Growth of the Soil - Knut Hamsun
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There was no arguing with Oline, she bewildered her adversaries with
talk and cast them down. When she learned that Uncle Sivert had sent
for Eleseus, she grasped at that too, and made her own advantage of
it: "There you are, and see if I was talking nonsense. Here's old
Sivert calling up his kinsfolk and longing for a sight of his own
flesh and blood; ay, he's nearing his end! You can't refuse him,
Eleseus; off with you at once this minute and see your uncle while
there's life in him. I'm going that way too, we'll go together."
Oline did not leave Sellanraa without taking Inger aside for more
whisperings of Barbro. "Not a word I've said--but I could see the
signs of it! And now I suppose she'll be wife and all on the farm
there. Ay, there's some folk are born to great things, for all they
may be small as the sands of the sea in their beginnings. And who'd
have ever thought it of that girl Barbro! Axel, yes, never doubt but
he's a toiling sort and getting on, and great fine lands and means and
all like you've got here--'tis more than we know of over on our side
the hills, as you know's a true word, Inger, being born and come of
the place yourself. Barbro, she'd a trifle of wool in a chest; 'twas
naught but winter wool, and I wasn't asking and she never offered me.
We said but _Goddag_ and _Farvel_, for all that I'd known her from she
was a toddling child all that time I was here at Sellanraa by reason
of you being away and learning knowledge at the Institute...."
"There's Rebecca crying," said Inger, breaking in on Oline. But she
gave her a handful of wool.
Then a great thanksgiving speech from Oline: ay, wasn't it just as she
had said to Barbro herself of Inger, and how there was not her like
to be found for giving to folk; ay, she'd give till she was bare, and
give her fingers to the bone, and never complain. Ay, go in and see to
the sweet angel, and never was there a child in the world so like her
mother as Rebecca--no. Did Inger remember how she'd said one day as
she'd never have children again? Ah, now she could see! No, better
give ear to them as were grown old and had borne children of their
own, for who should fathom the Lord His ways, said Oline.
And with that she padded off after Eleseus up through the forest,
shrunken with age, grey and abject, and for ever nosing after things,
imperishable. Going to old Sivert now, to let him know how she, Oline,
had managed to persuade Eleseus to come.
But Eleseus had needed no persuading, there was no difficulty there.
For, look you, Eleseus had turned out better, after all, than he'd
begun; a decent lad in his way, kindly and easy-going from a child,
only nothing great in the way of bodily strength. It was not without
reason he had been unwilling to come home this time; he knew well
enough that his mother had been in prison for child-murder; he had
never heard a word about it there in the town, but at home in the
village every one would remember. And it was not for nothing he had
been living with companions of another sort. He had grown to be more
sensitive and finer feeling than ever before. He knew that a fork was
really just as necessary as a knife. As a man of business, he used the
terms of the new coinage, whereas, out in the wilds, men still counted
money by the ancient _Daler_. Ay, he was not unwilling to walk across
the hills to other parts; here, at home, he was constantly forced to
keep down his own superiority. He tried his best to adapt himself to
the others, and he managed well; but it was always having to be on his
guard. As, for instance, when he had first come back to Sellanraa
a couple of weeks ago, he had brought with him his light spring
overcoat, though it was midsummer; and when he hung it up on a nail,
he might just as well have turned it so as to show the silver plate
inside with his initials, but he didn't. And the same with his
stick--his walking-stick. True, it was only an umbrella stick really,
that he had dismantled and taken the framework off; but here he had
not used it as he did in town, swinging it about--only carried it
hidden against his thigh.
No, it was not surprising that Eleseus went across the hills. He was
no good at building houses; he was good at writing with letters, a
thing not every one could do, but here at home there was no one in all
the place that set any store by the art of it save perhaps his mother.
He set off gaily through the woods, far ahead of Oline; he could wait
for her farther up. He ran like a calf; he hurried. Eleseus had in a
way stolen off from the farm; he was afraid of being seen. For,
to tell the truth, he had taken with him both spring coat and
walking-stick for the journey. Over on the other side there might be a
chance of seeing people, and being seen himself; he might even be able
to go to church. And so he sweated happily under the weight of an
unnecessary spring coat in the heat of the sun.
