OVIND:
A STORY OF
NORWEGIAN COUNTRY LIFE
BY BJORNSTJERNE BJORNSON
X I B R.AR.Y
OF THE
U N I VLRSITY
OF ILLINOIS
Tom Turner Collection
L161-0-1096
O V I N D:
Stay; xxf gauntly; Huie in
BY
BJORNSTJERNE BJORNSON.
TRANSLATED FROM THE XORWECTAN
"EN GLAD c:UT,"
SIVERT AND ELIZABETH HJEKLKID.
LONDON : SIMPKIX, MARSHALL, AND CO.
MIDDLESBROUGH : BURNETT AND HOOD.
1869.
TRANSLATORS' PREFACE.
IN offering to the public our Translation of Ovind,
' we wish to say that the work was commenced simply
, for the pleasure of it, and without any view to publi-
~ cation ; but having completed it, we have decided to
* follow the advice of many of our friends who have
read the book, and who think it a pity to keep in
;.' manuscript the translation of a work so original as
^ this. It is therefore offered to the English reader, in
^ the hope that it will meet with the same success in this
- country that it has done in others; for BJORNSTJERNE
* BJORNSON, that singular man who seemed so long
' destined to be distinguished for naught but foolish
; pranks as a boy, and inaptitude at school and college,
s has won for himself high literary honors, not only
in his native land but throughout Northern
^^urope. A restless nature, wandering in a wilderness
of unfixed purpose, he has repeatedly been on the
rpoint of giving himself up as good for naught, until
~ at last the sequestered valley, and the lowly and quiet
^ life of his home, broke upon his wondering eye,
IV TRANSLATORS PREFACE.
in forms he had been seeking in that dreamy half-
conscious instinct, which has so often been the har-
binger of greatness. .
The " Bonde," that sturdy aristocrat of a northern
settlement, a man of noble descent, a lord of his
ground, and the mainstay of his country, covering
under the rugged garb of his matter-of-fact life, a heart
that beats warm with attachment to his fellow man,
and an inborn pride, nurtured by Saga memories and
family traditions, is BJORNSON'S text, and a text he
handles well. His romances are true to nature, and
ths sombre grandeur of his land inspires him with
ideas which we meet with only in his writings, and
which are completely his own. There is a weird light
over his whole mind, reflected in his works, which
does not repel, but allures. In short, BJORNSON, of
all men living, seems to have entered most entirely
into the life of his nation as it is in its reality, the
life which exists on the national traditions, customs,
thought, handed down from generation to generation.
The story, which it has been our endeavour to
translate as literally as possible, is one of the author's
earliest works. In the original the chapters are
without headings, but we have added them as more
consonant with English taste and custom. As the
Norwegian title, " En glad Gut," scarcely bears
translation, we have given the name of the hero of
the story to the book. Thinking it would be accept-
TRANSLATORS' PREFACE. v
able to our readers, we have added two of BjiiRN-
SON'S shorter pieces, " The Eagle's Nest," and " The
Father."
We should not feel to be doing HERR BJORNSON
justice, if we spoke only of his romances, and omitted
to mention his success as a poet and dramatist. In the
drama he has mostly chosen for his subjects, scenes
in old Norwegian history, but his play entitled, " Mary
Stuart," and another of more general interest, " The
newly-married couple," would perhaps be better suited
to the English reader.
NORTH ORMESBY,
MIDDLESBROUGH, OCTOBER, 1869.
CONTENTS.
OVIND.
CHAP. I. PAGE.
THE LOST GOAT 9
CHAP. II.
AT SCHOOI 18
CHAP. III.
THE SCHOOLMASTER'S STORY 28
CHAP. IV.
Two BRIGHT BUTTONS AND ONE BLACK ..." 44
CHAP. V.
A NEW AIM IN LIFE 60
CHAP. VI.
NOT QUITE FAIR 75
CHAP. VII.
A VOICE FROM THE RlDGE 94
CHAP. VIII.
BE SURE THAT You BURN IT 106
CHAP. IX.
OVIND THROWS HIS CAP IN THE AIR 124
CHAP. X.
TURN THE RIVER WHERE IT CAN FLOW ... ' 136
Vlll PREFACE.
CHAP. XI.
GATHERING KERRIKS 147
CHAP. XII.
THE OLD MAN GETS HIS OWN WAY ... 166
THE EAGLE'S NEST 188
THE FATHER 194
CHAP. I.
THE LOST GOAT.
HEY called him Ovind, and he cried
when he was born. Rut when he
could sit upon his mother's lap he
smiled, and when they lit the candle in the dusk,
he laughed and laughed again, but cried when
he couldn't come to it.
