Part 33

The danneman, Joë Bœtsoi, was standing at his threshold. He was a fine man, of some forty-five years, with hard features, contrasting strangely with his kindly and straightforward expression. He was dressed with great neatness, and he came forward rather slowly, with his hat on his head, an air of simple dignity, and his hand extended.

“Welcome!” he said to the major; “thy friends are mine.” The Dalecarlian peasant addresses every one, even the king himself, in the second person.

He turned immediately to the other young men, and shook hands with Christian, Osburn, and the corporal.

“I was expecting you,” he said, “and yet you must not expect to find much in my house in the way of food. You know, Major Larrson, that the country is poor; but all that I have is at the disposition of yourself and friends.”

“Don’t put yourself out at all, Danneman Bœtsoi,” replied the major; “if I had come alone, I should have asked for some of your gruel and bier; but, since I have brought three of my friends with me, I laid in a stock of provisions beforehand, so as not to cause you any inconvenience.”

A discussion in Dalecarlian followed, between the officer and the peasant; Christian did not understand it, but the lieutenant explained it to him as they opened the baskets.

“We very wisely brought our own provisions,” he said, “so as to have a decent breakfast in this hut; but the worthy peasant, though excusing himself for having nothing good to offer us, has really gone to some expense for our entertainment, and it is easy to see, from his long face, that he feels wounded by our precaution, which seems to him to cast a doubt upon his hospitality.”

“In that case,” said Christian, “do not let us mortify this honest man; let us keep our provisions, and eat what he has prepared for us. His house seems clean, and here are his daughters, ugly enough, it is true, but very elegant, and all ready to wait upon the table.”

“Suppose we make a compromise,” replied the lieutenant. “We will have everything served in common, and invite the family to accept our food, at the same time that we take theirs. I will go and propose that to the danneman--always if the major approves.”

The lieutenant never formed any resolution whatever without this restriction.

The major approved of the proposition, and made it himself to the danneman, who accepted it, although he still seemed a little dissatisfied.

“So,” he said, with an uneasy smile, “it will be like a wedding-feast, where each one brings his own dish.”

At any rate, he accepted; but, in spite of Christian’s hints, they did not even suggest inviting the women to sit down. This was too much opposed to established customs; the young officers would have been afraid of appearing ridiculous in proposing to the danneman such a great infraction of his dignity as head of the family.

While they were unpacking on the one hand, and talking on the other, Christian examined the house within and without. It was the same sort of building that he had already noticed in the _gaard_ at Stollborg: the body of the house was made of pine logs, well caulked with moss, and painted, on the outside, of an iron-rust red; the roof was of birch-bark, overlaid with earth and turf. As there was danger that the snow, which was very plentiful in this mountainous region, would break down the roof, it had been carefully swept off, and the danneman’s goat, a third larger than the same animal in southern countries, was uttering a plaintive bleating at the sight of the fresh grass thus disclosed to view.

It was so warm within doors, that the young men threw off their pelisses and hats, and went about in their shirt-sleeves. Although substantial and spacious in comparison with a great many habitations in the locality, this house was, nevertheless, quite small; but its form was elegant, and the outside porch, over which the edge of the roof projected, gave it the comfortable and picturesque appearance of a Swiss chalet. One single room, protected from the cold by a narrow vestibule, proved sufficient for the whole family, which consisted of the danneman, who was a widower, his sister, a son fifteen years old, and two daughters somewhat older. The stove was in the form of a cylinder, and was built of Dutch bricks, four feet high; the chimney was attached to it, and the whole stood in the centre of the house. The bare ground, instead of a carpet, was covered with pine-boughs, that exhaled an agreeable and healthful odor.

Christian wondered where all the family slept, for he saw only two beds in recesses in the wall, like berths in a ship. His friends explained to him that these were the beds of the danneman and his sister. The children slept on benches, with no other covering than fur cloaks.

“In other respects,” said the major to Christian, who inquired curiously about all their habits, “though they are faithful to the rude customs of our mountaineers of pure race, you will find, also, that they have luxuries of their own, due to the labors of our host and the plentifulness of game in these savage places. I told you that Danneman Bœtsoi was a skilful and experienced hunter; but you must know that he is skilful not only in tracking savage beasts, but also in killing them without damaging their skins, and in preparing and preserving their precious remains. We always apply to him when we want a good and handsome article at a fair price: skins of the sucking doe, for instance, which, for the summer, make the coolest and most delicious bed in the world, and which wash like linen; skins of the long-haired black bear, for lining sleighs; and seal-skin cloaks, impervious to the rain, to the snow, and, above all, to the interminable autumn fogs, which are exceedingly penetrating and unhealthy. Still further, he has rarities and even curiosities in the way of furs to dispose of, for Joë Bœtsoi has travelled a great deal in still colder regions than this, and he is in communication with hunters, who send him the objects of his traffic by wandering Laplanders and Norwegian traders; northern caravans, in which the camel is replaced by the reindeer, and whose trade, for the most part, consists merely in an exchange of commodities, after the manner of the ancients.”

