And free love, free thought the
Christian
religion out of the
schools-no!
schools-no!
Warner - World's Best Literature - v11 - Fro to Gre
Brought up in an atmosphere of pietism,
the natural reaction led him into a kind of romantic atheistic un-
belief. In the turmoil of his mind, the battles were fought again and
again, until at length he reached the middle ground of modern
thought. His education was extremely desultory; but from the age
of nine, when from the only models within his reach he wrote hymns
and sermons, he showed a strong tendency for literature. He passed
the required examinations for a school-teacher in 1870, and alter-
nately taught and studied, until in 1875 he entered the University of
Christiania. His life as a student was by no means smooth, but he
persisted, in spite of poverty and indeed sometimes actual want.
## p. 6186 (#156) ###########################################
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ARNE GARBORG
He had previously, in Risör, published a Teacher's Journal (1871),
a small paper dealing principally though not exclusively with school
affairs; and a year later, in Tvedestrand, he established the Tvede-
strand Post. This experience as county editor and printer had quali-
fied him for newspaper work, and in 1877 he became connected with
the Aftenbladet of Christiania. The same year he founded the Fed-
raheimen, "a weekly paper for the Norse people. " This was really
the beginning of his literary career, although besides his early enter-
prises in journalism he had as a student contributed occasional
articles to the newspapers, and had already published his first book,
a critical essay on Ibsen's 'Emperor and Galilean. '
The attempt made by Ivar Aasen to establish in Norway a na-
tional language through a normalization of the peasant dialects, found
in Garborg one of its warmest supporters. Discarding Danish as a
literary medium, he advocated the use of the strong Norse, and the
Fedraheimen appeared as the organ of the new movement. Garborg
wrote a book upon the subject in the year after the establishment of
his journal, and ever since, by precept and practice, he has been the
chief propagandist of the new speech.
His first novel, En Fritenkjar' (A Freethinker), appeared anony-
mously in the Fedraheimen in 1878. The subject of the story was
one of the vital questions of the day, the conflict between iron-bound
dogmatism and rational thought; a theme now threadbare with much
handling, but then startlingly new. The author's early training and
his own environment of intolerant theology supplied material for the
story. The hero of the tale, the man who dared to think for him-
self, was looked upon as a criminal, to be ranked with house-breakers
and thieves. The ostracism which he brought upon himself was but
the just punishment for his crimes. The Freethinker, treated as a
moral leper, is driven from his home and goes abroad to expiate his
sin of unorthodoxy. In later years he returns to his native land, to
find most of his acquaintances dead. Of his family only one still
lives, and that is his son, who has become a clergyman!
Garborg's second romance, 'Bondestudentar' (Peasant Students)
(1883), deals with a problem no less real. In Norway, although there
is no rank of nobility, class distinctions are nevertheless strongly
marked; and in this novel his pen is directed against the evils which
result from the inordinate striving of the lower orders for a position
to which they are unfitted both by nature and circumstances. This
book, again, is to a degree autobiographical; for Garborg, as has been
said, is himself peasant, and he has fought the fight and suffered
the anguish of the new culture attained with incalculable sacrifice.
'Peasant Students' is undoubtedly his greatest work. Nowhere else
has he indicated more clearly his seriousness of purpose, or worked
## p. 6187 (#157) ###########################################
ARNE GARBORG
6187
out his theme with more effectiveness. The hero, Daniel Braut, is
the representative of the ideal student, a son of the people who shall
strive for "poetry and the soul" and introduce the elements of cul-
ture among his class. Manual labor is his aversion; and at last,
forced by the weakness of his nature and the necessity of his poverty,
he goes over to the ranks of philistinism, marries a woman of prop-
erty, and studies theology. Both books are stories of high ideals and
humiliating compromises. The author's pessimism is in the ascend-
ant, and in the end the lower nature conquers.
In 'Mannfolk' (1886) he takes up a different theme, the relation
of the sexes, a question which he treats with startling frankness.
Garborg is a realist in so far that he prefers to depict life as it is,
well knowing that fiction cannot approach truth in point of interest.
He bears true testimony of what he sees and knows, but his realism
is very far removed from the naturalism of the French school.
Following 'Peasant Students' appeared in 1884 Forteljinger og
Sogar' (Narratives and Tales), a volume of stories dealing sometimes
with subjects generally proscribed. Of his other works the most im-
portant are the narrative 'Hjaa ho Mor' (With Mama), Kolbotnbrev
og andre Skildringar' (Kolbotn Letters and Other Sketches: 1890),
the novels Trætte Mænd' (Weary Souls: 1891), 'Fred' (Peace: 1893),
and the drama 'Uforsonlige' (The Irreconcilables: 1888).
After being deprived of his government position upon the publica-
tion of 'Mannfolk,' Arne Garborg retired with his wife and child into
the solitude of the mountains, where for two years he lived and
wrote in his sæter hut; but at last, overcome by the loneliness of
this isolated life, he left Norway and settled in Germany.
THE CONFLICT OF THE CREEDS
From A Freethinker›
THE
HE noise of carriage wheels increased. The carriage drove up
before the door, and all the people of the parsonage sprang
up in joy. Ragna however reddened somewhat. A minute
after, both Hans Vangen and Eystein Hauk stood in the room.
Hans embraced his parents and his sister, and on the surface was
happy; Hauk greeted them kindly and warmly like an acquaint-
ance of the family, and bowed deep before Ragna.
"A good evening to you, and a merry Christmas-time! " called
out Hans. "Here is the great foreign traveler and wise man
Eystein Hauk, and here”—he pointed to the chaplain - "is the
strict man of God, Balle; chaplain now, pastor later on, finally
## p. 6188 (#158) ###########################################
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ARNE GARBORG
bishop; a well-founded theologian and a true support to the
Church in these distracted times. It will be well with you if you
do not fall into a quarrel about belief. "
There was talking and laughing; the pastor's wife poured out
wine; the new-comers sat down; the table was quickly set, and
then they went into the dining-room, where Christmas grits and
Christmas fish stood smoking in a great dish and "awaited the
help of the people. " The pastor read a blessing, which was not
listened to with any further devoutness. Ragna and Balle sat for
the most part and looked at Hauk, but Hauk looked at Ragna,
and the pastor's wife said of Hans how he had grown during the
past year, and how his good looks and his affability had im-
proved.
The one who talked most at the table was Hans.
Hauk was
rather silent. The pastor asked him in a few words about his
travels abroad; he answered promptly but shortly, and often in
such a cleverly turned way of speaking that it was difficult to
find out his real meaning.
The chaplain, too, would have liked to hear about foreign
lands. What was the state of the Christian religion in France?
- Well, it was various. It was there as here: there were people
of all sorts. - But was not the great majority unchristian? — Well,
of enlightened and learned people it was, to be sure, the smallest
part who strictly could be called Christians. But with morals?
Was there not a great deal of social viciousness and impro-
priety? Well, if it were only considered under certain conditions,
in certain cities, it was probably there as in other places. In-
deed! - Balle, rebuffed, looked away from Hauk, and did not talk
with him afterward.
-
-
When they left the table there was set out dessert, with wine,
and pipes were also brought. The conversation went on as be-
fore, but it was none the less Hans who talked most.
He was a
fresh, happy fellow. His mother sat and found pleasure in look-
ing at him. The pastor and Balle sat and smoked, glanced now
and then at Hauk, who was a little way off at a smaller table,
talking small-talk with Ragna. The pastor had become more
silent, and Balle looked as if he little liked the state of things,
although he tried to control himself. Hans understood this, and
laughed.
"Do not bother yourself about Hauk," said he. "He has
been in Paris and has learned French manners, and consequently
## p. 6189 (#159) ###########################################
ARNE GARBORG
6189
he likes women's society best; but even if he is a little grand,
he will quickly become Norse again, keep to his pipe and his
glass, and let the women take care of themselves. "
Balle bit his lips; the pastor smiled a little. "Young people
are more bashful here in Norway," said he. "That is true," he
continued. "You have read the new novel 'Virginia,' that the
people have waited so long for? "
"Virginia'? -pfh! that is a vile book," answered Hans, and
smiled.
