TALES FROM TWO HEMISPHERES.(两个半球的故事)

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TALES FROM TWO HEMISPHERES.

TALES FROM TWO

HEMISPHERES.

BY HJALMAR HJORTH BOYSEN.

THE MAN WHO LOST HIS

NAME.

ON the second day of June, 186--, a young Norseman, Halfdan Bjerk

by name, landed on the pier at Castle Garden. He passed through the

straight and narrow gate where he was asked his name, birthplace, and

how much money he had,--at which he grew very much frightened.

"And your destination?"--demanded the gruff-looking functionary at

the desk.

"America," said the youth, and touched his hat politely.

"Do you think I have time for joking?" roared the official, with an

oath.

The Norseman ran his hand through his hair, smiled his timidly

conciliatory smile, and tried his best to look brave; but his hand trembled

and his heart thumped away at an alarmingly quickened tempo.

"Put him down for Nebraska!" cried a stout red-cheeked individual

(inwrapped in the mingled fumes of tobacco and whisky) whose function

it was to open and shut the gate.

TALES FROM TWO HEMISPHERES.

"There aint many as go to Nebraska."

"All right, Nebraska."

The gate swung open and the pressure from behind urged the timid

traveler on, while an extra push from the gate-keeper sent him flying in the

direction of a board fence, where he sat down and tried to realize that he

was now in the land of liberty.

Halfdan Bjerk was a tall, slender-limbed youth of very delicate frame;

he had a pair of wonderfully candid, unreflecting blue eyes, a smooth,

clear, beardless face, and soft, wavy light hair, which was pushed back

from his forehead without parting. His mouth and chin were well cut,

but their lines were, perhaps, rather weak for a man. When in repose, the

ensemble of his features was exceedingly pleasing and somehow reminded

one of Correggio's St. John. He had left his native land because he was

an ardent republican and was abstractly convinced that man, generically

and individually, lives more happily in a republic than in a monarchy. He

had anticipated with keen pleasure the large, freely breathing life he was

to lead in a land where every man was his neighbor's brother, where no

senseless traditions kept a jealous watch over obsolete systems and shrines,

and no chilling prejudice blighted the spontaneous blossoming of the soul.

Halfdan was an only child. His father, a poor government official,

had died during his infancy, and his mother had given music lessons, and

kept boarders, in order to gain the means to give her son what is called a

learned education. In the Latin school Halfdan had enjoyed the

reputation of being a bright youth, and at the age of eighteen, he had

entered the university under the most promising auspices. He could

make very fair verses, and play all imaginable instruments with equal ease,

which made him a favorite in society. Moreover, he possessed that very

old-fashioned accomplishment of cutting silhouettes; and what was more,

he could draw the most charmingly fantastic arabesques for embroidery

patterns, and he even dabbled in portrait and landscape painting.

Whatever he turned his hand to, he did well, in fact, astonishingly well for

a dilettante, and yet not well enough to claim the title of an artist. Nor

did it ever occur to him to make such a claim. As one of his fellow-

students remarked in a fit of jealousy, "Once when Nature had made three

TALES FROM TWO HEMISPHERES.

geniuses, a poet, a musician, and a painter, she took all the remaining odds

and ends and shook them together at random and the result was Halfdan

Bjerk." This agreeable melange of accomplishments, however, proved

very attractive to the ladies, who invited the possessor to innumerable

afternoon tea-parties, where they drew heavy drafts on his unflagging

patience, and kept him steadily engaged with patterns and designs for

embroidery, leather flowers, and other dainty knickknacks. And in return

for all his exertions they called him "sweet" and "beautiful," and applied to

him many other enthusiastic adjectives seldom heard in connection with

masculine names. In the university, talents of this order gained but slight

recognition, and when Halfdan had for three years been preparing himself

in vain for the examen philosophicum, he found himself slowly and

imperceptibly drifting into the ranks of the so-called studiosi perpetui,

who preserve a solemn silence at the examination tables, fraternize with

every new generation of freshmen, and at last become part of the fixed

furniture of their Alma Mater. In the larger American colleges, such men

are mercilessly dropped or sent to a Divinity School; but the European

universities, whose tempers the centuries have mellowed, harbor in their

spacious Gothic bosoms a tenderer heart for their unfortunate sons.

There the professors greet them at the green tables with a good-humored

smile of recognition; they are treated with gentle forbearance, and are

allowed to linger on, until they die or become tutors in the families of

remote clergymen, where they invariably fall in love with the handsomest

daughter, and thus lounge into a modest prosperity.

