The Red Room E-Book

August Strindberg

• Herausgeber: Books on Demand
• Kategorie: Gesellschafts- und Liebesromane
• Sprache: Englisch
• Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2023

Beschreibung

"I'll tell you what, Ygberg, I believe one has to be very unscrupulous if one wants to get on in the world." That's how The Red Room could be summarised through one of its sentences. Through a number of cultural workers Strindberg asks the question of how life should be lived. As a young person, you can pretend to be an ardent idealist; as an older, somewhat sober person, you can come to realise that what you from the beginning thought to be idealistic may not really be. Through its straightforward language The Red Room (1879) is often called the first modern novel in Swedish. It constitutes a representation of Stockholm in the 1870s and is known for its depictions of the urban environment as well as its satire. The book is an attempt to stand by the lower classes by humorously attacking the hypocrisy of the higher classes. The Red Room was described as dirt by contemporary critics, but it was an immediate success. This edition of The Red Room constitutes the first novel in the cluster text style, which could be 20 percent better than ordinary texts, and is intended to function as a kind of survey for how we look at text, reading and book design. This book, in Swedish, was made as an entry for Svensk bokkonst, which every year rewards good examples of book design. The winners get to participate in Stiftung Buchkunt's Best Book Design from all over the World which in German is called Schönste Bücher aus aller Welt. This difference captures an important gap. Book design has long been about designing beautiful books. Now we'll see how Svensk bokkonst and possibly Stiftung Buchkunst see this. What do you think? Should we read cluster texts? You will get an answer to that question by reading this edition of The Red Room. PLEASE NOTE that the text in this book, i.e. cluster text, cannot be reflown and therefore needs to be read on tablets/screens at least 13 centimetres wide, which can handle line lengths of 95 characters (i.e. smaller screens are not suitable).

Leseprobe

August Strindberg’s novels

The Red Room 1879

The Son of a Servant 1886

The people of Hemsö 1887

Life in the Skerries 1888

By the open sea 1890

The defence of a fool 1895

Inferno 1896

Legends 1898

The Gothic Rooms 1904

Black banners 1907

PREFACE

A few words about this edition

It is not without some excitement that The Red Room probably became the first novel in the cluster text style. In this preface, I will try to clarify what this style means, but I will also try to untangle a number of intertwined threads. First of all, I should mention that I, Annandreas, the originator of the cluster text, have written several books about cluster text, so now you know where to turn if you want to know more about it.

As you can see, this text uses a different style. It is a cluster text, which is a text that has been designed to improve reading. It can be more than twenty percent better than normal text. The exact improvement can depend on both how you read and how you measure. For example, you can measure in words per minute (wpm) but also in day or week spans. The improvement will be clearer (and greater) the longer you read, as you will be able to read in slightly longer sessions, take slightly shorter breaks, read slightly more sessions per day and possibly an extra half day per week.

For a long time it has been common practice for both typographers and researchers to evaluate typographic styles using tests that are too short. Typographers have believed that they can determine what constitutes good typography just by their gaze, i.e. by their typographic eye, and researchers have believed that they can determine this by using tests that only take a few minutes to read. In my opinion, typography is more about avoiding fatigue, which is achieved by reducing the perceptual and cognitive load. The cluster text facilitates this, which you will notice clearly if you read it over several days.

If this is your first experience of a cluster text, be aware that it may take several pages for your mindbody to adjust. You need to get used to the elements that deviate from your previous reading. The narrow columns of single-spaced rectangle texts, without proper sentence spacing, mean that you may need to get used to the slightly wider columns and larger sentence spacing (a rectangle text is the ordinary text that is often arranged as two or more text rectangles on a spread). When the adaptation is complete, you will notice that this text is significantly better than regular rectangle texts. Note especially that this text appears to be difficult to read, that it also is a bit difficult to read at first, but that it, in time, becomes much better to read.

The Red Room comprises just over 100 000 words. Reading speeds of 200–500 wpm thus provide an effective reading of 200–500 minutes (about 3–8 hours). In addition, pauses can be added to the reading time, which can vary greatly between different readers. Advanced readers may rest a few minutes an hour – others significantly longer. This experience should give you a hint whether the cluster text is better, and if you want to test it properly, you should read it for at least two days.

That The Red Room was chosen is solely due to Alexandra Borg’s and Nina Ulmaja’s Strindbergs lilla röda: boken om boken och typerna (2019) [Strindbergs little red: the book about the book and the types]. They based their book on 140 Swedish editions of The Red Room. Unfortunately, their book is not available in English, otherwise you could have read this book against it. Instead, you can read any common book on typography such as The elements of typographic style by Robert Bringhurst. It represents the same classical view on typography and thus you can note differences in approaches to typography. E. g, Borg and Ulmaja did not produce an edition of The Red Room with the style they think is best as I am doing with this edition. Hence, we have different assumptions and assertions regarding typography.

This is what is roughly stated about Strindberg’s little red in the publisher’s text:

Strindberg's little red is both a nerdy and educational journey through the history of books, typography and reading. With The Red Room as a prism, Borg and Ulmaja tell how it all began and how it continued. It is non-stop educational and entertaining, and every beautifully designed page is imbued with their love of Books.

Note that it says that each page is beautifully designed. The pages of this book are designed for reading and use. You can notice this difference in many books on typography. Typographers design beautiful books. The cluster text may not be as beautiful but it is much better to read and use.

This book was designed as an entry for the »Swedish championship« in book design. Every year, Svensk Bokkonst [Swedish Book Art], which is working for better book design, rewards up to twenty-five books as examples of good book design based on the design, typography, function, sustainability, degree of innovation and communication. They reward both everyday books and innovative expressions. The Swedish edition of this book, Röda rummet, was made for that competition held in 2023.