" This child will be something rare," said the
mother.
There, where he was born, the wild rocks
overhung. From the top of the ridge, the firs
and birch looked down upon the cottage ; the
bird cherry strewed its flowers on the roof.
And up on the roof grazed Ovind's little goat ;
B
io (Dbinb.
they kept him there that he mightn't stray, and
Ovind gathered leaves and grass for him. One
fine morning the goat leapt down, and skipped
among the rocks, away where he had never
been before. When Ovind came out in the
afternoon, the goat was gone. He thought at
once of a fox, and grew hot and listened " Billy,
Billy, Billy, Bil-ly goat !" " Ba-a-a !" he answered
up from the ridge, laid his head to one side, and
looked down.
By the side of the goat sat a little girl. "Is
the goat yours ?" said she.
Ovind stood with open eyes and mouth, and
stuck both his hands in his pocket. " Who are
you ?" said he.
" I am Marit, my mother's pet, my father's
darling, the fairy in the house, granddaughter
to Ole Nordistuen at Heidegaard, four years
old in Autumn, two days after the frosty
nights !"
" Oh ! are you that !" said he, as he drew a
alu Jfost $0at. n
long breath, for he had not stirred while she
spoke.
" Is the goat yours ?" said the little girl
again.
" Why, yes," said he, and looked up.
" I have taken such a fancy to this goat ;
you won't give it to me ?"
" No, that I won't."
She twisted herself, looked down upon him,
and said : " But if I give you a butter biscuit,
can I get the goat ?"
Ovind was of poor folk, he had only eaten
butter biscuit once in his life, that was when his
grandfather came, and the like he had never
tasted before or since. " Let me first see the
biscuit," said he.
She held up a large one " Here it is !" and
tossed it down. <&
" Oh ! it's broken !" said the boy, and he
carefully gathered up every crumb ; the small-
est bit he must taste, and it was so good that
12
he must take just another, and another, till
before he knew it, the whole biscuit was
gone.
" Now the goat is mine," said the little girl.
The boy stopped with the last bit in his
mouth. The girl sat and smiled, the goat
standing by her side, with his white breast and
dark brown shaggy hair.
" Couldn't you wait for a while ?" begged
the boy, and his heart began to beat.
Then the little girl laughed the more, ancj
rose up on her knees. " No the goat is mine,"
said she, and threw her arm round his neck,
untied her garter, and bound it round.
Ovind looked on. She rose and began to
pull at the goat, but he wouldn't go, and
stretched his neck over towards Ovind. " Ba-
a-a," said he. She took hold of him by the
hair with one hand, and drawing the cord in
with the other, said coaxingly, " Come now,
goaty, come, you shall come to the kitchen and
oat. 13
I'll give you nice milk an,d bread," then she
sang :
" Come calf from my mother,
Come goat from the lad,
Come pussy mew kitty,
Oh ! I am so glad !
Come ducklings so yellow,
Go each with your fellow, ,
Come chickens and run,
Haste to join in the fun,
Come little doves cooing,
Your feathers are fine
The grass may be wet,
But the sun will still shine,
Early, early, early, in the summer sky,
Calling unto autumn that her days are nigh f
There stood the boy. He had tended the
goat since winter when he was born, and the
idea of losing him had never entered his mind,
but now he was gone all in a minute, and he
should never see him more.
The mother came singing up from the well.
She saw the boy sitting in the grass crying,
and went over to him. " What are you crying
for ?"
14 (Obinb.
" Oh ! the goat, the goat."
" Yes, where is the goat ?" said the mother,
as she looked up to the roof.
" He won't come any more !" said the boy.
" Dear, how can that be ?"
Ovind wouldn't tell about it.
" Has the fox taken it ?"
" Oh ! I wish it was the fox !"
" Now what have you been doing ?" said the
mother.. " Where is the goat ?"
"Oh! oh! oh! I. ..I. ..sold the goat for
a biscuit !"
Just as he said the words, he felt what it was
to sell the goat for a biscuit, he had not thought
about it before. The mother said, " And what
do you say now the little goat thinks of you,
that you could sell him for a biscuit?"
Now the boy fully understood it, and he felt
sure he could never more be happy here, not
even with God, he thought again.
He felt so grieved,, that he made an agree-
6oat. 15
ment with himself that he would never do
wrong any more, he wouldn't cut the spinning
thread, and he wouldn't lose the sheep, nor go
down to the sea alone. And as he lay, he fell
asleep, and dreamt that the goat had gone to
heaven ; the Lord sat there with a great beard
as in the catechism, and the goat stood and
nibbled the leaves from- a shining tree, but
Ovind sat alone upon the roof and couldn't
come up.
