II

In the course of a year Lars had become chairman of the parish board of

supervisors, president of the savings-bank, and leading commissioner in

the court of reconciliation; in short, he held every office to which

his election had been possible. In the board of supervisors for the amt

(county) he was silent during the first year, but the second year he

created the same sensation when he spoke as in the parish board; for

here, too, coming forward in opposition to him who had previously been

the guiding power, he became victorious over the entire rank and file,

and was from that time himself the leader. From this his path led him

to the storthing (parliament), where his fame had preceded him, and

where consequently there was no lack of challenges. But here, although

steady and firm, he always remained retiring. He did not care for power

except where he was well known, nor would he risk leadership at home by

a possible defeat abroad.

For he had a pleasant life at home. When he stood by the church wall

on Sundays, and the congregation walked slowly past, saluting him and

stealing side glances at him, and one after another paused in order

to exchange a few words with him--then truly it might be said that he

controlled the entire parish with a straw, for of course this hung in

the corner of his mouth.

He deserved his honors. The road leading to the church, he had opened;

the new church they were standing beside, he had built; this and

much more was the fruit of the savings-bank which he had founded and

now managed himself. For its resources were further made fruitful,

and the parish was constantly held up as an example to all others of

self-management and good order.

Knud Aakre had entirely withdrawn from the field, although at first he

attended a few of the meetings of the board, because he had promised

himself that he would continue to offer his services, even if it were

not altogether pleasing to his pride. In the first proposal he had

made he became so greatly perplexed by Lars, who insisted upon having

it represented in all its details, that, somewhat hurt, he said: “When

Columbus discovered America he did not have it divided into parishes

and deaneries: this came gradually;” whereupon Lars, in his reply,

compared the discovery of America with Knud’s proposal--it so happened

that this treated of stable improvements--and afterward Knud was known

by no other name in the board than “Discovery of America.” So Knud

thought that as his usefulness had ceased, so too had his obligations

to work, and he refused to accept further reelections.

But he continued to be industrious; and in order that he might still

have a field for usefulness, he enlarged his Sunday-school, and

placed it, by means of small contributions from the attendants, in

communication with the mission cause, of which he soon became the

centre and leader in his own and the surrounding counties. Thereupon

Lars Högstad remarked, that if ever Knud undertook to collect money for

any purpose, he must know beforehand that it was to do good thousands

of miles from home.

There was, be it observed, no more strife between them. To be sure,

they no longer associated with each other, but they bowed and spoke

when they met. Knud always felt a little pain at the mere thought of

Lars, but strove to suppress it, and persuade himself that matters

could not have been otherwise. At a large wedding-party, many years

afterward, where both were present and both were in good spirits,

Knud mounted a chair and proposed a toast for the chairman of the

parish board, and the first representative their amt had sent to the

storthing! He spoke until he became deeply moved, and, as usual,

expressed himself in an exceedingly handsome way. Every one thought it

was honorably done, and Lars came up to him, and his gaze was unsteady

as he said that for much of what he knew and was he was indebted to him.

At the next election of the board of supervisors Knud was again made

chairman!

But had Lars Högstad foreseen what now followed, he would certainly

not have used his influence for this. “Every event happens in its own

time,” says an old proverb, and just as Knud Aakre again entered the

board, the best men of the parish were threatened with ruin, as the

result of a speculation craze which had long been raging, but which

now first began to demand its victims. It was said that Lars Högstad

was the cause of this great disaster, for he had taught the parish

to speculate. This penny fever had originated in the parish board

of supervisors, for the board itself was the greatest speculator of

all. Every one down to the laboring youth of twenty years desired

in his transactions to make ten dollars out of one; a beginning of

extreme avarice in the efforts to hoard, was followed by an excessive

extravagance, and as all minds were bent only on money, there had at

the same time developed a spirit of suspicion, of intolerance, of

caviling, which resulted in lawsuits and hatred. This also was due

to the example of the board, it was said, for among the first things

Lars had done as chairman was to sue the venerable old priest for

holding doubtful titles. The priest had lost, but had also immediately

resigned. At that time some had praised, some censured this suit;

but it had proved a bad example. Now came the consequences of Lars’s

management, in the form of loss to every single man of property in

the parish, consequently public opinion underwent a sharp change! The

opposing force, too, soon found a leader, for Knud Aakre had come into

the board, introduced by Lars.