The twenty-five selected works represent Sweden in the international competition Die Schönsten Bücher aus aller Welt [Best book design from all over the world], which is held every year in Germany, Leipzig, by Stiftung Buchkunst. It makes this story even more piquant as I designed the first cluster text in Germany! If the cluster text is rewarded in Sweden, it will return to Germany and that would have been an almost poetic event – at least for me.

According to Svensk Bokkonst, their most important objective is to stimulate and inspire the book industry to increase the quality of books. That is why the twenty-five exemplary books are selected. The selection is based on »the principle of the purposeful and aesthetic adaptation of the form to the content from a typographic and printing technical point of view«. Through this book, we can examine what Svensk Bokkonst (and hopefully Stiftung Buchkunst) means by good book design. If the cluster text is significantly better, perhaps they should stimulate and inspire the book industry to print such texts. Is it even possible to design single-spaced rectangle texts with such a view? It seems reasonable to primarily reward the best reading. Or what do you think? In the future, we can investigate this and much more.

Historically, beautiful books have often been made. It already started with the first typed book: Gutenberg–Schöffer–Fust’s legendary 42-line Bible from 1455 – a wonderful piece of work but not very good to read. This has since applied to all rectangle texts. Many spreads have been nice, but not very good to read. Despite this, many have claimed that they focused on the function of the book. »Books are meant for reading« and »the function of a book is most important« are statements you will encounter in books on typography. However, they have not succeeded in designing a good text – a cluster text. There are probably many explanations for that. One possibility is that we have been held captive by a picture. We have simply seen spreads with two nice rectangles as balanced and harmonious, which has made us see them as good book design. But we should not look at texts; we should read them. Given that the cluster text is seen as a hammer, rectangle texts can be understood as paintings with which we have tried to hit a nail.

Now let us turn to The Red Room and master Strindberg. Normally, I don’t read fiction. Pedagogy, philosophy and science are my interests, and therefore I basically only read non-fiction. Thus, Strindberg is not a part of my regular diet. I didn't even know what The Red Room was about when it was chosen for my project. Fortunately, it was about people like me – about writers and philosophers and our efforts and hardships. For Strindberg, The Red Room was an attempt to save his finances. He had many years of hardships behind him when he, as a thirty-year old, published The Red Room in 1879. It is described as the first modern novel in Sweden as it helped to modernise the Swedish language. Strindberg paved the way for everyday language and turned against ceremonial language. Instead of targeting the bourgeoisie and priests, he wanted to reach the common man, which he did by targeting the everyday problems that few talked about. He heavily criticised things that were not usually criticised. The Red Room is one of many examples. Discreetly but clearly, many got smeared. People in power were not presented very flatteringly. The book was therefore described, rather harshly, as dirt in many newspapers (bending over for the people in power), but it was an immediate success selling 6 000 copies in its first edition. It was then printed in several editions. For example, when Strindberg passed away in 1912, it sold 36 000 copies. The typography in this edition is inspired by that edition.

Arvid Falk, the prism of The Red Room, was presented close to Strindberg himself: critical, divided, doubting, sometimes convinced, always hoping to make a living from writing and art but at the same time concerned with trying to keep one’s morals intact. The recognition factor is probably high for many cultural workers. The book deals with questions that many struggle with but rarely manage to complete. Strindberg, too, understood early on himself as a failed writer with no hope of realising his ideals. Why should you suffer for a truth that might be a lie? Or an idea that might not even be an idea?

As a man of letters, Strindberg fought for truth, beauty and justice. Over time, he managed to create a space for himself and many like him. He created a readership and a book-buying audience. I share many of Strindberg’s struggles – both internally and externally. For me, the cluster text has lead to the same challenges as the characters in The Red Room. I was forced to persevere in poverty during my search for truth. It took many years to develop the cluster text and to write the books that hopefully will solve my financial situation. One constantly wrestles with the question of whether one should give in, and one looks enviously at those who easily, it seems, manage to adapt to the demands of the present times. Quite confused, you don’t understand why you don’t just give in. But there's always some kind of resistance to giving in. It seems you’d rather lose everything than lose yourself – much like Ygberg. We’ll see how it will turn out for me.

Through my efforts, I am also trying to create a readership and an audience wanting to read cluster texts. In Swedish, I have written Är texter felskrivna?, Läslighet (parts 1 and 2), Typografisk manual and Typografiska undersökningar, and in English, this far, Are texts wrongly written?, Readability (parts 1 and 2) and Typographic manual. After I have completed this book, I will start translating Typographical Investigations, which I aim to publish by the end of 2023. However, it is only with the publication of this edition of The Red Room, in May 2023, that I have started to market the cluster text and all my books (so it’s not strange if you didn’t know about them before). The financial conditions are such, in Sweden, that you ideally should sell 200 000 copies in a year, which means that you have to wait to go public until you have written a number of books. Now we'll see if my efforts have been enough.

So far, in total, my set of books on cluster text consist of almost a million words, in Swedish, not as many in English yet, and they are intended to create a good experience of cluster text. Intermediate readers will be able to read them for a week and advanced readers could read them twice in about the same time. In this way, readers get a good basis for assessing the cluster text, i.e. to see how good it is compared to other texts. During a week’s reading, it can be significantly better than the previously stated twenty percent.

The cluster text emerged when I was reading books on philosophy and pedagogy. Thus, I have no background in typography. I am more of an avid reader who used to read one or two books a day. Regarding typography, I have mainly been annoyed by too small inner margins, wrongly positioned page numbers and the fact that footnotes are not widely used. Wide inner margins, page numbers in the upper outer corners and footnotes should always be used in non-fiction. In addition, the top margin should be large enough for notes. Many books are not made to be used. That was clear to me. To my surprise, I also found that books neither were made to be read.

