Chapter 11
Student Stensrud arrived from the city on Christmas afternoon with his guests; grocer Storr and Louise were with them.
They were gentle and nice people, except for the grocer whom Daniel thought must be a terrible guanocrat and who was a small, quick, man of few words, thin and nervous, with small, see-green eyes. Mrs. Louise was in a good shape like her sister, but more beautiful. So were the students, the big, pleasant Bang Block; temporary clerk Becker, red-haired and tall; copier Petersen, tall, cheerful and with a bald head and eyeglasses; Cand. filos Viborg, young and serious, beautiful like a maiden; and, medical student Knutzon with his noble nose, his full, soft lips and his smoky grey eyes. They were all nicely dressed; they shone with white collars and smile and glimmering lorgnettes and quick eyes. Daniel went to curl his young whiskers and thought to himself that in this party, the proprietor and his san looked like farmers.
He was no longer afraid. If these fellows knew something, then they had the good manners to shut up about it. And from Pater was a greeting sent through student Stensrud. Daniel’s conscience was soothed and he was glad. If Pater had not heard anything now, then he wouldn’t hear anything at all.
They could not begin dinner until the sheriff arrived. It would have been wrong to say that it was boring here. The conversation began at once, and burned like fire in fat pinewood. What they talked about was not so easy to describe; it was not about big questions. But the strange thing was that the conversation was still soulfull. One small joke came shooting off, one after the other like sparks from steel; word games and limericks flew like rockets; it was a bright play with nothing, a firework of words and light thoughts.
Daniel began to ponder where he stood and mingled. What he heard and saw here was what he had always dreamed of and yearned for: a gentleman’s gathering, the fine swing was the mark of nobility. “Fram” and those in there made fun of what was fine and called it fiddlesticks, and Aslak Fjordan could roar with laughter when he saw a “clothes horse” of the right kind; but that is something Daniel could no longer understand. That fine swing was the mark of nobility. Latin is something everybody could learn, and the spiritual and the heart’s refinement are things one could always get, but what it really was all about was the difference between people and the dregs of society; that was what Aslak Fjordan laughed about but which The Good Citizen called training in formal behavior.
Fellows like these were the true students. They had taken their examination in the regular way; they had their education as a student should have; they were comme il faut in one way or the other. And such students could live in the ideal way. They did not get drunk when they wanted to be happy, and they did not get wild when they were in a joyful mood; and how freely they were joking; they never broke the fine rules of etiquette. They had spirit and knowledge and fine form; everything they did was beautiful and had a touch of the swing; but the farmer students were farmers whatever one did with them. He thought uneasily about the student life he had been living. That heavy noise with struggle and politics and beer and lousy toddy; it could have been was it was, but it was not the ideal, and it was not student life either.
Grocer Storr sat on the sofa in small talk with Miss Hanna, and Messrs. Knutzon and Viborg were chatting with Mrs. Storr. Not chattering, but in conversation; and it was strange that they could behave in such a fine manner. Daneil watched everything so that he could learn; and he made up his mind that when he came back to the city, he should go to a dance school.
The others were talking in agreement with the propritor. Bang Block sat and was funny, Becker was funny and sharp; Petersen could also be funny but he was laughing at his own jokes, and now and then, he could look stupid with his bald head and spectacled eyes and the broad grin. But when the proprietor began to drag out his own statements, it was like a plowing horse wanted to dance between circus show horses. Clumsily and fumbling they came so that the others had to help him get something out of it, and then there could be glimpses in the corner of the eyes that showed the laughter or contempt; and even in the words, Daniel could feel that there were hidden barbs or hidden thoughts. They were boys who could manuever themselves.
The sheriff arrived, and they could have dinner. As they went to the dining room , Daniel heard some words being exchanged between Knutzon and Viborg about Mrs. Storr. “What do you think about here?” asked Mr. Viborg. “Too much rich food,” answered Mr. Knutzon. Daniel was startled, but he thought he must have misheard it. Afterwards, he saw Viborg whispering something to Knutzon with a smile... he did not understand that smile. But after that he could no longer like Mr. Viborg’s beautiful girlish face.
