by Knut Hamsun
Immersed in his chagrin, he had reached the hotel before he knew it. He stopped short, turned around as steamed up as ever and went back down the street to J. Hansen’s tailor shop, where he entered. He saw the proprietor behind closed doors, ordered a coat in strict confidence, a coat of such and such a type, and en-joined the tailor to keep the order secret from everybody. When the coat was ready, it was to be sent to Miniman without delay, to Grøgaard, the crooked coal carrier, who—
Was the coat for Miniman?
Well, what of it? No nosiness! What sort of snooping was this?
Hm, how about the measurements?
So that was it! Yes, the coat was for Miniman. All right, Miniman could come and have his measurements taken, why not? But not an unnecessary word, not a wink—was that clear? And when would the coat be ready? In a couple of days, fine!
Nagel counted out the money at once, said goodbye and left. His annoyance gone, he rubbed his hands and sang. Yes, indeed, he would still—still! Just you wait! When he got back to the hotel he ran up to his room and rang the bell; his hands were shaking with impatience, and no sooner was the door opened than he called, “Sara, some telegram blanks!”
He had just opened his violin case as Sara came in, and to her great amazement she saw that this case, which she had always handled so gingerly, contained only dirty laundry and some papers and writing materials, but no violin. For a moment she couldn’t tear herself away, but stood there staring at it.
“Telegram blanks!” he repeated more loudly, “I asked for some telegram blanks.”
When he finally got the blanks he wrote out an order to an acquaintance in Kristiania to send, anonymously and secretly, two hundred kroner to a certain Miss Martha Gude, a local resident, two hundred kroner, without a word in writing. “Command the utmost silence. Johan Nagel.”
But it wouldn’t work. No, on second thought he had to discard the plan. Hadn’t he better give a few more particulars, and enclose the money to ensure that it would be sent? He tore up the telegram, burned it at once and dashed off a letter. Yes, that was better; a letter, however brief, was more complete, it might really do. Oh, he would show her, give her to understand....
But after he had put the money in the envelope and closed it, he still sat awhile thinking it over. She might still smell a rat, he said to himself; two hundred kroner was too round a sum, besides being the same sum he had recently flaunted under her nose! No, that wouldn’t work either! He took another ten-krone bill out of his pocket, opened the envelope and changed the amount to two hundred and ten kroner. Then he sealed the letter and sent it off.
A whole hour later he still regarded this trick as just great when he thought about it. The letter would descend upon her like a miracle from heaven, from up above, from on high, dropped down on her by unknown hands. Just imagine what she would say when she received all that money! But when he asked himself again what she would say, how she would react to the whole thing, he felt disheartened: the plan was dangerous, all too bold; it was a poor, stupid plan. The catch was that she wouldn’t say a sensible word but behave like a goose. When the letter arrived she would simply fail to understand and leave it to others to find out. She would spread it out on the post-office counter, making the whole town get in on it; she would leave the whole matter to the postal clerk’s discretion right then and there, maybe even act bullheaded and say: Keep your money! Whereupon the postal clerk puts his finger to his nose and cries, Wait a bit, half a mo, I have an idea! And he opens up his books and finds that the same sum was sent from here a few days ago, the very same sum, not to say the very same bills, two hundred and ten kroner to such and such an address in Kristiania. The sender proves to be a certain Johan Nagel, a stranger, who for the time being is staying at the Central.... Sure, such postal clerks had a nose that long to sniff around with....
Nagel rang once more and had the hotel porter bring the letter back immediately.
In the end, all the nervous agitation he had experienced throughout the day made him sick and tired of it all. Frankly, he didn’t give a damn about the whole thing! What concern was it of his that the good Lord arranged a collision with loss of life on the Erie Railroad far inside America? None, to be sure! Well, he had just as little to do with Martha Gude, a respectable lady of this town.
For two days he didn’t step outside the hotel.
X
ON SATURDAY NIGHT Miniman entered Nagel’s room at the hotel. Miniman was wearing his new coat and was radiantly happy.
“I ran across the deputy,” he said, “and he didn’t move a muscle; he even asked me who had given me the coat. He was so wily, to put me to the test that way.”
“And what did you reply?”