Christian was curious to see these furs. The danneman, thinking he wanted to purchase some of them, led him and the major to a little shed, where the skins were hanging up. He begged Larrson to dispose of one or all of them to the satisfaction of his friend, and would not consent to be informed of the price of sale agreed upon, before receiving it.

“You understand the business as well as I do,” he said, “and you are master in my house.”

Osmund translated these words to Christian, who admired the simple dignity of the Dalecarlian, and inquired whether he would show equal confidence in any one who might claim his hospitality.

“He has usually a great deal of faith,” replied the major, “for the manners here are patriarchal. The Dalecarlian, the Swiss of the north, has great and heroic virtues, but the country he lives in is poor. Our mines draw vagabonds from all parts of the country; and criminals, concealed in this subterranean world, often avoid, for a long time, the punishments pronounced against them in other provinces. The peasant, when he is neither a landowner nor employed in the mines, is so wretchedly poor, that he is sometimes obliged to beg or to steal. And yet the number of malefactors is infinitely small in comparison to that of persons without means, whom the privileged classes absolutely ignore. The rich peasant, therefore, cannot confide in all chance comers, nor does he feel the slightest faith in the nobility, who vote regularly in the Diet for their own interests, in opposition to those of the other classes; but the soldier, above all the members of the _indelta_, is the friend of the peasant. We are the most independent power in the State, since the law secures us a sufficient and honorable support in spite of every opposing influence. It is well known that we are generally devoted to the king, when he sustains the people and protects them against the abuses of the nobility. This is his only course with us, and the peasant, who makes common cause with him, cannot be deceived. Have patience, Christian; a time will come when the senate will be obliged to settle accounts with the bourgeois and peasant! Our king dares not. Our queen, Ulrica, is bold enough, but would the sister of Frederick the Great pause on the road if she could once succeed in subduing the pride and ambition of the jarls? I doubt it. She would think only of extending the royal power, without admitting that the people also ought to be allowed more freedom. Our hope, therefore, is in Henry, the prince royal. He is a man of genius and a man of action! Yes, yes! A time will come--. But pardon me! I am forgetting that you want to look at furs, and that you can scarcely feel any interest in the politics of our country; however, you may rest assured that the prince royal--”

“Yes, yes, the prince royal!” repeated the lieutenant, who had followed the major and Christian under the shed.

He paused with a thoughtful expression, being, in fact, busy in learning the memorable words, which his friend had just uttered, by heart, so that he might form a definite opinion about the situation of his country. He would have been rather indifferent upon this subject if he had consulted the apathetic philosophy that was natural to him; but the major had an opinion, and the lieutenant, therefore, must have one too, and he could not, of course, differ from his friend. Consequently he, also, felt unbounded hope and confidence in the genius of the prince royal. Were both he and Larrson mistaken? Henry (the future Gustavus III.) had many remarkable and most seductive qualities; he was learned, eloquent, courageous, and certainly, in the beginning of his career, sincere, and ambitious of doing good; but he, like Charles XII., and so many others, was destined to yield to the dominion of his own passions, which warred against his desire to promote the public weal. After saving Sweden from an overbearing oligarchy, he did his best to ruin it by a blind ostentation and the false calculations of a corrupt policy. Still, he was a great man at a given moment of his life, when, without shedding a drop of blood, he succeeded in freeing his people from the tyranny of a caste, irresistibly tempted by its privileges to destroy the equilibrium of society.

Christian, from all that he had been able to gather as to the situation of the country, and the presumed character of the future heir of the throne, shared fully the major’s hopes and illusions; but, nevertheless, he was still more occupied for the moment, not in purchasing the lining for a winter garment--he could not afford any such luxury--but in examining the skins of animals piled up around him in the danneman’s little store. In regard to several species this was a lesson for him in natural history; and Larrson, who was a thoroughly accomplished hunter, informed him in what regions of the north these species were indigenous.

“Since we shall set out immediately to hunt our bear,” he said, in conclusion, “you ought to know beforehand what sort of animal we are to deal with. According to Danneman Bœtsoi it is a mongrel, but it is yet to be proved that the different varieties of the bear can breed together. There are three of them in Norway: the _bress-diur_, which lives upon leaves and herbs, and which is very fond of milk and honey; the _ildgiersdiur_, which eats meat; and the _myrebiorn_, which feeds upon ants. As for the white bear of the polar seas, which is a fourth, and still more powerful family, I need not tell you that it is not found among us.”