"Vile? " said the chaplain questioningly.
"It is a scandalous book! says Christiania. It has set the
whole town on end.
town on end. It works destruction upon marriage, they
upon morals, upon society. I have never seen Christiania
so moral as in these days. "
say;
<<
H'm! " said Balle; "Christiania is on the whole a moral
town. "
«
It is at this time!
The young poets are happy for all the
days of their life. The men forbid the women to read the book,
and
the women forbid their daughters —»
And so they all read it together? " said the pastor.
«
Certainly! The women read it and say, 'Paugh! the poets
do
not know life. ' The daughters, the poor dear angels, they
read it and say, 'Dear me, is that anything? Have we not read
worse books than that ? >»
«
"But tell us, then, what the book is about? " said the pastor.
"It is about that married people shall love each other," said
Hans stoutly.
«
―――
Oho! free love! " called out the chaplain.
Certainly! Free love! All true love is free,' says the fool-
hardy fellow of a poet. »
he
lain.
"Do you hear that, pastor? " said Balle.
"If our own poets also take it up, let us have a care! Then
recognizes 'free thought'; and what then? " asked the chap-
"That is true," replied Hans. "All thoughts are free,' he
says, and not merely duty free. > >
"Of course he does not believe in God? »
"I doubt it; but even that is not the worst. "
"Not the >>
"No, for there are many people in Christiania who do not
believe in God. But these poets do not even believe in the
## p. 6190 (#160) ###########################################
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ARNE GARBORG
Devil! " Hans laughed like a child at the face that the chaplain
made; the pastor looked severely at Hans, who cast down his
eyes and was silent.
"Worthless fruit," sighed the chaplain. "Our poets have
hitherto kept themselves free from these godless thoughts, even
if they have not always had the right opinion of Christianity,
and particularly have taken up with the confusions of Grundtvig-
ianism; but now, now it has taken another path. Do you see the
spirit of revolt, pastor? Do you hear how they rise and tear
asunder all its bonds; how opposition arises against all that is
high and holy, and they storm even against the foundations of
society ? »
"May God help us! " sighed the pastor. "It does not look
right. Is there anything new in the newspapers? " he asked,
as if to get away from a conversation that plainly oppressed
him.
Hans ran out, and came quickly in again with the newspapers.
Such of these as were French he took for himself, the rest he
gave to Balle.
"Do you see, father? " said Hans with the mien of a school-
master. "If you will have politics, you must turn to France. All
other politics are merely an echo of theirs. France is Europe.
France is the world! "
"Do you hear, pastor? " said Balle. "Do you hear how the
French spirit spreads and increases in power? the French spirit,
which has always been one and the same with rationalism and
revolution? ”
"Here is an article that will do Balle good! " called out Hans.
"It does not assume the good tone or prattle tediously like our
Norse newspaper articles. There is fire and burning in it; you
recognize something like a clenched fist back of the words, pre-
pared for everything upon which it may hit. That is what I
call politics! "
"Oh, you are a foolish fellow," said the pastor. "Come, out
with it! "
Hans read an article against the priestly party or clericals,
and the piece was severely radical. It was particularly to the
effect that the clergy and Christianity must be ousted from the
public schools, if thinkers were to be really for a genuine and
sound popular education. Christianity had already done what it
could do; hereafter it lay merely in the way. "Freedom and
## p. 6191 (#161) ###########################################
ARNE GARBORG
6191
self-government was the war-cry now, for this generation.
They might be fair enough, many of the dreams which the new
time compelled us to abandon; but light and life and truth were
ten times fairer than all dreams.
The chaplain sat and sulked, and looked into one of the
Norse papers.
"Here stands the same," said he. "No, but-?
Yes, the same, and yet not the same. The Norse paper has cut
out or changed all that treats directly of Christianity; the rest is
the same. "
"Ha, ha, ha! " laughed Hans.
"Yes, they are as wise as serpents," sighed the chaplain.
"Here may plainly be seen how the matter stands. It is hidden
away in politics, but the spirit they cannot conceal; it is pre-
cisely the same French spirit of hell, the spirit of revolt, the
spirit of the Devil, which lifts itself against even the living God.
Do you see that, pastor? Do you see how wholly these 'free-
dom politics,' as they are called, are held up and impregnated
with this godless spirit of revolt? In truth, it becomes more
and more clear that it is the part of us, the watchmen of Zion,-
more now than ever before, to watch and pray. "
The pastor sat and meditated. He looked oppressed and sor-
rowful. It was too quiet for Hans: he moved away to Hauk and
Ragna. The chaplain appeared to like this, and became more
calm.
"Dear pastor," said he after a while, "just as surely as there
is truth in our work,—yes, this question presses itself more and
more in upon me,- as surely as there is truth in our work: that
we shall watch over God's house and people,— we cannot remain
silent and be calm when we see a spirit like this coming bearing
in upon us a spirit which is directly founded upon heathenism,
and so plainly shows its Satanic origin. Shall it be? Can we
answer for that before our Lord and God? »
The pastor was silent. He was in great doubt and uncer-
tainty of mind. "I do not believe that it is right to bring poli-
tics into the house of God," said he at last.
"Politics, no! But this is not politics; this is a spirit of the
times, a view of life which takes the outward garb of politics,
but at the bottom is merely a new outbreak of the same old
heathenism that the Church at all times has had to contend with.
I, for my part, do not believe that I can keep silent with a quiet
conscience. "
## p. 6192 (#162) ###########################################
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ARNE GARBORG
The pastor held his peace and thought. "This is a hard
question," he said finally. "May our Lord give us wisdom! ”
"Amen," said the chaplain.
That night the old pastor did not sleep well. He walked up
and down his chamber and thought. "When it comes to the
point," said he to himself, "Balle is right; there is something
bad and evil in the spirit of the time; there is something devil-
ish. Merely look, now, at this Eystein Hauk, this clever fine fel-
low: he is not to be got at. He is frozen to ice and hardened
to steel, slippery and smooth as a serpent. There came such an
uncanny spirit from him that he made me downright sick: no
respect, no veneration even for his own father; God knows how
he can hold fast to his Christian faith. They call it freedom,
humanity; but it is not that. It is hate, venom, bad blood. —
They will tear from them all bonds, as Balle says, raise a re-
volt-revolt against all that is beautiful and good, against God,
against belief. H'm! Build the State, this whole earthly life,
upon a heathen foundation! Sever connection with Christianity,
cast the Church away from them like old trash. That is terrible!
And free love, free thought the Christian religion out of the
schools-no! that is Satan himself who rages. Free thoughts in
my time were not so: they were warm and beautiful; there was
heart in them; they made us good and happy. " He shook him-
self, as if to throw off a chill. Should one be silent at such
things? Should one look quietly on while this evil spirit eats
itself in among the people? or should one, like a disciple of God,
lift up the sword of the Word and the Spirit against this poison-
ous basilisk?
-
He read in the Bible and in Luther. Then he got up again
and walked. The clock struck hour after hour, but the old man
did not hear it. He thought only of the heavy responsibility.
Was it not to profane the house of God and the holy office, to
drag the struggle and strife of the day into it? Was he not set
to watch over word and teaching, but not to be a judge in the
world's disputes? But of his flock, the people of the Church,
the Bride of Christ, whom he should watch, but who stood in the
midst of a wicked world, and whose souls were harmed when
such evil gusts blew? Would not every soul at the Judgment
Day be demanded at his hands? And was he a good shepherd,
who indeed kept watch against the wolf when the wolf came hav-
ing on his right garb, but looked on and was silent when he came
## p. 6193 (#163) ###########################################
ARNE GARBORG
6193
clothed in sheep's garments and pretended to belong among the
good? He read anew in Luther. At last he knelt down and
prayed for a long time, and ended with a fervent and heartfelt
«< Our Father. "
Then he arose as if freed from doubt, looked meekly up to
heaven, and said, "As thou wilt, O Lord! " He seated himself
in his arm-chair, weary but happy, and fell asleep for a while.