“I laughed and replied I wouldn’t say, not to anybody, he must excuse me, goodbye! ... He’ll get his reply, all right—. Look, it’s a good thirteen years since I had a new coat; I’ve checked it out....1 I want to thank you for the latest money you gave me. Again, it was far too much money for an invalid, what am I going to do with it all? You make me so confused by all your kindnesses that it spooks me; it’s as if everything is loose inside me and can’t stay in place. Ha-ha-ha-ha! But, God help me, I’m behaving like a child. Sure, I knew well enough I would get the coat some day; what did I tell you? It often takes a while, but in the end I’m never let down. Lieutenant Hansen once promised me two woolen shirts which he didn’t wear anymore. That was two years ago, but I’m dead certain he’ll come through. It’s always like that: people remember it sooner or later and give me what I need when the time comes. But don’t you think I look like another person in decent clothes?”
“You haven’t been to see me for a long time.”
“The fact is, I was waiting for the coat, I’d made up my mind not to see you anymore in the old one.2 I do have my eccentricities—it distresses me to appear in company wearing a torn coat, God knows why; it’s as though I lose my self-respect. Forgive me for speaking about my self-respect in front of you, as if it were worth anything. Well, it isn’t, it couldn’t be less, I assure you; but I still feel it now and then.”
“Would you like some wine? No? But you’ll smoke a cigar, won’t you?”
Nagel rang for wine and cigars. Once they were brought, he started drinking heavily right away, while Miniman smoked and looked on. Miniman kept talking incessantly and didn’t seem inclined to stop.
“Listen,” Nagel said all of a sudden, “you don’t have much in the way of shirts, do you? Pardon me for asking.”
“That’s not why I mentioned those two shirts,” Miniman replied hurriedly. “As sure as I’m sitting here, that’s not why.”
“Of course not! Why are you screaming? If you don’t mind, why don’t you show me what you’re wearing under your coat?”
“Gladly, oh, gladly, gladly! Here’s one side, just take a look. And the other side is no worse—”
“Oh, but wait a bit! I’m afraid that’s exactly what it is, the other side is worse.”
“But what else can you expect?” Miniman cries. “No, I don’t need any shirts right now, I really don’t. I’ll go so far as to say that a shirt like this is much too good for me. Can you guess who gave it to me? Dr. Stenersen, yes, Dr. Stenersen himself. I don’t think his wife even knew about it, though she too is generosity itself. I got it for Christmas at that.”
“For Christmas?”
“You think that’s a long time ago?3 I don’t wear a shirt like that ragged, as if I were some animal, doing my worst to make holes in it; so I take it off at night and sleep naked, in order not to wear it out to no purpose when I’m sleeping. That way I make it last much longer, and I can go about freely among people without being put to shame because I don’t have a decent shirt. And now, with the tableaux, it’ll be a great help that I’ve still got a shirt I can show myself in. Miss Dagny keeps insisting that I have to turn out. I met her at the church yesterday. She also spoke about you—”
“I’ll get you a pair of trousers, too. It will b
e worth the money to see you appear in public. Since the deputy has given you a coat, I’ll give you a pair of trousers, that’s only fair. But I’ll do it on the usual condition—that you keep mum about it.”
“All right, all right.”
“I think you should have some wine. Oh well, do as you like. I’m going to drink tonight, I feel nervous and rather sad. Will you permit me to ask you a personal question? Are you aware that people have a nickname for you? They call you Miniman; do you know that?”
“Yes, of course, I know. It seemed hard at first, and I prayed to God for help on account of it. I wandered about in the woods for a whole Sunday, kneeling down all the time in the three places that were dry—this was in the spring, when the snow was melting.4 But that was a long time ago, many years ago, and now nobody calls me anything but Miniman; and it’s good enough, for that matter. Why would you like to know if I was aware of it? How can I help it, however much I’m aware of it?”
“Do you know, too, how you were given such an absurd name?”