They did not miss him at the building, far from it. Isak had Sivert
back again, and Sivert was worth a host of his brother at that work;
he could keep at it from morning to night. It did not take them
long to get the framework up; it was only three walls, as they were
building out from the other. And they had less trouble with the
timber; they could cut their planks at the sawmill, which gave them
the outside pieces for roofing at the same time. And one fine day
there was the house all finished, before their eyes, roofed, floored,
and with the windows in. They had no time for more than this between
the seasons; the boarding and painting would have to wait.
And now came Geissler with a great following across the hills from
Sweden. And the men with him rode on horseback with glossy-coated
horses and yellow saddles; rich travellers they must be no doubt;
stout, heavy men; the horses bowed under their weight. And among all
these great personages came Geissler on foot. Four gentlemen and
Geissler made up the party, and then there were a couple of servants
each leading a packhorse.
The riders dismounted outside the farm, and Geissler said: "Here's
Isak--here's the Margrave of the place himself. _Goddag_, Isak! I've
come back again, you see, as I said I would."
Geissler was the same as ever. For all that he came on foot, his
manner showed no consciousness of inferiority to the rest; ay, his
threadbare coat hung long and wretched-looking down over his shrunken
back, but he put on a grand enough air for all that. He even
said: "We're going up into the hills a bit, these gentlemen and
myself--it'll do them good to get their weight down a bit."
The gentlemen themselves were nice and pleasant enough; they smiled
at Geissler's words, and hoped Isak would excuse their coming rioting
over his land like this. They had brought their own provisions, and
did not propose to eat him out of house and home, but they would be
glad of a roof over their heads for the night. Perhaps he could put
them up in the new building there?
When they had rested a while, and Geissler had been inside with Inger
and the children, the whole party went up into the hills and stayed
out till evening. Now and again in the course of the afternoon, the
folks at Sellanraa could hear an unusually heavy report from the
distance, and the train of them came down with new bags of samples.
"Blue copper," they said, nodding at the ore. They talked long and
learnedly, and consulting a sort of map they had drawn; there was an
engineer among them, and a mining expert; one appeared to be a big
landowner or manager of works. They talked of aerial railways and
cable traction. Geissler threw in a word here and there, and each time
as if advising them; they paid great attention to what he said.
"Who owns the land south of the lake?" one of them asked Isak.
"The State," answered Geissler quickly. He was wide awake and sharp,
and held in his hand the document Isak had once signed with his mark.
"I told you before--the State," he said. "No need to ask again. If you
don't believe me, you can find out for yourself if you please."
Later in the evening, Geissler took Isak aside and said: "Look here,
shall we sell that copper mine?"
Said Isak: "Why, as to that, 'twas so that Lensmand bought it of me
once, and paid for it."
"True," said Geissler. "I bought the ground. But then there was a
provision that you were to have a percentage of receipts from working
or sale; are you willing to dispose of your share?"
This was more than Isak could understand, and Geissler had to explain.
Isak could not work a mine, being a farmer and a clearer of forest
land; Geissler himself couldn't run a mine either. Money, capital? Ho,
as much as he wanted, never fear! But he hadn't the time, too many
things to do, always running about the country, attending to his
property in the south, his property in the north. And now Geissler was
thinking of selling out to these Swedish gentlemen here; they were
relatives of his wife, all of them, and rich men. "Do you see what I
mean?"
"I'll do it what way you please," said Isak.
A strange thing--this complete confidence seemed to comfort Geissler
wonderfully in his threadbareness. "Well, I'm not sure it's the best
thing you could do," he said thoughtfully. Then suddenly he was
certain, and went on: "But if you'll give me a free hand to act on
my discretion, I can do better for you at any rate than you could by
yourself."
"H'm," began Isak. "You've always been a good man to us all here...."
But Geissler frowned at that, and cut him short: "All right, then."
Next morning the gentlemen sat down to write. It was a serious
business; there was first of all a contract for forty thousand
_Kroner_ for the sale of the mine, then a document whereby Geissler
made over the whole of the money to his wife and children. Isak and
Sivert were called in to witness the signatures to these. When it
was done, the gentlemen wanted to buy over Isak's percentage for a
ridiculous sum--five hundred _Kroner_. Geissler put a stop to that,
however. "Jesting apart," he said.
Isak himself understood but little of the whole affair; he had sold
the place once, and got his money. But in any case, he did not care
much about _Kroner_--it was not real money like _Daler_. Sivert, on
the other hand, followed the business with more understanding.
