Mary Part 1

Mary.

by Bjornstjerne Bjornson.

THE HOMESTEAD AND THE RACE

The coast line of the south of Norway is very irregular. This is the work of the mountains and rivers. The former end in hillocks and headlands, off which often lie islands; the latter have dug out valleys and end in fjords or smaller inlets.

In one of these inlets, known as "Kroken" (the nook), lies the homestead. The original name of the place was Krokskogen. In the doc.u.ments of the Danish government officials this was transformed into Krogskoven; now it is Krogskogen. The owners originally called themselves Kroken; Anders and Hans Kroken were the regularly recurring names. In course of time they came to call themselves Krogh; the general in the Danish army subscribed himself _Von_ Krogh. Now they are Krog, plain and simple.

The pa.s.sengers on the small steamers which, on their way to and from the neighbouring town, touch at the landing-place below the little chapel, never fail to remark on the beautifully sheltered, snug situation of Krogskogen.

The mountains rise high on the horizon, but here they have dwindled down. The families between two long wooded ridges which project into the sea--its buildings so close to the right-hand ridge that to the steamer-pa.s.sengers it seems as if a man might easily jump from their roofs on to the steep hill-side. The west wind cannot find its way in here. The place seems, after the manner of children playing at hide-and-seek, to have the right to cry: _Pax!_ to it. And it is almost in a position to say the same to the north and east winds. Only a gale from the south can make its entrance, and that in humble fashion.

Islands, one large and two small, detain and chasten it before they allow it to pa.s.s. The tall trees in front of the houses merely bow their topmost branches rhythmically; they abate none of their dignity.

In this sheltered bay is the best bathing-place of the whole neighbourhood. In summer the youth of the town used to come out here on the Sat.u.r.day evenings and Sundays to disport themselves in the sandy shallows or to swim out to the large island and back. It was at the left side of the bay, reckoning from Krogskogen, that this went on, the side where the river falls into the sea, where the landing-place lies, and, a little above it and nearer the ridge, the chapel, with the graves of the Krog family cl.u.s.tered round it. The distance from here to the houses on the right is considerable. Up there the noise made by the merry bathers was seldom heard. But Anders Krog often came down to watch them, when they had lighted fires on the beach or in the wood on the point. He doubtless came to keep an eye on the fires; but nothing was ever said of this. Anders was known as the politest man, "the most thorough gentleman," in the town. His large, peculiarly bright eyes beamed a gentle welcome into the faces of all; the few words which fell from him expressed only kindly interest. He soon pa.s.sed on, to climb the ridge and take his usual slow walk round. As long as his tall, slightly stooping form was visible in the wood above, there was silence. But what a good time the bathers had here! They were for the most part working men from the town, members of gymnastic societies or choral unions, troops of boys. Their gathering-place was beside the landing-stage and the chapel. There they undressed. The main road which follows the coast pa.s.ses the spot; but it was little frequented in summer; people came to the place by boat or in the small steamers. So long as the bathers kept a watchman on the ridge, they were certain of not being surprised.

Up at the house it was quiet, always quiet. The front of the main building does not even face the bay; it looks on the fields. The building is of two high storeys, with the roof flattened over the gables--a long, broad house.

The foundation wall rises very high in front; a flight of easy steps leads up to the door. The whole building is painted white, except the foundation wall and the windows, which are black. The outhouses lie nearer the ridge; they cannot be seen from the steamer. At one side of the main building an orchard slopes towards the sea; at the other is a large flower and kitchen garden.

The level land, a long, narrow strip, lies between the ridges. It is carefully and skilfully cultivated. The big Dutch cows thrive here.

The history of the property and that of its owners was predetermined by the woods. These were large and valuable, and fortunately came in good time under careful Dutch management. This happened in the days when the small Dutch merchant-vessels traded directly with the owners of the woods in Norway. The Dutchmen were supplied with timber, and in turn supplied the Norwegians with their civilisation and its products.

