In Midsummer Days and Other Tales by August Strindberg
A >>
August Strindberg >> In Midsummer Days and Other Tales
Pages:
1 |
2 |
3 |
4 |
5 |
6 |
7 Produced by Nicole Apostola.
IN MIDSUMMER DAYS
AND OTHER TALES.
BY AUGUST STRINDBERG
TRANSLATED BY ELLIE SCHLEUSSNER
CONTENTS
IN MIDSUMMER DAYS
THE BIG GRAVEL-SIFTER
THE SLUGGARD
THE PILOT'S TROUBLES
PHOTOGRAPHER AND PHILOSOPHER
HALF A SHEET OF FOOLSCAP
CONQUERING HERO AND FOOL
WHAT THE TREE-SWALLOW SANG IN THE BUCKTHORN TREE
THE MYSTERY OF THE TOBACCO SHED
THE STORY OF THE ST. GOTTHARD
THE STORY OF JUBAL WHO HAD NO "I"
THE GOLDEN HELMETS IN THE ALLEBERG
LITTLE BLUEWING FINDS THE GOLDPOWDER
IN MIDSUMMER DAYS
In Midsummer days when in the countries of the North the earth is
a bride, when the ground is full of gladness, when the brooks are
still running, the flowers in the meadows still untouched by the
scythe, and all the birds singing, a dove flew out of the wood and
sat down before the cottage in which the ninety-year-old granny
lay in her bed.
The old woman had been bedridden for twenty years, but she could
see through her window everything that happened in the farmyard
which was managed by her two sons. But she saw the world and the
people in her own peculiar manner, for time and the weather had
painted her window-panes with all the colours of the rainbow; she
need but turn her head a little and things appeared successively
red, yellow, green, blue, and violet. If she happened to look out
on a cold winter's day when the trees were covered with hoar-frost
and the white foliage looked as if it were made of silver, she
had but to turn her head a little on the pillow, and all the trees
were green; it was summer-time, the ploughed fields were yellow,
and the sky looked blue even if a moment before it had been ever
so grey. And therefore the old granny imagined that she could work
magic, and was never bored.
But the magical window-panes possessed another quality; they bulged
a little and consequently they magnified or reduced every object
which came into their field of vision. Whenever, therefore, her
grown-up son came home in a bad temper and scolded everybody, granny
had but to wish him to be a good little boy again, and straightway
she saw him quite small. Or, when she watched her grandchildren
playing in the yard, and thought of their future--one, two,
three--she changed her position ever so slightly, and they became
grown-up men and women, as tall as giants.
Ail during the summer the window stood open, for then the window-panes
could not show her anything so beautiful as the reality. And now,
on Midsummer Eve, the most beautiful time of all the year, she lay
there and looked at the meadows and towards the wood, where the dove
was singing its song. It sang most beautifully of the Lord Jesus,
and the joy and splendour of the Kingdom of Heaven, where all are
welcome who are weary and heavy laden.
The old woman listened to the song for a little while, and then she
laid that she was much obliged, but that Heaven could be no more
beautiful than the earth itself, and she wanted nothing better.
Thereupon the dove flew away over the meadow into the mountain
glen, where the farmer stood digging a well. He stood in a deep
hole which he had dug, three yards below the surface; it was just
as if he were standing in his grave.
The dove settled on a fir tree and sung of the joy of Heaven, quite
convinced that the man in the hole, who could see neither sky, nor
sea, nor meadow, must be longing for Heaven.
"No," said the farmer, "I must first dig a well; otherwise my summer
guest will have no water, and the unhappy little mother will take
her child and go and live elsewhere."
The dove flew down to the strand, when the farmer's brother was busy
hauling in the fishing-nets; it sat among the rushes and began to
sing.
"No," said the farmer's brother, "I must provide food for my family,
otherwise my children will cry with hunger. Later on! Later on,
I tell you! Let's live first and die afterwards."
***
And the dove flew to the pretty cottage, where the unhappy little
mother had taken rooms for the summer. She sat on the verandah,
working at a sewing machine; her face was as white as a lily, and
her red felt hat looked like a huge poppy on her hair, which was
as black as a mourning veil. She was busy making a pinafore which
her little girl was to wear on Midsummer Eve, and the child sat at
her feet on the floor, cutting up little pieces of material which
were not wanted.
"Why isn't daddy coming home?" asked the little girl, looking up.
