Growth of the Soil - Knut Hamsun
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"Him? Who, then?"
"Why, him that's ruining me and all the rest of us hereabout. Him that
won't sell his bit of fjeld and let things get to work again, and
trade and money passing same as before."
"D'you mean him Geissler, then?"
"Ay, 'tis him I mean. Ought to be shot!"
Axel laughs at this, and says: "Geissler he was in town but a few days
back; you should have talked to him there. But if I might be so bold
as to say, I doubt you'd better leave him alone, after all."
"And why?" asks Aron angrily.
"Why? I've a mind he'd be overwise and mysterious for you in the end."
They argued over this for a while, and Aronsen grew more excited than
ever. At last Axel asked jestingly: "Well, anyway, you'll not be so
hard on us all to run away and leave us to ourselves in the wilds?"
"Huh! Think I'm going to stay fooling about here in your bogs and
never so much as making the price of a pipe?" cried Aron indignantly.
"Find me a buyer and I'll sell out."
"Sell out?" says Axel. "The land's good ordinary land if she's handled
as should be--and what you've got's enough to keep a man."
"Haven't I just said I'll not touch it?" cried Aronsen again in the
gale. "I can do better than that!"
Axel thought if that was so, 'twould be easy to find a buyer; but
Aronsen laughed scornfully at the idea--there was nobody there in the
wilds had money to buy him out.
"Not here in the wilds, maybe, but elsewhere."
"Here's naught but filth and poverty," said Aron bitterly.
"Why, that's as it may be," said Axel in some offence. "But Isak up at
Sellanraa he could buy you out any day."
"Don't believe it," said Aronsen.
"'Tis all one to me what you believe," said Axel, and turned to go.
Aronsen called after him: "Hi, wait a bit! What's that you say--Isak
might take the place, was that what you said?"
"Ay," said Axel, "if 'twas only the money. He's means enough to buy up
five of your Storborg and all!"
Aronsen had gone round keeping wide of Sellanraa on his way up, taking
care not to be seen; but, going back, he called in and had a talk with
Isak. But Isak only shook his head and said nay, 'twas a matter he'd
never thought of, and didn't care to.
But when Eleseus came back home that Christmas, Isak was easier to
deal with. True, he maintained that it was a mad idea to think of
buying Storborg, 'twas nothing had ever been in his mind; still, if
Eleseus thought he could do anything with the place, why, they might
think it over.
Eleseus himself was midways between, as it were; not exactly eager
for it, yet not altogether indifferent. If he did settle down here at
home, then his career in one way was at an end. 'Twas not like being
in a town. That autumn, when a lot of people from his parts had been
up for cross-examination in a certain place, he had taken care not to
show himself; he had no desire to meet any that knew him from that
quarter; they belonged to another world. And was he now to go back to
that same world himself?
His mother was all for buying the place; Sivert, too, said it would be
best. They stuck to Eleseus both of them, and one day the three drove
down to Storborg to see the wonder with their own eyes.
But once there was a prospect of selling, Aronsen became a different
man; he wasn't pressed to get rid of it, not at all. If he did go
away, the place could stand as it was; 'twas a first-rate holding, a
"cash down" place, there'd be no difficulty in selling it any time.
"You'd not give my price," said Aronsen.
They went over the house and stores, the warehouse and sheds,
inspected the miserable remains of the stock, consisting of a few
mouth-organs, watch-chains, boxes of coloured papers, lamps with
hanging ornaments, all utterly unsaleable to sensible folks that lived
on their land. There were a few cases of nails and some cotton print,
and that was all.
Eleseus was constrained to show off a bit, and looked over things with
a knowing air. "I've no use for that sort of truck," said he.
"Why, then, you've no call to buy it," said Aronsen.
"Anyhow, I'll offer you fifteen hundred _Kroner_ for the place as it
stands, with goods, live stock, and the rest," said Eleseus. Oh, he
was careless, enough; his offer was but a show, for something to say.
And they drove back home. No, there was no deal; Eleseus had made a
ridiculous offer, that Aronsen regarded as an insult. "I don't think
much of you, young man," said Aronsen; ay, calling him young man,
considering him but a slip of a lad that had grown conceited in the
town, and thought to teach him, Aronsen, the value of goods.
"I'll not be called 'young man' by you, if you please," said Eleseus,
offended in his turn. They must be mortal enemies after that.
But how could it be that Aronsen had all along been so independent
and so sure of not being forced to sell? There was a reason for it:
Aronsen had a little hope at the back of his mind, after all.