Presently, however, the day grew gray in the east and he awoke.
He read the morning prayers to himself, chose his text, and
thought about the sermon. When the bell began to ring he
went to church. He was pale, but calm and kindly. The
farmers looked at him and greeted him more warmly than usual.
The pastor's wife and Ragna came shortly after; Hans and
Eystein did not arrive at the church until the pastor stood in
the pulpit.
The Christmas sermon was fervid and good. He spoke about
the angels' song, "Peace on earth. " They had seldom heard the
old man preach so well. But at the end came a turn in the
thought that caused some astonishment. It was about politics.
"Dear Christians," he said, "how is it in our days with
'peace on earth'? Ah, my brothers, we know that all too well.
Peace has gone from us. It has vanished like a beautiful even-
ing cloud. Evil powers rise up in these hours. The Devil is
abroad, and tempts anew mankind to eat of the tree of knowledge
and to tear themselves loose from God. Take heed, take heed,
dear brothers! Take heed of the false prophets, who proclaim a
new gospel and promise you 'freedom' and 'enlightenment,' and
all that is good,—yes, promise you righteousness and power, if
you will eat of the forbidden tree. They give themselves out
for sheep, but inwardly they are ravening wolves. They promise
you freedom, but they give you thraldom, the thraldom of sin,
which is the worst of all. They promise you blessings and joy,
but they steal you away from Him who alone has blessings and
freedom for our poor race. They promise you security and
defense against all tyranny and oppression, but they give you
gladly into his power who is the father of all tyranny and of
all evil; he who is the destroyer of man from the beginning.
Dear Christians, let us watch and pray! Let us prove the spirit,
whether it is from God! Let us harden our ears and our hearts
against false voices and magic songs that deceive, which come to
us out of the dark chasms and abysses in this wicked world!
XI-388
## p. 6194 (#164) ###########################################
6194
ARNE GARBORG
Let us be fearful of this wild and sinful thought of freedom,
that from Adam down has been the deep and true source of all
our woe! Let us pray for 'peace on earth,' for only then can
our Lord God have consideration for mankind. " With this he
ended his sermon.
Translated for 'A Library of the World's Best Literature,' by William H.
Carpenter
## p. 6195 (#165) ###########################################
6195
HAMLIN GARLAND
(1860-)
H
AMLIN GARLAND is a favorable example of a class of young
writers which is coming to the fore in the Middle West of
the United States,-fresh, original, full of faith and energy,
with a robust and somewhat aggressive Americanism. In native en-
dowment he is a strong man, and his personal character is manly,
clean, and high. At times, carelessness of technique and lack of taste
can be detected in his writings, but his strength and spirit make
amends for these defects.
Mr. Garland was born September 16th,
1860, in the La Crosse Valley, Wisconsin.
His family is of Scotch descent,- sturdy
farmer folk, remarkable for their physical
powers. His maternal grandfather was an
Adventist, with the touch of mysticism that
word implies. Garland was reared in the
picturesque coulé country (French coulée, a
dry gulch); living in various Western towns,
one of them being the Quaker community
of Hesper, Iowa. His early education was
received from the local schools; the uncon-
scious assimilation of the Western ways
came while he rode horses, herded cattle,
and led the wholesome, simple open-air life of the middle-class
people. Some years were spent in a small seminary at Osage, Wis-
consin, whence he was graduated at twenty-one years of age. His kin
moved to Dakota, but Hamlin faced Eastward, eager to see the world.
Two years of travel and teaching in Illinois found him in 1883 << hold-
ing down" a Dakota claim - the only result of the land boom being a
rich field of literary ore. Then in 1884 he went to Boston, made his
headquarters at the Public Library, read diligently, taught literature
and elocution in the School of Oratory, and became one of the liter-
ary workers there, remaining until 1891. Since then he has lectured
much throughout the country, and has settled in Chicago, his sum-
mer home being at West Salem, Wisconsin, ir the beautiful coulé
region of his boyhood.
HAMLIN GARLAND
Mr. Garland's main work is in fiction, but he has also tried his
hand at verse and the essay. His volume Crumbling Idols, pub-
lished in 1894, a series of audacious papers in which the doctrine of
realism is cried up and the appeal to past literary canons made a
## p. 6196 (#166) ###########################################
6196
HAMLIN GARLAND
mock of, called out critical abuse and ridicule, and no doubt shows
a lack of perspective. Yet the book is racy and stimulating in the
extreme. The volume of poetry, 'Prairie Songs' (1893), has the merit
of dealing picturesquely and at first hand with Western scenery and
life, and contains many a stroke of imaginative beauty. Of the half-
dozen books of tales and longer stories, Main-Traveled Roads,' Mr.
Garland's first collection of short stories, including work as strik-
ing as anything he has done, gives vivid pastoral pictures of the
Mississippi Valley life. A Little Norsk' (1893), along with its realism
in sketching frontier scenes, possesses a fine romantic flavor. And
'Rose of Dutcher's Coolly' (1895), decidedly his strongest full-length
fiction, is a delineation of Wisconsin rustic and urban life, including
a study of Chicago, daringly unconventional, but strong, earnest, evi-
dently drawn from the author's deepest experiences and convictions.
Other books of fiction are 'Jason Edwards,' 'A Member of the Third
House,' 'A Spoil of Office,' and 'Prairie Folks. '
Mr. Garland's work in its increasing command of art, its under-
standing of and sincere sympathy with the life of the great toiling
population of the Middle West, and its unmistakable qualities of
independence, vigor, and ideality, is worthy of warm praise. A rich,
large nature is felt beneath his fiction. His literary creed is "truth
for truth's sake," and his conception of his art is broad enough to
include love of country and belief in his fellow-man.
A SUMMER MOOD
From Prairie Songs. Copyright 1893 by Hamlin Garland, and published
by Stone & Kimball
Ο"
H, to be lost in the wind and the sun,
To be one with the wind and the stream!
With never a care while the waters run,
With never a thought in my dream.
To be part of the robin's lilting call
And part of the bobolink's rhyme.
Lying close to the shy thrush singing alone,
And lapped in the cricket's chime!
Oh, to live with these beautiful ones!
With the lust and the glory of man
Lost in the circuit of springtime suns.
Submissive as earth and part of her plan;
To lie as the snake lies, content in the grass!
To drift as the clouds drift, effortless, free,
Glad of the power that drives them on,
With never a question of wind or sea.
## p. 6197 (#167) ###########################################
HAMLIN GARLAND
6197
A STORM ON LAKE MICHIGAN
From 'Rose of Dutcher's Coolly. Copyright 1895 by Hamlin Garland, and
published by Stone & Kimball
A
S THE winter deepened, Rose narrowed the circle of conquest.
She no longer thought of conquering the world; it came
to be the question of winning the approbation of one
human soul. That is, she wished to win the approbation of the
world in order that Warren Mason might smile and say "Well
done! "
She did not reach this state of mind smoothly and easily. On
the contrary, she had moments when she rebelled at the thought
of any man's opinion being the greatest good in the world to
her. She rebelled at the implied inferiority of her position in
relation to him, and also at the physical bondage implied. In
the morning, when she was strong, in the midst of some social
success, when people swarmed about her and men bent deferen-
tially, then she held herself like a soldier on a tower, defying
capture.
But at night, when the lights were all out, when she felt her
essential loneliness and weakness and need, when the world
seemed cold and cruel and selfish, then it seemed as if the
sweetest thing in the universe would be to have him open his
arms and say "Come! "
There would be rest there, and repose. His judgment, his
keen wit, his penetrating, powerful influence, made him seem a
giant to her; a giant who disdained effort and gave out an ap-
pearance of indifference and lassitude. She had known physical
giants in her neighborhood, who spoke in soft drawl and slouched
lazily in action, but who were invincible when aroused.