That was a very difficult question, so difficult that the young
mother could not answer it; and very possibly daddy could not have
answered it either, for he was far away in a foreign country with
his grief, which was twice as great as mammy's.
The sewing machine was not in good order, but it stitched and
stitched; it made as many pricks as a human heart can bear before
it breaks, but every prick only served to pull the thread tighter--it
was curious!
"I want to go to the village, mammy," said the little girl. "I want
to see the sun, for it is so dark here."
"You shall go and play in the sunshine this afternoon, darling."
I must tell you that it was very dark between the high cliffs on
this side of the island; the cottage stood in a gloomy pine-grove,
which completely hid the view of the sea.
"And I want you to buy me a lot of toys, mammy."
"Darling, we have so little money to buy toys with," answered the
mother, bending her head still lower over their work.
And that was the truth; for their comfort had changed into penury.
They had no servant, and the mother had to do the whole house-work
herself.
But when she saw the sad face of the little girl, she took her on
her knees.
"Put your little arms round mammy's neck," she said.
The little one obeyed.
"Now give mammy a kiss!"
The rosy little half-open mouth, which looked like the mouth of a
little bird, was pressed against her lips; and when the blue eyes,
blue as the flower of the flax, smiled into hers, her beautiful
face reflected the sweet innocence of the little one, and made her
look like a happy child herself, playing in the sunshine.
"No use my singing to them of the Kingdom of Heaven," thought the
dove, "but if I can in any way serve them, I will."
And then it flew away towards the sunny village, for it had work
to do there.
***
It was afternoon now; the little mother took a basket on one arm
and the child's little hand into hers, and they left the cottage.
She had never been to the village, but she knew that it was situated
somewhere towards sunset, on the other side of the island, and the
farmer had told her that she would have to get over six stiles and
walk through six latticed gates before she could get there.
And on they went.
Their way lay along a footpath, full of stones and old tree-roots,
so that she was obliged to carry the little girl, and that was very
hard work. The doctor had told her that the child must not strain
her left foot, because it was so weak that it might easily have
grown deformed.
The young mother staggered along, under her beloved burden, and
large beads of perspiration stood like pearls on her forehead, for
it was very hot in the wood.
"I am so thirsty, mammy," whispered the little, complaining voice.
"Have patience, darling, there will be plenty of water when we get
there."
And she kissed the little parclied mouth, and the child smiled and
forgot all about her thirst.
But the scorching rays of the sun burned their skin and there was
not a breath of air in the wood.
"Try and walk a little, darling," said the mother, putting the
child down.
But the little foot gave way and the child could not walk a step.
"I am so tired, mammy," she laid, sitting down and beginning to
cry.
But the prettiest little flowers, which looked like rose-coloured
bells and smelt of sweet almonds, grew all over the spot where she
was sitting. She smiled when she saw them, for she had never seen
anything half as lovely, and her smile strengthened the heart of
the mother so that she could continue her walk with the child in
her arms.
Now they had arrived at the first gate. They passed through it and
carefully re-fastened the latch.
All of a sudden they heard a noise like a loud neighing; a horse
galloped towards them, blocked the path and neighed again; its
neighing was answered on the right and the left and from all sides
of the wood; the ground trembled, the branches of the trees cracked,
and the stones were scattered in all directions by the approaching
hoofs. In less than no time the poor, frightened travellers were
surrounded on all sides by a herd of savage horses.
The child hid her face on her mother's shoulder, and her little
heart ticked with fear like a watch.
"I am so frightened!" she whispered.
"Oh! Father in Heaven, help us!" prayed the mother.
At the same moment a blackbird, sitting on a fir tree, began to
sing; the horses scudded away as fast as they could, and there was
once more silence in the wood.
They came to the second gate, walked through and re-fastened the
latch.
They were on fallow ground now, and the sun scorched them even
worse than it had done before. They saw before them rows and rows
of dull clods of earth, but in a steep place the clods suddenly began
to move, and then they knew that what they had taken for clods of
earth were really the backs of a flock of sheep.
Sheep are quite gentle and inoffensive, especially the little lambs,
but that is a good deal more than can be said of the ram, who is a
savage brute and often takes a delight in attacking those who have
never done him any harm. There he was already, jumping over a ditch
right into the middle of their path. He lowered his head and walked
a few steps backwards.
"I am so frightened, mammy," said the little girl, and her heart
began to beat fast.