The cluster text came about when, on advice, I had set aside a week to read the books of Michel Foucault. I read his books in chronological order and when I came to Discipline and Punish I thought about the power effects of reading. After a while, my reflection turned into a phenomenological reduction. I began repeatedly to ask myself questions – first about what a text is and then about what reading is. Then I came to the conclusion that the sentence spaces should be larger – because why should we jump back over the punctuation in regressions? Subsequently, other elements in the text changed rapidly and yet others I had to experiment with over a couple of years until I finally arrived at the cluster text you are currently reading. My research method was simple but very demanding. I tested almost every typographic aspect during at least two days of reading.

The cluster text style constitutes a more precise typographic theory. My choices were set to zero and therefore I believe that readers like me should not read other styles (at this point, I don’t know whether all readers should read this kind of text). This means that a text should have a column width of 13 cm and a line length of 95 characters. This leads to a specific font size. For EB Garamond, which I think always should be used, as it is free, open and good, you have to choose 10.5 pt (to get 95 characters on 13 cm.) In my opinion, we should never change fonts, i.e. it is better to choose one font and then almost always read that font. In terms of text, we are nowadays often exposed to a kind of general font terror; we are constantly forced to switch to new fonts; a practice I wish would disappear, at least for non-fiction. All such changes are annoying and interfere with one’s reading. The current font practice can be seen as decadent – as a reader, you don’t want to constantly change fonts.

These choices enable better reading. The longer lines allow you to better adjust the line breaks. To use flush left is obvious and mandatory, but you do not let the text flow freely; you try to improve every line break. For example, single words and some line-ending words are moved forward, as it affects reading positively. When you have come this far, you can make a few aesthetic adjustments – if one’ s reading allows it, and then we have reached the optimal conditions for how we usually should read a book, i.e. with immersion and flow. In addition, both skimming and scanning are also better.

From bottom around, the margins should be approximately 2, 2.5, 3 and 3.5 cm. You should not have to read curved text (inside margin 3.5 cm), you should not have to put your thumbs on the text (outside margin 2.5 cm), you should be able to take notes in the top margin (3 cm), and the bottom margin need not be unnecessarily large, but still large enough so that a piece of cloth does not cover the text (2 cm) when you put a book on your stomach. With footnotes and page numbers in the top outer corners, we get the optimum conditions for how books normally should be used. At first, such a spread may look a little odd, but we don't care. We are not book viewers; we are book readers and book users, and in time, it will start looking quite good.

A clarification: it may be important to test these conditions on paper. Reading onscreen is so bad that it’s not even worth commenting on.

Many previous typographic dogmas are easy to disprove, as you will discover. In the past, many have claimed sixty-five characters being an optimal line length, often on the grounds that otherwise we will be doubling, i.e. double read a few lines. You will find that this never happens. Instead, the column width should be narrow enough so that we don’t have to turn our heads, and so that it doesn’t result in pages that are too wide and annoying to turn. Straight margins are also easy to argue against. They look nice, but clearly it’s better to read optimised line breaks. In retrospect, this may seem obvious, and it is surprising that so much effort has been put into making a spread look nice, rather than making them read as well as possible. Equally surprising is the lack of a larger sentence spacing. This may soon also seem obvious. In the past, the rectangle look had a strong effect – readers should encounter a calm and harmonious spread. With cluster text, on the other hand, we make sure that the reader experiences a calm but energetic reading, where the aim is to achieve maximum immersion. You will notice this after a while of reading.

In relation to the earlier statement about the love of books (Strindbergs little red), you could say that with a cluster text style it is more about a love of reading and the learning you will experience from an immersive reading. I don't want anything to come between me and my reading. I want to achieve maximum flow and total immersion. Nothing must interfere. For example, you have to have very good reasons for using pictures in books, as they rarely add much. Many writers are lazy and use pictures instead of words.

Many people misjudge books and typographic styles by the way they look at them. In The Crystal Goblet – printing should be invisible, Beatrice Ward described how texts should work like a window or a crystal goblet. The mistake many people make is to look at the window or the goblet. What beautiful windows! What beautiful goblets! But you can’t judge a window without looking through it, and you can’t judge a goblet without putting your lips to it. It is moderately pleasant to drink coffee from a wine glass or wine from a coffee cup. The same applies to a text. You have to put your eyes to it for a long time before you can judge its typography. It is moderately pleasant to put your eyes to rectangle texts. A difference, to drinking and looking out of windows, is that it takes longer to make an assessment of a text. It can take up to an hour, or even two days.

Far too many book designers and typographers have been text viewers. We need more text users to create texts. But it may be that many are too poor readers. It is possible that advanced readers (+400 wpm) find it easier to judge texts. If you are a slower reader, it is not certain that errors will appear as clearly. You may need to be aware of this when you are assessing the cluster text style. For example, the page turns will happen with a higher frequency if you read a book in three hours than in eight. With a better reading, many aspects will be experienced with a higher frequency. For example, narrow columns leads to more line breaks in less time. Slow readers may therefore need to practise their reading in order to be able to judge typographic styles.

It should be clear by now that you cannot look at this text and claim anything meaningful about it, i.e. you cannot tell if it’s good or bad. At first, you may see it as if this text looks hard to read and you may think it's ugly, but that doesn't say anything about the text, it only says something about you. Ideally, you should postpone your opinion until you have made a sufficiently extensive experience. For me, this means that you should read for at least two full days and preferably for a whole week. You can note how much time you needed as you read. Then you can also notice how you changed your perception.