She imagined she perceived in Mason a mental giant, who
assumed irresolution and weakness for reasons of his own. He
was always off duty when she saw him, and bent more upon
rest than a display of power. Once or twice she saw him roused,
and it thrilled her; that measured lazy roll of voice changed to
a quick, stern snarl, the brows lowered, and the big plump face
took on battle lines. It was like a seemingly shallow pool, sud-
denly disclosed to be of soundless depths by a wind of passion.
The lake had been the refuge of the distracted and restless
girl. She went to it often in the autumn days, for it rested
her from the noise of grinding wheels, and screams, and yells.
――
## p. 6198 (#168) ###########################################
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HAMLIN GARLAND
Its smooth rise and fall, its sparkle of white-caps, its sailing
gulls, filled her with delicious pleasure. It soothed her and it
roused her also. It gave her time to think.
The street disturbed her, left her purposeless and power-
less; but out there where the ships floated like shadows, and
shadows shifted like flame, and the wind was keen and sweet,-
there she could get her mental breath again. She watched it
change to wintry desolation, till it grew empty of vessels and was
lonely as the Arctic Sea; and always it was grand and thought-
inspiring.
She went out one day in March, when the home longing was
upon her and when it seemed that the city would be her death.
She was tired of her food, tired of Mary, tired of her room.
Her forehead was knotted tensely with pain of life and love-
She cried out with sudden joy, for she had never seen the
lake more beautiful. Near the shore a great mass of churned
and heaving ice and snow lay like a robe of shaggy fur. Beyond
this the deep water spread, a vivid pea-green broken by wide
irregular strips of dark purple. In the open water by the wall a
spatter of steel blue lay like the petals of some strange flower,
scattered upon the green.
Great splendid clouds developed, marvelously like the clouds
of June, making the girl's heart swell with memories of summer.
They were white as wool, these mountainous clouds, and bot-
tomed in violet, and as they passed the snow-fields they sent
down pink-purple misty shadows, which trailed away in splendor
toward the green which flamed in bewildering beauty beyond.
The girl sat like one in a dream, while the wind blew the green
and purple of the outer sea into fantastic, flitting forms which
dazzled her eyes like the stream of mingled banners.
Each form seemed more beautiful than the preceding one;
each combination had such unearthly radiance, her heart ached
with exquisite sorrow to see it vanish. The girl felt that spring
was coming on the wing of the southern wind, and the desire to
utter her passion grew almost into pain.
It had other moods, this mighty spread of water. It could be
angry, dangerous. Sometimes it rolled sullenly, and convoluted
in oily surges beneath its coverlid of snow, like a bed of mon-
strous serpents. Sometimes the leaden sky shut down over it,
and from the desolate northeast a snow-storm rushed, hissing and
howling. Sometimes it slumbered for days, quiet as a sleeping
## p. 6199 (#169) ###########################################
HAMLIN GARLAND
6199
boa, then awoke and was a presence and a voice in the night,
fit to make the hardiest tremble.
Rose saw it when it was roused, but she had yet to see it in
a frenzy. The knowledge of its worst came to her early in May,
just before her return to the Coulé.
The day broke with the wind in the northeast. Rose, lying
in her bed, could hear the roar of the lake; never before had its
voice penetrated so far. She sprang up and dressed, eager to see
it in such a mood. Mary responded sleepily to her call, saying
the lake would be there after breakfast.
Rose did not regret her eagerness, though it was piercingly
cold and raw. The sea was already terrific. Its spread of tawny
yellow showed how it had reached down and laid hold on the
sand of its bed. There were oily splotches of plum color scat-
tered over it where the wind blew it smooth, and it reached to
the wild east sky, cold, desolate, destructive.
It had a fierce, breathing snarl like a monster at meat. It
leaped against the sea-wall like a rabid tiger, its sleek and spotted
hide rolling. Every surge sent a triangular sheet of foam twenty-
five feet above the wall, yellow and white and shadowed with
dull blue; and the wind caught it as it rose, and its crest burst
into great clouds of spray, which sailed across the streets and
dashed along the walk like rain, making the roadway like a
river; while the main body of each upleaping wave, falling back
astride the wall, crashed like the fall of glass, and the next
wave met it with a growl of thunderous rage, striking it with
concave palm with a sound like a cannon's exploding roar.
Out of the appalling obscurity to the north, frightened ships
scudded at intervals, with bare masts bending like fire-trimmed
pines. They hastened like the homing pigeons, which do not
look behind. The helmsmen stood grimly at their wheels, with
eyes on the harbor ahead.
The girl felt it all as no one native to the sea can possibly
do. It seemed as if the bounds of the flood had been overcome,
and that it was about to hurl itself upon the land. The slender
trees, standing deep in the swash of water, bowed like women in
pain; the wall was half hidden, and the flood and the land seemed.
mingled in battle.
Rose walked along the shore, too much excited to go back
to her breakfast. At noon she ate lunch hurriedly and returned
to the shore. There were hundreds of people coming and going
## p. 6200 (#170) ###########################################
-6200
HAMLIN GARLAND
along the drive; young girls shrieking with glee, as the sailing
clouds of spray fell upon them. Rose felt angry to think they
could be so silly in face of such dreadful power.
She came upon Mason, dressed in a thick mackintosh coat,
taking notes rapidly in a little book. He did not look up, and
she passed him, wishing to speak, yet afraid to speak. Near him
a young man was sketching.
Mason stood like a rock in his long, close-fitting rain coat,
while she was blown nearly off her feet by the blast. She came
back against the wind, feeling her soul's internal storm rising.
It seemed quite like a proposal of marriage to go up and speak
to him- yet she could not forego the pleasure.
He did not see her until she came into his lee; then he
smiled, extending his hand. She spoke first:-
"May I take shelter here? "
His eyes lightened with a sudden tender humor.
"Free anchorage," he said, and drew her by the hand closer
to his shoulder. It was a beautiful moment to her, and a dan-
gerous one to him. He took refuge in outside matters.
"How does that strike your inland eyes? " He pointed to the
north.
"It's awful. It's like the anger of God. " She spoke into his
bowed ear.
"Please don't think I'm reporting it," he explained.
"I'm
only making a few notes about it for an editorial on the need of
harbors. "
Each moment the fury increased, the waves deepened. The
commotion sank down amid the sands of the deeper inshore
water, and it boiled like milk. Splendid colors grew into it near
at hand; the winds tore at the tops of the waves, and wove them
into tawny banners, which blurred the air like blown sand. On
the horizon the waves leaped in savage ranks, clutching at the
sky like insane sea monsters,- frantic, futile.
"I've seen the Atlantic twice during a gale," shouted the
artist to a companion, "but I never saw anything more awful
than this. These waves are quicker and higher. I don't see
how a vessel could live in it if caught broadside. "
"It's the worst I ever saw here. "
"I'm going down to the south side: would you like to go? "
Mason asked of Rose.
"I would indeed," she replied.
## p. 6201 (#171) ###########################################
HAMLIN GARLAND
6201
Back from the lake shore the wind was less powerful but more
uncertain. It came in gusts which nearly upturned the street
cars. Men and women scudded from shelter to shelter, like be-
leaguered citizens avoiding cannon shots.
"What makes our lake so terrible," said Mason in the car, "is
the fact that it has a smooth shore no indentations, no harbors.
There is only one harbor here at Chicago, behind the break-
water, and every vessel in mid-lake must come here. Those fly-
ing ships are seeking safety here like birds. The harbor will be
full of disabled vessels. "
―
As they left the car, a roaring gust swept around a twenty-
story building with such power [that] Rose would have been taken.
off her feet had not Mason put his arms about her shoulders.