“Yes, I do. That is, it’s so long ago, before I became an invalid, but I remember it well. It happened one evening, or rather one night, at a bachelor party. Maybe you’ve noticed that yellow house down by the Customs House, on your right hand as you go down? Well, it was painted white in those days, and the justice of the peace lived there. He was a bachelor, and his name was Sørensen, a really jolly fellow. It was a spring night—I was returning from the docks, where I’d been strolling back and forth looking at the ships. When I came to this yellow house I could tell there were visitors inside, because there was an awful racket and lots of people laughing. As I pass the windows, they catch sight of me and tap on the panes. Once inside, I’m confronted by Dr. Kolbye, Captain William Prante and Folkedahl, the customs officer, and many more—well, by now they’ve all died or left town, but altogether there were seven or eight of them and everyone dead drunk. They had smashed up the chairs just for fun, that was what the justice of the peace wanted, and they had also broken all the glasses, so we had to drink from the bottle. After I joined them and got drunk as well, there was no end to the racket. The men stripped and ran around the rooms stark naked, although we hadn’t drawn the blinds, and when I wouldn’t play along with them, they grabbed me by force and undressed me. I put up a fight and did what else I could, but there was no getting out of it, so I apologized to them, I shook their hands and apologized—”
“What did you apologize for?”
“In case I might have said something that made them jump at me.5 I shook hands with them and apologized, so they would do me as little harm as possible. But it was no use, they stripped me completely. Also, the doctor found a letter in my pocket and began reading it to the others. Then I sobered up a bit, for the letter was from my mother, who used to write to me when I went to sea. In plain words, I called the doctor a sponge. Everyone knew he was a heavy drinker. ‘You’re a sponge!’ I said. That made him terribly angry, and he tried to grab me by the scruff of the neck, but the others stopped him. ‘Let’s make him drunk instead!’ said the justice of the peace, as if I wasn’t sufficiently drunk already. And they poured still some more into me from several bottles. Afterward two of the men—I can’t remember who they were anymore—but, anyway, they came in with a tub of water. They put the tub in the middle of the room and said I was to be baptized. In fact, they all wanted me to be baptized and greeted this caprice with a tremendous hullabaloo. Then they had the idea of mixing all sorts of things into the water to make it dirty, spitting into it and pouring in liquor, even going to the bedroom for the worst thing they could find and dumping it into the water. And on top of it all they scattered two shovelfuls of ashes from the stove, to make it still more muddy for me. Then everything was ready for the baptism. ‘Why can’t you just as well baptize one of the others?’ I asked the justice of the peace, embracing his knees. ‘We’ve been baptized already,’ he replied, ‘baptized in the very same way,’ he said. And I believed him, because that was always what he wanted of those he associated with, that they should be baptized. The next moment the justice of the peace said to me, ‘And now I shall let you come before my countenance!’ But I refused to go willingly; I stood pat, hanging on to the doorknob. ‘Come now, right this min—stir your stumps, mini man!’ he said. He was from upcountry and spoke like that. But no, I refused to budge. Then Captain Prante yelled, ‘Miniman, Miniman, that’s it! He shall be baptized Miniman, yes, Miniman!’ And everyone agreed to have me baptized Miniman, because I was so small. And now two of the men dragged me over to the justice of the peace and brought me before his countenance, and since I was so puny the justice of the peace ducked me under in the tub all by himself. He ducked my head all the way under and rubbed my nose against the bottom of the tub, which was covered with ashes and shards of glass; and then he pulled me out again and recited a prayer over me. Afterward the godparents were to do their thing, and that consisted of each of them lifting me high up from the floor and dropping me, and when they were tired of that they lined up in two teams and tossed me from one team to the other like a ball; this was done so I would dry again, and they kept it up until they were good and tired of it. Then the justice of the peace shouted, ‘Stop!’ And so they let me go and called me Miniman, every one of them, shook hands with me and called me Miniman to seal my baptism. But then I was again thrown into the tub, this time by Dr. Kolbye, who used such force that I fell with my whole weight and injured my side, because he couldn’t forget that I had called him a sponge.... My nickname has stuck to me ever since. The next day the whole town knew I’d been at the house of the justice of the peace and been baptized.”
“And your side was injured. But there was no damage to your head, was there, I mean inside?”
Pause.
“This is the second time you’ve asked me if there has been some damage to my head, so perhaps you mean something by it. But I didn’t hurt my head that time, there was no concussion, if that’s what you’re afraid of. But I bumped so hard against the tub that I broke a rib. It’s all healed again now, though; Dr. Kolbye treated me for the fracture free of charge,6 and I’m none the worse for it.”