If my thesis about the cluster text is correct, we should be facing a text revolution. I hope you want to help out in such a case. Many need to become better readers. Many schools are experiencing a total reading and learning crisis. I suspect it's because the people in charge are bad readers. It does not seem important to teach pupils and students to read well, which probably is unreasonable for advanced readers. A simple calculation shows that one should read at least two hours a day at school to reach 4000 reading hours during school (12 years). That is probably about half of what is required to become an advanced reader, i.e. you should also read for one or two hours at home most days. There are alarming reports saying that students, in the Swedish primary school, read less than one page of non-fiction and hardly any fiction at all on a normal school day. Hence, poor reading is probably widespread in society. Strindberg was able to create an audience at the end of the 19th century. It seems to be increasingly difficult in the early 2000s. Even students in higher education do not develop into particularly ambitious readers. Let’s hope that a better text can help change that. Hopefully, a text revolution also will lead to a reading revolution.

Strindberg was also interested in typography, which makes this project extra fun. He was concerned with making both good and cheap styles. Good – because he meant that: you would rather buy a beautiful book for a crown than an ugly one for half a crown. And bad – as he also wanted to reach his not well-off readers. After all, he wrote to be read. Strindberg was also meticulous in the choice of writing instruments. He chose stationery, ink and paper with care. Apparently, his favourite colour was yellow and he liked to write on a yellow coloured paper: Lessebo bikupa [Lessebo beehive].

Strindberg developed his skills both in the art of words and the visual arts. It is no wonder that Arvid was named Falk [falcon]. Strindberg developed both a falcon’s eye and the ability to convey in words what he saw. He sharpened his eyes and he sharpened his pen. I had to do the same with regards to the typography and so can you if you want to learn more about it. You need to sharpen your eyes and your words to form your ideas about typography.

In this preface, you get just over 4000 words. Possibly you have already got used to the text, and if you have not, you know that a longer period of adaptation is required. It might be worth paying attention to when you think you’ve got used to it. It is an important lesson for understanding typographic research. Times shorter than your sedimentation time are not suitable for judging texts (styles).

With all this being said, I am now ready to let you in on The Red Room. You can immediately put your eyes to the text to see if it works. Strindberg criticised authorities and you can think about what criticism you could express based on the cluster text. The sluggish bureaucracy and those with long educations who cannot read and write properly appear to be the types Strindberg criticises. Neither in our days, industrious people are not very popular (most read, write and learn too slowly).

There are many nice paragraphs and sentences in The Red Room. I will give you a small selection suited to this preface. You could look for your preferred sentences in the text. I begin with a paraphrase of a passage from the text (parents are changed to experts):

»It’s a mistake to have typographic experts«. »Why? What do you mean?«

»Don’t you think it unfair of an older generation to bring up a younger one in its antiquated inanities?«

And another paraphrase: Your inbred feeling of respect for your experts shall not induce you to admire their faults; you shall not honour them beyond their deserts.

Furthermore: If you see perfection and excellence in everything here below, how can you yearn for the really perfect?

And maybe: It’s easier to do something with a man who hasn’t been ruined by book-learning [from books on typography].

And, considering reading in school: There is more need for the foundation of societies for the protection of children than for societies for the protection of animals.

But perhaps most important: I’ll tell you what, Ygberg, I believe one has to be very unscrupulous [a bad person] if one wants to get on in the world! For me, this is the sentence that sums up the entire book. What sentence does that for you? Strindberg stated the following about the general public: the public does not want any judgement, the public wants its passions satisfied. Is this true to you? Do you only want your passions to be satisfied or are you about to form a judgement concerning texts? What will you be doing going forward? What passions do you satisfy? Are you about to become a little fired up so that you make sure to create more and better texts? I hope your reading of The Red Room will get you a little fired up!

Instructions for creating cluster texts

This book is mainly intended as a template for other texts, e.g. for text in the public domain, i.e. for texts whose copyright has expired (which generally happens 70 years after the death of the author, and 70 years after the death of the translator for translations; this applies in most countries, make sure to check what applies in your country). If you want, you can therefore use these instructions to create cluster texts. First, it took two days to fix The Red Room in a word processor, including inserting cluster spaces between sentences, improving line breaks and changing some characters. Then it took two more days to produce the cluster text style in Scribus. Scribus is an open source program for dtp (desktop layout program), which means you can also use it freely. The original text consists of about 100 000 words on 400 ordinary book pages. It uses about half as many cluster text pages. These numbers give you a clue for your possible project. The document template for this release is on my website (www.theannandreas.com). You can probably find it in other places as well some time after the cluster text has become common practice. It is free to distribute and use. The following formatting options and margins are used in this edition:

Paragraph and character formats

Body text: EB Garamond 10.5/13.4 pt with lowercase numbers, regular.

Body text indent: 6 mm, EB Garamond 10.5/13.4 pt with lowercase numbers.

Heading chapter number: EB Garamond 20 pt, flushed right, Medium.

Chapter heading: EB Garamond 16 pt Medium.

Footnotes:: EB Garamond 8.5/11 pt regular.

Character formats: Regular, Italic, Medium.

Margins and some other sizes

Inner margin: 35 mm.

Top margin: 30 mm.

Text frame: 13×22.

Outer margin: 25 mm.

Bottom margin: 20 mm.

Page: 19×27.

Some spaces

Hair spaces: before « ‹?! ; :) and after »›(. Eight spaces: e. g. before …, in 19 × 27

Sixth spaces: in numbers, sizes and such, 20 000 mm, 10.5 pt.

Fifth spaces: between words. Five fifth spaces (one em): between sentences.

Two fifth spaces: occasionally, i. e. when it seems to help.