༥
"You're at a disadvantage," he said, "with skirts. " He knew
she prided herself on her strength, and he took no credit to him-
self for standing where she fell.
It was precisely as if they were alone together; the storm
seemed to wall them in, and his manner was more intimate than
ever before.
the natural reaction led him into a kind of romantic atheistic un-
belief. In the turmoil of his mind, the battles were fought again and
again, until at length he reached the middle ground of modern
thought. His education was extremely desultory; but from the age
of nine, when from the only models within his reach he wrote hymns
and sermons, he showed a strong tendency for literature. He passed
the required examinations for a school-teacher in 1870, and alter-
nately taught and studied, until in 1875 he entered the University of
Christiania. His life as a student was by no means smooth, but he
persisted, in spite of poverty and indeed sometimes actual want.
## p. 6186 (#156) ###########################################
6186
ARNE GARBORG
He had previously, in Risör, published a Teacher's Journal (1871),
a small paper dealing principally though not exclusively with school
affairs; and a year later, in Tvedestrand, he established the Tvede-
strand Post. This experience as county editor and printer had quali-
fied him for newspaper work, and in 1877 he became connected with
the Aftenbladet of Christiania. The same year he founded the Fed-
raheimen, "a weekly paper for the Norse people. " This was really
the beginning of his literary career, although besides his early enter-
prises in journalism he had as a student contributed occasional
articles to the newspapers, and had already published his first book,
a critical essay on Ibsen's 'Emperor and Galilean. '
The attempt made by Ivar Aasen to establish in Norway a na-
tional language through a normalization of the peasant dialects, found
in Garborg one of its warmest supporters. Discarding Danish as a
literary medium, he advocated the use of the strong Norse, and the
Fedraheimen appeared as the organ of the new movement. Garborg
wrote a book upon the subject in the year after the establishment of
his journal, and ever since, by precept and practice, he has been the
chief propagandist of the new speech.
His first novel, En Fritenkjar' (A Freethinker), appeared anony-
mously in the Fedraheimen in 1878. The subject of the story was
one of the vital questions of the day, the conflict between iron-bound
dogmatism and rational thought; a theme now threadbare with much
handling, but then startlingly new. The author's early training and
his own environment of intolerant theology supplied material for the
story. The hero of the tale, the man who dared to think for him-
self, was looked upon as a criminal, to be ranked with house-breakers
and thieves. The ostracism which he brought upon himself was but
the just punishment for his crimes. The Freethinker, treated as a
moral leper, is driven from his home and goes abroad to expiate his
sin of unorthodoxy. In later years he returns to his native land, to
find most of his acquaintances dead. Of his family only one still
lives, and that is his son, who has become a clergyman!
Garborg's second romance, 'Bondestudentar' (Peasant Students)
(1883), deals with a problem no less real. In Norway, although there
is no rank of nobility, class distinctions are nevertheless strongly
marked; and in this novel his pen is directed against the evils which
result from the inordinate striving of the lower orders for a position
to which they are unfitted both by nature and circumstances. This
book, again, is to a degree autobiographical; for Garborg, as has been
said, is himself peasant, and he has fought the fight and suffered
the anguish of the new culture attained with incalculable sacrifice.
'Peasant Students' is undoubtedly his greatest work. Nowhere else
has he indicated more clearly his seriousness of purpose, or worked
## p. 6187 (#157) ###########################################
ARNE GARBORG
6187
out his theme with more effectiveness. The hero, Daniel Braut, is
the representative of the ideal student, a son of the people who shall
strive for "poetry and the soul" and introduce the elements of cul-
ture among his class. Manual labor is his aversion; and at last,
forced by the weakness of his nature and the necessity of his poverty,
he goes over to the ranks of philistinism, marries a woman of prop-
erty, and studies theology. Both books are stories of high ideals and
humiliating compromises. The author's pessimism is in the ascend-
ant, and in the end the lower nature conquers.
In 'Mannfolk' (1886) he takes up a different theme, the relation
of the sexes, a question which he treats with startling frankness.
Garborg is a realist in so far that he prefers to depict life as it is,
well knowing that fiction cannot approach truth in point of interest.
He bears true testimony of what he sees and knows, but his realism
is very far removed from the naturalism of the French school.
Following 'Peasant Students' appeared in 1884 Forteljinger og
Sogar' (Narratives and Tales), a volume of stories dealing sometimes
with subjects generally proscribed. Of his other works the most im-
portant are the narrative 'Hjaa ho Mor' (With Mama), Kolbotnbrev
og andre Skildringar' (Kolbotn Letters and Other Sketches: 1890),
the novels Trætte Mænd' (Weary Souls: 1891), 'Fred' (Peace: 1893),
and the drama 'Uforsonlige' (The Irreconcilables: 1888).
After being deprived of his government position upon the publica-
tion of 'Mannfolk,' Arne Garborg retired with his wife and child into
the solitude of the mountains, where for two years he lived and
wrote in his sæter hut; but at last, overcome by the loneliness of
this isolated life, he left Norway and settled in Germany.
THE CONFLICT OF THE CREEDS
From A Freethinker›
THE
HE noise of carriage wheels increased. The carriage drove up
before the door, and all the people of the parsonage sprang
up in joy. Ragna however reddened somewhat. A minute
after, both Hans Vangen and Eystein Hauk stood in the room.
Hans embraced his parents and his sister, and on the surface was
happy; Hauk greeted them kindly and warmly like an acquaint-
ance of the family, and bowed deep before Ragna.
"A good evening to you, and a merry Christmas-time! " called
out Hans. "Here is the great foreign traveler and wise man
Eystein Hauk, and here”—he pointed to the chaplain - "is the
strict man of God, Balle; chaplain now, pastor later on, finally
## p. 6188 (#158) ###########################################
6188
ARNE GARBORG
bishop; a well-founded theologian and a true support to the
Church in these distracted times. It will be well with you if you
do not fall into a quarrel about belief. "
There was talking and laughing; the pastor's wife poured out
wine; the new-comers sat down; the table was quickly set, and
then they went into the dining-room, where Christmas grits and
Christmas fish stood smoking in a great dish and "awaited the
help of the people. " The pastor read a blessing, which was not
listened to with any further devoutness. Ragna and Balle sat for
the most part and looked at Hauk, but Hauk looked at Ragna,
and the pastor's wife said of Hans how he had grown during the
past year, and how his good looks and his affability had im-
proved.
The one who talked most at the table was Hans.
Hauk was
rather silent. The pastor asked him in a few words about his
travels abroad; he answered promptly but shortly, and often in
such a cleverly turned way of speaking that it was difficult to
find out his real meaning.
The chaplain, too, would have liked to hear about foreign
lands. What was the state of the Christian religion in France?
- Well, it was various. It was there as here: there were people
of all sorts. - But was not the great majority unchristian? — Well,
of enlightened and learned people it was, to be sure, the smallest
part who strictly could be called Christians. But with morals?
Was there not a great deal of social viciousness and impro-
priety? Well, if it were only considered under certain conditions,
in certain cities, it was probably there as in other places. In-
deed! - Balle, rebuffed, looked away from Hauk, and did not talk
with him afterward.
-
-
When they left the table there was set out dessert, with wine,
and pipes were also brought. The conversation went on as be-
fore, but it was none the less Hans who talked most.
He was a
fresh, happy fellow. His mother sat and found pleasure in look-
ing at him. The pastor and Balle sat and smoked, glanced now
and then at Hauk, who was a little way off at a smaller table,
talking small-talk with Ragna. The pastor had become more
silent, and Balle looked as if he little liked the state of things,
although he tried to control himself. Hans understood this, and
laughed.
"Do not bother yourself about Hauk," said he. "He has
been in Paris and has learned French manners, and consequently
## p. 6189 (#159) ###########################################
ARNE GARBORG
6189
he likes women's society best; but even if he is a little grand,
he will quickly become Norse again, keep to his pipe and his
glass, and let the women take care of themselves. "
Balle bit his lips; the pastor smiled a little. "Young people
are more bashful here in Norway," said he. "That is true," he
continued. "You have read the new novel 'Virginia,' that the
people have waited so long for? "
"Virginia'? -pfh! that is a vile book," answered Hans, and
smiled.