If this had been the fate of our friend Bjerk, we should have dismissed

him here with a confident "vale" on his life's pilgrimage. But,

unfortunately, Bjerk was inclined to hold the government in some way

responsible for his own poor success as a student, and this, in connection

with an aesthetic enthusiasm for ancient Greece, gradually convinced him

that the republic was the only form of government under which men of his

tastes and temperament were apt to flourish. It was, like everything that

pertained to him, a cheerful, genial conviction, without the slightest tinge

of bitterness. The old institutions were obsolete, rotten to the core, he

said, and needed a radical renovation. He could sit for hours of an

TALES FROM TWO HEMISPHERES.

evening in the Students' Union, and discourse over a glass of mild toddy,

on the benefits of universal suffrage and trial by jury, while the

picturesqueness of his language, his genial sarcasms, or occasional witty

allusions would call forth uproarious applause from throngs of admiring

freshmen. These were the sunny days in Halfdan's career, days long to

be remembered. They came to an abrupt end when old Mrs. Bjerk died,

leaving nothing behind her but her furniture and some trifling debts. The

son, who was not an eminently practical man, underwent long hours of

misery in trying to settle up her affairs, and finally in a moment of extreme

dejection sold his entire inheritance in a lump to a pawnbroker (reserving

for himself a few rings and trinkets) for the modest sum of 250 dollars

specie. He then took formal leave of the Students' Union in a brilliant

speech, in which he traced the parallelisms between the lives of Pericles

and Washington,-- in his opinion the two greatest men the world had ever

seen,--expounded his theory of democratic government, and explained the

causes of the rapid rise of the American Republic. The next morning he

exchanged half of his worldly possessions for a ticket to New York, and

within a few days set sail for the land of promise, in the far West.

II.

From Castle Garden, Halfdan made his way up through Greenwich

street, pursued by a clamorous troop of confidence men and hotel runners.

"Kommen Sie mit mir. Ich bin auch Deutsch," cried one. "Voila,

voila, je parle Francais," shouted another, seizing hold of his valise. "Jeg

er Dansk. Tale Dansk,"[1] roared a third, with an accent which seriously

impeached his truthfulness. In order to escape from these importunate

rascals, who were every moment getting bolder, he threw himself into the

first street-car which happened to pass; he sat down, gazed out of the

windows and soon became so thoroughly absorbed in the animated scenes

which moved as in a panorama before his eyes, that he quite forgot where

he was going. The conductor called for fares, and received an English

shilling, which, after some ineffectual expostulation, he pocketed, but

gave no change. At last after about an hour's journey, the car stopped, the

TALES FROM TWO HEMISPHERES.

conductor called out "Central Park," and Halfdan woke up with a start.

He dismounted with a timid, deliberate step, stared in dim bewilderment at

the long rows of palatial residences, and a chill sense of loneliness crept

over him. The hopeless strangeness of everything he saw, instead of

filling him with rapture as he had once anticipated, Sent a cold shiver to

his heart. It is a very large affair, this world of ours--a good deal larger

than it appeared to him gazing out upon it from his snug little corner up

under the Pole; and it was as unsympathetic as it was large; he suddenly

felt what he had never been aware of before-- that he was a very small part

of it and of very little account after all. He staggered over to a bench at

the entrance to the park, and sat long watching the fine carriages as they

dashed past him; he saw the handsome women in brilliant costumes

laughing and chatting gayly; the apathetic policemen promenading in stoic

dignity up and down upon the smooth pavements; the jauntily attired

nurses, whom in his Norse innocence he took for mothers or aunts of the

chil- dren, wheeling baby-carriages which to Norse eyes seemed miracles

of dainty ingenuity, under the shady crowns of the elm-trees. He did not

know how long he had been sitting there, when a little bright-eyed girl

with light kid gloves, a small blue parasol and a blue polonaise, quite a

lady of fashion en miniature, stopped in front of him and stared at him in

shy wonder. He had always been fond of children, and often rejoiced in

their affectionate ways and confidential prattle, and now it suddenly

touched him with a warm sense of human fellowship to have this little

daintily befrilled and crisply starched beauty single him out for notice

among the hundreds who reclined in the arbors, or sauntered to and fro

under the great trees.

[1] "I am a Dane. I speak Danish."

"What is your name, my little girl?" he asked, in a tone of friendly

interest.

"Clara," answered the child, hesitatingly; then, having by another look

assured herself of his harmlessness, she added: "How very funny you

speak!"

"Yes," he said, stooping down to take he tiny begloved hand. "I do

TALES FROM TWO HEMISPHERES.

not speak as well as you do, yet; but I shall soon learn."

Clara looked puzzled.

"How old are you?" she asked, raising her parasol, and throwing back

her head with an air of superiority.

"I am twenty-four years old."

She began to count half aloud on her fingers: "One, two, three, four,"

but, before she reached twenty, she lost her patience.

"Twenty-four," she exclaimed, "that is a great deal. I am only seven,

and papa gave me a pony on my birthday. Have you got a pony?"