At the dining table, the conversation continued with increasing liveliness. Bamg Block, Mrs. Storr and the sheriff began a discussion about the name “Ribbensbærstek” (rib berry steak). Becker who has been abroad told about the art of “carving”, an art that we did not know here among us; so came the argument about the right time to have dinner. Grocer Storr wanted us to take up the English and French habit of having dinner at six o’clock; the others, especially Mrs. Stensrud, defended the Norwegian habit of dinner time. But Storr mainained his opinion. Having dinner at two or three o’clock ruined the rest of the day; one should have dinner when one was finished with his day’s work. During work time, between noon and one o’clock one should take a lunch, but not a bit more. But if one had dinner between two and three o’clock, then one should not have lunch! Here with us, taking lunch with our dinner time, that was... that was barbaric. We took up habits from abroad but took it raw without modifying it, with no thought or connection; lunch in a country where they held dinner at two o’clock, when the lunch had its reason and was right because dinner was at six o’clock; should one listen to such nonsense? It was like the savage was dressed in a top hat and with fur on the rest of the body, then thought that he had made some progress in culture. It was not easy for Storr to say what he wanted; he was fumbling for words and was struggling with the thought, but he got his opinion expressed. His judgment fell strongly; our entire meal preparation was mindless toil and a national waste; then the proprietor lifted his glass and welcomed the guests to dinner.
Other things came up. Bang Block told in his own funny way about the christimas pig that our forefathers fried whole and ate with their working knives and drank home-made beer with it; and when they were sated, they threw the bones at each other’s heads. And if they were in a really good mood, then they were fighting with axes and swords; that was a lot of “christmas fun”. Petersen told christmas tales that he himself laughed at; the proprietor praised the enlightenment; student Stensrud told about folk beliefs, up in the mountain villages where they believed in underworld soldiers who helped the Norwegians when there was war, made the Swedes shoot too high and lifted the gun barrels too high when they would shoot; Daniel thought the tale was nice. But Storr said that he had never heard nothing so Norwegian; lying on their lazy side and depending on magic. The sheriff wanted to compare this tale with the old story about Holger Danske, and it was not quite true that the Danish believed these tales too some years ago. “Hi-hi, yes, where was Holger Danske in 1864?” laughed Petersen. “He was clever and stayed home, like me,” answered Becker. Small coughs around the table was the signal to change the topic; the conclusion was that we were where we should be in 1864. Daniel wondered if it was fine to have that opinion.
They enjoyed life where they were sitting; the good mood grew. “By the way!” said the proprietor, “How is it with old Jokum these days?” “Oh, Jokum is fine. I met him several days ago,” said Becker, “Father and I was out for a walk with Jaabæk...” “With Jaabæk!” shouted Petersen, “With Jaabæk!” shrieked Mrs. Storr; “With Jaabæk!” shouted the whole table; “Yes,” answered Becker calmly, “with my father’s horse.” Storr laughed; Storr screamed; “uh”; Knutzon thought that Bureau Chief Becker as a “en quick patron”; Viborg thought that Jaabæk ought to know that he now stood at the stables of the bureau chief; “Yes, he ought to, Jaabæk bothers me!” laughed Mr. Petersen, who also could be funny. Mrs. Storr was sorry for the horse, poor one, she was afraid that the horse got maybe a lot of undeserved whipping because of that name. But Becker did not think so. The horse got some political lectures, including a swear word now and then; but... yes, but once he got a real whipping because of his name, anyway. Lieutenant Schmell had joined them a trip, and when he heard that the horse had this name, he grabbed the whip and the reins and rose up in the sled: “Now, then, devil strike me with thunder!” he screamed; and so the horse got a beating, such that he stood on his hind legs and danced; they had to forcibly stop the lieutenant. One could not but laugh, naturally. No, ha-ha-ha, naturally! But Block, who was fond of horses, said that it was wrong to give a horse such a name, as a horse was an animal that one loved, and if he should get a horse someday, he would give him a name after one of his friends; the debate was choked in laughter, and old Jokum was forgotten.
Daniel took note of this; and he asked Hanna whom he got as his dinner partner, what kind of person was Jokum. Oh, he was an old captain, said Hanna; he got the name Jokum because he was so strange. Was he strange? Yes, he did a lot of many strange things, and did so many wrong thigs; and so The Farmer’s Friend and many other people got a lot to talk about. Eventually, he made such a scandal in a way, but Hanna did not manage to know what the scandal was; and then he got the Order of the Sword. “The Order of the Sword” “When he had made a scandal?”
Yes, so that he should resign. “Oh, so. Did he resign, then?” No, when he got the order, he believed it was because he was a good officer, and so he did not resign. “No?” Yes, at last they had to give the Order of Olav. Ha-ha; but would he resign then? Yes, because he had to promise that in exchange. “He must be a weird fellow,” laughed Daniel. But he wondered about this story; could it be true?