"Vile? " said the chaplain questioningly.
"It is a scandalous book! says Christiania. It has set the
whole town on end.
town on end. It works destruction upon marriage, they
upon morals, upon society. I have never seen Christiania
so moral as in these days. "
say;
<<
H'm! " said Balle; "Christiania is on the whole a moral
town. "
«
It is at this time!
The young poets are happy for all the
days of their life. The men forbid the women to read the book,
and
the women forbid their daughters —»
And so they all read it together? " said the pastor.
«
Certainly! The women read it and say, 'Paugh! the poets
do
not know life. ' The daughters, the poor dear angels, they
read it and say, 'Dear me, is that anything? Have we not read
worse books than that ? >»
«
"But tell us, then, what the book is about? " said the pastor.
"It is about that married people shall love each other," said
Hans stoutly.
«
―――
Oho! free love! " called out the chaplain.
Certainly! Free love! All true love is free,' says the fool-
hardy fellow of a poet. »
he
lain.
"Do you hear that, pastor? " said Balle.
"If our own poets also take it up, let us have a care! Then
recognizes 'free thought'; and what then? " asked the chap-
"That is true," replied Hans. "All thoughts are free,' he
says, and not merely duty free. > >
"Of course he does not believe in God? »
"I doubt it; but even that is not the worst. "
"Not the >>
"No, for there are many people in Christiania who do not
believe in God. But these poets do not even believe in the
## p. 6190 (#160) ###########################################
6190
ARNE GARBORG
Devil! " Hans laughed like a child at the face that the chaplain
made; the pastor looked severely at Hans, who cast down his
eyes and was silent.
"Worthless fruit," sighed the chaplain. "Our poets have
hitherto kept themselves free from these godless thoughts, even
if they have not always had the right opinion of Christianity,
and particularly have taken up with the confusions of Grundtvig-
ianism; but now, now it has taken another path. Do you see the
spirit of revolt, pastor? Do you hear how they rise and tear
asunder all its bonds; how opposition arises against all that is
high and holy, and they storm even against the foundations of
society ? »
"May God help us! " sighed the pastor. "It does not look
right. Is there anything new in the newspapers? " he asked,
as if to get away from a conversation that plainly oppressed
him.
Hans ran out, and came quickly in again with the newspapers.
Such of these as were French he took for himself, the rest he
gave to Balle.
"Do you see, father? " said Hans with the mien of a school-
master. "If you will have politics, you must turn to France. All
other politics are merely an echo of theirs. France is Europe.
France is the world! "
"Do you hear, pastor? " said Balle. "Do you hear how the
French spirit spreads and increases in power? the French spirit,
which has always been one and the same with rationalism and
revolution? ”
"Here is an article that will do Balle good! " called out Hans.
"It does not assume the good tone or prattle tediously like our
Norse newspaper articles. There is fire and burning in it; you
recognize something like a clenched fist back of the words, pre-
pared for everything upon which it may hit. That is what I
call politics! "
"Oh, you are a foolish fellow," said the pastor. "Come, out
with it! "
Hans read an article against the priestly party or clericals,
and the piece was severely radical. It was particularly to the
effect that the clergy and Christianity must be ousted from the
public schools, if thinkers were to be really for a genuine and
sound popular education. Christianity had already done what it
could do; hereafter it lay merely in the way. "Freedom and
## p. 6191 (#161) ###########################################
ARNE GARBORG
6191
self-government was the war-cry now, for this generation.
They might be fair enough, many of the dreams which the new
time compelled us to abandon; but light and life and truth were
ten times fairer than all dreams.
The chaplain sat and sulked, and looked into one of the
Norse papers.
"Here stands the same," said he. "No, but-?
Yes, the same, and yet not the same. The Norse paper has cut
out or changed all that treats directly of Christianity; the rest is
the same. "
"Ha, ha, ha! " laughed Hans.
"Yes, they are as wise as serpents," sighed the chaplain.
"Here may plainly be seen how the matter stands. It is hidden
away in politics, but the spirit they cannot conceal; it is pre-
cisely the same French spirit of hell, the spirit of revolt, the
spirit of the Devil, which lifts itself against even the living God.
Do you see that, pastor? Do you see how wholly these 'free-
dom politics,' as they are called, are held up and impregnated
with this godless spirit of revolt? In truth, it becomes more
and more clear that it is the part of us, the watchmen of Zion,-
more now than ever before, to watch and pray. "
The pastor sat and meditated. He looked oppressed and sor-
rowful. It was too quiet for Hans: he moved away to Hauk and
Ragna. The chaplain appeared to like this, and became more
calm.
"Dear pastor," said he after a while, "just as surely as there
is truth in our work,—yes, this question presses itself more and
more in upon me,- as surely as there is truth in our work: that
we shall watch over God's house and people,— we cannot remain
silent and be calm when we see a spirit like this coming bearing
in upon us a spirit which is directly founded upon heathenism,
and so plainly shows its Satanic origin. Shall it be? Can we
answer for that before our Lord and God? »
The pastor was silent. He was in great doubt and uncer-
tainty of mind. "I do not believe that it is right to bring poli-
tics into the house of God," said he at last.
"Politics, no! But this is not politics; this is a spirit of the
times, a view of life which takes the outward garb of politics,
but at the bottom is merely a new outbreak of the same old
heathenism that the Church at all times has had to contend with.
I, for my part, do not believe that I can keep silent with a quiet
conscience. "
## p. 6192 (#162) ###########################################
6192
ARNE GARBORG
The pastor held his peace and thought. "This is a hard
question," he said finally. "May our Lord give us wisdom! ”
"Amen," said the chaplain.
That night the old pastor did not sleep well. He walked up
and down his chamber and thought. "When it comes to the
point," said he to himself, "Balle is right; there is something
bad and evil in the spirit of the time; there is something devil-
ish. Merely look, now, at this Eystein Hauk, this clever fine fel-
low: he is not to be got at. He is frozen to ice and hardened
to steel, slippery and smooth as a serpent. There came such an
uncanny spirit from him that he made me downright sick: no
respect, no veneration even for his own father; God knows how
he can hold fast to his Christian faith. They call it freedom,
humanity; but it is not that. It is hate, venom, bad blood. —
They will tear from them all bonds, as Balle says, raise a re-
volt-revolt against all that is beautiful and good, against God,
against belief. H'm! Build the State, this whole earthly life,
upon a heathen foundation! Sever connection with Christianity,
cast the Church away from them like old trash. That is terrible!
And free love, free thought the Christian religion out of the
schools-no! that is Satan himself who rages. Free thoughts in
my time were not so: they were warm and beautiful; there was
heart in them; they made us good and happy. " He shook him-
self, as if to throw off a chill. Should one be silent at such
things? Should one look quietly on while this evil spirit eats
itself in among the people? or should one, like a disciple of God,
lift up the sword of the Word and the Spirit against this poison-
ous basilisk?
-
He read in the Bible and in Luther. Then he got up again
and walked. The clock struck hour after hour, but the old man
did not hear it. He thought only of the heavy responsibility.
Was it not to profane the house of God and the holy office, to
drag the struggle and strife of the day into it? Was he not set
to watch over word and teaching, but not to be a judge in the
world's disputes? But of his flock, the people of the Church,
the Bride of Christ, whom he should watch, but who stood in the
midst of a wicked world, and whose souls were harmed when
such evil gusts blew? Would not every soul at the Judgment
Day be demanded at his hands? And was he a good shepherd,
who indeed kept watch against the wolf when the wolf came hav-
ing on his right garb, but looked on and was silent when he came
## p. 6193 (#163) ###########################################
ARNE GARBORG
6193
clothed in sheep's garments and pretended to belong among the
good? He read anew in Luther. At last he knelt down and
prayed for a long time, and ended with a fervent and heartfelt
«< Our Father. "
Then he arose as if freed from doubt, looked meekly up to
heaven, and said, "As thou wilt, O Lord! " He seated himself
in his arm-chair, weary but happy, and fell asleep for a while.