A meeting had been held in the village to consider the position which
had arisen owing to Geissler's refusal to sell his part of the mining
tract. 'Twas not only the outlying settlers who stood to lose by this,
it would be fatal to the whole district.
Why could not folk go on living as well or as poorly now as before
there had been any mine at all? Well, they could not, and that was
all about it. They had grown accustomed to better food, finer bread,
store-bought clothes and higher wages, general extravagance--ay, folk
had learned to reckon with money more, that was the matter. And now
the money was gone again, had slipped away like a shoal of herring out
to sea--'twas dire distress for them all, and what was to be done?
There was no doubt about it: ex-Lensmand Geissler was taking his
revenge upon the village because they had helped his superior to get
him dismissed; equally clear was it that they had underestimated him
at the time. He had not simply disappeared and left. By the simplest
means, merely by demanding an unreasonable price for a mine, he had
succeeded in checking the entire development of the district. Ay, a
strong man! Axel Stroem from Maaneland could bear them out in this; he
was the one who had last met Geissler. Brede's girl Barbro had had a
lawsuit in the town, and come home acquitted; but Geissler, he had
been there in court all the time. And if any one suggested that
Geissler was dejected, and a broken man, why, he had only to look at
the costly machines that same Geissler had sent up as a present to
Axel Stroem.
This man it was then, who held the fate of the district in his hand;
they would have to come to some agreement with him. What price would
Geissler ultimately be disposed to accept for his mine? They must
ascertain in any case. The Swedes had offered him twenty-five
thousand--Geissler had refused. But suppose the village here, the
commune, were to make up the remainder, simply to get things going
again? If it were not an altogether unheard-of amount, it might be
worth while. Both the trader at the shore station and Aronsen up at
Storborg would be willing to contribute privately and secretly; funds
devoted to such a purpose now would be repaid in the long run.
The end of it was that two men were deputed to call on Geissler and
take up the matter with him. And they were expected back shortly.
So it was, then, that Aronsen cherished a flicker of hope, and thought
he could afford to stand on his dignity with any who offered to buy up
Storborg. But it was not to last.
A week later the deputation returned home with a flat refusal. Oh,
they had done the worst thing possible at the outset, in choosing
Brede Olsen as one of the men they sent--they had taken him as being
one who best could spare the time. They had found Geissler, but he had
only shaken his head and laughed. "Go back home again," he had said.
But Geissler had paid for their journey back.
Then the district was to be left to its fate?
After Aronsen had raged for a while, and grown more and more
desperate, he went up one day to Sellanraa and closed the deal. Ay,
Aronsen did. Eleseus got it for the price he had offered; land and
house and sheds, live stock and goods, for fifteen hundred _Kroner_.
True, on going through the inventory after, it was found that
Aronsen's wife had converted most of the cotton print to her own use;
but trifles of that sort were nothing to a man like Eleseus. It didn't
do to be mean, he said.
Nevertheless, Eleseus was not exactly delighted with things as they
had turned out--his future was settled now, he was to bury himself in
the wilds. He must give up his great plans; he was no longer a young
gentleman in an office, he would never be a Lensmand, not even live in
a town at all. To his father and those at home he made it appear that
he was proud at having secured Storborg at the very price he had
fixed--it would show them he knew what he was about. But that small
triumph did not go very far. He had also the satisfaction of taking
over Andresen, the chief clerk, who was thus, as it were, included in
the bargain. Aronsen had no longer any use for him, until he had a new
place going. It was a pleasant sensation to be Eleseus, when Andresen
came up begging to be allowed to stay; here it was Eleseus who was
master and head of the business--for the first time in his life.
"You can stay, yes," he said. "I shall be wanting an assistant to look
after the place when I'm away on business--opening up connections in
Bergen and Trondhjem," said he.
And Andresen was no bad man to have, as it soon proved; he was a good
worker, and looked after things well when Eleseus was away. 'Twas
only at first he had been somewhat inclined to show and play the
fine gentleman, and that was the fault of his master Aronsen. It was
different now. In the spring, when the bogs were thawed some depth,
Sivert came down from Sellanraa to Storborg, to start a bit of
ditching for his brother, and lo, Andresen himself went out on the
land digging too. Heaven knows what possessed him to do it, for 'twas
no work of his, but that was the sort of man he was. It was not thawed
deep enough yet, and they could not get as far as they wanted by a
long way, but it was something done, at any rate. It was Isak's old
idea to drain the bogs at Storborg and till the land there properly;
the bit of a store was only to be an extra, a convenience, to save
folk going all the way down to the village for a reel of thread.