There was something peculiar, he thought, about the tone of these
negotiations; it looked very much like a family affair between the
parties. One of the strangers would say: "My dear Geissler, you ought
not to have such red eyes, you know." Whereto Geissler answered
sharply, if evasively: "No, I ought not, I know. But we don't all get
what we ought to in this world!"
It looked very much as if Fru Geissler's brothers and kinsmen were
trying to buy off her husband, secure themselves against his visits
for the future, and get quit of a troublesome relation. As to the
mine, it was worth something in itself, no doubt, no one denied it;
but it lay far out of the way, and the buyers themselves said they
were only taking it over in order to sell it again to some one better
in a position to work it. There was nothing unreasonable in that. They
declared too, quite frankly, that they had no idea what they would be
able to get for it as it stood; if it were taken up and worked, then
the forty thousand might turn out to be only a fraction of what it was
worth; if it were allowed to lie there as it was, the money was simply
thrown away. But in any case, they wanted to have a clear title,
without encumbrance, and therefore they offered Isak five hundred
_Kroner_ for his share.
"I'm acting on his behalf," said Geissler, "and I'm not going to sell
out his share for less than ten per cent. of the purchase-money."
"Four thousand!" said the others.
"Four thousand," said Geissler. "The land was his, and his share comes
to four thousand. It wasn't mine, and I get forty thousand. Kindly
turn that over in your minds, if you please."
"Yes, but--four thousand _Kroner_!"
Geissler rose from his place, and said: "That, or no sale."
They thought it over, whispered about it, went out into the yard,
talking as long as they could. "Get the horses ready," they called to
the servants. One of the gentlemen went in to Inger and paid royally
for coffee, a few eggs, and their lodging. Geissler walked about with
a careless air, but he was wide awake all the same.
"How did that irrigation work turn out last year?" he asked Sivert.
"It saved the whole crop."
"You've cut away that mound there since I was here last, what?"
"Ay."
"You must have another horse on the farm," said Geissler. He noticed
everything.
One of the strangers came up. "Now then, let's get this matter settled
and have done with it," he said.
They all went into the new building again, and Isak's four thousand
_Kroner_ were counted out. Geissler was given a paper, which he
thrust into his pocket as if it were of no value at all. "Keep that
carefully," they told him, "and in a few days your wife shall have the
bankbook sent."
Geissler puckered his forehead and said shortly: "Very good."
But they were not finished with Geissler yet. Not that he opened his
mouth to ask for anything; he simply stood there, and they saw how he
stood there: maybe he had stipulated beforehand for a trifle on his
own account. The leader gave him a bundle of notes, and Geissler
simply nodded again, and said: "Very good."
"And now I think we ought to drink a glass with Geissler," said the
other.
They drank, and that was done. And then they took leave of Geissler.
Just at that moment came Brede Olsen walking up. Now what did he want?
Brede had doubtless heard the reports of the blasting charges the day
before, and understood that there was something on foot in the way
of mines. And now he came up ready to sell something too. He walked
straight past Geissler, and addressed himself to the gentlemen; he
had found some remarkable specimens of rock hereabouts, quite
extraordinary, some blood-like, others like silver; he knew every
cranny and corner in the hills around and could go straight to every
spot; he knew of long veins of some heavy metal--whatever it might be.
"Have you any samples?" asked the mining expert.
Yes, Brede had samples. But couldn't they just as well go up and look
at the places at once? It wasn't far. Samples--oh, sacks of them,
whole packing-cases full. No, he had not brought them with him, they
were at home--he could run down and fetch them. But it would be
quicker just to run up into the hills and fetch some more, if they
would only wait.
The men shook their heads and went on their way.
Brede looked after them with an injured air. If he had felt a glimmer
of hope for the moment, it was gone now; fate was against him, nothing
ever went right. Well for Brede that he was not easily cast down; he
looked after the men as they rode away, and said at last: "Wish you a
pleasant journey!" And that was all.
But now he was humble again in his manner towards Geissler, his former
chief, and no longer treated him as an equal, but used forms of
respect. Geissler had taken out his pocket-book on some pretext or
other, and any one could see that it was stuffed full of notes.
"If only Lensmand could help me a bit," said Brede.
"Go back home and work your land properly," said Geissler, and helped
him not a bit.
"I might easily have brought up a whole barrow-load of samples, but
wouldn't it have been easier to go up and look at the place itself
while they were here?"