Presently, however, the day grew gray in the east and he awoke.
He read the morning prayers to himself, chose his text, and
thought about the sermon. When the bell began to ring he
went to church. He was pale, but calm and kindly. The
farmers looked at him and greeted him more warmly than usual.
The pastor's wife and Ragna came shortly after; Hans and
Eystein did not arrive at the church until the pastor stood in
the pulpit.
The Christmas sermon was fervid and good. He spoke about
the angels' song, "Peace on earth. " They had seldom heard the
old man preach so well. But at the end came a turn in the
thought that caused some astonishment. It was about politics.
"Dear Christians," he said, "how is it in our days with
'peace on earth'? Ah, my brothers, we know that all too well.
Peace has gone from us. It has vanished like a beautiful even-
ing cloud. Evil powers rise up in these hours. The Devil is
abroad, and tempts anew mankind to eat of the tree of knowledge
and to tear themselves loose from God. Take heed, take heed,
dear brothers! Take heed of the false prophets, who proclaim a
new gospel and promise you 'freedom' and 'enlightenment,' and
all that is good,—yes, promise you righteousness and power, if
you will eat of the forbidden tree. They give themselves out
for sheep, but inwardly they are ravening wolves. They promise
you freedom, but they give you thraldom, the thraldom of sin,
which is the worst of all. They promise you blessings and joy,
but they steal you away from Him who alone has blessings and
freedom for our poor race. They promise you security and
defense against all tyranny and oppression, but they give you
gladly into his power who is the father of all tyranny and of
all evil; he who is the destroyer of man from the beginning.
Dear Christians, let us watch and pray! Let us prove the spirit,
whether it is from God! Let us harden our ears and our hearts
against false voices and magic songs that deceive, which come to
us out of the dark chasms and abysses in this wicked world!
XI-388
## p. 6194 (#164) ###########################################
6194
ARNE GARBORG
Let us be fearful of this wild and sinful thought of freedom,
that from Adam down has been the deep and true source of all
our woe! Let us pray for 'peace on earth,' for only then can
our Lord God have consideration for mankind. " With this he
ended his sermon.
Translated for 'A Library of the World's Best Literature,' by William H.
Carpenter
## p. 6195 (#165) ###########################################
6195
HAMLIN GARLAND
(1860-)
H
AMLIN GARLAND is a favorable example of a class of young
writers which is coming to the fore in the Middle West of
the United States,-fresh, original, full of faith and energy,
with a robust and somewhat aggressive Americanism. In native en-
dowment he is a strong man, and his personal character is manly,
clean, and high. At times, carelessness of technique and lack of taste
can be detected in his writings, but his strength and spirit make
amends for these defects.
Mr. Garland was born September 16th,
1860, in the La Crosse Valley, Wisconsin.
His family is of Scotch descent,- sturdy
farmer folk, remarkable for their physical
powers. His maternal grandfather was an
Adventist, with the touch of mysticism that
word implies. Garland was reared in the
picturesque coulé country (French coulée, a
dry gulch); living in various Western towns,
one of them being the Quaker community
of Hesper, Iowa. His early education was
received from the local schools; the uncon-
scious assimilation of the Western ways
came while he rode horses, herded cattle,
and led the wholesome, simple open-air life of the middle-class
people. Some years were spent in a small seminary at Osage, Wis-
consin, whence he was graduated at twenty-one years of age. His kin
moved to Dakota, but Hamlin faced Eastward, eager to see the world.
Two years of travel and teaching in Illinois found him in 1883 << hold-
ing down" a Dakota claim - the only result of the land boom being a
rich field of literary ore. Then in 1884 he went to Boston, made his
headquarters at the Public Library, read diligently, taught literature
and elocution in the School of Oratory, and became one of the liter-
ary workers there, remaining until 1891. Since then he has lectured
much throughout the country, and has settled in Chicago, his sum-
mer home being at West Salem, Wisconsin, ir the beautiful coulé
region of his boyhood.
HAMLIN GARLAND
Mr. Garland's main work is in fiction, but he has also tried his
hand at verse and the essay. His volume Crumbling Idols, pub-
lished in 1894, a series of audacious papers in which the doctrine of
realism is cried up and the appeal to past literary canons made a
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HAMLIN GARLAND
mock of, called out critical abuse and ridicule, and no doubt shows
a lack of perspective. Yet the book is racy and stimulating in the
extreme. The volume of poetry, 'Prairie Songs' (1893), has the merit
of dealing picturesquely and at first hand with Western scenery and
life, and contains many a stroke of imaginative beauty. Of the half-
dozen books of tales and longer stories, Main-Traveled Roads,' Mr.
Garland's first collection of short stories, including work as strik-
ing as anything he has done, gives vivid pastoral pictures of the
Mississippi Valley life. A Little Norsk' (1893), along with its realism
in sketching frontier scenes, possesses a fine romantic flavor. And
'Rose of Dutcher's Coolly' (1895), decidedly his strongest full-length
fiction, is a delineation of Wisconsin rustic and urban life, including
a study of Chicago, daringly unconventional, but strong, earnest, evi-
dently drawn from the author's deepest experiences and convictions.
Other books of fiction are 'Jason Edwards,' 'A Member of the Third
House,' 'A Spoil of Office,' and 'Prairie Folks. '
Mr. Garland's work in its increasing command of art, its under-
standing of and sincere sympathy with the life of the great toiling
population of the Middle West, and its unmistakable qualities of
independence, vigor, and ideality, is worthy of warm praise. A rich,
large nature is felt beneath his fiction. His literary creed is "truth
for truth's sake," and his conception of his art is broad enough to
include love of country and belief in his fellow-man.
A SUMMER MOOD
From Prairie Songs. Copyright 1893 by Hamlin Garland, and published
by Stone & Kimball
Ο"
H, to be lost in the wind and the sun,
To be one with the wind and the stream!
With never a care while the waters run,
With never a thought in my dream.
To be part of the robin's lilting call
And part of the bobolink's rhyme.
Lying close to the shy thrush singing alone,
And lapped in the cricket's chime!
Oh, to live with these beautiful ones!
With the lust and the glory of man
Lost in the circuit of springtime suns.
Submissive as earth and part of her plan;
To lie as the snake lies, content in the grass!
To drift as the clouds drift, effortless, free,
Glad of the power that drives them on,
With never a question of wind or sea.
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HAMLIN GARLAND
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A STORM ON LAKE MICHIGAN
From 'Rose of Dutcher's Coolly. Copyright 1895 by Hamlin Garland, and
published by Stone & Kimball
A
S THE winter deepened, Rose narrowed the circle of conquest.
She no longer thought of conquering the world; it came
to be the question of winning the approbation of one
human soul. That is, she wished to win the approbation of the
world in order that Warren Mason might smile and say "Well
done! "
She did not reach this state of mind smoothly and easily. On
the contrary, she had moments when she rebelled at the thought
of any man's opinion being the greatest good in the world to
her. She rebelled at the implied inferiority of her position in
relation to him, and also at the physical bondage implied. In
the morning, when she was strong, in the midst of some social
success, when people swarmed about her and men bent deferen-
tially, then she held herself like a soldier on a tower, defying
capture.
But at night, when the lights were all out, when she felt her
essential loneliness and weakness and need, when the world
seemed cold and cruel and selfish, then it seemed as if the
sweetest thing in the universe would be to have him open his
arms and say "Come! "
There would be rest there, and repose. His judgment, his
keen wit, his penetrating, powerful influence, made him seem a
giant to her; a giant who disdained effort and gave out an ap-
pearance of indifference and lassitude. She had known physical
giants in her neighborhood, who spoke in soft drawl and slouched
lazily in action, but who were invincible when aroused.