So Sivert and Andresen stood there digging, and talking now and again
when they stopped for a rest. Andresen had also somehow or other
managed to get hold of a gold piece, a twenty-_Krone_ piece, and
Sivert would gladly have had the bright thing himself; but Andresen
would not part with it--kept it wrapped up in tissue paper in his
chest. Sivert proposed a wrestling match for the money--see who could
throw the other; but Andresen would not risk it. Sivert offered to
stake twenty _Kroner_ in notes against the gold piece, and do all the
digging himself into the bargain if he won; but Andresen took offence
at that. "Ho," said he, "and you'd like to go back home, no doubt, and
say I'm no good at working on the land!" At last they agreed to set
twenty-five _Kroner_ in notes against the gold twenty-_Krone_ piece,
and Sivert slipped home to Sellanraa that night to ask his father for
the money.
A young man's trick, the pretty play of youth! A night's sleep thrown
away, to walk miles up and miles down again, and work next day as
usual--'twas nothing to a young man in his strength, and a bright gold
piece was worth it all. Andresen was a little inclined to make fun of
him over the deal, but Sivert was not at a loss; he had only to let
fall a word of Leopoldine. "There! I was nearly forgetting. Leopoldine
she asked after you...." And Andresen stopped his work of a sudden and
went very red.
Pleasant days for them both, draining and ditching, getting up long
arguments for fun, and working, and arguing again. Now and then
Eleseus would come out and lend a hand, but he soon tired. Eleseus was
not strong either of body or will, but a thorough good fellow for all
that....
"Here's that Oline coming along," Sivert the jester would say. "Now
you'll have to go in and sell her a paper of coffee." And Eleseus was
glad enough to go. Selling Oline some trifle or other meant so many
minutes' rest from throwing heavy clods.
And Oline, poor creature, she might well be needing a pinch of coffee
now and again, whether by chance she managed to get the money from
Axel to pay for it, or bartered a goats' milk cheese in exchange.
Oline was not altogether what she had been; the work at Maaneland was
too hard for her; she was an old woman now, and it was leaving its
mark. Not that she ever confessed to any weakness or ageing herself;
ho! she would have found plenty to say if she had been dismissed.
Tough and irrepressible was Oline; did her work, and found time to
wander over to neighbours here or there for a real good gossip. 'Twas
her plain right, and there was little gossiping at Maaneland. Axel
himself was not given that way.
As for that Barbro case, Oline was displeased, ay, disappointed was
Oline. Both of them acquitted! That Brede's girl Barbro should be let
off when Inger Sellanraa had got eight years was not to Oline's taste
at all; she felt an unchristian annoyance at such favouritism. But the
Almighty would look to things, no doubt, in His own good time! And
Oline nodded, as if prophesying divine retribution at a later date.
Naturally, also, Oline made no secret of her dissatisfaction with the
finding of the court, more especially when she happened to fall out
with her master, Axel, over any little trifle. Then she would deliver
herself, in the old soft-spoken way, of much deep and bitter sarcasm.
"Ay, 'tis strange how the law's changed these days, for all the
wickedness of Sodom and Gomorrah; but the word of the Lord's my guide,
as ever was, and a blessed refuge for the meek."
Oh, Axel was sick and tired of his housekeeper now, and wished her
anywhere. And now with spring coming again, and all the season's work
to do alone; haymaking to come, and what was he to do? 'Twas a poor
look-out. His brother's wife, at Breidablik had written home to
Helgeland trying to find a decent woman to help him, but nothing had
come of it as yet. And in any case, it would mean his having to pay
for the journey.
Nay, 'twas a mean and wicked trick of Barbro to make away with the bit
of a child and then run off herself. A summer and two winters now he
had been forced to make do with Oline, and no saying how much longer
it might be yet. And Barbro, the creature, did she care? He had had a
few words with her down in the village one day that winter, but never
a tear had trickled slowly from her eyes to freeze on her cheek.
"What you've done with rings I gave you?" asks he.
"Rings?"
"Ay, the rings."
"I haven't got them now."
"Ho, so you haven't got them now?"
"'Twas all over between us," said she. "And I couldn't wear them after
that. 'Tis not the way to go on wearing rings when it's all over
between you."
"Well, I'd just like to know what you've done with them, that's all."
"Wanted me to give them back, maybe," said she. "Well, I never thought
you'd have had me put you to that shame."
Axel thought for a moment, and said: "I could have made it up to you
other ways. That you shouldn't lose by it, I mean."
But no, Barbro had got rid of the rings, and never so much as gave
him the chance of buying back a gold ring and a silver ring at a
reasonable price.