In this English version, I have used the typography from the Swedish version partly because it is a competition entry (so that you get the same typography), partly because I have tried to present a really good typography by reducing unnecessities. In many countries, people prefer sticking to their national styles, e. g by using some unnecessary characters. Some examples are the comma in numbers, as in 20,000, which should be replaced with a smaller space, 20 000. Other examples are that St (Saint) and Dr (Doctor) should be written without full stops (with full stops, you get Street (St.) and Drive (Dr.)), and that – is better than—between words. In Sweden, e. g., we have used ”citation” instead of “citation”. There are probably unnecessary conventions in your country that may need to be abandoned. In the cluster text style, I have tried to incorporate as many good conventions as possible, e.g. I am using the following marks »«, ›‹ instead of “”, ‘’ and I have tried to abandon as many unnecessities as possible. You can try to see if there are some ugly or unnecessary elements left in this cluster text.

As we start using cluster texts, if they are better, it may be appropriate to improve other typographical elements as well. The cluster text is a big change and because of this we can hopefully make other smaller changes at the same time. I hope that we collectively will be able to achieve a more clean and sober typography. If you find the typography in this book appropriate, you may choose to use it in the future. That is the main intention of this book. With that said, all that remains is to wish you the best of luck in your typographical investigations, so Good luck!

CHAPTER

A bird’s-eye view of Stockholm

Between brothers

The artists’ colony

Master and dogs

At the publisher’s

The Red Room

The imitation of Christ

Poor mother country

Bills of exchange

The newspaper syndicate

Grey Bonnet

Happy people

Marine insurance society Triton

Divine ordinance

Absinth

The theatrical company Phoenix

In the White mountains

Natura …

Nihilism

From churchyard to public-house

On the altar

A soul overboard

Hard times

Audiences

On Sweden

Checkmate

Correspondence

Recovery

From beyond the grave

Revue

Epilogue

Rien n’est si désagréable que d’être pendu obscurément1

VOLTAIRE

1 Nothing is more annoying than to be obscurely hanged.

FIRST

A bird’s-eye view of Stockholm

It was an evening in the beginning of May. The little garden on »Moses Height«, on the south side of the town had not yet been thrown open to the public, and the flower-beds were still unturned. The snowdrops had worked through the accumulations of last year’s dead leaves, and were on the point of closing their short career and making room for the crocuses which had found shelter under a barren pear tree; the elder was waiting for a southerly wind before bursting into bloom, but the tightly closed buds of the limes still offered cover for love-making to the chaffinches, busily employed in building their lichen-covered nests between trunk and branch. No human foot had trod the gravel paths since last winter’s snow had melted, and the free and easy life of beasts and flowers was left undisturbed. The sparrows industriously collected all manner of rubbish, and stowed it away under the tiles of the Navigation School. They burdened themselves with scraps of the rocket-cases of last autumn’s fireworks, and picked the straw covers off the young trees, transplanted from the nursery in the Deer Park only a year ago – nothing escaped them. They discovered shreds of muslin in the summer arbours; the splintered leg of a seat supplied them with tufts of hair left on the battlefield by dogs which had not been fighting there since Josephine’s day. What a life it was!

The sun was standing over the Liljeholm, throwing sheaves of rays towards the east; they pierced the columns of smoke of Bergsund, flashed across the Riddarfjärd, climbed to the cross of the Riddarholms church, flung themselves on to the steep roof of the German church opposite, toyed with the bunting displayed by the boats on the pontoon bridge, sparkled in the windows of the chief custom-house, illuminated the woods of the Liding Island, and died away in a rosy cloud far, far away in the distance where the sea was. And from thence the wind came and travelled back by the same way, over Vaxholm, past the fortress, past the custom-house and along the Sikla Island, forcing its way in behind the Hästarholm, glancing at the summer resorts; then out again and on, on to the hospital Daniken; there it took fright and dashed away in a headlong career along the southern shore, noticed the smell of coal, tar and fish-oil, came dead against the city quay, rushed up to Moses Height, swept into the garden and buffeted against a wall.

The wall was opened by a maid-servant, who, at the very moment, was engaged in peeling off the paper pasted over the chinks of the double windows; a terrible smell of dripping, beer dregs, pine needles, and sawdust poured out and was carried away by the wind, while the maid stood breathing the fresh air through her nostrils. It plucked the cotton-wool, strewn with barberry berries, tinsel and rose leaves, from the space between the windows and danced it along the paths, joined by sparrows and chaffinches who saw here the solution of the greater part of their housing problem.

Meanwhile, the maid continued her work at the double windows; in a few minutes the door leading from the restaurant stood open, and a man, well but plainly dressed, stepped out into the garden. There was nothing striking about his face beyond a slight expression of care and worry which disappeared as soon as he had emerged from the stuffy room and caught sight of the wide horizon. He turned to the side from whence the wind came, opened his overcoat, and repeatedly drew a deep breath which seemed to relieve his heart and lungs. Then he began to stroll up and down the barrier which separated the garden from the cliffs in the direction of the sea.

Far below him lay the noisy, reawakening town; the steam cranes whirred in the harbour, the iron bars rattled in the iron weighing machine, the whistles of the lock-keepers shrilled, the steamers at the pontoon bridge smoked, the omnibuses rumbled over the uneven paving-stones; noise and uproar in the fish market, sails and flags on the water outside; the screams of the sea-gulls, bugle-calls from the dockyard, the turning out of the guard, the clattering of the wooden shoes of the working-men – all this produced an impression of life and bustle, which seemed to rouse the young man’s energy; his face assumed an expression of defiance, cheerfulness and resolution, and as he leaned over the barrier and looked at the town below, he seemed to be watching an enemy; his nostrils expanded, his eyes flashed, and he raised his clenched fist as if he were challenging or threatening the poor town.

The bells of St Catherine’s chimed seven; the splenetic treble of St Mary’s seconded; the basses of the great church, and the German church joined in, and soon the air was vibrating with the sound made by the seven bells of the town; then one after the other relapsed into silence, until far away in the distance only the last one of them could be heard singing its peaceful evensong; it had a higher note, a purer tone and a quicker tempo than the others – yes, it had! He listened and wondered whence the sound came, for it seemed to stir up vague memories in him. All of a sudden his face relaxed and his features expressed the misery of a forsaken child. And he was forsaken; his father and mother were lying in the churchyard of St Clara’s, from whence the bell could still be heard; and he was a child; he still believed in everything, truth and fairy tales alike.