"Oh! Merciful Father in Heaven, help us!" sighed the mother, with
an imploring look upwards.
And high up, in the blue vault of the sky, fluttering its wings
like a butterfly, a little lark began to sing. And as it sang the
ram disappeared among the grey clods.
They stood before the third gate. They were on a slope now;
the ground was swampy and before long they came to a crevice. The
hillocks looked like little graves, overgrown with vetch or white
cotton-flowers and they had to be careful to avoid sinking into
the swamp. Black berries of a poisonous kind grew in abundance
everywhere; the little girl wanted to gather them, and because
her mother would not permit it, she began to cry, for she did not
understand what poisonous meant.
And as they walked on, they noticed a white sheet, which looked
as if it had been drawn in and out through the trees; the sun
disappeared behind a bank of clouds and a white darkness, which
was very went towards them, hoping to find some water in the place
whence they came.
On their way they passed a white cottage, behind a green fence
with a white gate; the gate stood hospitably open. They entered
and found themselves in a garden where peonies and colombines grew.
The mother noticed that the curtains in the lower storey were all
drawn before the windows, and that all the curtains were white. But
one of the attic windows stood open and a white hand appeared above
the pots of touch-me-nots. It waved a little white handkerchief,
as if it were waving a last farewell to one who was going on a long
journey.
They walked as far as the cottage; in the high grass lay a wreath
of myrtle and white roses. But it was too big for a bridal wreath.
They went through the front door and the mother called out if
anybody were in? As there was no reply they went into the parlour.
On the floor, surrounded by a whole forest of flowers, stood a black
coffin with silver feet and in the coffin lay a young girl with a
bridal crown on her head.
The walls of the room were made of new pinewood and only varnished
with oil, so that all the knots were visible. And the knots in
the knot-holes looked for all the world like so many eyes.
"Oh! Just look at all the eyes, mammy," exclaimed the little girl.
Yes, there were eyes of every description; big eyes, eloquent eyes,
grave eyes; little shining baby eyes, with a lurking smile in the
corner; wicked eyes, which showed too much white; frank and candid
eyes, which looked one straight into the heart; and, over there,
a big, gentle mother's eye, which regarded the dead girl lovingly;
and a transparent tear of resin trembled on the lid, and sparkled
in the setting sun like a green and red diamond.
"Is she asleep?" asked the child, looking into the face of the dead
girl.
"Yes, she is asleep."
"Is she a bride, mammy?"
"Yes, darling."
The mother had recognised her. It was the girl who was to be a
bride on Midsummer day, when her sailor lover would return home;
but the sailor had written to say that he would not be home until
the autumn, and his letter had broken her heart; for she could
not bear to wait until the autumn, when the leaves would drop dead
from the trees and the winter wind have a rough game with them in
the lanes and alleys.
She had heard the song of the dove and taken it to heart.
The young mother left the cottage; now she knew where she would go.
She put the heavy basket down outside the gate and took the child
into her arms; and so she walked across the meadow which separated
her from the shore.
The meadow was a perfect sea of flowers, waving and whispering round
her ankles, and the pollen water was calm and blue; and presently
it was not water through which they sailed, but the blue blossoms
of the flax, which she gathered in her outstretched hands.
And the flowers bent down and rose up again, whispering, lapping
against the sides of the boat like little waves. The flax-field
before them appeared to be infinite, but presently a white mist
enveloped them, and they heard the plashing of real waves, but
above the mist they heard a lark singing.
"How does the lark come to sing on the sea?" asked the child.
"The sea is so green that the lark takes it for a meadow," answered
the mother.
The mist had dispersed again. The sky was blue and the lark was
still singing.
Then they saw, straight before them, in the middle of the sea, a
green island with a white, sandy beach, and people, dressed all in
pure white, walking hand in hand. The setting sun shone on the golden
roof of a colonnade, where white fires burnt in sacred sacrificial
vessels; and the green island was spanned by a rainbow, the colour
of which was rose-red and sedge-green.
"What is it, mammy?"
The mother could make no reply.
"Is it the Kingdom of Heaven of which the dove sang? What is the
Kingdom of Heaven, mammy?"
"A place, darling, where all people love one another," answered
the mother, "where there is neither grief nor strife."
"Then let us go there," said the child.
"Yes, we will go," said the tired, forsaken little mother.