"No; I have nothing but what is in this valise, and you know I could

not very well get a pony into it."

Clara glanced curiously at the valise and laughed; then suddenly she

grew serious again, put her hand into her pocket and seemed to be

searching eagerly for something. Presently she hauled out a small

porcelain doll's head, then a red-painted block with letters on it, and at last

a penny.

"Do you want them?" she said, reaching him her treasures in both

hands. "You may have them all."

Before he had time to answer, a shrill, penetrating voice cried out:

"Why, gracious! child, what are you doing ? "

And the nurse, who had been deeply absorbed in "The New York

Ledger," came rushing up, snatched the child away, and retreated as

hastily as she had come.

Halfdan rose and wandered for hours aimlessly along the intertwining

roads and footpaths. He visited the menageries, admired the statues, took

a very light dinner, consisting of coffee, sandwiches, and ice, at the

Chinese Pavilion, and, toward evening, discovered an inviting leafy arbor,

where he could withdraw into the privacy of his own thoughts, and ponder

upon the still unsolved problem of his destiny. The little incident with

the child had taken the edge off his unhappiness and turned him into a

more conciliatory mood toward himself and the great pitiless world, which

seemed to take so little notice of him. And he, who had come here with

so warm a heart and so ardent a will to join in the great work of human

advancement--to find himself thus harshly ignored and buffeted about, as

TALES FROM TWO HEMISPHERES.

if he were a hostile intruder! Before him lay the huge unknown city

where human life pulsated with large, full heart-throbs, where a breathless,

weird intensity, a cold, fierce passion seemed to be hurrying everything

onward in a maddening whirl, where a gentle, warm- blooded enthusiast

like himself had no place and could expect naught but a speedy destruction.

A strange, unconquerable dread took possession of him, as if he had been

caught in a swift, strong whirlpool, from which he vainly struggled to

escape. He crouched down among the foliage and shuddered. He could

not return to the city. No, no: he never would return. He would remain

here hidden and unseen until morning, and then he would seek a vessel

bound for his dear native land, where the great mountains loomed up in

serene majesty toward the blue sky, where the pine-forests whispered their

dreamily sympathetic legends, in the long summer twilights, where human

existence flowed on in calm beauty with the modest aims, small virtues,

and small vices which were the happiness of modest, idyllic souls. He

even saw himself in spirit recounting to his astonished countrymen the

wonderful things he had heard and seen during his foreign pilgrimage, and

smiled to himself as he imagined their wonder when he should tell them

about the beautiful little girl who had been the first and only one to offer

him a friendly greeting in the strange land. During these reflections he

fell asleep, and slept soundly for two or three hours. Once, he seemed to

hear footsteps and whispers among the trees, and made an effort to rouse

himself, but weariness again overmastered him and he slept on. At last,

he felt himself seized violently by the shoulders, and a gruff voice shouted

in his ear:

"Get up, you sleepy dog."

He rubbed his eyes, and, by the dim light of the moon, saw a

Herculean policeman lifting a stout stick over his head. His former terror

came upon him with increased violence, and his heart stood for a moment

still, then, again, hammered away as if it would burst his sides.

"Come along!" roared the policeman, shaking him vehemently by the

collar of his coat.

In his bewilderment he quite forgot where he was, and, in hurried

Norse sentences, assured his persecutor that he was a harmless, honest

TALES FROM TWO HEMISPHERES.

traveler, and implored him to release him. But the official Hercules was

inexorable.

"My valise, my valise;" cried Halfdan. "Pray let me get my valise."

They returned to the place where he had slept, but the valise was

nowhere to be found. Then, with dumb despair he resigned himself to

his fate, and after a brief ride on a street-car, found himself standing in a

large, low-ceiled room; he covered his face with his hands and burst into

tears.

"The grand-the happy republic," he murmured, "spontaneous

blossoming of the soul. Alas! I have rooted up my life; I fear it will

never blossom."

All the high-flown adjectives he had employed in his parting speech in

the Students' Union, when he paid his enthusiastic tribute to the Grand

Republic, now kept recurring to him, and in this moment the paradox

seemed cruel. The Grand Republic, what did it care for such as he? A

pair of brawny arms fit to wield the pick-axe and to steer the plow it

received with an eager welcome; for a child-like, loving heart and a

generously fantastic brain, it had but the stern greeting of the law.

III.

