"O Ingeborg, you will write upon the same paper with me, in a letter
where I have written your name!"
"Hand me the pen. We must have the letter sent to the mail before two
o'clock."
"Two o'clock. How queer! The last letter reads: 'Take notice of the
striking two.'"
"That we will," said Ingeborg.
She wrote: "Dear Miss Brandt, I, too, ask you to send the Counsellor
his billet, and I pray you to write upon it: 'Given me by Miss Hjelm.'
It is best for all parties that the fun does not come out in gossip.
You shall, by return of mail, receive back your letters."
VI.
It is allowed to charitable minds to remain in doubt about what had
really been Miss Brandt's design. Perhaps she only wished to make
roguish psychological experiments, to convince herself to how many
forenoon congratulatory visits a Counsellor of Justice of the Superior
Court could be brought to appear. The emotion she almost exposed, when
at Mrs. Canuteson's she saw Bagger by Miss Hjelm's side, may have been
pure surprise at the working of the affair. Every one of the rest of us
who have been conversant with the whirlwind, the letter, and Ingeborg's
relinquishment of the same, would also have been surprised at seeing
her and the letter-writer brought together notwithstanding, and would
not, perhaps, have been able with as much ease and success to hide our
surprise. The letter to Bagger, in which Miss Brandt, contrary to her
better knowledge, spoke of him as married, may have been a sincere
attempt to end the whole in a way which repentance and anxiety quickly
seized upon to put an insurmountable hindrance before herself; but it
may surely enough have had also the aim to see how far Bagger had gone
and how much spirit and fancy he had to carry the intrigue out. The
more one thinks upon it, the less one feels able to give either of the
two interpretations absolute preference. Yet one will have remarked,
that Ingeborg herself in her little note mentioned the matter as "fun."
On the other side, if it was earnestness, if she had felt "somewhat"
for Counsellor Bagger, then let us take comfort in the fact that Miss
Brandt was a well-cultivated girl, and that her intellect held dominion
over her heart. She could with one eye see that the campaign had ended,
and further, that she, by receiving peace pure and simple, had
certainly not gained any conquest, but obtained the status quo ante
bellum, which often between antagonists has been considered so
respectable, that both parties officially have sung Te Deum, although
surely only one could sing it from the heart. Now it is and may remain
undecided what the real state of the case was: from either point of
view there was a plain and even line drawn for her, and she followed
it. Next day the letter came in an envelope directed to the counsellor.
As Bagger in the presence of Ingeborg opened the letter and again saw
the long-lost epistle of his early days, he trembled like a man before
whom the spirit-world apparently passes. But as he perceived the added
words, he exclaimed in utter perplexity: "Am I awake? Do I dream? How
is this possible?"
"Why should it not be possible?" asked Ingeborg. "To whom else should
the letter originally have come, than to--geb--?"
"--Geb--?--geb--? Yes, who is--geb--?" asked Bagger with bewildered
look.
"Who other than Ingeborg? is it not the third fourth, and fifth letters
of my name?"
"Oh!" exclaimed Bagger, pressing his hand upon his forehead, and, as he
at the next moment seized Ingeborg's hand, added with an eye which had
become dim with joy, "Truly, I have had more fortune than sense."
Ingeborg answered, smiling:
"That ought he to expect who entrusts his fate to the wind's flying
mail."
THE RAILROAD AND THE CHURCHYARD
BY
BJORNSTJERNE BJORNSON
From "The Flying Mail" Translated by Carl Larsen.
THE RAILROAD AND THE CHURCH-YARD
BY
BJORNSTJERNE BJORNSON
I.