Around the table, the talk went like the whirring of a spinning wheel. Gladness and the happy mood was increasing; it did not take much before the laughter was rolling. Daniel got into a chatting mood too, chatted with Miss Stensrud about this and that. What he chatted about he did not know himself, only one thought was in his mind, that when he really looked at her, then Miss Stensrud was beautiful.
They rose from the table and thanked the hosts for the food; there was laughter and life and much fun. Everything went smoothly, but then, everything was fine. And Daniel felt with an increasing boldness that he was doing well in this company. He belonged. Frons urbana is something he would win after all.
From somewhere at his side, he heard, “That’s a good fellow, the proprietor.” “A good host!” was the reply. Daniel looked around him, there was Knutzon who was talking with Viborg. “He could always have some more here,” smiled Knutzon and pointed up to his forehead, “but in the end, when you have the money...” Freedom with all the strict forms; so it must be! thought Daniel. At the same moment, the proprietor came in wine red and happy: “a bit of dessert, ladies and gentlemen?” Now; the proprietor did not quite reach up. But his children ...
During dinner, the conversation became more intense, more serious; they talked about “development bureaus”. And this time, Daniel heard something he had never thought of, that fine people also could attack those in power. Things were discussed that Daniel found hard to believe; and it was strange; that The Farmer’s Friend had dug up such things. But the sheriff and the proprietor powerfully defended their position and there was a full debate; the grocer sat silent with a half smile. Becker said that when one looked at this “development bureaus”, then one could a lot of the time be in the mood to join the opposition; for a man in the opposition, a lawer or something, advanced faster than a department man. “Yes, he-he-he!” laughed Mr. Petersen, “when the opposition are such jackasses as they are!” Then the proprietor had to laugh a little. “Are you not one of the opposition, house tutor?” “No, no!” stuttered Daniel and blushed.
After dinner, Mrs. Storr provided some music. It was great music; Daniel did not understand a bit, but he clapped when everbody apllauded. Everybody looked well and satisfied as they sat there and smoked and rested and digested the food, sated and lazy like gods. But the sheriff and Endre Storr sat in the sofa and chatted, probably, about music.
Yes, that is how one could have it, when one is rich. Good food and drink; peace and quiet and good company; friends and respect and everything that was good. And even if one did not have more knowledge than one needed. Was it true that the proprietor was not so particularly wise? He did not look like anything. But what did that matter when he was rich?
They who needed help from people, he had to be bright and he had to be good. And kind. Like a rotten egg he must be humble; he must know how to bend his back even if it was for a farm gate pole. But the rich, they were free men. He was just as nice and great even if he was a fool; yes, if he was a scoundre, he could manage; nobody had anything to say against him. He did not dare to be converted either. Student Stensrud was not converted and was still good friends with Pater nonetheless...
The toddy was brought in and set on a little table at one side of the room. The piano playing stopped; the gentlemen were invited to come and get themselves a drink.
“Yes-ha, yes, of course, the fourth in the row, yes.” was heard from Endre Storr saying sharply, “Yes, it shall... it shall... last long! Now the foreign countries have started selling their own wooden vessels and have started building iron ships; and we here at home are putting our money in wooden veseels that the foreign countries are getting rid of; yes, and then when ... when iron and steam had triumphed over the whole line, yes, then we sit her with our old wooden ships; we, the fourth in the row of seafaring nations!” Daniel sat and gaped.
“Please, let us get a glass,” said the proprietor soothingly, and they went in. But they continued to quarrel even as they went. The sheriff strove to defend the national honor and the wooden ships, and those who were inside and drinking toddy asked him if Mr. Storr seriously believed that we could follow the lead and build iron ships. “Follow the lead!” said Endre Storr, “should we follow up with anything” The only thing we have learned abroad is to... to get broke!”
There was laughter because of this; and they laughed confidently; they knew that Storr had his own opinions.But Storr had come into a belligerent mood now; and when he had sat down, he continued his attack.
“Yes, yes; it is easy to laugh,” he said, “that is... yes, how in god’s name shall it go with a country where nobody wants to work?” “Exaggeration,” said the sheriff. “Won’t we work?” smiled the proprietory. “No, we will not,” said the gorcer. “We want... we want... to have it good! Have it comfortable... become big gentlemen on credit! That is what we want! If a man has earned some thousands, then he takes up ... and eat them up, one, two, three! And if he’s not eating them up; he has a son who will eat it up; one, two, three! That which should be the foundation for a capital, for a big, solid enterprise goes down through.... Yes, for such is the case in foreign lands. Do you think the great English and American wealth rained down from heaven? The great foreign fortunes were created in this way: a laborer or a bellboy earned about 50 pounds, then he continued working and earned 200 pounds, and so the son worked after the father and generation after generation ... worked, you see! Yes, and finally there was a capital... fortune, power, capability! First and foremost, capability! But here? That which should be the foundation for a capital, whoops! Out of all the windows! If a man has a thousand dalar, then he does not want to work; he shall study... and so he spends away the thousand dalar, and after that he lives on credit and becomes a copier! If I may ask, where shall the capital come from? And where shall the capability come from... as capital and capability belong together, if we shall be competitive... and where shall they come from, when the capital has been killed at birth, and everyone who should learn some things, go and throws himself away and works as a copier!”