Geissler took no notice of him, and turned to Isak: "Did you see what
I did with that document? It was a most important thing--a matter
of several thousand _Kroner_. Oh, here it is, in among a bundle of
notes."
"Who were those people?" asked Brede. "Just out for a ride, or what?"
Geissler had been having an anxious time, no doubt, and now he cooled
down. But he had still something of life and eagerness in him, enough
to do a little more; he went up into the hills with Sivert, and took a
big sheet of paper with him, and drew a map of the ground south of the
lake--Heaven knows what he had in mind. When he came down to the farm
some hours later, Brede was still there, but Geissler took no notice
of his questions; Geissler was tired, and waved him aside.
He slept like a stone till next morning early, then he rose with the
sun, and was himself again. "Sellanraa," said he, standing outside and
looking all round.
"All that money," said Isak; "does it mean I'm to have it all?"
"All?" said Geissler. "Heavens, man, can't you see it ought to have
been ever so much more? And it was my business really to pay you,
according to our contract; but you saw how things were--it was the
only way to manage it. What did you get? Only a thousand _Daler_,
according to the old reckoning. I've been thinking, you'll need
another horse on the place now."
"Ay."
"Well, I know of one. That fellow Heyerdahl's assistant, he's letting
his place go to rack and ruin; takes more interest in running about
selling folk up. He's sold a deal of his stock already, and he'll be
willing to sell the horse."
"I'll see him about it," said Isak.
Geissler waved his hand broadly around, and said: "Margrave,
landowner--that's you! House and stock and cultivated land--they can't
starve you out if they try!"
"No," said Isak. "We've all we could wish for that the Lord ever
made."
Geissler went fussing about the place, and suddenly slipped in to
Inger. "Could you manage a bit of food for me to take along again?" he
asked. "Just a few wafers--no butter and cheese; there's good things
enough in them already. No, do as I say; I can't carry more."
Out again. Geissler was restless, he went into the new building and
sat down to write. He had thought it all out beforehand, and it did
not take long now to get it down. Sending in an application to the
State, he explained loftily to Isak--"to the Ministry of the Interior,
you understand. Yes, I've no end of things to look after all at once."
When he had got his parcel of food and had taken leave, he seemed to
remember something all of a sudden: "Oh, by the way, I'm afraid I owe
you something from last time--I took out a note from my pocket-book on
purpose, and then stuck it in my waistcoat pocket--I found it there
afterwards. Too many things to think about all at once...." He put
something into Inger's hand and off he went.
Ay, off went Geissler, bravely enough to all seeming. Nothing downcast
nor anyway nearing his end; he came to Sellanraa again after, and it
was long years before he died. Each time he went away the Sellanraa
folk missed him as a friend. Isak had been thinking of asking him
about Breidablik, getting his advice, but nothing came of it. And
maybe Geissler would have dissuaded him there; have thought it a risky
thing to buy up land for cultivation and give it to Eleseus; to a
clerk.
Chapter XVIII
Uncle Sivert died after all. Eleseus spent three weeks looking after
him, and then the old man died. Eleseus arranged the funeral, and
managed things very well; got hold of a fuchsia or so from the
cottages round, and borrowed a flag to hoist at half-mast, and bought
some black stuff from the store for lowered blinds. Isak and Inger
were sent for, and came to the burial. Eleseus acted as host, and
served out refreshments to the guests; ay, and when the body was
carried out, and they had sung a hymn, Eleseus actually said a few
suitable words over the coffin, and his mother was so proud and
touched that she had to use her handkerchief. Everything went off
splendidly.
Then on the way home with his father, Eleseus had to carry that spring
coat of his openly, though he managed to hide the stick in one of the
sleeves. All went well till they had to cross the water in a boat;
then his father sat down unexpectedly on the coat, and there was a
crack. "What was that?" asked Isak.
"Oh, nothing," said Eleseus.
But he did not throw the broken stick away; as soon as they got home,
he set about looking for a bit of tube or something to mend it with.
"We'll fix it all right," said Sivert, the incorrigible. "Look here,
get a good stout splint of wood on either side, and lash all fast with
waxed thread...."
"I'll lash you with waxed thread," said Eleseus.
"Ha ha ha! Well, perhaps you'd rather tie it up neatly with a red
garter?"