For all that, Barbro was not so thoroughly harsh and unlovable,
that she was not. She had a long apron thing that fastened over the
shoulders and with tucks at the edge, and a strip of white stuff up
round her neck--ay, she looked well. There were some said she'd found
a lad already down in the village to go sweethearting with, though
maybe 'twas but their talk, after all. Fru Heyerdahl kept a watchful
eye on her at any rate, and took care not to let her go to the
Christmas dances.
Ay, Fru Heyerdahl was careful enough, that she was; here was Axel
standing talking to his former servant-girl about a matter of two
rings, and suddenly Fru Heyerdahl comes right between them and says:
"Barbro, I thought you were going to the store?" Off goes Barbro. And
her mistress turns to Axel and says: "Have you come down with some
meat, or something?"
"H'm," said Axel, just that, and touched his cap.
Now it was Fru Heyerdahl that had praised him up so that last autumn,
saying he was a splendid fellow and she had always thought well of
him; and one good turn was worth another, no doubt. Axel knew the way
of doing things; 'twas an old story, when simple folk had dealing with
their betters, with authority. And he had thought at once of a piece
of butcher's meat, a bull he had, that might be useful there. But time
went on, and month and month passed by and autumn was gone, and the
bull was never killed. And what harm could it do, after all, if he
kept it for himself?--give it away, and he would be so much poorer.
And 'twas a fine beast, anyway.
"H'm, _Goddag_. Nay," said Axel, shaking his head; he'd no meat with
him today.
But Fru Heyerdahl seemed to be guessing his thoughts, for she said:
"I've heard you've an ox, or what?"
"Ay, so I have," said Axel.
"Are you going to keep it?"
"Ay, I'll be keeping him yet."
"I see. You've no sheep to be killed?"
"Not now I haven't. 'Tis this way, I've never had but what's to be
kept on the place."
"Oh, I see," said Fru Heyerdahl; "well, that was all." And she went on
her way.
Axel drove up homeward, but he could not help thinking somewhat of
what had passed; he rather feared he had made a false step somehow.
The Lensmand's lady had been an important witness once; for and
against him, but important anyway. He had been through an unpleasant
time on that occasion, but, after all, he had got out of it in the
end--got out of a very awkward business in connection with the body of
a child found buried on his land. Perhaps, after all, he had better
kill that sheep.
And, strangely enough, this thought was somehow connected with Barbro.
If he came down bringing sheep for her mistress it could hardly fail
to make a certain impression on Barbro herself.
But again the days went on, and nothing evil happened for their going
on. Next time he drove; down to the village he had no sheep on his
cart, no, still no sheep. But at the last moment he had taken a lamb.
A big lamb, though; not a miserable little one by any means, and he
delivered it with these words:
"'Tis rare tough meat on a wether, and no sort of a gift to bring. But
this is none so bad."
But Fru Heyerdahl would not hear of taking it as a gift. "Say what you
want for it," she said. Oh, a fine lady, 'twas not her way to take
gifts from folk! And the end of it was that Axel got a good price for
his lamb.
He saw nothing of Barbro at all. Lensmand's lady had seen him coming,
and got her out of the way. And good luck go with her--Barbro that had
cheated him out of his help for a year and a half!
Chapter IX
That spring something unexpected happened--something of importance
indeed; work at the mine was started again; Geissler had sold his
land. Inconceivable! Oh, but Geissler was an unfathomable mind; he
could make a bargain or refuse, shake his head for a "No," or nod the
same for "Yes." Could make the whole village smile again.
Conscience had pricked him, maybe; he had no longer the heart to see
the district where he had been Lensmand famishing on home-made gruel
and short of money. Or had he got his quarter of a million? Possibly,
again, Geissler himself had at last begun to feel the need of money,
and had been forced to sell for what he could get. Twenty-five or
fifty thousand was not to be despised, after all. As a matter of fact,
there were rumours that it was his eldest son who had settled the
business on his father's account.
Be that as it might, work was recommenced; the same engineer came
again with his gangs of men, and the work went on anew. The same work,
ay, but in a different fashion now, going backwards, as it were.
All seemed in regular order: the Swedish mine-owners had brought their
men, and dynamite and money--what could be wrong, anyway? Even Aronsen
came back again, Aronsen the trader, who had set his mind on buying
back Storborg from Eleseus.
"No," said Eleseus. "It's not for sale."
"You'll sell, I suppose, if you're offered enough?"
"No."