The struggle began forthwith. All those youths to whom Knud in his time

had given instructions, were now grown up and were the most enlightened

men in the parish, thoroughly at home in all its transactions and

public affairs. It was against these men that Lars now had to contend,

and they had borne him a grudge from their childhood up. When of an

evening after one of these stormy proceedings he stood on the steps in

front of his house, gazing over the parish, he could hear a sound as

of distant rumbling thunder rising toward him from the large gards,

now lying in the storm. He knew that the day they met their ruin, the

savings-bank and himself would be overthrown, and all his long efforts

would culminate in imprecations on his own head.

In these days of conflict and despair, a party of railroad

commissioners, who were to survey the route for a new road, made their

appearance one evening at Högstad, the first gard at the entrance to

the parish. In the course of conversation during the evening, Lars

learned that there was a question whether the road should run through

this valley or another parallel to it.

Like a flash of lightning it darted through his mind that if he could

succeed in having it laid here, all property would rise in value, and

not only would he himself be saved but his fame would be transmitted

to the latest posterity! He could not sleep that night, for his eyes

were dazzled by a glowing light, and sometimes he could even hear the

sound of the cars. The next day he went himself with the commissioners

while they examined the locality; his horse took them, and to his gard

they returned. The next day they drove through the other valley; he was

still with them, and he drove them back again to his house. They found

a brilliant illumination at Högstad; the first men of the parish had

been invited to be present at a magnificent party given in honor of

the commissioners; it lasted until morning. But to no avail, for the

nearer they came to a final issue, the more plainly it appeared that

the road could not pass through this locality without undue expense.

The entrance to the valley lay through a narrow gorge, and just as it

swung into the parish, the swollen river swung in also, so that the

railroad would either have to take the same curve along the mountain

that the highway now made, thus running at a needlessly high altitude

and crossing the river twice, or it would have to run straight forward,

and thus through the old, now unused churchyard. Now the church had but

recently been removed, and it was not long since the last burial had

taken place there.

If it only depended on a bit of old churchyard, thought Lars, whether

or not this great blessing came into the parish, then he must use his

name and his energy for the removal of this obstacle! He at once set

forth on a visit to the priest and the dean, and furthermore to the

diocese council; he talked and he negotiated, for he was armed with

all possible facts concerning the immense advantage of the railroad on

one hand, and the sentiments of the parish on the other, and actually

succeeded in winning all parties. It was promised him that by a removal

of part of the bodies to the new churchyard the objections might be set

aside, and the royal permission obtained for the churchyard to be taken

for the line of railroad. It was told him that nothing was now needed

but for him to set the question afloat in the board of supervisors.

The parish had grown as excited as himself: the spirit of speculation

which for many years had been the only one prevailing in the parish,

now became madly jubilant. There was nothing spoken or thought of but

Lars’s journey and its possible results. When he returned with the

most magnificent promises, they made much of him; songs were sung in

his praise; indeed, if at that time the largest gards had gone to

destruction, one after another, no one would have paid the slightest

attention to it: the speculation craze had given way to the railroad

craze.

The board of supervisors assembled: there was presented for approval

a respectful petition, that the old churchyard might be appropriated

as the route of the railroad. This was unanimously adopted; there was

even mention of giving Lars a vote of thanks and a coffee-pot in the

form of a locomotive. But it was finally thought best to wait until the

whole plan was carried into execution. The petition came back from the

diocese council, with a demand for a list of all bodies that would have

to be removed. The priest made out such a list, but instead of sending

it direct, he had his own reasons for sending it through the parish

board. One of the members carried it to the next meeting. Here it fell

to the lot of Lars, as chairman, to open the envelope and read the list.

Now it chanced that the first body to be disinterred was that of

Lars’s own grandfather! A little shudder ran through the assembly!