The bell of St Clara’s was silent, and the sound of footsteps on the gravel path roused him from his reverie. A short man with side-whiskers came towards him from the verandah; he wore spectacles, apparently more for the sake of protecting his glances than his eyes, and his malicious mouth was generally twisted into a kindly, almost benevolent, expression. He was dressed in a neat overcoat with defective buttons, a somewhat battered hat, and trousers hoisted at half-mast. His walk indicated assurance as well as timidity. His whole appearance was so indefinite that it was impossible to guess at his age or social position. He might just as well have been an artisan as a government official; his age was anything between twenty-nine and forty-five years. He was obviously flattered to find himself in the company of the man whom he had come to meet, for he raised his bulging hat with unusual ceremony and smiled his kindliest smile.

– I hope you haven’t been waiting, assessor?

– Not for a second; it’s only just struck seven. Thank you for coming. I must confess that this meeting is of the greatest importance to me; I might almost say it concerns my whole future, Mr Struve.

– Bless me! Do you mean it?

Mr Struve blinked; he had come to drink a glass of toddy and was very little inclined for a serious conversation. He had his reasons for that.

– We shall be more undisturbed if we have our toddy outside, if you don’t mind, continued the assessor.

Mr Struve stroked his right whisker, put his hat carefully on his head and thanked the assessor for his invitation; but he looked uneasy.

– To begin with, I must ask you to drop the assessor, began the young man. I’ve never been more than a regular assistant, and I cease to be even that from today; I’m Mr Falk, nothing else.

– What?

Mr Struve looked as if he had lost a distinguished friend, but he kept his temper.

– You’re a man with liberal tendencies …

Mr Struve tried to explain himself, but Falk continued:

– I asked you to meet me here in your character of contributor to the liberal Red Cap.

– Good heavens! I’m such a very unimportant contributor …

– I’ve read your thundering articles on the working man’s question, and all other questions which nearly concern us. We’re in the year three, in Roman figures, for it is now the third year of the new Parliament, and soon our hopes will have become realities. I’ve read your excellent biographies of our leading politicians in the Peasant’s Friend, the lives of those men of the people, who have at last been allowed to voice what oppressed them for so long; you’re a man of progress and I’ve a great respect for you.

Struve, whose eyes had grown dull instead of kindling at the fervent words, seized with pleasure the proffered safety-valve.

– I must admit, he said eagerly, that I’m immensely pleased to find myself appreciated by a young and – I must say it – excellent man like you, assessor; but, on the other hand, why talk of such grave, not to say sad things, when we’re sitting here, in the lap of nature, on the first day of spring, while all the buds are bursting and the sun is pouring his warmth on the whole creation! Let’s snap our fingers at care and drink our glass in peace. Excuse me – I believe I’m your senior – and – I venture – to propose therefore …

Falk, who like a flint had gone out in search of steel, realised that he had struck wood. He accepted the proposal without eagerness. And the new brothers sat side by side, and all they had to tell each other was the disappointment expressed in their faces.

– I mentioned a little while ago, Falk resumed, that I’ve broken today with my past life and thrown up my career as a government employé. I’ll only add that I intend taking up literature.

– Literature? Good Heavens! Why? Oh, but that is a pity!

– It isn’t; but I want you to tell me how to set about finding work.

– H’m! That’s really difficult to say. The profession is crowded with so many people of all sorts. But you mustn’t think of it. It really is a pity to spoil your career; the literary profession is a bad one.

Struve looked sorry, but he could not hide a certain satisfaction at having met a friend in misfortune.

– But tell me, he continued, why are you throwing up a career which promises a man honours as well as influence?

– Honours to those who have usurped the power, and influence to the most unscrupulous.

– Stuff! It isn’t really as bad as all that?

– Isn’t it? Well, then I must speak more plainly. I’ll show you the inner working of one of the six departments for which I had put down. The first five I left at once for the very simple reason that there was no room for me. Whenever I went and asked whether there was anything for me to do, I was told No! And I never saw anybody doing anything. And that was in the busy departments, like the Committee on Brandy Distilleries, the Direct Taxation Office and The Board of Administration of Employés’ Pensions. But when I noticed the swarming crowd of officials, the idea struck me that the department which had to pay out all the salaries must surely be very busy indeed. I therefore put my name down for the Board of Payment of Employés’ Salaries.

– And did you go there? asked Struve, beginning to feel interested.

– Yes. I shall never forget the great impression made on me by my visit to this thoroughly well-organised department. I went there at eleven o’clock one morning, because this is supposed to be the time when the offices open. In the waiting-room I found two young messengers sprawling on a table, on their stomachs, reading The Fatherland.

– The Fatherland?

Struve, who had up to the present been feeding the sparrows with sugar, pricked up his ears.

– Yes. I said »good morning«. A feeble wriggling of the gentlemen’s backs indicated that they accepted my good morning without any decided displeasure; one of them even went to the length of waggling the heel of his right foot, which might have been intended as a substitute for a handshake. I asked whether either of the gentlemen were disengaged and could show me the offices. Both of them declared that they were unable to do so, because their orders were not to leave the waiting-room. I inquired whether there were any other messengers. Yes, there were others. But the chief messenger was away on a holiday; the first messenger was on leave; the second was not on duty; the third had gone to the post; the fourth was ill; the fifth had gone to fetch some drinking water; the sixth was in the yard »where he remained all day long«; moreover, no official ever arrived before one o’clock. This was a hint to me that my early, inconvenient visit was not good form, and at the same time a reminder that the messengers, also, were government employés.