Canute Aakre belonged to an ancient family of the parish, where it had
always been distinguished for its intelligence and care for the public
good. His father through self-exertion had attained to the ministry,
but had died early, and his widow being by birth a peasant, the
children were brought up as farmers. Consequently, Canute's education
was only of the kind afforded by the public school; but his father's
library had early inspired him with a desire for knowledge, which was
increased by association with his friend Henrik Wergeland, who often
visited him or sent him books, seeds for his farm, and much good
counsel. Agreeably to his advice, Canute early got up a club for
practice in debating and study of the constitution, but which finally
became a practical agricultural society, for this and the surrounding
parishes. He also established a parish library, giving his father's
books as its first endowment, and organized in his own house a
Sunday-school for persons wishing to learn penmanship, arithmetic, and
history. In this way the attention of the public was fixed upon him,
and he was chosen a member of the board of parish-commissioners, of
which he soon became chairman. Here he continued his endeavors to
advance the school interests, which he succeeded in placing in an
admirable condition.
Canute Aakre was a short-built, active man, with small sharp eyes and
disorderly hair. He had large lips which seemed constantly working, and
a row of excellent teeth which had the same appearance, for they shone
when he spoke his clear sharp words, which came out with a snap, as
when the sparks are emitted from a great fire.
Among the many he had helped to an education, his neighbor Lars Hogstad
stood foremost. Lars was not much younger than Canute, but had
developed more slowly. Being in the habit of talking much of what he
read and thought, Canute found in Lars--who bore a quiet, earnest
manner--a good listener, and step by step a sensible judge. The result
was, that he went reluctantly to the meetings of the board, unless
first furnished with Lars Hogstad's advice, concerning whatever matter
of importance was before it, which matter was thus most likely to
result in practical improvement. Canute's influence, therefore, brought
his neighbor in as a member of the board, and finally into everything
with which he himself was connected. They always rode together to the
meetings, where Lars never spoke, and only on the road to and from,
could Canute learn his opinion. They were looked upon as inseparable.
One fine autumn day, the parish-commissioners were convened, for the
purpose of considering, among other matters, a proposal made by the
Foged, to sell the public grain-magazine, and with the proceeds
establish a savings-bank. Canute Aakre, the chairman, would certainly
have approved this, had he been guided by his better judgment; but, in
the first place, the motion was made by the Foged, whom Wergeland did
not like, consequently, neither did Canute; secondly, the
grain-magazine had been erected by his powerful paternal grandfather,
by whom it was presented to the parish. To him the proposal was not
free from an appearance of personal offence; therefore, he had not
spoken of it to any one, not even to Lars, who never himself introduced
a subject.
As chairman, Canute read the proposal without comment, but, according
to his habit, looked over to Lars, who sat as usual a little to one
side, holding a straw between his teeth; this he always did when
entering upon a subject, using it as he would a toothpick, letting it
hang loosely in one corner of his mouth, or turning it more quickly or
slowly, according to the humor he was in. Canute now saw with surprise,
that the straw moved very fast. He asked quickly, "Do you think we
ought to agree to this?"
Lars answered dryly, "Yes, I do."
The whole assembly, feeling that Canute was of quite a different
opinion, seemed struck, and looked at Lars, who said nothing further,
nor was further questioned. Canute turned to another subject, as if
nothing had happened, and did not again resume the question till toward
the close of the meeting, when he asked with an air of indifference if
they should send it back to the Foged for closer consideration, as it
certainly was contrary to the mind of the people of the parish, by whom
the grain-magazine was highly valued; also, if he should put upon the
record, "Proposal deemed inexpedient."
"Against one vote," said Lars.
"Against two," said another instantly.
"Against three," said a third, and before the chairman had recovered
from his surprise, a majority had declared in favor of the proposal.
He wrote; then read in a low tone, "Referred for acceptance, and the
meeting adjourned." Canute, rising and closing the "Records," blushed
deeply, but resolved to have this vote defeated in the parish meeting.
In the yard he hitched his horse to the wagon, and Lars came and seated
himself by his side. On the way home they spoke upon various subjects,
but not upon this.