Krogskogen was specially fortunate, for, some three hundred years ago, the owner of one of the "koffs" which lay loading in the bay, fell in love with the peasant's fair-haired daughter. He ended by buying the whole place. A beautifully painted portrait of him and her still hangs in the best room of the house, in the corner nearest the bay. It represents a tall, thin man, with peculiarly bright eyes. He is dark-haired, and has a slight stoop of the neck. The race must have been a vigorous one, for the Krogs are like this to-day.

The first Dutch owner was not called Krog, nor did he live at Krogskogen; but the son who inherited the place was baptised Anders Krog, after his mother's father; he called his son Hans, after his own father; and since then these two names have alternated. If there were several sons, one was always named Klas and another Jurges, which names in the course of time became Klaus and Jorgen. The family continued to intermarry with its Dutch kinsfolk, so that the race was as much Dutch as Norwegian; for long all the domestic arrangements at Krogskogen were Dutch. In a manner, the nationalities did not seem really to mix. The reason of this probably was that the Dutch element was not pure Dutch--if it had been, it would have intermingled more easily with the Norwegian; it was a mixture of Dutch and Spanish. The black hair, the bright eyes, the lean body, were inherited by the men from generation to generation; the women inherited the fairness and the strong build; in them Norwegian blood flowed along with Dutch. Rarely indeed did the one s.e.x make over any of its family characteristics to the other; occasionally fair and dark hair met in red, and once in a way the bright eyes would make their appearance in a woman's face.

It was a peculiarity of the race that in all its families more daughters than sons were born. The Krogs were fine-looking men and women, and, as a rule, were well off; consequently, the family made good connections and held a good position. They had the character of being clannish and able to hold their own.

One quality which marked them all was that of prudent moderation. In Norway a fortune rarely descends to the third generation. If it is not squandered in the second, it is certain to be in the third. Not so in this case. To the main branch of the Krog family the woods were now the same source of wealth that they had been three hundred years before.

A desire which was transmitted from generation to generation was the desire to travel. In the book-cases at Krogskogen books of travel predominated, and additions were constantly made to their number. Even as children the Krogs travelled. They planned tours with the help of books, pictures, and maps. They sat at the table and played at travelling. They voyaged from one town built of coloured card-board houses to another of the same description. They navigated cardboard ships, loaded with beans, coffee, salt, and wooden pegs. In the bay they rowed and sailed and swam from the pier to the island. One day it was from Europe to America, another, from j.a.pan to Ceylon. Or they crossed the ridge, that is the Andes, to the most wonderful Indian villages.

No sooner were they grown up than they insisted on seeing something of the world. They generally began with a voyage to Holland and a visit to their kinsfolk there. Some two hundred years ago a youth of the family, after a very short stay in Holland, went off in a Dutch East Indiaman.

He, however, returned to Amsterdam, resolved to become an architect and engineer--the professions were at that time combined. He made himself a name, and in course of time was called to Copenhagen to teach. He entered the military service and rose to the rank of general in the engineer corps. At the time of his retirement his earnings, added to his patrimony, const.i.tuted a considerable fortune. He settled at Krogskogen, which he bought after the death of a childless brother. He called himself Hans _von_ Krogh. It was he who erected the present house, which is of stone, a very unusual building material in a Norwegian forest district. The old engineer-architect wanted occupation and amus.e.m.e.nt.

Though he was not married, he made the house large, "for those to come."

He rebuilt the farm-steading; he drained and he planted; he sent to Holland for a gardener--old Siemens, of whose strictness and angry insistence upon cleanliness and order stories are still told. For him the General put up hot-houses and built a cottage.

The General lived to be a very old man. After his day nothing special happened until the younger of two brothers emigrated to America and settled on the sh.o.r.es of Lake Michigan--at that time virgin soil. This was regarded as a great event. The man's name was Anders Krog. He prospered over there, and people wondered that he did not marry. He invited one of his brother's sons to come out to him, promising to make him his heir. And thus it came about that Hans, the elder brother of the Anders Krog of our story, went to America.

