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GROWTH OF THE
GROWTH OF THE
SOIL
BY
KNUT HAMSUN
GYLDENDAL
ii BURLEIGH STREET, COVENT GARDEN
LONDON, W.C.2
COPENHAGEN. CHRISTIANIA.
Original Title: “Markens Grade.™
Translatedfrom theNorwegian by IV. IVORSTER, Af.A.
....
FirstPublished . . . April IQ20
SecondImpression . . . SeptemberIQ20
ThirdImpression . . . June IQ2I
FourthImpression SeptemberiQ2i
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CHAPTER I
THE long, long road over the moors and up into the
—
forest who trodit into being first of all? Man, a
humanbeing, the first that came here. There was no
pathbeforehecame. Afterward,some beast or other, follow¬
ing the faint tracks over marsh and moorland, wearing them
deeper; after these again someLappgained scent of the path,
andtook that way from f]eld to fjeld, looking to his reindeer.
Thus was made the road through the great Almenning—the
commontracts without an owner; no-man’s-land.
The man comes, walking toward the north. He bears a
sack, the first sack, carrying food and some few implements.
A strong,coarse fellow, withared iron beard,and little scars
on faceand hands; sites of oldwounds—were they gained in
toilor fight? Maybethemanhasbeeninprison,and is look¬
ingfor aplace to hide; or a philosopher,maybe,in search of
peace. Thisor that, he comes; the figure of a man in this
great solitude. He trudges on; bird and beast are silent all
abouthim; now andagainheuttersawordor two, speaking to
..
himself. “Eyah—well, well .”—sohe speaks to himself.
Hereandthere, wherethemoors giveplace to a kindlier spot,
an openspacein themidstoftheforest,helaysdown the sack
and goesexploring; after a while he returns,heaves the sack
tohis shoulders again, and trudges on. So through the day,
notingtimebythesun; night falls,andhethrowshimselfdown
ontheheather,restingon onearm.
A fewhours’rest, and he is on the move again: “Eyah,
well ...”—movingnorthwardagain,notingtimeby the sun;
ameal ofbarleycakesandgoats’milk cheese, adrink of water
fromthestream,and on again. This day too he journeys, for
i*
GROWTH OF THE SOIL
2 GROWTH OF THE SOIL
there are many kindly spots in the woods to be explored.
Whatisheseeking? Aplace, apatchof ground? An emi¬
grant, maybe, from the homestead tracts; he keeps his eyes
alert,lookingout; nowandagainheclimbsto the topofahill,
S
lookingout. Thesun goes down oncemore.
He moves along the western side of a valley; wooded
ground, withleafytrees among the spruce and pine, and grass
beneath. Hours of this, and twilight is falling, but his ear
catches the faintpurlofrunningwater, anditheartenshim like
thevoiceofalivingthing. Heclimbs the slope, and sees the
valleyhalf in darkness below; beyond, the sky to the south-
Heliesdownto rest.
Themorning shows him a range of pasture andwoodland.
He moves down, and there is a green hillside; far below, a
glimpse of the stream, andahare bounding across. The man
nods his head, as it were approvingly—the stream is not so
broadbut that aharemaycrossitatabound. A whitegrouse
sittingclose upon its nest starts up at his feet with an angry
hiss, andhenods again: featheredgame and fur—a good spot
this. Heather, bilberry, and cloudberry cover the ground;
there are tiny ferns,and the seven-pointed star flowers of the
wintergreen. Hereandtherehe stopstodigwithaniron tool,
and finds good mould, or peaty soil, manured with the rotted
woodandfallenleavesof a thousand years. He nods,to say
that hehas foundhimself aplace to stay and live: ay,he will
stay hereandlive. Two days he goes exploring the country
round, returning each evening to the hillside. He sleeps at
night ona bedofstackedpine; alreadyhe feels at home here,
witha bedofpinebeneathanoverhangingrock.
The worst of his task had been to find the place; thisno¬
man’s place, buthis. Now, there was work to fill his days.
He started at once,stripping birch bark in thewoods farther
off, while the sap was still in the trees. Thebark hepressed
anddried,andwhen he had gathered a heavyload,carried it
allthemilesback to thevillage, to be soldfor building. Then
back to the hillside, withnew sacksof food and implements;
GROWTH OF THE SOIL
GROWTH OF THE SOIL 3
flour and pork,acooking-pot,a spade—out and back alongthe
wayhehadcome, carryingloadsall the time. Aborncarrier
of loads,a lumbering barge of a man in the forest—oh, as if
he loved his calling, tramping long roads and carrying heavy
burdens; asif life without a loadupon one’s shoulders were a
miserablething,nolifeforhim.
Onedayhe cameupwithmorethan theloadhebore; came
leading three goats in a leash. Hewasproudof his goatsas
iftheyhadbeenhornedcattle,andtendedthemkindly. Then
came the first stranger passing, a nomadLapp; at sight of the
goats,heknew that this was aman who had cometo stay, and
spoke tohim.
“Yougoingtolivehere for goodi”
“Ay,” saidtheman.