On the following day Canute's wife started for Lars' house, to inquire
of his wife if anything had happened between their husbands; Canute had
appeared so queerly when he returned home the evening previous. A
little beyond the house she met Lars' wife, who came to make the same
inquiry on account of a similar peculiar behavior in her husband. Lars'
wife was a quiet, timid thing, easily frightened, not by hard words,
but by silence; for Lars never spoke to her unless she had done wrong,
or he feared she would do so. On the contrary, Canute Aakre's wife
spoke much with her husband, and particularly about the commissioners'
meetings, for lately they had taken his thoughts, work, and love from
her and the children. She was jealous of it as of a woman, she wept at
night about it, and quarrelled with her husband concerning it in the
day. But now she could say nothing; for once he had returned home
unhappy; she immediately became much more so than he, and for the life
of her she must know what was the matter. So as Lars' wife could tell
her nothing, she had to go for information out in the parish, where she
obtained it, and of course was instantly of her husband's opinion,
thinking Lars incomprehensible, not to say bad. But when she let her
husband perceive this, she felt that, notwithstanding what had
occurred, no friendship was broken between them; on the contrary, that
he liked Lars very much.
The day for the parish meeting came. In the morning, Lars Hogstad drove
over for Canute Aakre, who came out and took a seat beside him. They
saluted each other as usual, spoke a little less than they were wont on
the way, but not at all of the proposal. The meeting was full; some,
too, had come in as spectators, which Canute did not like, for he
perceived by this a little excitement in the parish. Lars had his
straw, and stood by the stove, warming himself, for the autumn had
begun to be cold. The chairman read the proposal in a subdued and
careful manner, adding, that it came from the Foged, who was not
habitually fortunate. The building was a gift, and such things it was
not customary to part with, least of all when there was no necessity
for it.
Lars, who never before had spoken in the meetings, to the surprise of
all, took the floor. His voice trembled; whether this was caused by
regard for Canute, or anxiety for the success of the bill, we cannot
say; but his arguments were clear, good, and of such a comprehensive
and compact character as had hardly before been heard in these
meetings. In concluding, he said:
"Of what importance is it that the proposal is from the
Foged?--none,--or who it was that erected the house, or in what way it
became the public property?"
Canute, who blushed easily, turned very red, and moved nervously as
usual when he was impatient; but notwithstanding, he answered in a low,
careful tone, that there were savings banks enough in the country, he
thought, quite near, and almost too near. But if one was to be
instituted, there were other ways of attaining this end, than by
trampling upon the gifts of the dead, and the love of the living. His
voice was a little unsteady when he said this, but recovered its
composure, when he began to speak of the grain magazine as such, and
reason concerning its utility.
Lars answered him ably on this last, adding: "Besides, for many reasons
I would be led to doubt whether the affairs of this parish are to be
conducted for the best interests of the living, or for the memory of
the dead; or further, whether it is the love and hate of a single
family which rules, rather than the welfare of the whole."
Canute answered quickly: "I don't know whether the last speaker has
been the one least benefited not only by the dead of this family, but
also by its still living representative."
In this remark he aimed first at the fact that his powerful grandfather
had, in his day, managed the farm for Lars' grandfather, when the
latter, on his own account, was on a little visit to the penitentiary.
The straw, which had been moving quickly for a long time, was now still:
"I am not in the habit of speaking everywhere of myself and family,"
said he, treating the matter with calm superiority; then he reviewed
the whole matter in question, aiming throughout at a particular point.
Canute was forced to acknowledge to himself, that he had never looked
upon it from that standpoint, or heard such reasoning; involuntarily he
had to turn his eye upon Lars. There he stood tall and portly, with
clearness marked upon the strongly-built forehead and in the deep eyes.
His mouth was compressed, the straw still hung playing in its corner,
but great strength lay around. He kept his hands behind him, standing
erect, while his low deep intonations seemed as if from the ground in
which he was rooted. Canute saw him for the first time in his life, and
from his inmost soul felt a dread of him; for unmistakably this man had
always been his superior! He had taken all Canute himself knew or could
impart, but retained only what had nourished this strong hidden growth.
He had loved and cherished Lars, but now that he had become a giant, he
hated him deeply, fearfully; he could not explain to himself why he
thought so, but he felt it instinctively, while gazing upon him; and in
this forgetting all else, he exclaimed:
"But Lars! Lars! what in the Lord's name ails you?"