Suddenly he felt something wet against his
ear, and started up. " Ba-a-a !" it said. It was
the goat come back again.
" Oh, are you come again !" He sprang up,
took both the goat's forelegs, and danced with
him as a brother ; he pulled him by the beard,
and was just going in with him when he heard
something behind, and turning, he saw the little
girl sitting on the greensward.' Now he under-
stood it, and let the goat loose. " Is it you who
have brought him back ?"
16 (Dbinb.
She sat and pulled the grass up. " They
wouldn't let me keep him. My grandfather's
up there waiting."
Just then they heard a shrill voice calling,
" Now !" Then she remembered what she
had to do. She rose and went to Ovind, put
one hand in his, looked down, and said : " For-
give me." But then her courage failed her ; she
cast herself over the goat, and wept.
" You shall keep the little goat," said Ovind,
and turned away.
" Be quick !" said the' grandfather up from
the hill.
Marit rose and walked slowly on.
" You've forgotten your garter," cried
Ovind.
She turned herself, looked first on the garter
and then on him, and at last mumbled " You
can keep that."
He went and took her by the hand, " Thank
you !" he said.
<Tl)t JTost (goat. 17
" Oh, nothing to thank me for," she replied,
heaved a deep sigh, and went away.
But Ovind wasn't so happy with the goat as
he had been before.
CHAP. II.
AT SCHOOL.
Y the cottage side the goat was
tethered, but Ovind was looking up
towards the hill. His mother came
and sat by him ; he wished to hear stories
about things far away, for the goat could
no longer satisfy him. So he was told how
once all things could speak, the mountain
spoke to the brook, and the brook to the river,
and the river to the sea, and the sea to the sky ;
but then he asked if the sky spoke to nothing,
yes, the sky spoke to the clouds, and the
clouds to the trees, and the trees to the grass,
and the grass to the flies, and the flics to the
^t School. 19
animals, and the animals to children, and
children to old people, and so it went again
and again, and round and round, and no one
knew who began. Ovind looked on the moun-
tain, the trees, the sea, and the sky, and had in
reality never seen them before. The cat came
out and laid herself on the doorstep in the sun..
" What does pussy say ?" said Ovind, and
pointed. The mother sang :
" Softly the sun sheds his evening rays,
Idly the cat on the doorstep lays.
* Two little wee mice,
Some cream from a cup,
And a dainty fish slice
Have I eaten up,
And I feel too lazy to stir,
I can only sit here and purr,'
Says tlie cat."
The cock with all his hens passed by. " What
does the cock say ?" asked Ovind, and clapped
his hands. The mother sang :
" Kindly the hen-mother spreads out her wings,
Proudly the cock stands on one leg and sings,
20
' Up in the air with plumage grey,
The wild goose swiftly his course may steer,
But, in intellect tell me I pray
Can he ever match with Sir Chanticleer !
Come, come my hens, to rest, to rest
Soon will the sun sink down in the west,'
Says the cock."
Two little birds sat and sang up on the roof.
" What do the little birds say ?" asked Ovind,
and laflghed.
'" Oh ! how pleasant and sweet is life
Free from the turmoil of constant strife, '
Say the little birds."
And so he got to hear what all things said,
even down to the ant that crept through the
moss, and the worm that bored in the bark.
The same summer his mother began to teach
him to read. He had often wondered how it
would be when the books began to talk, and
now all the letters were animals, birds, or any-
thing else he thought of ; but soon they began
to go together two and two ; A stood and
leaned against a tree, and called to B, then E
21
came and did the same, but now there were
three or four together, and it seemed as if they
disagreed, the further he went the more he
forgot what they were. He could remember A
the longest, for he liked it the best, it was a
little black lamb and was friends with every-
body ; but soon he forgot A too. The book
had no stories, but was simply lessons.
One day his mother came in, and said to him
" To-morrow the school begins again, and I shall
take you there to the farm." Ovind had heard
that the school was a place where little boys
played together, and he had nothing to say
against it. He was delighted, and ran on before
his mother up the hill, full of glee and expecta-
tion. They reached the school-house, and a
busy hum greeted their ears, like the sound of
the water mill at home. He asked what it was.
" It is the children reading," she said : then he
was pleased, for he had read that way himself
before he knew his letters. When he came in
22 Ofainb.
there were as many children sitting round the
table as he had ever seen at church. Others sat
on their dinner tins round the room, and some
stood in small groups before a black board.
