public good, he enlarged his Sunday-school, and put it, by means of
small contributions from the pupils, in connection with the mission
cause, of which he soon became the centre and leader in his own and
surrounding counties. At this, Lars remarked that, if Canute ever
wished to collect money for any purpose, he must first know that its
benefit was only to be realized some thousands of miles away.
There was no strife between them now. True, they associated with each
other no longer, but saluted and exchanged a few words whenever they
met. Canute always felt a little pain in remembering Lars, but
struggled to overcome it, by saying to himself that it must have been
so. Many years afterward at a large wedding-party, where both were
present and a little gay, Canute stepped upon a chair and proposed a
toast to the chairman of the parish council, and the county's first
congressman. He spoke until he manifested emotion, and, as usual, in an
exceedingly handsome way. It was honorably done, and Lars came to him,
saying, with an unsteady eye, that for much of what he knew and was, he
had to thank him.
At the next election, Canute was again elected chairman.
But if Lars Hogstad had foreseen what was to follow, he would not have
influenced this. It is a saying that "all events happen in their time,"
and just as Canute appeared again in the council, the ablest men in the
parish were threatened with bankruptcy, the result of a speculative
fever which had been raging long, but now first began to react. They
said that Lars Hogstad had caused this great epidemic, for it was he
who had brought the spirit of speculation into the parish. This penny
malady had originated in the parish board; for this body itself had
acted as leading speculator. Down to the youth of twenty years, all
were endeavoring by sharp bargains to make the one dollar, ten; extreme
parsimony, in order to lay up in the beginning, was followed by an
exceeding lavishness in the end: and as the thoughts of all were
directed to money only, a disposition to selfishness, suspicion, and
disunion had developed itself, which at last turned to prosecutions and
hatred. It was said that the parish board had set the example in this
also; for one of the first acts, performed by Lars as chairman, was a
prosecution against the minister, concerning doubtful prerogatives. The
venerable pastor had lost, but had also immediately resigned. At the
time some had praised, others denounced, this act of Lars; but it had
proved a bad example. Now came the effects of his management in the
form of loss to all the leading men of the parish; and consequently,
the public opinion quickly changed. The opposite party immediately
found a champion; for Canute Aakre had come into the parish
board,--introduced there by Lars himself.
The struggle at once began. All those youths, who, in their time, had
been under Canute Aakre's instruction, were now grown-up men, the best
educated, conversant with all the business and public transactions in
the parish; Lars had now to contend against these and others like them,
who had disliked him from their childhood. One evening after a stormy
debate, as he stood on the platform outside his door, looking over the
parish, a sound of distant threatening thunder came toward him from the
large farms, lying in the storm. He knew that that day their owners had
become insolvent, that he himself and the savings-bank were going the
same way: and his whole long work would culminate in condemnation
against him.
In these days of struggle and despair, a company of surveyors came one
evening to Hogstad, which was the first farm at the entrance of the
parish to mark out the line of a new railroad. In the course of
conversation, Lars perceived it was still a question with them whether
the road should run through this valley, or another parallel one.
Like a flash of lightning it darted through his mind, that, if he could
manage to get it through here, all real estate would rise in value, and
not only he himself be saved, but his popularity handed down to future
generations. He could not sleep that night, for his eyes were dazzled
with visions; sometimes he seemed to hear the noise of an engine. The
next day he accompanied the surveyors in their examination of the
locality; his horses carried them, and to his farm they returned. The
following day they drove through the other valley, he still with them,
and again carrying them back home. The whole house was illuminated, the
first men of the parish having been invited to a party made for the
surveyors, which terminated in a carouse that lasted until morning. But
to no avail; for the nearer they came to the decision, the clearer it
was to be seen that the road could not be built through here without
great extra expense. The entrance to the valley was narrow, through a
rocky chasm, and the moment it swung into the parish the river made a
curve in its way, so that the road would either have to make the
same--crossing the river twice--or go straight forward through the old,
now unused, churchyard. But it was not long since the last burials
there, for the church had been but recently moved.