At exactly the same time, however, arrived a young Norwegian girl, also a Krog; and with her the elderly uncle fell in love. He proposed to Hans to pay his journey home. But the young man felt that he would disgrace himself by returning. He stayed on and set up in business for himself--in the timber trade, which he understood. The undertaking prospered. By rights Hans should have gone home and taken possession of Krogskogen at the time of his father's death; but he refused to do so.

The younger brother, Anders, who in the meantime had also taken to trade, and acquired the largest grocery business in the neighbouring town, was obliged to take over the property as well.

Young Anders Krog was not really a good business man. But his extraordinary conscientiousness and considerateness soon gained him the custom of the whole town. Another man in his place might have made a fortune; he did not. When he entered on possession of Krogskogen he had not yet paid up the price of his business in town, and in taking over the property he incurred a still larger debt. For both he had been made to pay well. Travel he must, but he had to content himself with going off for a month each year--one year to England, another to France, and so on. His greatest desire was a visit to America, but on this he dared not venture yet. He contented himself with reading of the new wonderland. Reading was his chief pleasure; next to it came gardening, in which he possessed more skill than most trained gardeners.

This quiet man with the bright eyes was shyer than a girl of fourteen.

Every week-day morning he chose, if possible, a seat by himself on the little steamer which took him to town as long as the bay was not frozen over. In going on sh.o.r.e he showed extreme consideration for others; then he hurried off, bowing respectfully to his acquaintances, to his house on the market-place, where he was to be found until evening, when he returned as he had come. At times he cycled. In winter he drove; and at this season he sometimes stayed over night in town, where he occupied two modest attic rooms in his own house.

The town knew of no other man possessing in such a degree all the qualities of a perfect husband. But his invincible modesty made all overtures impossible until ... the right woman came. But then he was already over forty. The same fate befell him as had befallen his uncle and namesake at Lake Michigan; a young girl of his own family came and took possession of him. And she was this very uncle's only child.

He was working one Sunday morning, in his shirt-sleeves, in the kitchen and flower garden on the northern side of the house, when a young girl, wearing a broad-brimmed straw hat, laid her ungloved hands on the white fence and looked in between its round tops.

Anders, bending over a flower-bed, heard a playful: "Good morning!" and started up. Speechless and motionless he stood, with earth-soiled hands, his eyes drinking her in like a revelation.

She laughed and said: "Who am I?" Then his thinking power returned. "You are--you must be----"; he got no further, but smiled a welcome.

"Who am I?"

"Marit Krog from Michigan."

He had heard from his sister, who lived on the farther side of the left ridge, that Marit Krog was on her way to Norway. But he had no idea that she had arrived.

"And you are my father's nephew," said she with an English accent. "How like him you are! How very like!"

She stood looking at him for a moment. Then--"May I come in?"

"Of course you may--but first"----looking at his hands and shirt-sleeves, "first I must----."

"I can go in alone," said she frankly.

"Of course--please do! Go in by the front-door. I'll send the maid--"

and he hurried towards the kitchen.

She ran round to the front of the house and up the steps. Turning an enormous key, an old work of art (as was also the iron-work on the door), she stepped into the hall or entrance room. Here there was plenty of light. Marit drew a little. She had learned to use her eyes. She saw at once that all these cupboards, large and small, were of excellent Dutch workmanship, and that the room was larger than it seemed; the furniture took up so much s.p.a.ce. On her left an old-fashioned carved staircase led up to the second storey. The door straight in front of her led to the kitchen, she concluded, a.s.sisted by her sense of smell; and when the maid-servant issued from it she knew that she had guessed rightly. Through the open door she saw a floor flagged with marble, walls covered with china tiles decorated in blue, and, upon the shelf which extended round the walls, brightly polished copper vessels of many different sizes--a Dutch kitchen.

In the hall she stood upon carpets thicker than any her feet had ever trodden. And quite as thick were those on the stairs, secured with the hugest of bra.s.s rods. "The people in this house walk on cushions," she thought to herself; and the idea immediately occurred to her that the house was an enormous bed. Afterwards she always called it "the bed."