“And yet,” said Christian, “here are two skins of polar bears which seem to me as precious as any articles in the danneman’s collection. Has he been as far as the Polar Sea on his hunting expeditions?”

“It is quite possible,” replied the major; “at any rate, he has business relations, as I told you, with parties in the extreme north. It is quite a customary thing for him to travel two hundred leagues in his sleigh, in the middle of winter, to trade and exchange commodities with hunters, who, upon their side, have come just as far on their skates, or with their reindeers, to meet him at the appointed place. He claims now that he is going to show us the mongrel of a white and black bear, because the creature’s fur seemed to him mixed; but as he only saw him at night, by the light of the aurora borealis, which is very deceptive, we can’t be sure about it. The bear is so shy and distrustful that very little is known about him, even in our country, where he was found in great numbers a hundred years ago, and where he is still quite common. It is not really known whether the parti-colored bear is a mongrel or a distinct species. Some believe that the white fur is produced by the cold of winter, and that the spotted coat, therefore, is either the beginning or the termination of an annual transformation, while others assert that the white bear retains his color at all seasons; but you, Christian, are probably more familiar than myself with all these matters. You have read so many works that I only know by name--”

“It is for that very reason that I am utterly unable to solve your doubts. Buffon contradicts Wormsius flatly about the bear; and all our learned historians contradict each other in all their statements, which does not prevent them from contradicting themselves. It is not really their fault, for most of the laws of nature are still unsolved enigmas. When we know so little about animals living upon the surface of the globe, only think what secrets must be enclosed in the bowels of the earth itself! That is what made me say, a little while ago, that it is in the power of any man, no matter how insignificant, to make immense discoveries. But let us return to our bear, or rather let us make haste with breakfast, so that we can go and find him. I have only one fault to find with the Swedes, dear friend, and that is that they have too many meals, and spend too much time over them. I could understand it better if your days were twenty hours long; but when I see how small an arc of the circle the sun has to pass even now, before again sinking beneath the horizon, I cannot help wondering at what hour you propose to hunt.”

“Patience, dear Christian,” replied the major, laughing; “a bear-hunt does not last long. It is a single blow, whether it succeeds or fails; either you lodge two balls in your enemy’s head, or, with a stroke of his paw, he disarms and overpowers you. But here is the danneman coming to announce breakfast. Let us go in.”

The repast brought by the officers was capital; but Christian saw plainly that the young girls, and the danneman himself, were sadly mortified at the sight of all this good food, and that after looking forward with delight to offering them their rustic viands, they scarcely ventured to place them on the table. Accordingly he made it a point to eat of these, and to praise them; and, indeed, his politeness cost him little, for the danneman’s smoked salmon and fresh game were excellent, the butter made of reindeer’s milk was delicious, the turnips were tender and sweet, and the sweetmeats--some northern berry preserved--aromatic and refreshing. Christian did not like so well the beverage of sour milk, which was handed round in pewter pitchers; he preferred the light wine made from a different sort of berry, which grows in the greatest abundance throughout the country, and which the people cook and preserve in a thousand ways. But most of all, he admired the Christmas cake that was brought on with the dessert, and which had been made expressly for the danneman’s guests, so that they might be able to cut it; for custom required that the cake reserved for the family should remain untouched until Twelfth Night. The danneman thrust his knife resolutely into this luxurious edifice, made of wheaten flour, and tumbled down without mercy the little towers and clocks which his daughters had so skilfully constructed. These young persons, tall, large, and with dark complexions, were not at all pretty, but their figures were good, and they were very coquettishly dressed, making a great display of ribbons, jewels, and, above all, of white linen and black braids. It was only after the cake was cut that they partook of anything. They were invited then to take a piece of the cake, and to moisten their lips from their father’s goblet, after he had filled it with strong beer. They remained standing, and, before drinking, made a deep courtesy to the guests, and wished them the compliments of the season.

Christian usually became very impatient at table when he had satisfied his hunger, but he now sank into a profound revery. His companions were quite noisy, although they had abstained from wine and brandy, in the fear of being overcome by intoxication when the time came for starting on the hunt. The danneman, who was at first reserved and rather haughty, became more demonstrative, and seemed to have conceived a peculiar sympathy for the stranger; but this man, who understood all the Northland dialects, and even Finnish and the Russian of Archangel, could speak Swedish, his native language, only with extreme difficulty. Christian, with his curiosity and habitual facility, was already trying to understand Dalecarlian; but even with the help of the narrator’s pantomime, he could only follow vaguely the interesting accounts of hunts and travels called for, and eagerly listened to, by the other guests.