Lars himself was startled, but nevertheless continued to read. Then

it furthermore chanced that the second body was that of Knud Aakre’s

grandfather, for these two men had died within a short time of each

other. Knud Aakre sprang from his seat; Lars paused; every one looked

up in consternation, for old Knud Aakre had been the benefactor of the

parish and its best beloved man, time out of mind. There was a dead

silence, which lasted for some minutes. At last Lars cleared his throat

and went on reading. But the further he proceeded the worse the matter

grew; for the nearer they came to their own time, the dearer were the

dead. When he had finished, Knud Aakre asked quietly whether the others

did not agree with him in thinking that the air about them was filled

with spirits. It was just beginning to grow dark in the room, and

although they were mature men, sitting in numbers together, they could

not refrain from feeling alarmed. Lars produced a bundle of matches

from his pocket and struck a light, dryly remarking that this was no

more than they knew before.

“Yes, it is,” said Knud pacing the floor, “it is more than I knew

before. Now I begin to think that even railroads can be purchased too

dearly.”

These words sent a quiver through the audience, and, observing that

they had better further consider the matter, Knud made a motion to that

effect.

In the excitement which had prevailed, he said, the benefit likely to

be derived from the road had been overestimated. Even if the railroad

did not pass through this parish, there would have to be stations

at both ends of the valley; true, it would always be a little more

troublesome to drive to them than to a station right in our midst, yet

the difficulty would not be so very great that it would be necessary

because of it to violate the repose of the dead.

Knud was one of those who when his thoughts were once in rapid motion

could present the most convincing arguments; a moment before what he

now said had not occurred to his mind, nevertheless it struck home

to all. Lars felt the danger of his position, and concluding that it

was best to be cautious, apparently acquiesced in Knud’s proposition

to reconsider. Such emotions are always worse in the beginning, he

thought; it is wisest to temporize with them.

But he had miscalculated. In ever-increasing waves the dread of

touching the dead of their own families swept over the inhabitants of

the parish; what none of them had thought of as long as the matter

existed merely in the abstract, now became a serious question when it

was brought home to themselves. The women especially were excited, and

the road near the courthouse was black with people the day of the next

meeting. It was a warm summer day, the windows were removed, and there

were as many without the house as within. All felt that a battle was to

be fought.

Lars came driving up with his handsome horse, and was greeted by all;

he looked calmly and confidently around, not seeming to be surprised

at anything. He took a seat near the window, found his straw, and a

suspicion of a smile played over his keen face as he saw Knud Aakre

rise to his feet to act as spokesman for all the dead in the old

Högstad churchyard.

But Knud Aakre did not begin with the churchyard. He began with an

accurate exposition of how greatly the profits likely to accrue from

having the railroad run through the parish had been overestimated in

all this turmoil. He had positive proofs for every statement he made;

he had calculated the distance of each gard from the nearest station.

Finally he asked:

“Why has there been so much ado about this railroad, if not in behalf

of the parish?”

This he could easily explain to them. There were those who had

occasioned so great a disturbance that a still greater one was required

to conceal it. Moreover, there were those who in the first outburst of

excitement could sell their gards and belongings to strangers who were

foolish enough to purchase. It was a shameful speculation which not

only the living but the dead must serve to promote!

The effect of his address was very considerable. But Lars had once for

all resolved to preserve his composure let come what would. He replied,

therefore, with a smile, that he had been under the impression that

Knud himself was eager for the railroad, and certainly no one would

accuse him of having any knowledge of speculation. (Here followed a

little laugh.) Knud had not evinced the slightest objection to the

removal of the bodies of common people for the sake of the railroad;

but when his own grandfather’s body was in question then it suddenly

affected the welfare of the whole community! He said no more, but

looked with a faint smile at Knud, as did also several others.

Meanwhile, Knud Aakre surprised both him and them by replying:

“I confess it; I did not comprehend the matter until it touched my own

family feelings; it is possible that this may be a shame, but it would

have been a far greater one not to have realized it at last--as is the

case with Lars! Never,” he concluded, “could this raillery have been

more out of place; for to people with common decency the whole affair

is revolting.”

“This feeling is something that has come up quite recently,” replied

Lars; “we may, therefore, hope that it will soon pass over again. May

it not perhaps help the matter a little to think what the priest,

dean, diocese council, engineers, and government will all say if we

first unanimously set the ball in motion, then come and beg to have it

stopped? If we first are jubilant and sing songs, then weep and deliver

funeral orations? If they do not say that we have gone mad in this

parish, they must at all events say that we have acted rather strangely

of late.”

