Ovind: A Story of Country Life in Norway

by Bjørnstjerne Bjørnson

CHAP. III.

[THE SCHOOLMASTER'S STORY.]

Ovind grew, and became a promising lad. At school he was always among the first, and at home he was industrious, for at home he loved his mother and at school the schoolmaster. He did not see much of his father, who was either away fishing or else attending to the mill.

That which at this time had the most influence over his mind, was the history of the schoolmaster, which his mother told him one night as they sat over the log fire. It entered his books, it peeped out of every word the schoolmaster said, and crept stealthily round the school-room when all was still. It made him obedient and respectful, and, as it were, enlarged the powers of his mind. The story ran thus:--The schoolmaster's name was Baard, and he had one only brother called Anders. They were much attached to each other, they enlisted together, served in the same company, were together in the war, and were both made corporals; and, when after the war they returned home, they were looked upon by everybody as two brave fellows.

Soon after this their father died, leaving a good deal of property not easy to divide. To overcome the difficulty, they resolved to have an auction sale, when they could share the profits, and each could buy those things he liked best. Now the father had left a large gold watch, known through all the country side, for it was the only gold watch the people there had ever seen. When this watch was put up at the sale there were many bids, until both the brothers began, and then others ceased. Now Baard expected that Anders would let him have the watch, and Anders thought the same of Baard. When the watch had come up to twenty dollars, Baard thought it wasn't nice of his younger brother, and he bid again until it was near thirty, but Anders would not give in. Then Baard said forty dollars at one bid, and looked no longer at his brother. There was a deep silence in the room, broken only by the auctioneer quietly naming the last bid. Anders thought that if Baard could afford to pay forty dollars, he could do it equally as well, and if Baard would not let him have the watch, he should pay dearly for it, so he bid higher. Then Baard laughed--"A hundred dollars and my brotherhood into the bargain," he said, and went out. A moment after, as he saddled his horse, one came out and said to him, "The watch is yours; Anders gave in." As he heard this, a deep pang shot through him,--he thought of his brother and not of the watch. The horse was saddled, but he seemed uncertain whether to ride or not. Just then many of the people came out, and Anders among them, who, seeing Baard with his horse ready saddled and little dreaming of his real thoughts, called out aloud,--

"Thank you, Baard, you shall never see the day when I come in your way again!"

"Nor you the day when I set foot on this farm," retorted Baard, pale as death, as he swung himself into the saddle.

Neither of them ever trod again upon the threshold of their father's house.

Soon after this Anders got married, but Baard was not invited to the wedding.

During the same year, Anders' only cow was found dead close to his house, and no one could tell how it happened. One misfortune followed another, and everything seemed to go wrong; at last, in the middle of the Winter, his hay loft and everything in it was burnt to the ground, and it could not be found out how the fire originated. "Some one who wishes me evil has done this," said Anders, and he wept. He was now reduced to poverty, and all his energy for work was gone.

The next evening Baard appeared at his brother's house; Anders was lying down, but sprang up at the unexpected sight.

"What do you want here?" said he, then stood fixedly gazing at him.

Baard waited a little before he answered, "I came to help you, Anders; you are in trouble."

"Things have gone with me as you would have them, Baard! Go, or I cannot restrain myself."

"You are mistaken, Anders, I regret ..."

"Go Baard, or we are both victims!"

Baard retreated a few steps, then in a trembling voice he said,--"If you would like the watch you shall have it."

"Go, Baard!" screeched the other, and Baard went.

Now with Baard things had been thus:--Finding his brother fared so ill, his heart was softened, but pride held him back. He felt a desire to go to church, and there he made good resolutions, but failed in carrying them out. He often went so near that he could see the house, but either some one came out at the door, or there was a stranger, or Anders stood and chopped wood,--there was always something in the way. But one Sunday in the Winter, he again went to church, and Anders was there too. Baard saw him, he looked very pale and thin, and he wore the same clothes he had done when they lived together, but now they were old and worn. During the sermon he looked up at the pastor, and Baard thought he seemed good and kind, and he remembered their childhood's years and what a good lad he had been.

Baard himself went up to the altar that day, and he made the solemn promise before God, that he would be reconciled to his brother cost him what it might.

This resolution took hold of him in the same moment as he drank of the wine, and when he rose he meant to go and sit by his brother, but some one was in the way, and Anders did not look up. After service there were also hindering things,--there were so many people,--his wife walked beside him, and Baard did not know her; he thought it would be best to go home to him alone, and talk openly with him.

When evening came, he went. As he reached the room door, he listened, and heard his own name mentioned; it was by the wife.

"He came up to the altar to-day," said she, "he was certainly thinking of you."

"No, he never thought of me," said Anders, "I know him; he thought only of himself."

Then there was a long pause; Baard felt the sweat upon his brow, although the night was cold. He heard the wife busy with the kettle; the fire blazed and crackled, a little baby cried now and then, and Anders rocked the cradle.

Then she said these few words,--"I believe you both think of each other without admitting it."

"Let us talk of something else," said Anders.

Soon after, he rose and went towards the door; Baard hid himself in the stick house, but just there Anders came to get wood. Baard crouched in the corner, and could see him distinctly; he had doffed the poor clothes he wore at church, and had taken instead the uniform he had brought home from the war, the same as Baard's, and which they had promised each other never to use, but to descend as heirlooms in the family. Anders' was now all patched and torn. His strong well-built body seemed enveloped in a bundle of rags, and at the same moment Baard heard the gold watch ticking in his own pocket. Anders went to the spot where the wood lay, but instead of taking it he stood and leaned against the pile, and gazing up into the heavens, where the stars shone bright and clear, he gave a sigh and said, "Yes,--yes,--yes,--my God! my God!"