“What’syourname!”
“Isak. Youdon’tknowof awomanbodyanywhere’dcome
andhelp?”
“No. ButI’llsay a wordofit toallImeet.”
“Ay,do that. SayI’ve creatures here,and none to look
to them.”
TheLapp went onhisway. Isak—ay,hewould sayaword
of that. The man on the hillside was no runaway; he had
told his name. A runaway? He would have been found.
Onlya worker,and a hardy one. Heset aboutcuttingwinter
fodder for hisgoats,clearingthe ground,diggingafield,shifting
stones,making a wallof stones. By the autumn he had built
a house for himself,ahut of turf,soundandstrong and warm;
storms could not shake it, and nothing could burn it down.
Here wasahome; he could go inside and shut thedoor, and
staythere; couldstand outside on the door-slab,theowner of
that house,if any should pass by. There were two roomsin
the hut; for himself at the oneend,andfor his beasts at the
other. Farthest in,against thewallof rock, was the hayloft.
Everythingwasthere.
Two more Lapps come by, father and son. They stand
resting with both hands on their long staves, taking stock of
GROWTH
4 GROWTH OF THE SOIL
the hut and the clearing,notingthe soundtof the goat-bellsup
onthehillside.
“Goddag,” say theLapps. “And here’sfinefolk come to
live.” Lappstalk that way, withflattering words.
“Youdon’t know of any womanhereaboutsto help?” says
Isak,thinkingalwaysofbut onething.
“Womantohelp? No. But we’llsay a wordof it.”
“Ay,if you’d be so good. That I’vea houseanda bit of
groundhere, andgoats,but no womantohelp. Say that.”
Oh,he had sought about for a woman to helpeachtimehe
had beendownto the village withhisloads of bark,but there
was none to befound. They would look at him, a widow or
an old unmarried one or so,but all afraid to offer, whatever
might be in their minds. Isak couldn’t tell why. Couldn’t
tellwhy? Who would go as help to live with a man in the
wilds, ever so manymilesaway—a wholeday’s journeytothe
nearestneighbour? Andthemanhimselfwasno waycharming
orpleasantbyhislooks,far fromit; and whenhe spokeit was
no tenor witheyes to heaven, but acoarse voice, somethinglike
abeast’s.
Well,he wouldhave tomanage alone.
Inwinter,hemade great woodentroughs, and sold them in
thevillage,carryingsacksof food and tools back through the
snow5 hard days when he was tied to a load. There were
the goats,andnone tolook to them; hecouldnot be away for
long. Andwhatdid he do? Needmade him wise; hisbrain
was strong and little used; he trained it up to ever more
and more. His first way was to let the goats loose before
startingoffhimself,so that they couldget a full feedamongthe
undergrowth in the woods. But he found another plan. He
took abucket,a great vessel,andhungit upbytheriver so that
a single drop fell in at a time, takingfourteenhours to fill it.
Whenit was full to thebrim, the weight wasright; thebucket
sank,andindoingso,pulledalineconnectedwith thehayloft;
atrap-door opened,andthreebundlesoffodder camethrough—
thegoats were fed.
GROWTH OF THE SOIL
GROWTH OF THE SOIL 5
That washis way.
A brightidea; aninspiration, maybe, sent fromGod. The
man had none to help him but himself. It served his need
until late in the autumn; then came the first snow,thenrain,
then snow again, snowingall the time. And hismachine went
wrong; the bucket wasfilledfrom above, opening the trap too
soon. He-fixed a cover over, and all went well again for a
time; then came winter, the drop of water froze to an icicle,
andstoppedthemachinefor good.
Thegoatsmust do astheirmaster—learnto do without.
Hard times—themanhadneedofhelp,and there wasnone,
yet stillhefoundaway. Heworkedandworkedathishome;
hemadea window in thehut withtwopanesof real glass,and
that was a bright andwonderful dayin his life. No need of
lighting fires to see; he could sit indoors and work at his
...
wooden troughs by daylight. Better days, brighter days
eyah!
He read no books, but his thoughts were oftenwithGod;
it wasnatural, comingof simplicity andawe. Thestarsinthe
sky, the wind in the trees,the solitude,and the wide-spreading
snow, themight of earthand over earthfilled him many times
a day with a deep earnestness. He was a sinner and feared
God; onSundays he washed himself out of reverence for the
holyday,but workednonetheless as throughthe week.
Spring came; he worked on his patch of ground, and
planted potatoes. His live stock multiplied; the two she-
goatshadeachhad twins, makingsevenin all about the place.
He made a bigger shed for them, ready for further increase,
andput acouple of glass panesinthere too. Ay, ’twaslighter
andbrighternowinevery way.
* And then at last came help; the woman he needed. She
tackedabout for a longtime, this way and that across thehill¬
side,before venturing near; it was evening before she could
bringherselftocomedown. Andthenshe came—abig,brown¬
eyed girl, full-built and coarse, with good,heavy hands, and
rough hide brogues on her feet as if she had been a Lapp,