Did it only depend upon a strip of an old churchyard, thought Lars,
whether the parish should have this great blessing or not?--then he
would use his name and energy for the removal of the obstacle. So
immediately he made a visit to minister and bishop, from them to county
legislature and Department of the Interior; he reasoned and negotiated;
for he had possessed himself of all possible information concerning the
vast profits that would accrue on the one side, and the feelings of the
parish on the other, and had really succeeded in gaining over all
parties. It was promised him that by the reinterment of some bodies in
the new churchyard, the only objection to this line might be considered
as removed, and the king's approbation guaranteed. It was told him that
he need only make the motion in the county meeting.
The parish had become as excited on the question as himself. The spirit
of speculation, which had been prevalent so many years, now became
jubilant. No one spoke or thought of anything but Lars' journey and its
probable result. Consequently, when he returned with the most splendid
promises, they made much ado about him; songs were sung to his
praise,--yes, if at that time one after another of the largest farms
had toppled over, not a soul would have given it any attention; the
former speculation fever had been succeeded by the new one of the
railroad.
The county board met; an humble petition that the old churchyard might
be used for the railroad was drawn up to be presented to the king. This
was unanimously voted; yes, there was even talk of voting thanks to
Lars, and a gift of a coffee-pot, in the model of a locomotive. But
finally, it was thought best to wait until everything was accomplished.
The petition from the parish to the county board was sent back, with a
requirement of a list of the names of all bodies which must necessarily
be removed. The minister made out this, but instead of sending it
directly to the county board, had his reasons for communicating it
first to the parish. One of the members brought it to the next meeting.
Here, Lars opened the envelope, and as chairman read the names.
Now it happened that the first body to be removed was that of Lars' own
grandfather. A Hide shudder passed through the assembly; Lars himself
was taken by surprise; but continued. Secondly, came the name of Canute
Aakre's grandfather; for the two had died at nearly the same time.
Canute Aakre sprang from his seat; Lars stopped; all looked up with
dread; for the name of the elder Canute Aakre had been the one most
beloved in the parish for generations. There was a pause of some
minutes. At last Lars hemmed, and continued. But the matter became
worse, for the further he proceeded, the nearer it approached their own
day, and the dearer the dead became. When he ceased, Canute Aakre asked
quietly if others did not think as he, that spirits were around them.
It had begun to grow dusk in the room, and although they were mature
men sitting in company, they almost felt themselves frightened. Lars
took a bundle of matches from his pocket and lit a candle, somewhat
dryly remarking that this was no more than they had known beforehand.
"No," replied Canute, pacing the floor, "this is more than I knew
beforehand. Now I begin to think that even railroads can be bought too
dearly."
This electrified the audience, and Canute continued that the whole
affair must be reconsidered, and made a motion to that effect. In the
excitement which had prevailed, he said it was also true that the
benefit to be derived from the road had been considerably overrated;
for if it did not pass through the parish, there would have to be a
depot at each extremity; true, it would be a little more trouble to
drive there, than to a station within; yet not so great as that for
this reason they should dishonor the rest of the dead. Canute was one
of those who, when his thoughts were excited, could extemporize and
present most sound reasons; he had not a moment previously thought of
what he now said; but the truth of it struck all. Lars, seeing the
danger of his position, thought best to be careful, and so apparently
acquiesced in Canute's proposition to reconsider; for such emotions,
thought he, are always strongest in the beginning; one must temporize
with them.
But here he had miscalculated. In constantly increasing the dread of
touching their dead overswept the parish; what no one had thought of as
long as the matter existed only in talk became a serious question when
it came to touch themselves. The women particularly were excited, and
at the parish house, on the day of the next meeting, the road was black
with the gathered multitude. It was a warm summer day, the windows were
taken out, and as many stood without as within. All felt that that day
would witness a great battle.