Three or four shouting voices rose up and wanted to reply but knocked each other down. The only thing that Storr got was some words from the sheriff about our loyal hardworking farmers. “The farmer!” shouted Storr, “was it the farmer, you said? The farmer is like us... wants to lie down in the barn and eat, eat and sleep, and does not give a damn about tomorrow; let us not talk about the farmer!”
The sheriff said that there was something the grocer was right about. The lower classes are no longer happy now about their place in society as they ought to be; and it is a sorry thing that the farmer gives himself more and more to driving around to farmers’ friend meeting and such things instead of working. But on the whole, the sheriff wanted to say that all over the country, the farm is working like a slave, working steadfastly and seriously; that it would be unfair to demand more from him. Petersen, who was a son of a province governor in Western Norway, said the same thing; and there was mumbling in general agreement about the subject.
“My good son-in-law has the habit of using strong words,” said the proprietor with a conciliatory smile; “but if one disregards that... I am inclined to believe that the people all oer the country have too little sense about using time. Time is money, says the Englishman, that is a sentence that would do the farmer good if he learns it. But what is needed is enlightenemnt, englightenment, gentlemen!” Bravo, bravo. “Yes, but from where shall the farmer get that?” asked Storr. “Through books? Yes, but can one find a government agronomist or such man who can write a book like that?” (Then?) “Don’t give me that. I myself attempted to write such a book and I have seen... seen others have writen; but... yes. All in all.. everybody is screaming for enlightenment; but I find more and more that with enlightenment... it is just a phrase!” “No, my dear Mr. Grocer!” “Yes, a phrase. A farmer will not be enlightened. Enlightenment is not something that one can tear of for oneself for a year or two through books or talk; all his life one must ... one must live in an englightened air! It is only the wealthy who can become enlightened. Enlightenment and spiritual life are ... it is a luxury, a special frock; first, one must have food, and if one has something extra, then one can live a spiritual life. We see that also. These idealist, when they will take the farmer as he goes there and make him into a spiritual man, what was that all about? Wasted talk, and nonsense, folk high school nonsense! No! But the farmer shall be practical; that he can do; practical in his craft ... and if it is that, which you call enlightenment, proprietor, then that is well and good.” “Of course it is practical enlightenment,” the proprietor said, “and after a while you will see that it in reality our arguments are alike.” But Daniel did not know what he should think.
The warm toddy encouraged the social spirit, they started thinking about the future of the countryside. Then Petersen said that at the farming villages, people were sitting at the fireplace during the long winter evenings and wasted the time with folk tales and nonsense, instead of earning money by making wooden shoes and brushes; so everybody found this totally wrong; the sheriff said that it was something the state should take care of.
“Yes, it would be Norwegian, that,” snarled Storr in his belligerent tone. “State powers! In an enlightened country it is called ‘help yourself”; here it is the state treasury and the social welfare fund ... and Our Lord and .... but nobody can take care of themselves, damn it! State treasury? Yes, that is to say that there should be a civil service office for this kind of work ... with wooden shoes inspectors and a wooden shoes chief in the Church Department ... yes; and then a great book with reports every year, and suggestions and plans about this and that ... Good God!” he shouted to the proprietor, “just fine people who wants to buy wooden shoes, then you shall see that the farmer will learn how to make them!”
After this there was a discussion about the civil service. The sheriff was annoyed about the wooden shoes chief and said something offensive; the young lawyer tried to help; such things an enlightened man should not say. And Daniel agreed with them in that. The grocer did not say much about this; but when they were finished, he explained, that when the unproductive civil servants were regarded as the highest in the country, then the country would be impoverished. He wanted that the best brains should work on the practical, then the second best or the average brains could make all the protocols and suggestions and all those reports. The sheriff became more and more livid; Becker and Petersen called the grocer a Jaabæk man; Mrs. Storr sat and made coughing sounds. The proprietor did the same. He didn’t know of any better way to solve it than to make a speech. He spoke for the civil service, our honest civil service that we have to thank God for; and the speech ended with a toast for the sheriff, “who is a representative from the civil service.”