“Yes, God knows, they may well think so!” replied Knud. “We have,

indeed, acted very strangely of late, and it is high time for us to

mend our ways. Things have come to a serious pass when we can each

disinter his own grandfather to make way for a railroad; when we can

disturb the resting-place of the dead in order that our own burdens may

the more easily be carried. For is not this rooting in our churchyard

in order to make it yield us food the same thing? What is buried there

in the name of Jesus, we take up in Moloch’s name--this is but little

better than eating the bones of our ancestors.”

“Such is the course of nature,” said Lars, dryly.

“Yes, of plants and of animals.”

“And are not we animals?”

“We are, but also the children of the living God, who have buried our

dead in faith in Him: it is He who shall rouse them and not we.”

“Oh, you are talking idly! Are we not obliged to have the graves dug up

at any rate, when their turn comes? What harm if it happen now?”

“I will tell you. What was born of them still draws the breath of life;

what they built up yet remains; what they loved, taught, and suffered

for, lives about us and within us; and should we not allow them to rest

in peace?”

“Your warmth shows me that you are thinking of your own grandfather

again,” replied Lars, “and I must say it seems to me high time the

parish should be rid of _him_. He monopolized too much space while he

lived; and so it is scarcely worth while to have him lie in the way now

that he is dead. Should his corpse prevent a blessing to this parish

that would extend through a hundred generations, we may truly say that

of all who have been born here, _he_ has done us the greatest harm.”

Knud Aakre tossed back his disorderly hair, his eyes flashed, his whole

person looked like a bent steel spring.

“How much of a blessing what you are speaking about may be, I have

already shown. It has the same character as all the other blessings

with which you have supplied the parish, namely, a doubtful one. It

is true, you have provided us with a new church, but you have also

filled it with a new spirit--and it is not that of love. True, you have

furnished us with new roads, but also with new roads to destruction,

as is now plainly manifest in the misfortunes of many. True, you have

diminished our public taxes, but you have increased our private ones;

lawsuits, promissory notes, and bankruptcies are no fruitful gifts to

a community. And _you_ dare to dishonor in his grave the man whom the

whole parish blesses? You dare assert that he lies in our way; ay, no

doubt he does lie in your way, this is plain enough now, for his grave

will be the cause of your downfall! The spirit which has reigned over

you, and until to-day over us all, was not born to rule but to enter

into servitude. The churchyard will surely be allowed to remain in

peace; but to-day it shall have one grave added to it, namely, that of

your popularity, which is now to be buried there.”

Lars Högstad rose, white as a sheet; his lips parted, but he was unable

to utter a word, and the straw fell. After a few vain efforts to find

and recover his powers of speech, he burst forth like a volcano with:

“And so these are the thanks I get for all my toil and drudgery! If

such a woman-preacher is to be allowed to rule--why, then, may the

devil be your chairman if ever I set my foot here again! I have kept

things together until this day, and after me your trash will fall into

a thousand pieces, but let it tumble down now--here is the register!”

And he flung it on the table. “Shame on such an assembly of old women

and brats!” Here he struck the table with great violence. “Shame on the

whole parish that it can see a man rewarded as I am now.”

He brought down his fist once more with such force that the great

courthouse table shook, and the inkstand with its entire contents

tumbled to the floor, marking for all future generations the spot where

Lars Högstad fell in spite of all his prudence, his long rule, and his

patience.

He rushed to the door and in a few moments had left the place. The

entire assembly remained motionless; for the might of his voice and of

his wrath had frightened them, until Knud Aakre, remembering the taunt

he had received at the time of _his_ fall, with beaming countenance and

imitating Lars’s voice, exclaimed:

“Is _this_ to be the decisive blow in the matter?”

The whole assembly burst into peals of merriment at these words! The

solemn meeting ended in laughter, talk, and high glee; only a few left

the place, those remaining behind called for drink to add to their

food, and a night of thunder succeeded a day of lightning. Every one

felt as happy and independent as of yore, ere the commanding spirit of

Lars had cowed their souls into dumb obedience. They drank toasts to

their freedom; they sang, indeed, finally they danced, Knud Aakre and

the vice-chairman taking the lead and all the rest following, while

boys and girls joined in, and the young folks outside shouted “Hurrah!”

for such a jollification they had never before seen!