The Red Room - August Strindberg (best summer reads TXT) 📗

Need you be immoral because you are married?”

“Master, master! God sends the children.”

“It’s a lie, cobbler! I read in a paper the other day that the damned potato is to blame for the large families of the poor; don’t you see, the potato consists of two substances, called oxygen and nitrogen; whenever these substances occur in a certain quantity and proportion, women become prolific.”

“But what is one to do?” asked the angry mother, whom this interesting explanation had calmed down a little.

“One shouldn’t eat potatoes; can’t you see that?”

“But what is one to eat if not potatoes?”

“Beefsteak, woman! Steak and onions! What! Isn’t that good? Or steak à la Châteaubriand! Do you know what that is? What? I saw in the Fatherland the other day that a woman who had taken womb-grain very nearly died as well as the baby.”

“What’s that?” asked the mother, pricking up her ears.

“You’d like to know, would you?”

“Is it true what you just said about womb-grain?” asked the cobbler, blinking his eyes.

“Hoho! That brings up your lungs and liver, but there’s a heavy penalty on it, and that’s as it should be.”

“Is it as it should be?” asked the cobbler dully.

“Of course it is! Immorality must be punished; and it’s immoral to murder one’s children.”

“Children! Surely, there’s a difference,” replied the angry mother, resignedly; “but where does the stuff you just spoke about come from, master?”

“Haha! You want more children, you hussy, although you are a widow with five! Beware of that devil of a cobbler! He’s hard on women, in spite of his piety. A pinch of snuff, cobbler?”

“There is really a herb then.⁠ ⁠…”

“Who said it was a herb? Did I say so? No; it’s an organic substance. Let me tell you, all substances⁠—nature contains about sixty⁠—are divided into organic and inorganic substances. This one’s Latin name is Cornuticus secalias; it comes from abroad, for instance from the Calabrian Peninsula.”

“Is it very expensive, master?” asked the cobbler.

“Expensive!” ejaculated the joiner, manipulating his plane as if it were a carbine. “It’s awfully expensive!”

Falk had listened to the conversation with great interest. Now he started; he had heard a carriage stopping underneath the window, and the sound of two women’s voices which seemed familiar to him.

“This house looks all right.”

“Does it?” said an older voice. “I think it looks dreadful.”

“I meant it looks all right for our purpose. Do you know, driver, whether any poor people are living in this house?”

“I don’t know,” replied the driver, “but I’d stake my oath on it.”

“Swearing is a sin, so you had better not. Wait for us here, while we go upstairs to do our duty.”

“I say, Eugenia, hadn’t we better first talk a little to the children down here?” said Mrs. Homan to Mrs. Falk, lagging behind.

“Perhaps it would be just as well. Come here, little boy! What’s your name?”

“Albert,” answered a pale-faced little lad of six.

“Do you know Jesus, my laddie?”

“No,” answered the child with a laugh, and put a finger into his mouth.

“Terrible!” said Mrs. Falk, taking out her notebook. “I’d better say: Parish of St. Catherine’s. White Mountains. Profound spiritual darkness in the minds of the young. I suppose ‘darkness’ is the right word?” She turned to the little fellow: “And don’t you want to know him?”

“No!”

“Would you like a penny?”

“Yes!”

“You should say please! Indescribably neglected, but I succeeded, by gentleness, in awakening their better feelings.”

“What a horrible smell! Let’s go, Eugenia,” implored Mrs. Homan.

They went upstairs and entered the large room without knocking.

The joiner seized his plane and began planing a knotty board, so that the ladies had to shout to make themselves heard.

“Is anybody here thirsting for salvation?” shouted Mrs. Homan, while Mrs. Falk worked her scent-spray so vigorously that the children began to cry with the smarting of their eyes.

“Are you offering us salvation, lady?” asked the joiner, interrupting his work. “Where did you get it from? Perhaps there’s charity to be had, too, and humiliation and pride?”

“You are a ruffian; you will be damned,” answered Mrs. Homan.

Mrs. Falk made notes in her notebook. “He’s all right,” she remarked.

“Is there anything else you’d like to say?” asked Mrs. Homan.

“We know the sort you are! Perhaps you’d like to talk to me about religion, ladies? I can talk on any subject. Have you ever heard anything about the councils held at Nicæa, or the Smalcaldic Articles?”

“We know nothing about that, my good man.”

“Why do you call me good? Scripture says nobody is good but God alone. So you know nothing about the Nicene Council, ladies? How can you dare to teach others, when you know nothing yourselves? And if you want to dispense charity, do it while I turn my back to you, for true charity is given secretly. Practise on the children, if you like, they can’t defend themselves; but leave us in peace. Give us work and pay us a just wage and then you needn’t run about like this. A pinch of snuff, cobbler!”

“Shall I write: Great unbelief, quite hardened, Evelyn?” asked Mrs. Falk.

“I should put impenitent, dear.”

“What are you writing down, ladies? Our sins? Surely your book’s too small for that!”

“The outcome of the so-called working men’s unions.⁠ ⁠…”

“Very good,” said Mrs. Homan.

“Beware of the working men’s unions,” said the joiner. “For hundreds of years war has been made upon the kings, but now we’ve discovered that the kings are not to blame. The next campaign will be against all idlers who live on the work of others; then we shall see something.”

“That’s enough!” said the cobbler.

The angry mother, whose eyes had been riveted on Mrs. Falk during the whole scene, took the opportunity of putting in a word.

“Excuse me, but aren’t you Mrs. Falk?” she asked.

“No,” answered that lady with an assurance which took even Mrs. Homan’s breath away.

“But you’re as like her as its possible to be! I knew her father, Ronock, who’s now on the flagship.”

“That’s all very nice, but it doesn’t concern us.⁠ ⁠… Are there any other people in this house who need salvation?”

“No,” said the joiner, “they don’t need salvation, they need food and clothes, or,