The shierff answered with a toast for the “odel farmer”, that grand odel farmer, who sat safely on his turf and did not give a damn about the world; (1) but obeyed his King and the authorities; that is the farmer that the sheriff’s toast was for; that farmer was the nucleus of the country; and that farmer could cope if worse comes to worst. Between the olden farmer and the civil service there had always been a good relationship; and he had no doubt that this relationship would remain friendly, even if if... hhmmm... voices like ... The toast was drank to the great and enlightened odel farmer, our highly respected and hospitable host, the proprietor Mr. Stensrud. Daniel liked what the sheriff said and he got the feeling that this “friend of the civil service” may perhaps be as good a friend to the people as the opposition cliques.
When Mrs. Storr saw that her husband wanted to reply to the sheriff, she hurriedly asked if some of the young gentlemen would be so kind as to sin a little bit. “Yes, that would be nice,” shouted the proprietor, satisifed. Mrs. Storr at once sat at the piano; Knutzon and Viborg consulted each other about what they would sing; so there came some accompaniment melodies from the piano, and the young gentlemen began in full power:
Here is, by God, good to stay,
oh how life really is nice..
They sang beautifully, with artistry, with a trill in the voice and dragging the tones; it was like being in the theater, thought Daniel; that is how a fine song should be. They continued with “the boys”; afterwards they continued with a piece from Bellmann. Daniel wondered if they would not sing something Norwegian.
There was applause for each number; and when they finished, the proprietor thanked them with a little speech for “the students’ song”. Mr. Viborg made a speech for “The Uppsala Song”, that he said was a purely magical song, and then the gentlemen understood that it was about keeping Endre Storr out, so all of them started making a speech. Mr. Petersent made a speech for the brotherland (Sweden); Mr. Knutzon for woman, addressed to Miss Stensrud; Bang Block for our brothers in the south (Denmark), and Becker for the farmer students. Daniel paled. But Mr. Becker said that it was something that, ah, made us glad, that the farmers have started to develop more and more, ah, truer and thorough enlightenment; that would help them forward, ah, ah, to be able to defend their place among all the other social classes, and, ah, ah, for example, at the Storting (Parliament), in a more valuable way , hhmmaahhh, in a more and more valuable way. It had been shown that they were , ah, that the farmers did not miss, hhmm, discipline, so he thought, that they, ah, this, ah, disharmony that could sometimes occur between the social classes, aahh, would resolve itself. The toast he offered to the representative of the farmer students whom we have the honor to have here among us, Mr. Student, no, Mr. Kandidat, hhmm, ah, now, Mr. Kandidat Danelsen, “oh, no, pardon me! Mr. Kandidat Danielsen-Braut. A toast to him!” Bravo. Daniel squirmed a bit. He drank, but he hardly felt the ground he was standing on. Now he should get up and make a speech! That was the intention, that was self evident; and he saw it in their faces. But what should his speech be about?
He remembered that a toast for the fatherland has not been drunk. That was the one he would take then. If only one can find something to say in a hurry! One must think for a moment. But then somebody would come and take the topic away from him. Yes, well, there comes the sheriff. He wanted to make a speech for the fatherland now.
But the sheriff wanted to make a speech for the students. Not just for a particular type of students, in his opinion there are no such classes; when they have taken their examination, then they were like sons of Athena; and so all the class differences were removed. (Bravo! thought Daniel.) The sheriff make a speech for all the students. and wanted especially to remind them that they were the stuff out of which the civil service was made. It was right and necessary that the work in the service of the state was about something that was high and excellent. We sometimes heard that the state service was a work , hhmm, that was not particularly worth anything; we had even seen, from a certain standpoint, seen that baptizing children was compared to working with muck, hhmm, but the sheriff thinks that this would be the greatest misfortune for the state if the difference between the state service and other work should die out in the people’s minds. Service for the State must stand for something; yes, for something ideal; to use a phrase; like a noble life’s mission, to which one dedicated his life in his youth, and that one held on to with energy like a life’s mission during the long waiting time. The State could not be happy with hired servants and business speculators; one must demand that the state’s servants were in the forefront when it concerns the life! Therefore, he wanted to remind the many young men who now went and prepared themselves for this mission; and he wanted to wish and hope that they prepared themselves that way, that country and king must always have a good and loal civil service. Cheers! Bravo!