He lost all self-control,--"you, whom I have"--"you, who have"--he
couldn't get out another word, and seated himself, only to struggle
against the excitement which he was unwilling to have Lars see; he drew
himself up, struck the table with his fist, and his eyes snapped from
below the stiff disorderly hair which always shaded them. Lars appeared
as if he had not been interrupted, only turning his head to the
assembly, asking if this should be considered the decisive blow in the
matter, for in such a case nothing more need be said.
Canute could not endure this calmness.
"What is it that has come among us?" he cried. "Us, who to this day
have never debated but in love and upright zeal? We are infuriated at
each other as if incited by an evil spirit;" and he looked with fiery
eyes upon Lars, who answered:
"You yourself surely bring in this spirit, Canute, for I have spoken
only of the case. But you will look upon it only through your own
self-will; now we shall see if your love and upright zeal will endure,
when once it is decided agreeably to our wish."
"Have I not, then, taken good care of the interests of the parish?"
No reply. This grieved Canute, and he continued:
"Really, I did not think otherwise than that I had accomplished
something;--something for the good of the parish;--but may be I have
deceived myself."
He became excited again, for it was a fiery spirit within him, which
was broken in many ways, and the parting with Lars grieved him, so he
could hardly control himself. Lars answered:
"Yes, I know you give yourself the credit for all that is done here,
and should one judge by much speaking in the meetings, then surely you
have accomplished the most."
"Oh, is it this!" shouted Canute, looking sharply upon Lars: "it is you
who have the honor of it!"
"Since we necessarily talk of ourselves," replied Lars, "I will say
that all matters have been carefully considered by us before they were
introduced here."
Here little Canute Aakre resumed his quick way of speaking:
"In God's name take the honor, I am content to live without it; there
are other things harder to lose!"
Involuntarily Lars turned his eye from Canute, but said, the straw
moving very quickly: "If I were to speak my mind, I should say there is
not much to take honor for;--of course ministers and teachers may be
satisfied with what has been done; but, certainly, the common men say
only that up to this time the taxes have become heavier and heavier."
A murmur arose in the assembly, which now became restless. Lars
continued:
"Finally, to-day, a proposition is made which, if carried, would
recompense the parish for all it has laid out; perhaps, for this
reason, it meets such opposition. It is the affair of the parish, for
the benefit of all its inhabitants, and ought to be rescued from being
a family matter." The audience exchanged glances, and spoke half
audibly, when one threw out a remark as he rose to go to his
dinner-pail, that these were "the truest words he had heard in the
meetings for many years." Now all arose, and the conversation became
general. Canute Aakre felt as he sat there that the case was lost,
fearfully lost; and tried no more to save it. He had somewhat of the
character attributed to Frenchmen, in that he was good for first,
second, and third attacks, but poor for self-defence--his sensibilities
overpowering his thoughts.
He could not comprehend it, nor could he sit quietly any longer; so,
yielding his place to the vice-chairman, he left,--and the audience
smiled.
He had come to the meeting accompanied by Lars, but returned home
alone, though the road was long. It was a cold autumn day; the way
looked jagged and bare, the meadow gray and yellow; while frost had
begun to appear here and there on the roadside. Disappointment is a
dreadful companion. He felt himself so small and desolate, walking
there; but Lars was everywhere before him, like a giant, his head
towering, in the dusk of evening, to the sky. It was his own fault that
this had been the decisive battle, and the thought grieved him sorely:
he had staked too much upon a single little affair. But surprise, pain,
anger, had mastered him; his heart still burned, shrieked, and moaned
within him. He heard the rattling of a wagon behind; it was Lars, who
came driving his superb horse past him at a brisk trot, so that the
hard road gave a sound of thunder. Canute gazed after him, as he sat
there so broad-shouldered in the wagon, while the horse, impatient for
home, hurried on unurged by Lars, who only gave loose rein. It was a
picture of his power; this man drove toward the mark! He, Canute, felt
as if thrown out of his wagon to stagger along there in the autumn cold.