No, Eleseus was not going to sell Storborg. The truth was, he had
changed his mind somewhat as to the position; it was none so bad,
after all, to be owner of a trading station in the hills; he had a
fine verandah with coloured glass windows, and a chief clerk to do
all the work, while he himself went about the country travelling. Ay,
travelling first class, with fine folks. One day, perhaps, he might
be able to go as far as America--he often thought of that. Even these
little journeys on business to the towns down in the south were
something to live on for a long time after. Not that he let himself go
altogether, and chartered a steamer of his own and held wild orgies on
the way--orgies were not in his line. A strange fellow, was Eleseus;
he no longer cared about girls, had given up such things altogether,
lost all interest in them. No, but after all, he was the Margrave's
son, and travelled first class and bought up loads of goods. And each
time he came back a little finer than before, a greater man; the last
time, he even wore galoshes to keep his feet dry. "What's that--you
taken to wearing two pairs of shoes?" they said.
"I've been suffering from chilblains lately," says Eleseus.
And every one sympathized with Eleseus and his chilblains.
Glorious days--a grand life, with no end of leisure. No, he was not
going to sell Storborg. What, go back to a little town and stand
behind the counter in a little shop, and no chief clerk of his own at
all? Moreover, he had made up his mind now to develop the business
on a grand scale. The Swedes had come back again and would flood the
place with money; he would be a fool to sell out now. Aronsen was
forced to go back each time with a flat refusal, more and more
disgusted at his own lack of foresight in ever having given up the
place.
Oh, but Aronsen might have saved himself a deal of self-reproach, and
likewise Eleseus with his plans and intentions, that he might have
kept in moderation. And more than all, the village would have done
well to be less confident, instead of going about smiling and rubbing
its hands like angels sure of being blessed--no call for them to do so
if they had but known. For now came disappointment, and no little one
at that. Who would ever have thought it; work at the mine commenced
again, true enough--but at the other end of the fjeld, eight miles
away, on the southern boundary of Geissler's holding, far off in
another district altogether, a district with which they were in no
way concerned. And from there the work was to make its way gradually
northward to the original mine, Isak's mine, to be a blessing to folk
in the wilds and in the village. At best, it would take years, any
number of years, a generation.
The news came like a dynamite charge of the heaviest sort, with shock
and stopping of ears. The village folk were overcome with grief. Some
blamed Geissler; 'twas Geissler, that devil of a man, who had tricked
them once more. Others huddled together at a meeting and sent out a
new deputation of trusty men, this time to the mining company, to the
engineer. But nothing came of it; the engineer explained that he was
obliged to start work from the south because that was nearest the sea,
and saved the need of an aerial railway, reduced the transport almost
to nil. No, the work must begin that way; no more to be said.
Then it was that Aronsen at once rose up and set out for the new
workings, the new promised land. He even tried to get Andresen to go
with him: "What's the sense of you staying on here in the wilds?"
said he. "Much better come with me." But Andresen would not leave;
incomprehensible, but so it was, there was something which held him
to the spot; he seemed to thrive there, had taken root. It must be
Andresen who had changed, for the place was the same as ever. Folk
and things were unaltered; the mining work had turned away to other
tracts, but folk in the wilds had not lost their heads over that; they
had their land to till, their crops, their cattle. No great wealth in
money, true, but in all the necessaries of life, ay, absolutely all.
Even Eleseus was not reduced to misery because the stream of gold was
flowing elsewhere; the worst of it was that in his first exaltation he
had bought great stocks of goods that were now unsaleable. Well, they
could stay there for the time being; it looked well, at any rate, to
have plenty of wares in a store.
No, a man of the wilds did not lose his head. The air was not less
healthy now than before; there were folk enough to admire new clothes;
there was no need of diamonds. Wine was a thing he knew from the feast
at Cana. A man of the wild was not put out by the thought of great
things he could not get; art, newspapers, luxuries, politics, and
such-like were worth just what folk were willing to pay for them,
no more. Growth of the soil was something different, a thing to be
procured at any cost; the only source, the origin of all. A dull and
desolate existence? Nay, least of all. A man had everything; his
powers above, his dreams, his loves, his wealth of superstition.
Sivert, walking one evening by the river, stops on a sudden; there on
the water are a pair of ducks, male and female. They have sighted him;
they are aware of man, and afraid; one of them says something, utters
a little sound, a melody in three tones, and the other answers
with the same. Then they rise, whirl off like two little wheels a
stone's-throw up the river, and settle again. Then, as before, one
speaks and the other answers; the same speech as at first, but mark a
new delight: _it is set two octaves higher_! Sivert stands looking at
the birds, looking past them, far into a dream.