The sheriff drank, and his grey face turned red as the full moon; he was a fighter for a grand idea tonight, and it was not so often that this happened. Daniel felt fond of the sheriff for that speech; what he had said were words from his own heart; it was self-evident and true.
But now comes Endre Storr; and there was no longer any help for it.
Yes! when there should be speeches here, so there... let it be. They had spoken about the farmer; yes, he could also speak about the farmer; and gladly. But not about the odel farmer; as the odel farmer was more and more ... he wanted to say myth... ”Hm?” was heard around the table. But Storr wanted to talk about the farmer who now lived around the valleys, he who had mortaged it in the Norske Hypothek Bank; he who no longer owned the turf he sat on, but went about slaving for the bank. Yes, it is said here that he works... that he works like a slave” “Hm!” said the sheriff, “And that is true, he works like a slave. But so is it that he should not work just for that, he should work with joy, that is the thing, with joy! Yes. But that he cannot, as long as he is a savage and hates the work... and as far as being a civil servant, that about working unproductively, the highest in the country.” “Hm!” said Daniel. “But so it is now. And the farmer sees and hears nothing else for himself...and so he learns to get away from his work, instaed of putting all his being in the work and, hence... make progress. Now he gets nowhere, nowhere except to the bank. If he owns a little bit, he throws it away in nonsense ... and if he has a son who is quite capable ... yes, then the son will not be a farmer, god help us all! No, he shall go to the seminary, in school all the time, and if he had been there, then he is too fine to use his hands for anything, that is alright.... he shall go about finely dressed and be fashionable ... live on others’ labors; because it is nice here, but live from it, what one is growing oneself, that is not vulgar... Yes. Then all capabilities will disappear from the farmer class; and then the good-for-nothings come and slave for the banks... that is the proletariat, the same as in England....and that is the odel farmer on whom we shall rely during when things get difficult!” Daniel felt uneasy where he sat, but Storr was a materialist; nobody would care about him; and he looked at the others and understood that they did not agree with him either. But Storr went on. We come here and talk about enlightenment... yes, that is well and good... but... there was one thing, that all schools and knowledge in the country should be based on, and that was to imprint in the people’s mind, like a searing fire, that old good sentence: Poverty is a crime, poverty is a sin! That should be the first commandment in our people’s catechism – Thou shalt not be poor. This land must be a working state like Belgium or Switzerland; and so they go about here and transform it into a council, a literature state in the German pattern. We could see it in all things – in the literature with all this poetry and dreaming and all these ideas.... the fog of German ideals, an unhealthy, lifeless studio-flat literature .... instead of teaching people honest truths and teaching them to understand what it costs to live ... such do we deprive the country of energy and people. And then the state budget. We could see from the state budget that we are a people who are governed by civil servants – and the farmers who want to be fine people. Almost everything went to office bureaus and unproductive activites, and little or nothing to helping forward the work and business. And if a poor one wants to be a priest, then there are a hundred benefactors and mindless discoverers of genius ready and willing to help him forward (can you imagine that?, thought Daniel); but if there was one, who made a useful invention, then... yes, people thought he was crazy. And if he established a workshop, then the state and the merchants buy from abroad just as well. Yes, and then we whine that we are a poor country! Very well. Even Finland has a big export industry; and what do we export? Emigrants! Switzerland has an industry that sends merchandise worldwide; what do we manufacture? Aquavit and dark beer! “Yes, cheers, then!” shouted Stensrud. Endre Storr was startled and look around, “Yes, that is true,” he said. “that was a toast for .... for ... yes, a toast for the farmer. Yes; there has not been the best correlation in this speech, but .... but, I will drink a toast to the farmer who... that the farmer and all of us altogether should not get too much culture, and that we will be happy to work... and that he and all of us must learn to understand that he who is growing a barrel of barley is greater than the one who writes a mediocre book .... that one who gets two straws to grow where there used to grow only one – he is a benefactor to his clan! Cheers for that farmer who works and works with joy and progress!” The toast was drank; but nobody said bravo. And Daniel thought that this man is somebody that Haugum would say is not a materialist!
He had been drinking quite a bit while Storr went on, so he could get up the courage to make a toast for the fatherland; now the glass was empty, and he ambled into the side room and filled it up again. Because he now wanted to make a speech! And he would address some serious words to Storr that both the sheriff and the others would like.