Nagel had been drinking steadily while Miniman was talking; he rang for more wine and went on drinking. Suddenly he says, “I would like to ask you something that just occurred to me: Do you think I am a fairly good judge of people? Don’t look so astonished, it’s only a friendly question. Do you consider me capable of seeing through the person I’m talking to?”
Miniman gives him a wary look, not knowing what to answer. Then Nagel goes on, “By the way, I owe you an apology. The last time I had the pleasure of seeing you in my place, I also upset you by asking some extremely stupid questions. You will remember that, for one thing, I offered you so and so much money to assume the paternity of a child, heh-heh-heh. But that blunder was committed because I didn’t know you then; now, however, I astonish you afresh, even though I know you extremely well and hold you in great esteem. Today, though, it’s happening solely because I’m nervous and already terribly drunk. That’s the whole explanation. Obviously, you can see I’m dead drunk. Of course you can, why pretend? But what was I going to say? Oh yes, I would really be interested to know to what extent you consider me capable of seeing through the human soul. Heh-heh! 7 For example, I think I can detect subtle undertones in the voice of the person I’m speaking to, I have an incredibly good ear. When I’m talking to someone, I don’t need to look at him in order to follow exactly what he’s saying, I can hear right away whether he’s shamming or pulling my leg. The voice is a dangerous instrument. Now, don’t misunderstand me: I do not mean the material sound of the voice, whether it be high or low, rich or raspy; I do not mean the physical voice, its tonal substance—no, I’m referring to the mystery back of it, the world from which it emanates.... Oh, to hell with the world back of it! Why should there always be a world behind everything? Why should I care a damn?”8
Nagel took another drink and went on ta
lking. “You’ve become so quiet. Don’t let my brag about being a good judge of people turn your head so that you’re afraid to move. Heh-heh-heh, that would look nice, wouldn’t it? But now I’ve forgotten what I wanted to say. Oh well, I’ll just say something else, something that doesn’t concern me deeply but that I’ll say anyway, until I recall what I’ve forgotten. Good Lord, how I go on! What’s your opinion of Miss Kielland? Let me hear what you think of her. In my opinion, Miss Kielland is such an out-and-out flirt that she would be enormously pleased if others, too, preferably as many as possible—myself Included—went and took their own lives for her sake. That’s my opinion. She’s lovely, she most certainly is, and it must be a sweet pain, indeed, to feel trampled by her heel; one day, perhaps, I’ll ask her to do just that, I cannot promise I won’t. However, that’s not for now, I have plenty of time.... But good heavens, I believe I’m scaring you stiff with my talk tonight! Have I offended you, I mean personally?”
“If you only could have heard all the nice things Miss Kielland said about you! I met her yesterday, she chatted with me for quite a while—”
“Tell me—hm, beg pardon for not letting you finish what you were saying—don’t you too, perhaps, have a modest gift for picking up the quavers at the back of Miss Kielland’s physical voice? But now I’m talking utter nonsense, you can certainly hear that, can’t you? Well! Nevertheless, I would be delighted if you, too, knew something about people, so that I could congratulate you and say: there are two of us, two at most, who know something about this; come, let’s get together and form a partnership, a small association, and never use our knowledge against each other—against each other, understand—so that I, for example, will never use my knowledge against you, even though I can read you like a book. There, there, now you’re getting that wary look and start fidgeting again! You mustn’t let yourself be fooled by my brag, I’m drunk.... But now I happen to remember what I wanted to say a short while ago, when I began talking about Miss Kielland, who wasn’t of vital concern to me. Why should I blurt out my opinion of her anyway, as long as you hadn’t asked me for it! It seems I have completely spoiled your good mood; do you remember how happy you were when you came here about an hour ago? All this twaddle is because of the wine.... But let me not forget a second time what I was going to say. When you told me about the bachelor party given by the justice of the peace, at which you were baptized, remember, it occurred to me, strangely enough, that I would also like to give a bachelor party—yes, come hell or high water, a bachelor party for a few invited guests, I won’t budge on that, I’m going to arrange it; and you must come, too, I’m counting on you. You won’t be baptized all over again, you can set your mind at ease on that score; I’ll see to it that you’re treated with the utmost courtesy and respect. And there won’t be any smashing up of tables and chairs. But I would like to have a few friends over some evening, the sooner the better, let’s say toward the end of the week. What do you think?”