"Ha ha ha," said Eleseus himself at that; but he went in to his
mother, and got her to give him an old thimble, filed off the end, and
made quite a fine ferrule. Oh, Eleseus was not so helpless after all,
with his long, white hands.
The brothers teased each other as much as ever. "Am I to have what
Uncle Sivert's left?" asked Eleseus.
"You have it? How much is it?" asked Sivert.
"Ha ha ha, you want to know how much it is first, you old miser!"
"Well, you can have it, anyway," said Sivert.
"It's between five and ten thousand."
"_Daler_?" cried Sivert; he couldn't help it.
Now Eleseus never reckoned in _Daler_, but he didn't like to say no at
the time, so he just nodded, and left it at that till next day.
Then he took up the matter again. "Aren't you sorry you gave me all
that yesterday?" he said.
"Woodenhead! Of course not," said Sivert. That was what he said,
but--well, five thousand _Daler_ was five thousand _Daler_, and no
little sum; if his brother were anything but a lousy Indian savage, he
ought to give back half.
"Well, to tell the truth," explained Eleseus, "I don't reckon to get
fat on that legacy, after all."
Sivert looked at him in astonishment. "Ho, don't you?"
"No, nothing special, that is to say. Not what you might call _par
excellence_."
Eleseus had some notions of accounts, of course, and Uncle Sivert's
money-chest, the famous bottle-case, had been opened and examined
while he was there; he had had to go through all the accounts and make
up a balance sheet. Uncle Sivert had not set this nephew to work on
the fields or mending of herring nets; he had initiated him into a
complex muddle of figures, the weirdest book-keeping ever seen. If a
man had paid his taxes some years back in kind, with a goat, say, or
a load of dried cod, there was neither flesh nor fish to show for it
now; but old Sivert searched his memory and said, "He's paid!"
"Right, then we'll cross him out," said Sivert.
Eleseus was the man for this sort of work; he was bright and quick,
and encouraged the invalid by assuring him that things were all right;
the two had got on well together, even to jesting at times. Eleseus
was a bit of a fool, perhaps, in some things, but so was his uncle;
and the two of them sat there drawing up elaborate documents in favour
not only of little Sivert but also to benefit the village, the commune
which the old man had served for thirty years. Oh, they were grand
days! "I couldn't have got a better man to help with all this than
you, Eleseus boy," said Uncle Sivert. He sent out and bought mutton,
in the middle of the summer; fish was brought up fresh from the sea,
Eleseus being ordered to pay cash from the chest. They lived well
enough. They got hold of Oline--they couldn't have found a better
person to invite to a feast, nor one more sure to spread abroad the
news of Uncle Sivert's greatness to the end. And the satisfaction was
mutual. "We must do something for Oline, too," said Uncle Sivert, "she
being a widow and not well off. There'll be enough for little Sivert,
anyhow." Eleseus managed it with a few strokes of the pen; a mere
codicil to the last will and testament, and lo, Oline was also a
sharer in the inheritance.
"I'll look after you," said Uncle Sivert to her. "If so be I shouldn't
get better this time and get about again on earth I'll take care
you're not left out." Oline declared that she was speechless, but
speechless she was not; she wept and was touched to the heart and
grateful; there was none to compare with Oline for finding the
immediate connection between a worldly gift and being "repaid a
thousandfold eternally in the world to come." No, speechless she was
not.
But Eleseus? At first, perhaps, he may have taken a bright enough view
of his uncle's affairs, but after a while he began to think things
over and talk as well. He tried at first with a slight hint: "The
accounts aren't exactly as they should be," he said.
"Well, never mind that," said the old man. "There'll be enough and to
spare when I'm gone."
"You've money outstanding besides, maybe?" said Eleseus. "In a bank,
or so?" For so report had said.
"H'm," said the old man. "That's as it may be. But, anyhow, with the
fishery, the farm and buildings and stock, red cows and white cows and
all--don't you worry about that, Eleseus, my boy."
Eleseus had no idea what the fishery business might be worth, but
he had seen the live stock; it consisted of one cow, partly red and
partly white. Uncle Sivert must have been delirious. Some of the
accounts, too, were difficult to make out at all; they were a muddle,
a bare jumble of figures, especially from the date when the coinage
was changed; the district treasurer had frequently reckoned the small
_Kroner_ as if they were full _Daler_. No wonder he fancied himself
rich! But when everything was reduced to something like order, Eleseus
feared there would not be much left over. Perhaps not enough to settle
at all.