THE BIG GRAVEL-SIFTER
An eel-mother and her son were lying at the bottom of the sea, close
to the landing-stage, watching a young fisherman getting ready his
line.
"Just look at him!" said the eel-mother, "there you have an example
of the malice and cunning of the world . ... Watch him! He is
holding a whip in his hand; he throws out the whip-lash--there it
is! attached to it is a weight which makes it sink--there's the
weight! and below the weight is the hook with the worm. Don't take
it in your mouth, whatever you do, for if you do, you are caught.
As a rule only the silly bass and red-eyes take the bait. There!
Now you know all about it."
The forest of seaweed with its shells and snails began to rock; a
plashing and drumming could be heard and a huge red whale passed
like a flash over their heads; he had a tail-fin like a cork-screw,
and that was what he worked with.
"That's a steamer," said the eel-mother; "make room!"
She had hardly spoken these words when a furious uproar arose above.
There was a tramping and stamping as if the people overhead were
intent on building a bridge between the shore and the boat in two
seconds. But it was difficult to see anything on account of the
oil and soot which were making the water thick and muddy.
There was something very heavy on the bridge now, so heavy that it
made it creak, and men's voices were shouting:
"Lift it up!--Ho, there!--Up!--Hold tight!--Up with it!--Up!--Push
it along!--Lift it up!"
Then something indescribable happened. First it sounded as if
sixty piles of wood were all being sawn at the same time; then a
cleft opened in the water which went down to the bottom of the sea,
and there, wedged between three stones, stood a black box, which
sang and played and tinkled and jingled, close to the eel-mother
and her son, who hastily disappeared in the lowest depths of the
ocean.
Then a voice up above shouted:--
"Three fathoms deep! Impossible! Leave it alone. It isn't worth
while hauling the old lumber up again; it would cost more to repair
than it's worth."
The voice belonged to the master of the mine, whose piano had fallen
into the sea.
Silence followed; the huge fish with a fin like a screw swam away,
and the silence deepened.
After sunset a breeze arose; the black box in the forest of seaweed
rocked and knocked against the stones, and at every knock it played,
so that the fishes came swimming from all directions to watch and
to listen.
The eel-mother was the first to put in an appearance. And when
she saw herself reflected in the polished surface, she said: "It's
a wardrobe with a plate-glass door."
There was logic in her remark, and therefore all the others said:
"It is a wardrobe with a plate-glass door."
Next a rock-fish arrived and smelt at the candlesticks, which had
not yet come off. Tiny bits of candle ends were still sticking in
the sockets. "That's something to eat," it said, "if only it weren't
for the whipcord!"
Then a great bass came and lay flat on the pedal; but immediately
there arose such a rumbling in the box that all the fishes hastily
swam away.
They got no further on that day.
At night it blew half a gale, and the musical box went thump, thump,
thump, like a pavier's beetle, until sunrise. When the eel-mother
and all the rest of them returned, they found that it had undergone
a change.
The lid stood open like a shark's mouth; they saw a row of teeth,
bigger than they had ever seen before, but every other tooth was
black. The whole machine was swollen at the sides like a seed-fish;
the boards were bent, and the pedal pointed upwards like a foot
in the act of walking; the arms of the candlesticks looked like
clenched fists. It was a dreadful sight!
"It's falling to pieces," screamed the bass, and spread out a fin,
ready to turn.
And now the boards fell off, the box was open, and one could see
what it was like inside; and that was the prettiest sight of all.
"It's a trap! Don't go too near!" said the eel-mother.
"It's a hand-loom!" said the stickleback, who builds a nest for
itself and understands the art of weaving.
"It's a gravel-sifter," said a red-eye, who lived below the
lime-quarry.
It may have been a gravel-sifter. But there were a great many
fallals and odds and ends which were not in the least like the
sifter which they use for riddling sand. There were little manichords
which resembled toes in white woollen stockings, and when they
moved it was just as if a foot with two hundred skeleton toes were
walking; and it walked and walked and yet never left the spot.
It was a strange thing. But the game was up, for the skeleton no
longer touched the strings; it played on the water as if it were
knocking at a door with its fingers, asking whether it might come
in.
The game was up. A school of sticklebacks came and swam right through
the box, and when they trailed their spikes over the strings, the
strings sounded again; but they played in a new way, for now they
were tuned to another pitch.