Fatigued by the efforts he was obliged to make in listening, and by the excessive heat of the room, Christian left the table and moved away from the stove. He went to the window and gazed at the sublime scenery surrounding the chalet, which stood on the edge of a deep granitic gorge, whose black precipitous sides, glittering with frozen waterfalls, plunged steeply down to the bed of a torrent. The uncultivated meadows above the abyss had such a rapid slope in many places, that their shroud of snow had been blown off by sudden gusts of wind, which had thus left exposed to the sun the green turf beneath, lightly powdered with frost, and brilliant as a carpet of pale emeralds. This remnant of tender verdure, victorious over the frost, was the more striking because of its contrast with the gloomy green, almost like black, of the gigantic pines, which stood crowded together, erect as monuments of the abyss, and hung with fringes of ice-diamonds. Those growing in the crevices where the snow had accumulated, were buried in it half way up their trunks, and these trunks were sometimes a hundred and sixty feet high. Their branches, too heavily laden with ice, hung down; and, stiff as the flying buttresses of Gothic cathedrals, were welded into the snow beneath. Upon the horizon arose the sharp peaks of Sevenberg, their rosy crests, the abode of eternal snows, resting upon a sky of amethyst. It was about eleven o’clock in the morning, and the sun was already searching with his rays the blue depths, which, when the party reached their destination, had still been enveloped in the cold and gloomy shadow of the night. Every instant Christian saw them gleaming with changing hues, like those of an opal.

Every artist who has been a traveller, has always remarked the beauty of snow-landscapes in those regions which are, as it were, their favorite haunts. In the south, the snow is never seen in all its glory; it is only in exceptional localities, and on rare days, when it resists the sunshine, that we can form any idea of the splendor of its hues in other regions, and of the peculiar transparency of the shadows that float over its white masses. Christian was seized with enthusiasm. While comparing the relative comfort of the cottage (a comfort altogether excessive as regards heat) with the solemn severity of the spectacle without, he began to dream about the life of the danneman, and to form a picture of it in his imagination, until it actually seemed to him his own life; until he began to imagine that he was in his own house, his own country, his own family.

There is no one of us who, at one time or another, when vividly impressed by some combination of outward scenery or circumstance, has not fallen into one of those strange reveries, in which our life seems double; when we behold the scene before us not only for what it is, but also--like an object reflected in a mirror--as the reflection of some picture already imprinted upon the mind. We imagine that we have already trod the road we are passing; that we have already known, in a previous phase of our existence, the persons we are meeting; that we have fallen back into some scene of the past in which we have already lived. This sort of hallucination of the memory was so complete in Christian’s case, that it seemed to him that he must clearly have understood, at some former period, this Dalecarlian language, which he had just found so unintelligible. While listening mechanically to the sweet and grave speech of the danneman, he began unconsciously to finish his sentences before he had uttered them, and to give them a meaning. Suddenly he started up, as if waking from a trance, and laid his hand heavily upon the major’s shoulder.

“I understand!” he cried, extremely agitated; “it is very strange, but I understand. Did not the danneman say just now that he had a dozen cows, and that three of them had become so wild last summer that he could not bring them back to his house in the autumn? that they were lost, and that he had been obliged to shoot one of the remaining ones, to keep it from running away like the others?”

“He did really say so,” replied the major; “but it did not occur last summer. The danneman was saying that all this happened twenty years ago.”

“No matter,” replied Christian, “you see that I understood almost everything. How do you explain that, Osmund?”

“I do not know. But I am not so much surprised as you; it is the result of your incredible facility in learning all languages, in constructing them, and explaining them in your own mind, according to analogies that exist between them.”

“No, that was not the process through which my mind passed; it came to me like a reminiscence.”

“That, again, is possible. You probably studied, in your childhood, a quantity of things of which you retain a confused recollection. Come, try it again; listen to what those young girls are saying: do you understand?”

“No,” said Christian, “it is over; the phenomenon has ceased; I cannot understand, now, a single word they say.”

He returned to the window to listen to his host, and try to catch once more, in the same mysterious way, the meaning of what was said; but his efforts were useless. His confused revery was dissipated, and, in spite of himself, reason and real impressions resumed their habitual empire over his mind.

Soon, however, he entered into another train of thought. It was no longer a fantastic past that appeared to him, but a dream of the future logically deduced from the resolutions he had formed, and with which he had entertained the major only an hour before. He saw himself dressed like the danneman, in a blouse without sleeves, worn over a vest with long and narrow sleeves, in two pairs of stockings, the inner ones of wool and those outside of yellow leather, and with his hair cut square on his forehead. He saw himself seated near his comfortable stove, relating to some rare visitor stories of his expeditions on fields of floating ice, or in the currents of the terrible Maelstrom, and in the obscure recesses of Syltfield.