; the dead body, looked up. + </p> + <p> + “Be silent, woman!” he exclaimed. + </p> + <p> + “What a brute!” said the friend. + </p> + <p> + The dead man’s wife fainted, but was caught in the arms of her friend and + tenderly nursed by the rest of the women. + </p> + <p> + “Send for a doctor!” shouted the elder of the two men. “Run!” + </p> + <p> + Nobody took any notice; everybody was busy with the unconscious wife. + </p> + <p> + “To bring such grief on his wife! Oh! what a man! What a man!” sobbed the + friend. + </p> + <p> + “Has no one a thought for the dying man? All this’ fuss because a woman + has fainted! Give her some brandy, that will revive her!” + </p> + <p> + “The wretched man has deserved his fate!” said the friend emphatically. + </p> + <p> + “He indeed deserved a better fate than to fall into your hands alive. + Shame on you, woman, and all honour to the breadwinner!” + </p> + <p> + He let the hand of the dead man go and rose to his, feet. + </p> + <p> + “It’s all over!” he said. + </p> + <div style="height: 6em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Married, by August Strindberg + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MARRIED *** + +***** This file should be named 7956-h.htm or 7956-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/7/9/5/7956/ + + +Text file produced by David Starner, Marc D’Hooghe, Charles Franks +and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team + +HTML file produced by 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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