***
On a rosy summer evening soon afterwards two children, a boy and
a girl, were sitting on the landing-bridge. They were not thinking
of anything in particular, unless it was a tiny piece of mischief,
when all at once they heard soft music from the bottom of the sea,
which startled them.
"Do you hear it?"
"Yes, what is it? It sounds like scales."
"No, it's the song of the gnats."
"No, it's a mermaid!"
"There are no mermaids. The schoolmaster said so."
"The schoolmaster doesn't know."
"Oh! do listen!"
They listened for a long time, and then they went away, home.
Presently two newly arrived summer guests sat down on the bridge;
he looked into her eyes, which reflected the golden sunset and the
green shores. Then they heard the sounds of music; it sounded as
if somebody were playing on musical glasses, but in a strange new
key, only heard in the dreams of those who dream of giving a new
message to the world. But they never thought of looking for any
outside source, they believed that it was the song which their own
hearts were singing.
Next a couple of annual visitors came sauntering along; they knew
the trick and took a delight in saying in a loud voice:
"It is the submerged piano of the master of the mine."
But whenever there were only new arrivals present, who did not know
anything about it, they were puzzled and enjoyed the music, until
some of the older ones came and enlightened them. And then they
enjoyed it no longer.
The musical box lay there all the summer. The sticklebacks taught
their art to the bass, who became much more expert. And the piano
became a regular fishing-ground for the summer guests, where they
could always be sure to catch bass; the pilots spread out their
nets round about it, and once a waiter fished there for red-eyes.
But when his line with the old bell weight had run out, and he tried
to wind it up again, he heard a run in X minor, and then the hook
was caught. He pulled and pulled, and in the end he brought up five
fingers with wool at the fingertips, and the bones cracked like
the bones of a skeleton. Then he was frightened and flung his catch
back into the sea, although he knew quite well what it was.
In the dog days, when the water is warm and all the fish retire to
the greater depths to enjoy the coolness, the music ceased. But on
a moonlit night in August, the summer guests held a regatta. The
master of the mine and his wife were present. They sat in a white
boat and were slowly rowed about by their sons. And as their boat
was gliding over the black water, the surface of which was like
silver and gold in the moonlight, they heard a sound of music just
below their boat.
"Ha ha!" laughed the master of the mine, "listen to our old piano!
Ha ha!"
But he was silent when he saw that his wife hung her head, in the
way pelicans do in pictures; it looked as if she wanted to bite
her own neck and hide her face.
The old piano and its long history had awakened memories in her of
the first dining-room they furnished together, the first of their
children which had had music lessons, the boredom of the long
evenings, only to be chased away by the crashing volumes of sound
which overcame the dulness of everyday life, changed bad temper
into cheerfulness, and lent new beauty even to the old furniture
. . . . But that is a story which belongs elsewhere.
When it was autumn and the winter wind began to blow, the pilchards
came in their thousands and swam through the musical box. It was
like a farewell concert, and nothing else, and the seagulls and
stormy petrels came in crowds to listen to it. And in the night the
musical box was carried out to sea; that was the end of the matter.
THE SLUGGARD
Conductor Crossberg was fond of lying in bed in the morning,
firstly, because he had to conduct the orchestra in the evening,
and secondly, because he drank more than one glass of beer before
he went home and to bed. He had tried once or twice to get up early,
but had found no sense in it. He had called on a friend, but had
found him asleep; he had wanted to pay money into the bank, but had
found it still closed; he had gone to the library to borrow music,
but it was not yet open; he had wanted to use the electric trams,
but they had not yet started running. It was impossible to get a
cab at this hour of the morning; he could not even buy a pinch of
his favourite snuff; there was nothing at all for him to do. And
so he had eventually formed the habit of staying in bed until late;
and after all, he had no one to please but himself.
He loved the sun and flowers and children; but he could not live on
the sunny side of the street on account of his delicate instruments,
which were out of tune almost as soon as they were put into a sunny
room.
Therefore, on the 1st of April, he took rooms which faced north.
He was quite sure that there was no mistake about this, for he
carried a compass on his watch-chain, and he could find the Great
Bear in the evening sky.
So far, so good; but then the spring came, and it was so warm that
it was really pleasant to live in rooms with a northern aspect.
His bedroom joined the sitting-room; he always kept his bedroom
in pitch-black darkness by letting down the Venetian blinds; there
were no Venetian blinds in the sitting-room, because they were not
wanted there.
Pages:
1 |
2 |
3 |
4 |
5 |
6 |
7