Canute's wife was waiting for him at home. She knew there would be a
battle; she had never in her life believed in Lars, and lately had felt
a dread of him. It had been no comfort to her that they had ridden away
together, nor would it have comforted her if they had returned in the
same way. But darkness had fallen, and they had not yet come. She stood
in the doorway, went down the road and home again; but no wagon
appeared. At last she hears a rattling on the road, her heart beats as
violently as the wheels revolve; she clings to the doorpost, looking
out; the wagon is coming; only one sits there; she recognizes Lars, who
sees and recognizes her, but is driving past without stopping. Now she
is thoroughly alarmed! Her limbs fail her; she staggers in, sinking on
the bench by the window. The children, alarmed, gather around, the
youngest asking for papa, for the mother never spoke with them but of
him. She loved him because he had such a good heart, and now this good
heart was not with them; but, on the contrary, away on all kinds of
business, which brought him only unhappiness; consequently, they were
unhappy too.
"Oh, that no harm had come to him to-day! Canute was so excitable! Why
did Lars come home alone? why didn't he stop?"
Should she run after him, or, in the opposite direction, toward her
husband? She felt faint, and the children pressed around her, asking
what was the matter; but this could not be told to them, so she said
they must take supper alone, and, rising, arranged it and helped them.
She was constantly glancing out upon the road. He did not come. She
undressed and put them to bed, and the youngest repeated the evening
prayer, while she bowed over him, praying so fervently in the words
which the tiny mouth first uttered, that she did not perceive the steps
outside.
Canute stood in the doorway, gazing upon his little congregation at
prayer. She rose; all the children shouted "Papa!" but he seated
himself, and said gently:
"Oh! let him repeat it."
The mother turned again to the bedside, that meantime he might not see
her face; otherwise, it would have been like intermeddling with his
grief before he felt a necessity of revealing it. The child folded its
hands,--the rest followed the example,--and it said:
"I am now a little lad, But soon shall grow up tall, And make papa and
mamma glad, I'll be so good to all! When in Thy true and holy ways,
Thou dear, dear God wilt help me keep;--Remember now Thy name to praise
And so we'll try to go to sleep!"
What a peace now fell! Not a minute more had passed ere the children
all slept in it as in the lap of God; but the mother went quietly to
work arranging supper for the father, who as yet could not eat. But
after he had gone to bed, he said:
"Now, after this, I shall be at home."
The mother lay there, trembling with joy, not daring to speak, lest she
should reveal it; and she thanked God for all that had happened, for,
whatever it was, it had resulted in good.
II.
In the course of a year, Lars was chosen head Justice of the Peace,
chairman of the board of commissioners, president of the savings-bank,
and, in short, was placed in every office of parish trust to which his
election was possible. In the county legislature, during the first
year, he remained silent, but afterward made himself as conspicuous as
in the parish council; for here, too, stepping up to the contest with
him who had always borne sway, he was victorious over the whole line,
and afterward himself manager. From this he was elected to the
Congress, where his fame had preceded him, and he found no lack of
challenge. But here, although steady and independent, he was always
retiring, never venturing beyond his depth, lest his post as leader at
home should be endangered by a possible defeat abroad.
It was pleasant to him now in his own town. When he stood by the
church-wall on Sundays, and the community glided past, saluting and
glancing sideways at him,--now and then one stepping up for the honor
of exchanging a couple of words with him,--it could almost be said
that, standing there, he controlled the whole parish with a straw,
which, of course, hung in the corner of his mouth.
He deserved his popularity; for he had opened a new road which led to
the church; all this and much more resulted from the savings-bank,
which he had instituted and now managed; and the parish, in its
self-management and good order, was held up as an example to all others.
Canute, of his own accord, quite withdrew,--not entirely at first, for
he had promised himself not thus to yield to pride. In the first
proposal he made before the parish board, he became entangled by Lars,
who would have it represented in all its details; and, somewhat hurt,
he replied: "When Columbus discovered America he did not have it
divided into counties and towns,--this came by degrees afterward;" upon
which, Lars compared Canute's proposition (relating to stable
improvements) to the discovery of America, and afterward by the
commissioners he was called by no other name than "Discovery of
America." Canute thought since his influence had ceased there, so,
also, had his duty to work; and afterwards declined re-election.