As he stood there and mixed his drink, Knutzon and Viborg came in and sat down; they brought their glasses with them. “Uh, this Endre Storr,” sighed Knutzon. “Yes that is a screwball,” answered Viborg. “Now! that’s right, house tutor!” he continued, “go on! Here one gets a drink; because there is, by god, nothing else to do!” “No, you would not enter any other galley here,” said Knutzon. “He-he; no, one has something like morals here out in the countryside,” laughed Viborg. “Yes, but, by the way, here there is nothing that is called evening delights also, is there?” “Oh, what kind of talk is that, are you crazy” That is only out there in the remote valleys” “Yes, what do you say, house tutor? You must know about this?” “No, that habit has died out in these parts,” answered Daniel innocently. They laughed so drily; he did not have the right touch in the dialect. “Yes, the devil, believe these farmers,” said Viborg, “But it is reasonable to assume that you would not tell on us, will you? You are smart enough, are you not? “Oh, nonsense,” said Knutzon, “the house tutor keeps himself to the house.” They laughed and drank; then Viborg said something about “the female members of the house” that left Daniel speechless. That such people could say such things! And the way it was said! Without respect all all, self-confident, as if it should be so. Frons urbana, frons urbana....
“Good evening, gentlemen!” said the sheriff; he should be going home. The women also came in and said good night; Messrs Knutzon, Viborg and Becker flocked around Mrs. Storr and were gallant; Daniel was tired of watching them. But... that was the formal behavior... Finally they came out those who would go home, the propritor, the grocer and student Stensrud walked them to the sled. The others went inside, several gathered around the toddy table.
“That Storr is, the devil take me, a juggler!” said Bang Block in a low voice. “Everything that he gestulates with and fences with is just to make himself interesting; he wants to be original... he ought to, the devil take me, be an oppossistionist!” Petersen did not think so; he smiled broadly and brightly; Storr was a good fellow, a bit naive, but immensely entertaining; there is no lack of fun in a party where he is. Oh, yes, entertaining; but he was a juggler. He was of the same type as those other “friends of the people”, it was, by god, himself he was thinking of. Had he been a speech maker, he would have done as would kandidat Meier and others of the same sort, who went around the country and ran a “people’s high school”. Block sneered when he uttered the words – and came back as members of Parliament... “Meier?” Do you think he will become a member of Parliament?” asked Bekcer. Oh, Block knew the firebrand. Meier came here and applied for a priest’s position, and when he did not get it, then... yes, that was when Mr. Meier went around the mountains to wake up the people! Then, that was, by god, a good information, said Becker. “Is that true?” “It should be true. That was a reliable information! That Meier is known as such a high idealist”.... Oh, shit, that was, by god, the same mess, all of it. Kandidat Meier was as good a lawyer as Stensgaard was, as one could see, one of the same types as these fiery chaps in “Fram’s clique” ... Daniel was startled. “Oh, let us not get into politics again,” begged Viborg “It is such that, the devil, as soon as one gets into the countryside, one gets into politics! At that moment, the proprietor and the others came it; the conversation shifted to another topic.
Daniel did not listen musch to what was being said. He sat and twisted himself and thought of the speech for the fatherland. But everytime he should dare to come forward, he lost his nerve; it was not so easy to make a speech in such a fine and critical assembly. Repeatedly, the proprietor and the grocer said good night. The proprietor was old, the grocer was tired, “but the young people shall sit up!” laughed the proprietor hospitably. “Yes, we will, by god, sit up!” said student Stensrud; the old people left. Would it be any use to make a speech now for the fatherland?
Block got himself a new glass; there was a debate about the right way to make a toddy. Becker who had been abroad told about the method of how to make absinthe; continued to talk about Paris and life there; Daniel heard about things that he never thought could be found in this world. From Paris, the conversation moved to Kristiania; and Daniel realized that he was just a stranger in Kristiania as he would have been in Paris. That which he had seen, that was only the vulgar; the unpolished, that which was for farmers .... Then Mr. Jokum surfaced again; Petersen and Becker told stories about him that was of such a kind that Daniel found it more than reasonable that Hanna should know about them. But what Bang Block later told about “that gorgeous Mrs. Harry” was not much better. It was strange that there could be so much of these things among fine people.
But Viborg and Knutzon got a taste to make fun of the kind house tutor; as he sat there twiddling his scanty whiskers and stared before him with his kind eyes; heavily built and awkward with hulking shoulders; he looked so innocent that they could not help themselves. Was it not true that the kandidat had lived such a wild time in Kristiana? Daniel was startled; the others laughed. Yes, said Viborg, such a rumor went around in Kristiania. Mr. House Tutor was more known than he had thought, and not only for the good things; isn’t that true, gentlemen?” “Yes,” said Knutzon; “yes,” said Becker. Daniel realized that they were making fun of him, and he was angry. “What kind of talk is that?” he said. “Talk? Would Mr. Kandidat call it talk what has been confirmed by two good witnesses?” “Mr. House Tutor had better reply to the question,” said Mr. Becker. And the fine gentlemen sat and stared at the boy with raised eyebrows and their lorgnettes at their eyes; Daniel felt helpless, and he felt inferior; he could not prevail against these giggling frons urbana.