But when I stated that I was firmly resolved on seeing the offices, so as to gain an idea of the division of labour in so important and comprehensive a department, the younger of the two consented to come with me. When he opened the door I had a magnificent view of a suite of sixteen rooms of various sizes. There must be work here, I thought, congratulating myself on my happy idea of coming. The crackling of sixteen birchwood fires in sixteen tiled stoves interrupted in the pleasantest manner the solitude of the place.

Struve, who had become more and more interested fumbled for a pencil between the material and lining of his waistcoat, and wrote »16« on his left cuff.

– This is the adjuncts’ room, explained the messenger.

– I see! Are there many adjuncts in this department?, I asked.

– Oh, yes! More than enough!

– What do they do all day long?

– Oh! They write, of course, a little …

– He was speaking familiarly, so that I thought it time to interrupt him.

After wandering through the copyists’, the notaries’, the clerk’s, the controller’s and his secretary’s, the reviser’s and his secretary’s, the public prosecutor’s, the registrar of the exchequer’s, the master of the rolls’ and the librarian’s, the treasurer’s, the cashier’s, the procurator’s, the protonotary’s, the keeper of the minutes’, the actuary’s, the keeper of the records’, the secretary’s, the first clerk’s, and the head of the department’s rooms, we came to a door which bore in gilt letters the words: »The President«. I was going to open the door but the messenger stopped me; genuinely uneasy, he seized my arm and whispered: »Shsh!« – »Is he asleep?« I asked, my thoughts busy with an old rumour. »For God’s sake, be quiet! No one may enter here unless the president rings the bell.« »Does he often ring?« »No, I’ve never heard him ringing in my time, and I’ve been here twelve months«. He was again inclined to be familiar, so I said no more.

About noon the adjuncts began to arrive, and to my amazement I found in them nothing but old friends from the Committee on Brandy Distilleries, and the Board of Administration of Employés’ Pensions. My amazement grew when the registrar from the Inland Revenue Office strolled into the actuary’s room, and made himself as comfortable in his easy-chair as he used to do in the Inland Revenue Office.

I took one of the young men aside and asked him whether it would not be advisable for me to call on the president. »Shsh!« was his mysterious reply, while he took me into room No. 8. Again this mysterious »shsh!«

The room which we had just entered was quite as dark as the rest of them, but it was much dirtier. The horsehair stuffing was bursting through the leather covering of the furniture; thick dust lay on the writing-table; by the side of an inkstand, in which the ink had dried long ago, lay an unused stick of sealing-wax with the former owner’s name marked on it in Anglo-Saxon letters; in addition there was a pair of paper shears whose blades were held together by rust; a date rack which had not been turned since midsummer five years ago; a State directory five years old; a sheet of blotting-paper with Julius Cæsar, Julius Cæsar, Julius Cæsar written all over it, a hundred times at least, alternating with as many Father Noahs.

– This is the office of the Master of the Rolls; we shall be undisturbed here, said my friend.

– Doesn’t the Master of the Rolls come here, then? I asked.

– He hasn’t been here these five years, and now he’s ashamed to turn up.

– But who does his work?

– The librarian.

– But what is his work in a department like the Board of Payment of Employés’ Salaries?

– The messengers sort the receipts, chronologically and alphabetically, and send them to the book-binders; the librarian supervises their being placed on shelves specially adapted for the purpose.

The conversation now seemed to amuse Struve; he scribbled a word every now and then on his cuff, and as Falk paused he thought it incumbent on him to ask an important question.

– But how did the Master of the Rolls get his salary?

– It was sent to his private address. Wasn’t that simple enough? However, my young friend advised me to present myself to the actuary and ask him to introduce me to the other employés who were now dropping in to poke the fires in their tiled stoves and enjoy the last glimmer of the glowing wood. My friend told me that the actuary was an influential and good-natured individual, very susceptible to little courtesies.

– I, who had come across him in his character as Registrar of the Exchequer, had formed a different opinion of him, but believing that my friend knew better, I went to see him.

The redoubtable actuary sat in a capacious easy-chair with his feet on a reindeer skin. He was engaged in seasoning a real meerschaum pipe, sewn up in soft leather. So as not to appear idle, he was glancing at yesterday’s Post, acquainting himself in this way with the wishes of the Government.

My entrance seemed to annoy him; he pushed his spectacles on to his bald head; hiding his right eye behind the edge of the newspaper, he shot a conical bullet at me with the left. I proffered my request. He took the mouthpiece of his meerschaum into his right hand and examined it to find out how far he had coloured it. The dreadful silence which followed confirmed my apprehensions. He cleared his throat; there was a loud, hissing noise in the heap of glowing coal. Then he remembered the newspaper and continued his perusal of it. I judged it wise to repeat my request in a different form. He lost his temper. »What the devil do you want? What are you doing in my room? Can’t I have peace in my own quarters? What? Get out, get out, get out! sir, I say! Can’t you see that I’m busy. Go to the protonotary if you want anything! Don’t come here bothering me!«

I went to the protonotary.

The Committee of Supplies was sitting; it had been sitting for three weeks already. The protonotary was in the chair and three clerks were keeping the minutes. The samples sent in by the purveyors lay scattered about on the tables, round which all disengaged clerks, copyists and notaries were assembled. In spite of much diversity of opinion, it had been agreed to order twenty reams of Lessebo paper, and after repeatedly testing their cutting capacity, the purchase of forty-eight pairs of Grantorp scissors, which had been awarded a prize, had been decided on. (The actuary held twenty-five shares in this concern). The test writing with the steel nibs had taken a whole week, and the minutes concerning it had taken up two reams of paper. It was now the turn of the penknives, and the committee was intent on testing them on the leaves of the black table.