She imagined she perceived in Mason a mental giant, who
assumed irresolution and weakness for reasons of his own. He
was always off duty when she saw him, and bent more upon
rest than a display of power. Once or twice she saw him roused,
and it thrilled her; that measured lazy roll of voice changed to
a quick, stern snarl, the brows lowered, and the big plump face
took on battle lines. It was like a seemingly shallow pool, sud-
denly disclosed to be of soundless depths by a wind of passion.
The lake had been the refuge of the distracted and restless
girl. She went to it often in the autumn days, for it rested
her from the noise of grinding wheels, and screams, and yells.
――
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HAMLIN GARLAND
Its smooth rise and fall, its sparkle of white-caps, its sailing
gulls, filled her with delicious pleasure. It soothed her and it
roused her also. It gave her time to think.
The street disturbed her, left her purposeless and power-
less; but out there where the ships floated like shadows, and
shadows shifted like flame, and the wind was keen and sweet,-
there she could get her mental breath again. She watched it
change to wintry desolation, till it grew empty of vessels and was
lonely as the Arctic Sea; and always it was grand and thought-
inspiring.
She went out one day in March, when the home longing was
upon her and when it seemed that the city would be her death.
She was tired of her food, tired of Mary, tired of her room.
Her forehead was knotted tensely with pain of life and love-
She cried out with sudden joy, for she had never seen the
lake more beautiful. Near the shore a great mass of churned
and heaving ice and snow lay like a robe of shaggy fur. Beyond
this the deep water spread, a vivid pea-green broken by wide
irregular strips of dark purple. In the open water by the wall a
spatter of steel blue lay like the petals of some strange flower,
scattered upon the green.
Great splendid clouds developed, marvelously like the clouds
of June, making the girl's heart swell with memories of summer.
They were white as wool, these mountainous clouds, and bot-
tomed in violet, and as they passed the snow-fields they sent
down pink-purple misty shadows, which trailed away in splendor
toward the green which flamed in bewildering beauty beyond.
The girl sat like one in a dream, while the wind blew the green
and purple of the outer sea into fantastic, flitting forms which
dazzled her eyes like the stream of mingled banners.
Each form seemed more beautiful than the preceding one;
each combination had such unearthly radiance, her heart ached
with exquisite sorrow to see it vanish. The girl felt that spring
was coming on the wing of the southern wind, and the desire to
utter her passion grew almost into pain.
It had other moods, this mighty spread of water. It could be
angry, dangerous. Sometimes it rolled sullenly, and convoluted
in oily surges beneath its coverlid of snow, like a bed of mon-
strous serpents. Sometimes the leaden sky shut down over it,
and from the desolate northeast a snow-storm rushed, hissing and
howling. Sometimes it slumbered for days, quiet as a sleeping
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HAMLIN GARLAND
6199
boa, then awoke and was a presence and a voice in the night,
fit to make the hardiest tremble.
Rose saw it when it was roused, but she had yet to see it in
a frenzy. The knowledge of its worst came to her early in May,
just before her return to the Coulé.
The day broke with the wind in the northeast. Rose, lying
in her bed, could hear the roar of the lake; never before had its
voice penetrated so far. She sprang up and dressed, eager to see
it in such a mood. Mary responded sleepily to her call, saying
the lake would be there after breakfast.
Rose did not regret her eagerness, though it was piercingly
cold and raw. The sea was already terrific. Its spread of tawny
yellow showed how it had reached down and laid hold on the
sand of its bed. There were oily splotches of plum color scat-
tered over it where the wind blew it smooth, and it reached to
the wild east sky, cold, desolate, destructive.
It had a fierce, breathing snarl like a monster at meat. It
leaped against the sea-wall like a rabid tiger, its sleek and spotted
hide rolling. Every surge sent a triangular sheet of foam twenty-
five feet above the wall, yellow and white and shadowed with
dull blue; and the wind caught it as it rose, and its crest burst
into great clouds of spray, which sailed across the streets and
dashed along the walk like rain, making the roadway like a
river; while the main body of each upleaping wave, falling back
astride the wall, crashed like the fall of glass, and the next
wave met it with a growl of thunderous rage, striking it with
concave palm with a sound like a cannon's exploding roar.
Out of the appalling obscurity to the north, frightened ships
scudded at intervals, with bare masts bending like fire-trimmed
pines. They hastened like the homing pigeons, which do not
look behind. The helmsmen stood grimly at their wheels, with
eyes on the harbor ahead.
The girl felt it all as no one native to the sea can possibly
do. It seemed as if the bounds of the flood had been overcome,
and that it was about to hurl itself upon the land. The slender
trees, standing deep in the swash of water, bowed like women in
pain; the wall was half hidden, and the flood and the land seemed.
mingled in battle.
Rose walked along the shore, too much excited to go back
to her breakfast. At noon she ate lunch hurriedly and returned
to the shore. There were hundreds of people coming and going
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HAMLIN GARLAND
along the drive; young girls shrieking with glee, as the sailing
clouds of spray fell upon them. Rose felt angry to think they
could be so silly in face of such dreadful power.
She came upon Mason, dressed in a thick mackintosh coat,
taking notes rapidly in a little book. He did not look up, and
she passed him, wishing to speak, yet afraid to speak. Near him
a young man was sketching.
Mason stood like a rock in his long, close-fitting rain coat,
while she was blown nearly off her feet by the blast. She came
back against the wind, feeling her soul's internal storm rising.
It seemed quite like a proposal of marriage to go up and speak
to him- yet she could not forego the pleasure.
He did not see her until she came into his lee; then he
smiled, extending his hand. She spoke first:-
"May I take shelter here? "
His eyes lightened with a sudden tender humor.
"Free anchorage," he said, and drew her by the hand closer
to his shoulder. It was a beautiful moment to her, and a dan-
gerous one to him. He took refuge in outside matters.
"How does that strike your inland eyes? " He pointed to the
north.
"It's awful. It's like the anger of God. " She spoke into his
bowed ear.
"Please don't think I'm reporting it," he explained.
"I'm
only making a few notes about it for an editorial on the need of
harbors. "
Each moment the fury increased, the waves deepened. The
commotion sank down amid the sands of the deeper inshore
water, and it boiled like milk. Splendid colors grew into it near
at hand; the winds tore at the tops of the waves, and wove them
into tawny banners, which blurred the air like blown sand. On
the horizon the waves leaped in savage ranks, clutching at the
sky like insane sea monsters,- frantic, futile.
"I've seen the Atlantic twice during a gale," shouted the
artist to a companion, "but I never saw anything more awful
than this. These waves are quicker and higher. I don't see
how a vessel could live in it if caught broadside. "
"It's the worst I ever saw here. "
"I'm going down to the south side: would you like to go? "
Mason asked of Rose.
"I would indeed," she replied.
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HAMLIN GARLAND
6201
Back from the lake shore the wind was less powerful but more
uncertain. It came in gusts which nearly upturned the street
cars. Men and women scudded from shelter to shelter, like be-
leaguered citizens avoiding cannon shots.
"What makes our lake so terrible," said Mason in the car, "is
the fact that it has a smooth shore no indentations, no harbors.
There is only one harbor here at Chicago, behind the break-
water, and every vessel in mid-lake must come here. Those fly-
ing ships are seeking safety here like birds. The harbor will be
full of disabled vessels. "
―
As they left the car, a roaring gust swept around a twenty-
story building with such power [that] Rose would have been taken.
off her feet had not Mason put his arms about her shoulders.
༥
"You're at a disadvantage," he said, "with skirts. " He knew
she prided herself on her strength, and he took no credit to him-
self for standing where she fell.
It was precisely as if they were alone together; the storm
seemed to wall them in, and his manner was more intimate than
ever before.