"Shall we go back to bed now?" she would say, laughing. On both sides of the hall she saw doors and pictured to herself the rooms within. To her left, that is, on the right side of the house, she imagined first a smaller room, and beyond it, nearest the sea, a large room, the whole breadth of the building. And she was correct. To her right she imagined the house divided lengthwise into two rooms. And in this also she was correct. Nor was it surprising that she should be, for her father's house on the sh.o.r.es of Lake Michigan was planned in imitation of this.

Upstairs she pictured to herself a broad pa.s.sage the whole length of the house, with moderate-sized rooms on both sides of it. The carpets were extraordinarily thick down here, but she was certain that they were at least as thick upstairs, real cushion carpets. In this house there were no noises. Its inmates were quiet people.

The servant had opened the door to the left. Marit went into the great room and examined all its pictures and ornaments. It was terribly overcrowded, but all the things in themselves had been well chosen, many of them by connoisseurs--that she saw at once. Some of the paintings were, she felt certain, of great value. But what occupied her most was the thought that not until now had she understood her own old father, although she had lived with him all her life--alone with him; she had lost her mother early. Of just such a quant.i.ty of rare and precious things was he composed--in a somewhat confused fashion, which prevented his being appreciated. She felt as if he were standing by her, smiling his gentle, kindly smile, happy because he was understood.

And there he was, sure enough! Through the open door she saw him on the stair. Younger, yes! But that was of no consequence; the eyes were only the brighter and warmer for that. He came towards her with the same walk, the same movement of the arms, the same slight stoop and circ.u.mspect carriage. And when he looked at her, and spoke to her, and bade her welcome in her father's gentle, subdued manner, she was conscious in him of the profound respect for the individual human being which, in her estimation, characterised her father beyond any one she had ever known. Her father's hair was thinner, his face was deeply lined, he had lost some of his teeth, his skin was shrivelled. The thought filled her eyes with tears. She looked up into the younger eyes, heard the fresher voice, felt the grasp of the warmer hand. She could not help it--she threw her arms round Anders Krog's neck, laid her head on his breast, and wept.

This settled the matter. There was no resisting this.

Soon afterwards they both got into the boat in which she had come. It was Marit who rowed round the point. Both for his own sake, and because of the bathers, who saw them, he had made some feeble attempts to take the oars. But from the moment when she threw her arms round his neck, he was powerless. He knew that he would henceforth do the will of this girl with the glory of red hair. He sat gazing at her freckled face and freckled hands, at her superb figure, her fresh lips. At the edge of her collar he caught a glimpse of the purest of white skin; there was something in the eyes which corresponded exactly with this. He had not seen his fill when they landed. Nor could he get enough on the way up to his sister's farm--not enough of her soft voice, of her gait, of her dress, of the smile which disclosed her teeth, nor, above all else, of her frank, impetuous talk; all these things were alike bewildering.

Next morning he stayed at home. No sooner had the steamer with which he should have gone to town turned the point, than Marit's white boat came in sight. She had a maid-servant with her who was to keep watch, for to-day she too meant to bathe.

Afterwards she went up to the house. She had planned to stay there to dinner. In the afternoon they walked back together, across the ridge; the boat had been sent home.

Next day she went with him to town. The day after they were in town again, but this time she chose to drive, and made Anders' sister come with them. There was something new every day. The brother and sister simply lived for her, and she accepted the situation as if it were quite natural.

When she had been with them for about three weeks, a cablegram came to Krogskogen from brother Hans, telling that their uncle, Anders, had died suddenly; the news must be broken to Marit.

Never had Anders Krog taken a walk with heavier feet and heart than on the day when he crossed the hill to his sister's with this telegram in his pocket. As he came in sight of the home-like yellow house and steading amongst the trees on the plain below, he heard the dinner-bell ring out cheerily into the bright sunshine. The spread table was waiting. He sat down; he felt as if he could go no farther. Was he not on his way to kill the glad day?