– I propose ordering Sheffield doubleblades No. 4, without a corkscrew, said the protonotary, cutting a splinter off the table large enough to light a fire with. What does the first notary say?

The first notary, who had cut too deeply into the table, had come across a nail and damaged an Eskilstuna No. 2, with three blades, suggested buying the latter.

After everybody had given his opinion and alleged reasons for holding it, adding practical tests, the chairman suggested buying two gross of Sheffields.

But the first notary protested, and delivered a long speech, which was taken down on record, copied out twice, registered, sorted (alphabetically and chronologically), bound and placed by the messenger – under the librarian’s supervision – on a specially adapted shelf. This protest displayed a warm, patriotic feeling; its principal object was the demonstration of the necessity of encouraging home industries.

But this being equivalent to a charge brought against the Government – seeing that it was brought against one of its employés – the protonotary felt it his duty to meet it. He started with a historical digression on the origin of the discount on manufactured goods – at the word discount all the adjuncts pricked up their ears – touched on the economic developments of the country during the last twenty years, and went into such minute details that the clock on the Riddarholms church struck two before he had arrived at his subject. At the fatal stroke of the clock the whole assembly rushed from their places as if a fire had broken out. When I asked a colleague what it all meant, the old notary, who had heard my question, replied: »The primary duty of a Government employé is punctuality, sir!« At two minutes past two not a soul was left in one of the rooms.

»We shall have a hot day tomorrow«, whispered a colleague, as we went downstairs. »What in the name of fortune is going to happen?« I asked uneasily. »Lead pencils«, he replied. There were hot days in store for us. Sealing-wax, envelopes, paper-knives, blotting-paper, string. Still, it might all be allowed to pass, for every one was occupied. But a day came when there was nothing to do. I took my courage in my hands and asked for work. I was given seven reams of paper for making fair copies at home, a feat by which »I should deserve well of my country«. I did my work in a very short time, but instead of receiving appreciation and encouragement, I was treated with suspicion; industrious people were not in favour. Since then I’ve had no work.

»I’ll spare you the tedious recital of a year’s humiliations, the countless taunts, the endless bitterness. Everything which appeared small and ridiculous to me was treated with grave solemnity, and everything which I considered great and praiseworthy was scoffed at. The people were called › the mob ‹, and their only use was to be shot at by the army if occasion should arise. The new form of government was openly reviled and the peasants were called traitors2«.

»I had to listen to this sort of thing for seven months; they began to suspect me because I didn’t join in their laughter, and challenged me. Next time the › opposition dogs ‹ were attacked, I exploded and made a speech, the result of which was that they knew where I stood, and that I was henceforth impossible. And now I shall do what so many other shipwrecks have done: I shall throw myself into the arms of literature«.

Struve, who seemed dissatisfied with the truncated ending, put the pencil back, sipped his toddy and looked absent-minded. Nevertheless, he thought he ought to say something.

– My dear fellow, he remarked at last, you haven’t yet learned the art of living; you will find out how difficult it is to earn bread and butter, and how it gradually becomes the main interest. One works to eat and eats to be able to work. Believe me, who have wife and child, that I know what I’m talking about. You must cut your coat according to your cloth, you see – according to your cloth. And you’ve no idea what the position of a writer is. He stands outside society.

– His punishment for aspiring to stand above it. Moreover, I detest society, for it is not founded on a voluntary basis. It’s a web of lies – I renounce it with pleasure.

– It’s beginning to grow chilly, said Struve.

– Yes; shall we go?

– Perhaps we’d better.

The flame of conversation had flickered out.

Meanwhile the sun had set; the half moon had risen and hung over the fields to the north of the town. Star after star struggled with the daylight which still lingered in the sky; the gas-lamps were being lighted in the town; the noise and uproar was beginning to die away.

Falk and Struve walked together in the direction of the north, talking of commerce, navigation, the crafts, everything in fact which did not interest them; finally, to each other’s relief, they parted.

Falk strolled down River Street towards the dockyard, his brain pregnant with new thoughts. He felt like a bird which had flown against a window-pane and now lay bruised on the ground at the very moment when it had spread its wings to fly towards freedom. He sat down on a seat, listening to the splashing of the waves; a light breeze had sprung up and rustled through the flowering maple trees, and the faint light of the half moon shone on the black water; twenty, thirty boats lay moored on the quay; they tore at their chains for a moment, raised their heads, one after the other, and dived down again, underneath the water; wind and wave seemed to drive them onward; they made little runs towards the bridge like a pack of hounds, but the chain held them in leash and left them kicking and stamping, as if they were eager to break loose.

He remained in his seat till midnight; the wind fell asleep, the waves went to rest, the fettered boats ceased tugging at their chains; the maples stopped rustling, and the dew was beginning to fall.

Then he rose and strolled home, dreaming, to his lonely attic in the north-eastern part of the town.

That is what young Falk did; but old Struve, who on the same day had become a member of the staff of the Grey Bonnet, because the Red Cap had sacked him, went home and wrote an article for the notorious People’s Flag, on the Board of Payment of Employés’ Salaries, four columns at five crowns a column.

2 Since the great reorganisation of the public offices, this description is no longer true to life.

SECOND

Between brothers

The flax merchant, Charles Nicholas Falk – son of the late flax merchant, one of the fifty elders of the burgesses, captain of the infantry of militia, vestryman and member of the Board of Administration of the Stockholm Fire Insurance, Charles John Falk, and brother of the former assessor and present writer, Arvid Falk – had a business or, as his enemies preferred to call it, a shop in Long Street East, nearly opposite Pig Street, so that the young man who sat behind the counter, surreptitiously reading a novel, could see a piece of a steamer, the paddle-box perhaps, or the jib-boom, and the crown of a tree on Skeppsholm, with a patch of sky above it, whenever he raised his eyes from his book.