The next morning, Halfdan was released from the Police Station,

having first been fined five dollars for vagrancy. All his money, with the

exception of a few pounds which he had exchanged in Liverpool, he had

lost with his valise, and he had to his knowledge not a single acquaintance

in the city or on the whole continent. In order to increase his capital he

bought some fifty "Tribunes," but, as it was already late in the day, he

hardly succeeded in selling a single copy. The next morning, he once

more stationed himself on the corner of Murray street and Broadway,

hoping in his innocence to dispose of the papers he had still on hand from

the previous day, and actually did find a few customers among the people

who were jumping in and out of the omnibuses that passed up and down

the great thoroughfare. To his surprise, however, one of these gentlemen

returned to him with a very wrathful countenance, shook his fist at him,

TALES FROM TWO HEMISPHERES.

and vociferated with excited gestures something which to Halfdan's ears

had a very unintelligible sound. He made a vain effort to defend himself;

the situation appeared so utterly incomprehensible to him, and in his dumb

helplessness he looked pitiful enough to move the heart of a stone. No

English phrase suggested itself to him, only a few Norse interjections rose

to his lips. The man's anger suddenly abated; he picked up the paper

which he had thrown on the sidewalk, and stood for a while regarding

Halfdan curiously.

"Are you a Norwegian?" he asked.

"Yes, I came from Norway yesterday."

"What's your name?"

"Halfdan Bjerk."

"Halfdan Bjerk! My stars! Who would have thought of meeting

you here! You do not recognize me, I suppose."

Halfdan declared with a timid tremor in his voice that he could not at

the moment recall his features.

"No, I imagine I must have changed a good deal since you saw me,"

said the man, suddenly dropping into Norwegian. "I am Gustav Olson, I

used to live in the same house with you once, but that is long ago now."

Gustav Olson--to be sure, he was the porter's son in the house, where

his mother had once during his childhood, taken a flat. He well

remembered having clandestinely traded jack- knives and buttons with

him, in spite of the frequent warnings he had received to have nothing to

do with him; for Gustav, with his broad freckled face and red hair, was

looked upon by the genteel inhabitants of the upper flats as rather a

disreputable character. He had once whipped the son of a colonel who

had been impudent to him, and thrown a snow-ball at the head of a new-

fledged lieutenant, which offenses he had duly expiated at a house of

correction. Since that time he had vanished from Halfdan's horizon. He

had still the same broad freckled face, now covered with a lusty growth of

coarse red beard, the same rebellious head of hair, which refused to yield

to the subduing influences of the comb, the same plebeian hands and feet,

and uncouth clumsiness of form. But his linen was irreproachable, and a

certain dash in his manner, and the loud fashionableness of his attire, gave

TALES FROM TWO HEMISPHERES.

unmistakable evidences of prosperity.

"Come, Bjerk," said he in a tone of good- fellowship, which was not

without its sting to the idealistic republican, "you must take up a better

business than selling yesterday's `Tribune.' That won't pay here, you

know. Come along to our office and I will see if something can't be done

for you."

"But I should be sorry to give you trouble," stammered Halfdan,

whose native pride, even in his present wretchedness, protested against

accepting a favor from one whom he had been wont to regard as his

inferior.

"Nonsense, my boy. Hurry up, I haven't much time to spare. The

office is only two blocks from here. You don't look as if you could afford

to throw away a friendly offer."

The last words suddenly roused Halfdan from his apathy; for he felt

that they were true. A drowning man cannot afford to make nice

distinctions--cannot afford to ask whether the helping hand that is

extended to him be that of an equal or an inferior. So he swallowed his

humiliation and threaded his way through the bewildering turmoil of

Broadway, by the side of his officious friend.

They entered a large, elegantly furnished office, where clerks with

sleek and severely apathetic countenances stood scribbling at their desks.

"You will have to amuse yourself as best you can," said Olson. "Mr.

Van Kirk will be here in twenty minutes. I haven't time to entertain you."

A dreary half hour passed. Then the door opened and a tall,

handsome man, with a full grayish beard, and a commanding presence,

entered and took his seat at a desk in a smaller adjoining office. He

opened, with great dispatch, a pile of letters which lay on the desk before

him, called out in a sharp, ringing tone for a clerk, who promptly appeared,

handed him half-a-dozen letters, accompanying each with a brief direction,

took some clean paper from a drawer and fell to writing. There was

something brisk, determined, and business-like in his manner, which made

it seem very hopeless to Halfdan to appear before him as a petitioner.

Presently Olson entered the private office, closing the door behind him,

and a few minutes later re-appeared and summoned Halfdan into the

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TALESFROMTWOHEMISPHERES.1TALESFROMTWOHEMISPHERES.BYHJALMARHJORTHBOYSEN.THEMANWHOLOSTHISNAME.IONtheseconddayofJune,186--,ayoungNorseman,HalfdanBjerkbyname,landedonthepieratCastleGarden.Hepassedthroughthestraightandnarrowgatewherehewasaskedhisname,birthplace,andhowmuchmoneyhehad,--atwhichhegrewverymuc...

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