The schoolmaster, an old grey-headed man, sat
on a stool by the fire filling his pipe. When
Ovind and his mother entered, they all looked
up, and the murmur ceased, as if the mill stream
were suddenly dammed. The mother said
" Good morning," and shook hands with the
schoolmaster.
" Here I come with a little boy who will
learn to read," said the mother.
" What's the bairn's name ?" said the school-
master, as he delved in his pouch for the to-
bacco.
" Ovind," said the mother ;" he knows his
letters and a few short words."
" Oh ! indeed !" said the schoolmaster.
" Come here you little white head !"
Ovind went to him, the schoolmaster lifted
M School. 23
him on to his knee, and took off his cap.
" Here's a nice little lad !" said he, and stroked
his hair.
Ovind looked up in his face and smiled.
" Is it me you're laughing at ?" and he
frowned.
" Yes, that it is," replied Ovind, and laughed
aloud. Then the schoolmaster laughed also,
and the mother, so the children saw they might
join, and they all laughed together.
This was the way in which Ovind entered
the school.
When he had to take his seat each one
wanted to make room for him, but he stood
looking round and round, from side to side,
with his cap in his hand and his book under
his arm, while they whispered and pointed.
" What then ?" said the schoolmaster, and
he took his pipe again.
As the boy turned round to the schoolmaster
he caught sight of Marit with the many names,
24 Obinb.
sitting on a little red painted box in the chimney
corner : she hid her face in both her hands and
sat and peeped at him.
" I'll sit here !" said Ovind quickly, hopped
across the room, and set himself down by her
side. Now she lifted her arm and looked at
him from under her elbows ; then he did the
same. This went on till they all laughed again.
" Be quiet, you naughty, troublesome, gig-
gling gewgaws ! Come be good little children
now !"
It was the voice of the schoolmaster, who, if
he stormed, was sure to be calm before he
finished.
The children were soon quiet again, until
each began to con his lesson aloud. Then the
treble voices sounded high, while the bass
drummed louder and louder to overpower them,
and one and another chimed in between, till
Ovind thought he had never had such fun in
all his days.
25
" Is it always like this ?" he whispered to Marit.
" Yes, it's always like this," she said.
By and bye they had to go up to the school-
master to read, then a little boy was set to hear
them, and they soon found a chance to slip
back to their corner again.
" I've got a little goat now, too," said Marit.
" Have you ?"
" Yes, but it's not so nice as yours."
" Why haven't you come up oftener to the
ridge ?"
" Grandfather was afraid lest I should fall
ft
down."
" But it isn't so high."
" Grandfather won't let me come though."
" My mother knows so many songs," said
Ovind.
" Oh ! so does grandfather."
" Yes, but not the same as mother sings."
" Grandfather knows a dancing song ! Will
vou hear it ?"
26 (Dbinb.
" Oh yes !"
" Then come further away so that the school-
master shan't see us."
He came quite close to her, and she said the
song over and over again, till he knew it by
heart, and this was the first that he learnt at
the school,
" Dance ! cried the fiddle
In tuning the strings,
, Then suddenly upsprings
A youth and cries ' Ho !'
' Hey !' said Erasmus,
Embracing fair Randi,
1 Come hasten to give me
The kiss that you owe !'
' Nay,' answered Randi,
But slipped away shyly,
And nodding, said slyly,
' From that you may know !' "
" Up youngsters," cried the schoolmaster,
" this is the first day at school, and you may
go early, but now we must have prayers and
singing." Up rushed the children, laughing and
M School. 27
talking and scampering over the floor. " Silence !
you little good-for-nothing chatter-boxes, be
good and walk nicely over the floor my children !"
said the schoolmaster, whereupon they quietly
took their places, the schoolmaster went in front
and said a short prayer, and then they sang.
He led in a deep bass voice, and all the children
stood with folded hands. Ovind and Marit
stood near the door they also folded their
hands, but they could not sing.
So ended the first day at school.
CHAP. III.
THE SCHOOLMASTER'S STORY.
VI ND grew, and became a promising
lad. At school he was always among
the first, and at home he was indus-
trious, 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 in-
fluence 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
<T br $cboolmasttr's Stern. 29
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 re-
turned home, they were looked upon by every-
body 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
30 (Dbinb.
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
|jr Schoolmaster's Storg. 31
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
32 Obinb.
and everything in it was burnt to the ground,
and it could not be found out how the fire ori-
ginated. " 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."
ffbr Schoolmaster's torg. 33
" 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 child-
hood's years and what a good lad he had been.
Baard himself went up to the altar that day,
34 Obinb.
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 hinder-
ing 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."