The Absolute at Large/Chapter 28
Chapter XXVIII
At Seven Cottages
And while the world shook with the clash of armies, while the boundaries of States writhed to and fro like earth-worms, and the whole earth was crumbling into a field of ruins, old Mrs. Blahous was peeling her potatoes in Seven Cottages, Grandfather Blahous was sitting on the doorstep smoking beech-leaves, and their neighbour, Mrs. Prouzova, was leaning on the fence, repeating meditatively, "Yes, yes."
"Aye, yes," returned Blahous after a while.
"My word, yes," observed Mrs. Blahous.
"That's how 'tis," Mrs. Prouzova answered.
"Oh, what's the use?" said Grandfather Blahous.
"Yes, that's it," added Mrs. Blahous, peeling another potato.
"They say the Italians got a good hiding," Blahous announced.
"Who from?"
"From the Turks, I expect."
"Then, I suppose that'll be the end of the war?"
"What d'you mean? The Prussians 'll start off now."
"What, against us?"
"Against the French, they say."
"Good heavens above, everything will be dear again."
"Yes, yes."
"Aye, yes."
"What's the use?"
"They say that the Swiss wrote not long ago that the others might give it up soon."
"That's what I say."
"Yes. Why, the day before yesterday I paid fifteen hundred crowns for a candle. I tell you, Blahous, it was one of those miserable things only fit for the stable."
"And you mean to say it cost you fifteen hundred?"
"Not far off. There's a rise for you, friends!"
"Aye, yes."
"My word, yes."
"Who's ever have thought it? Fifteen hundred!"
"You could get a fine candle for two hundred at one time."
"Yes, auntie, but that's years ago. Why, even an egg only cost five hundred in those days." "And you could get a pound of butter for three thousand."
"And lovely butter, too!"
"And boots for eight thousand."
"Yes, yes, Mrs. Blahous, things were cheap in those days."
"But now"
"Yes, yes."
"If only it was all over and done with!"
There was silence. Old Blahous rose, straightened his back, and went into the yard for a wisp of straw.
"Oh, what's the use?" he said, unscrewing the head of his pipe in order to pull the straw through.
"It wasn't half smelling before," remarked Mrs. Blahous, full of interest.
"Smelling," said Blahous, nodding. "How can it help smelling? There's no tobacco left in the world now. The last packet I had was the one my son the Professor sent me—let me see, that was in '49, wasn't it?"
"That was just four years ago come Easter."
"So 'twas," said Granfather Blahous. "We're getting an old man now. Very, very old."
"And what I want to know," began Mrs. Prouzova, "is what's all this awful to-do about nowadays?"
"What to-do?"
"Well, this war, I mean."
"Aye, yes, Heaven knows what it's about," said Blahous, blowing down his pipe until it gurgled. "That's what nobody knows, aunt. They say it's about religion—that's what they tell me."
"What sort of religion?"
"Oh, ours or the Swiss—nobody knows which. It's so as there'll be only one religion, they say."
"Well, we used to have only one religion before."
"But other places had a different one, aunt. They say there was orders from above that there must be only one."
"What sort of orders? Where from?"
"Nobody knows. They say there were once machines that had religion inside of them. It was hidden in a sort of long boiler."
"And what were the boilers for?"
"Nobody knows. Just a sort of boilers. And they say that God appeared to people to make them believe. There was a lot in those days, aunt, that didn't believe. One has to believe in something; what's the use? If people had only believed, God wouldn't have appeared to them. So it was only their godlessness that made Him come into the world, see, aunt?"
"Well, yes, but what did this awful war begin for?"
"Nobody knows. People say that the Chinese or the Turks began it. They say that they brought their own God with them in those boilers. They're supposed to be terrible religious, the Turks and the Chinese. And so they wanted us to believe the way they did."
"But why should we?"
"That's it, nobody knows. If you ask me, the Prussians started it. And the Swedes, too."
"Lord, Lord!" lamented Mrs. Prouzova. "And the prices things are now! Fifteen hundred for a candle!"
"And what I say," maintained old Blahous, "is the Jews started the war so as to make money out of it. That's what I say."
"We could do with some rain," observed Mrs. Blahous. "The potatoes are far too small. Like nuts."
"It's my belief," Blahous went on, "that people just invented that about the Lord God, so as to have someone to blame things on. That was all made up. They wanted a war and they wanted an excuse. It was all a put-up job."
"Who did it, then?"
"Nobody knows. What I say is, it was all fixed up with the Pope and the Jews and the whole lot of them. Those . . . those . . . Kalburators!" shouted Grandfather Blahous, in great excitement. "I'd like to say it to their faces! Why, did anybody need a new Lord God? The old one was good enough for us country people. There was just enough of Him, and He was good, and honest and upright. He didn't show himself to anybody, but we had peace instead. . . ."
"What are you asking for your eggs, Prouzova?"
"I'm getting two thousand each at present."
"They say they're asking three in Trutnov."
"And I tell you," declared old Blahous vehemently, "it was bound to come. People were cross with each other even then. Why, your husband that's dead now, Prouzova, God rest his soul, was a spiritualist or medium or something in those days. And one time I said to him just in fun, 'I say, Prouza, you might call back that evil spirit that's just escaped from me.' And he lost his temper, and from that day to the day of his death he never spoke a word to me again. Yet he was my neighbour, mind you, aunt. And look at Tony Vlcek. He always swore by those foxfates that you fertilize with, and if anyone didn't believe in them, he'd keep on going for him like mad. And my son, the Professor, tells me it's the same wherever you go. If anyone sets his mind on anything, he must have everybody else believe in it. And he won't let anyone alone. That's how it's all come about."
"Yes, yes," said Aunt Prouzova, yawning. "What's the use of it all?"
"Ah, yes," sighed Mrs. Blahous.
"That's the way things are in this world," added Mrs. Prouzova.
"And you women would like to go on cackling all day long," Grandfather Blahous concluded peevishly, and tottered off into the house.
. . . And the earth shook with the clash of armies, and thinkers in every camp confidently asserted that "a brighter day was dawning."