Lars came, driving his handsome horse, saluted by all; he looked
quietly and confidently around, not seeming surprised at the throng. He
seated himself, straw in mouth, near the window, and not without a
smile saw Canute rise to speak, as he thought, for all the dead lying
over there in the old churchyard.
But Canute Aakre did not begin with the churchyard. He made a stricter
investigation into the profits likely to accrue from carrying the road
through the parish, showing that in all this excitement they had been
over-estimated. He had calculated the distance of each farm from the
nearest station, should the road be taken through the neighboring
valley, and finally asked:
"Why has such a hurrah been made about this railroad, when it would not
be for the good of the parish after all?"
This he could explain; there were those who had brought about such a
previous disturbance, that a greater was necessary in order that the
first might be forgotten. Then, too, there were those who, while the
thing was new, could sell their farms and lands to strangers, foolish
enough to buy; it was a shameful speculation, which not the living only
but the dead also must be made to promote!
The effect produced by his address was very considerable. But Lars had
firmly resolved, come what would, to keep cool, and smilingly replied
that he supposed Canute Aakre himself had been anxious for the
railroad, and surely no one would accuse him of understanding
speculation. (A little laugh ensued.) Canute had had no objection to
the removal of bodies of common people for the sake of the railroad,
but when it came to that of his own grandfather, the question became
suddenly of vital importance to the whole parish. He said no more, but
looked smilingly at Canute, as did also several others. Meanwhile,
Canute Aakre surprised both him and them by replying:
"I confess it; I did not realize what was at stake until it touched my
own dead; possibly this is a shame, but really it would have been a
greater one not even then to have realized it, as is the case with
Lars! Never, I think, could Lars' raillery have been more out of place;
for folks with common feelings the thing is really revolting."
"This feeling has come up quite recently," answered Lars, "and so we
will hope for its speedy disappearance also. It may be well to think
upon what minister, bishop, county officers, engineers, and Department
will say, if we first unanimously set the ball in motion and then come
asking to have it stopped; if we first are jubilant and sing songs,
then weep and chant requiems. If they do not say that we have run mad
here in the parish, at least they may say that we have grown a little
queer lately."
"Yes, God knows, they can say so," answered Canute; "we have been
acting strangely enough during the last few days,--it is time for us to
retract. It has really gone far when we can dig up, each his own
grandfather, to make way for a railroad; when in order that our loads
may be carried more easily forward, we can violate the resting-place of
the dead. For is not overhauling our churchyard the same as making it
yield us food? What has been buried there in Jesus' name, shall we take
up in the name of Mammon? It is but little better than eating our
progenitors' bones."
"That is according to the order of nature," said Lars dryly.
"Yes, the nature of plants and animals," replied Canute.
"Are we not then animals?" asked Lars.
"Yes, but also the children of the living God, who have buried our dead
in faith upon Him; it is He who shall raise them, and not we."
"Oh, you prate! Are not the graves dug over at certain fixed periods
anyway? What evil is there in that it happens some years earlier?"
asked Lars.
"I will tell you! What was born of them yet lives; what they built yet
remains; what they loved, taught, and suffered for is all around us and
within us; and shall we not, then, let their bodies rest in peace?"
"I see by your warmth that you are thinking of your grandfather again,"
replied Lars; "and will say it is high time you ceased to bother the
parish about him, for he monopolized space enough in his lifetime; it
isn't worth while to have him lie in the way now he is dead. Should his
corpse prevent a blessing to the parish that would reach to a hundred
generations, we surely would have reason to say, that of all born here
he has done us most harm."
Canute Aakre tossed back his disorderly hair, his eyes darted fire, his
whole frame appeared like a drawn bow.