So long as Baard lived these words sounded in his ears. He stepped forward towards him, but just then his brother coughed, and it felt so hard that he stopped. Anders took the bundle of wood, and passed so close to Baard that the branches touched his face. There he stood, without moving, till a cold shudder ran through him. This aroused him; he went out, and confessed to himself that he was too weak to face his brother, and he therefore resolved upon another plan. In the corner of the stick-house he found a few pieces of charcoal; then he selected a piece of fir wood for a torch, went up to the hay-loft, and struck fire. When he had got the torch lighted, he sought for the nail where Anders would hang his lamp when he came in the morning to thrash. On this nail Baard hung the gold watch, blew out the light, and went down;--he felt so light-hearted that he sprang over the snow like a young lad.

The day after, he heard that the hay-loft had been burnt down the same night. Undoubtedly a spark must have fallen from his torch while he turned to hang up the watch.

This overpowered him so that he sat all day as though he were ill; then he took the psalm book out and sang, so that the people in the house could not think what was the matter. But in the evening he went out. It was bright moonlight; he made his way to the ruins of the hay-loft, and groped among the ashes. There, sure enough, he found a little lump of gold;--it was the watch.

It was with this in his hand, he went to his brother that evening as before related, and sought for a reconciliation.

A little girl had seen him groping among the ashes. He had also been observed going towards the farm the foregoing Sunday evening; the people in the house told how strangely he had behaved on Monday; everybody knew that he and his brother were not on good terms, and he was reported and brought up for trial. Nothing could be proved against him, but suspicion rested on him, and now more than ever it seemed impossible to approach his brother.

Though Anders had said nothing, he had thought of Baard when the hay-loft was burnt, and when the evening after, he saw him enter the room looking so pale and strange, he at once concluded that now remorse had struck him, but for such an offence, and against his own brother, there was no pardon. On hearing the circumstantial evidence against him, though nothing had been proved at the trial, he firmly believed that Baard was guilty. They met each other at the trial, Baard in his good clothes, and Anders in threadbare. Baard looked up as he went in, with so imploring a glance that Anders felt it deeply. "He does not want me to say anything," thought Anders, and when he was asked if he believed his brother guilty, he answered clearly and decidedly, "No."

From that day Anders took to drinking, and matters grew worse and worse with him. With Baard it was little better, although he never drank; he was not like himself.

Late one evening a poor woman entered the little room where Baard lived, and begged him to go with her. He knew her: it was his brother's wife. He understood the errand she had come upon, turned deadly pale, and followed without a word. There was a flickering light from the window of Anders' room that served to guide them, for there was no pathway over the snow. They reached the house and went in. On entering, Baard felt at once that here reigned poverty; the room was close; a little child sat on the hearth eating a piece of charcoal: its face was black all over, but it looked up with its white teeth and grinned. There on the bed, with all sorts of clothes to cover him, lay Anders, thin and worn, with his clear high forehead, looking mildly upon him. Baard trembled in all his limbs, he sat down on the bed foot, and burst into tears. The sick man continued silently looking at him. At last he told his wife to withdraw, but Baard signed to her to remain, and the two brothers began to speak together. They related each his history, from the day when they bid on the watch to the time they now met together, and it was clearly shown that during all these years they had never been happy for a single day. Baard finished by taking out the little lump of gold, which he always carried about with him.

Anders was not able to talk much, but as long as he was ill, Baard continued to watch by his bedside. "Now I am perfectly well," said Anders, one morning when he awoke,--"Now, my brother, we will always live together as in the olden time!" But that day he died.

Baard took the wife and the child to live with him, and they were well cared for from that time. That which the brothers had said to each other was soon known through the village, and Baard became the most esteemed man among them. Everybody met him as one who had known great sorrow and again found joy, or as one who had been long absent. Baard felt strengthened by all this friendliness around him, he loved God more, and felt a desire to be useful; so the old corporal became a schoolmaster. That which he impressed first and last upon his pupils, was love, and this precept was so exemplified in himself, that the children were attached to him as to a play-fellow and father at the same time.

This was the story told of the old schoolmaster that had such effect upon Ovind, that it became to him both religion and education.

He looked upon the schoolmaster as a being almost supernatural, although he sat there so familiarly and corrected them. Not to know his lessons was impossible, and if, after saying them well, he got a smile or a stroke of the head, he was glad and happy for the whole day. It always made a strong impression upon the children when, before singing, the schoolmaster would sometimes speak a little to them, and, at least once a week, read aloud a few verses about loving your neighbour. As he read the first of these verses his voice trembled, although he had now continually read it for twenty or thirty years. It ran thus:--

"Be kind to thy neighbour and scorn him not,
Though virtue and beauty be all forgot,

And no light is seen from above;--

Remember he too has a soul to save,
He must live again when beyond the grave,

Then forget not the power of love!"

But when the whole of the piece was said, and he had stood still a little while, he looked at them and blinked with his eyes,--"Up children, and go nicely and quietly home,--go nicely, that I may hear nothing but good of you, bairns!" Then, while they hastened to find each his own things, he called out through the noise,--"Come again to-morrow, come in good time, little girls and little boys, that we may be industrious."