He was saved by Stensrud who began telling about student Rødberg; do you, gentlemen, know student Rødberg? He was the house tutor at this farm before. That was a fellow who could have had a wild life! And then he had the habit of not being able to tell the truth, whether there was need for it or not; but it was unfortunate that he could not lie convincingly; one lie contradicted the other; and so it went wrong. He had managed to cope for some time; he had begun to take on what is godly and actually got a priest to believe in him – Daniel was uneasy where he sat; – and everytime things went wrong, Rødberg was repentant; and then that kind priest took the bait again. At last, he passed the student examination. But when he had finished that, he went wild with profligacy and madness that there was nothing else to do but to send the weak brother Rødberg out to the countryside. But brother Rødberg knew how to become weak in the countryside also; and when he had lied so much that his lies started killing each other, then everything was out in the open; and Rødberg was shown the door. Where was Rødberg now? In Kristiania; and there are those who wanted to know if he now went about as a constable in Grønland. Constable? Could an academic citizen fall so low? Oh, said Stensrud, it was not so easy for those who are starving. Daniel was sweating; he glanced at Stensrud uneasily and wondered if he knew enough about him.
“Yes, there are many of such people,” said Bang Block; he was sitting, making his fifth glass of toddy. Did the gentlemen know a student Monsen? That guy was also a swindler. For several yars, he survived by lying and getting loans; for a time he had lived at a mine quarry that his brother had not found; he grasped at everything and anything; here in winter. On a little thing like this – here in winter; then they created a disturbance in the theater, “children’s show” as The Citizen called it. “Incidentaly, were you not also there, house tutor?” asked Viborg teasingly; he drank often from his glass. Daniel raised his head; he did not want to lie ... Yes, then; this Monsen he joined the whistle blowers and in this way got a free ticket, but he had told this beforehand to a constable and later made money from this, that he had not been whistling. “Yes, the farmers, the farmers!” laughed Petersen.
Daniel did not enjoy himself in this formal education. As soon as he saw the first opportunity, he sneaked out and went to bed.
But it was a long time before he fell asleep. He lay in bed, angry at himself because he managed himself so poorly; and now, afterwards, he found the many good things he ought to have said to those fine gentlemen. In between he was twisting himself with questions and doubt, could they know something? Strange words have been said, but they could not beliee that he was such a guy as this Rødberg, or somebody like Peder Monsen?
What was obvious was that they had been making fun of him and that he had not been able to stand up to them. It was frons urbana that was needed; a skill and courage shaped by the city; if only one had this courage, the right touch, then one could say and do whatever one wanted.
And so idiotic it was that he had not made a speech for the fatherland. If he had done so, then they would have seen that he was some guy. But tomorrow, tomorrow, he would be more clever. He would show these gentlemen that he was not a toy; he would make a speech for the fatherland. This idea comforted him. And the speech for the fatherland he rehearsed by himself; and it went well. “Gentlemen! During all our struggles... there is a name that... when it is mentioned... makes us forget... all that can keep us from giving our brotherly hand....” Strangely enough, he thought that nobody elese was making a speech for the fatherland. Is it not good enough? Yes, of course, then the speech must be made well. It is only the internationalist who believe that the fatherland is not good enough.. “ – give each other the brotherly hand... just like our forefathers at Eidsvoll (2)... Yes, gentlemen! The great memories... sagas... In Rosenlund under Sagas’ Hall... the great forefathers, the vikings who won the whole kingdom... all these... the high gods... and goddesses ... and tbe great heroic beings who wandered through the sagas... the great Haakons... the great Olavs... And even then, we have men who wanted to risk their life and shed their blood....
Mr. Jokum sat at the end of the table and nodded; on his chest was The Order of Olav. But the grocer Storr stood up and stared at Daniel with fiery eyes and said that the fatherland was ... the fatherland was ... he wanted to find a phrase.
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(1) Eidsvoll - a small village about 80 km from Oslo (Kristiania) where the Constitution of 1814 was written.
(2) Odel farmer - An odel is a piece of land that is regarded as an inheritance from generation to generation and, thus, protected by law. See Appendix for more details.