"What sort of a blessing this is that you speak of, I have already
proved. It is of the same character as all the others which you have
brought to the parish, namely, a doubtful one. True enough you have
provided us with a new church; but, too, you have filled it with a new
spirit,--and not that of love. True, you have made us new roads,--but
also new roads to destruction, as is now plainly evident in the
misfortunes of many. True, you have lessened our taxes to the public;
but, too, you have increased those to ourselves;--prosecutions,
protests, and failures are no blessing to a community. And you dare
scoff at the man in his grave whom the whole parish blesses! You dare
say he lies in our way,--yes, very likely he lies in your way. This is
plainly to be seen; but over this grave you shall fall! The spirit
which has reigned over you, and at the same time until now over us, was
not born to rule, only to serve. The churchyard shall surely remain
undisturbed; but to-day it numbers one more grave, namely, that of your
popularity, which shall now be interred in it."
Lars Hogstad rose, white as a sheet; he opened his mouth, but was
unable to speak a word, and the straw fell. After three or four vain
attempts to recover it and to find utterance, he belched forth like a
volcano:
"Are these the thanks I get for all my toils and struggles? Shall such
a woman-preacher be able to direct? Ah, then, the devil be your
chairman if ever more I set my foot here! I have kept your petty
business in order until to-day; and after me it will fall into a
thousand pieces; but let it go now. Here are the 'Records!' (and he
flung them across the table). Out on such a company of wenches and
brats! (striking the table with his fist). Out on the whole parish,
that it can see a man recompensed as I now am!"
He brought down his fist once more with such force, that the leaf of
the great table sprang upward, and the inkstand with all its contents
downward upon the floor, marking for coming generations the spot where
Lars Hogstad, in spite of all his prudence, lost his patience and his
rule.
He sprang for the door, and soon after was away from the house. The
whole audience stood fixed,--for the power of his voice and his wrath
had frightened them,--until Canute Aakre, remembering the taunt he had
received at the time of his fall, with beaming countenance, and
assuming Lars' voice, exclaimed:
"Is this the decisive blow in the matter?"
The assembly burst into uproarious merriment. The grave meeting closed
amid laughter, talk, and high glee; only few left the place, those
remaining called for drink, and made a night of thunder succeed a day
of lightning. They felt happy and independent as in old days, before
the time in which the commanding spirit of Lars had cowed their souls
into silent obedience. They drank toasts to their liberty, they sang,
yes, finally they danced, Canute Aakre with the vice-chairman taking
lead, and all the members of the council following, and boys and girls
too, while the young ones outside shouted, "hurrah!" for such a
spectacle they had never before witnessed.
III.
Lars moved around in the large rooms at Hogstad without uttering a
word. His wife who loved him, but always with fear and trembling, dared
not so much as show herself in his presence. The management of the farm
and house had to go on as it would, while a multitude of letters were
passing to and fro between Hogstad and the parish, Hogstad and the
capital; for he had charges against the county board which were not
acknowledged, and a prosecution ensued; against the savings-bank, which
were also unacknowledged, and so came another prosecution. He took
offence at articles in the Christiania Correspondence, and prosecuted
again, first the chairman of the county board, and then the directors
of the savings-bank. At the same time there were bitter articles in the
papers, which according to report were by him, and were the cause of
great strife in the parish, setting neighbor against neighbor.
Sometimes he was absent whole weeks at once, nobody knowing where, and
after returning lived secluded as before. At church he was not seen
after the grand scene in the representatives' meeting.
Then, one Saturday night, the mail brought news that the railroad was
to go through the parish after all, and through the old churchyard. It
struck like lightning into every home. The unanimous veto of the county
board had been in vain; Lars Hogstad's influence had proved stronger.
This was what his absence meant, this was his work! It was involuntary
on the part of the people that admiration of the man and his dogged
persistency should lessen dissatisfaction at their own defeat; and the
more they talked of the matter the more reconciled they seemed to
become: for whatever has once been settled beyond all change develops
in itself, little by little, reasons why it is so, which we are
accordingly brought to acknowledge.
In going to church next day, as they encountered each other they could
not help laughing; and before the service, just as nearly all were
convened outside,--young and old, men and women, yes, even
children,--talking about Lars Hogstad, his talents, his strong will,
and his great influence, he himself with his household came driving up
in four carriages. Two years had passed since he was last there. He
alighted and walked through the crowd, when involuntarily all lifted
their hats to him like one man; but he looked neither to the right nor
the left, nor returned a single salutation. His little wife, pale as
death, walked behind him. In the house, the surprise became so great
that, one after another, noticing him, stopped singing and stared.
Canute Aakre, who sat in his pew in front of Lars', perceiving the
unusual appearance and no cause for it in front, turned around and saw
Lars sitting bowed over his hymn-book, looking for the place.
He had not seen him until now since the day of the representatives'
meeting, and such a change in a man he never could have imagined. This
was no victor. His head was becoming bald, his face was lean and
contracted, his eyes hollow and bloodshot, and the giant neck presented
wrinkles and cords. At a glance he perceived what this man had endured,
and was as suddenly seized with a feeling of strong pity, yes, even
with a touch of the old love. In his heart he prayed for him, and
promised himself surely to seek him after service; but, ere he had
opportunity, Lars had gone. Canute resolved he would call upon him at
his home that night, but his wife kept him back.
"Lars is one of the kind," said she, "who cannot endure a debt of
gratitude: keep away from him until possibly he can in some way do you
a favor, and then perhaps he will come to you."
However, he did not come. He appeared now and then at church, but
nowhere else, and associated with no one. On the contrary, he devoted
himself to his farm and other business with an earnestness which showed
a determination to make up in one year for the neglect of many; and,
too, there were those who said it was necessary.
Railroad operations in the valley began very soon. As the line was to
go directly past his house, Lars remodelled the side facing the road,
connecting with it an elegant verandah, for of course his residence
must attract attention. They were just engaged in this work when the
rails were laid for the conveyance of gravel and timber, and a small
locomotive was brought up. It was a fine autumn evening when the first
gravel train was to come down. Lars stood on the platform of his house
to hear the first signal, and see the first column of smoke; all the
hands on the farm were gathered around him. He looked out over the
parish, lying in the setting sun, and felt that he was to be remembered
so long as a train should roar through the fruitful valley. A feeling
of forgiveness crept into his soul. He looked toward the churchyard, of
which a part remained, with crosses bowing toward the earth, but a part
had become railroad. He was just trying to define his feelings, when,
whistle went the first signal, and a while after the train came slowly
along, puffing out smoke mingled with sparks, for wood was used instead
of coal; the wind blew toward the house, and standing there they soon
found themselves enveloped in a dense smoke; but by and by, as it
cleared away, Lars saw the train working through the valley like a
strong will.
He was satisfied, and entered the house as after a long day's work. The
image of his grandfather stood before him at this moment. This
grandfather had raised the family from poverty to forehanded
circumstances; true, a part of his citizen-honor had been lost, but
forward he had pushed, nevertheless. His faults were those of his time;
they were to be found on the uncertain borders of the moral conceptions
of that period, and are of no consideration now. Honor to him in his
grave, for he suffered and worked; peace to his ashes. It is good to
rest at last. But he could get no rest because of his grandson's great
ambition. He was thrown up with stone and gravel. Pshaw! very likely he
would only smile that his grandson's work passed above his head.
With such thoughts he had undressed and gone to bed. Again his
grandfather's image glided forth. What did he wish. Surely he ought to
be satisfied now, with the family's honor sounding forth above his
grave; who else had such a monument? But yet, what mean these two great
eyes of fire? This hissing, roaring, is no longer the locomotive, for
see! it comes from the churchyard directly toward the house: an immense
procession! The eyes of fire are his grandfather's, and the train
behind are all the dead. It advances continually toward the house,
roaring, crackling, flashing. The windows burn in the reflection of
dead men's eyes ... he made a mighty effort to collect himself, "For it
was a dream, of course, only a dream; but let me waken! ... See: now I
am awake; come, ghosts!"