Unto A Good Land

by Vilhelm Moberg

  Tonight Karl Oskar remembered his parents as he had seen them that last morning—when he had looked back from the wagon seat for a final glimpse of them as he left the old home: father and mother, looking after the departing ones, standing on the stoop close together, immobile as two statues. To him they would always remain in that position; they could not move or walk away; they stood there, looking after their departing sons; they stood like two dead objects, hewn in stone. His parents could never again resume life in his mind’s eye. Perhaps this was because deep within him he knew he would never again meet them on this earth.

  A thought came to him—it remained a thought only, which he would not utter: his father and mother might already be dead and buried, without his knowledge. . . .

  After the meal Kristina opened the Bible and read the second chapter from St. Luke which in her home had always been read by her father on Christmas Eve in commemoration of the Saviour’s birth:

  “And so it was, that, while they were there, the days were accomplished that she should be delivered.

  “And she brought forth her first-born son, and wrapped him in swaddling clothes, and laid him in a manger; because there was no room for them in the inn. . . .”

  Kristina read the Christmas Gospel for all of them, but after a few verses she felt as though she were reading it for herself only: it concerned her above all, it concerned her more than the listeners. Mary’s delivery in the stable in Bethlehem reminded her of the childbed she had but recently gone through. It seemed that Mary’s time too had come suddenly and unprepared for, even though her days were accomplished: Mary had been on a journey, and perhaps they had been delayed, unable to reach home in time. And Mary had been poor, even more impoverished than she herself. Kristina had borne her child in a human abode, in a well-timbered house—Mary had lain on straw in an animal shelter, in a stall. Kristina had enjoyed the comfort of a kind and helpful midwife, but the Bible said not one word about any help-woman for Mary in the stable. And she wondered whence the Saviour’s mother had obtained the swaddling clothes she wrapped about her child before she placed it in the manger. Had she prepared them in advance and brought them along on the journey to Bethlehem? The Bible was so sparing with details that she often wondered and questioned while reading. She guessed Mary must have had as much concern about the clothing of her first born as she herself had had for her child. Perhaps Mary too had been forced to cut up her petticoat to prepare the swaddling clothes for Jesus.

  For the first time in twenty years Kristina slept on Christmas morning; ever since early childhood she had gone with her parents on this morning to the early service, which took place hours before daylight, the church illuminated with many candles. But here also they would revere Christmas Day, and Second Christmas Day: all work in the house ceased. They had carried in enough firewood before the holiday, all they had to do was to tend the fire and prepare food.

  On Third Christmas Day they had unexpected guests. Swedish Anna and Samuel Nöjd came driving a team of oxen and a dray which they had borrowed from the lumber company; holidays were the time for visits among their countrymen, and they were eager to see the first child born to Swedish settlers in the St. Croix Valley. The boy was now seven weeks old, he was in splendid health, he nursed heartily and cried for more. The mother had enough milk for him, and he was hungry—both facts made Kristina’s heart glad. What more could she ask? Suppose she had been without milk, or the child without appetite?

  Swedish Anna looked at the tender child as if beholding a miracle of God; she wanted to hold the baby in her arms the whole time she was there. And for luck each of the guests gave the child a coin—a whole silver dollar each!

  The parents were in great perplexity about having their last born baptized; so far as they knew, there was not a single Swedish minister in the whole Territory. Karl Oskar wished Danjel Andreasson to conduct the baptism: he was experienced in religious matters, he lived as piously as any minister. In Sweden Dean Brusander had once forbidden them to invite Danjel to be godfather to Harald, because Danjel had been excluded from the church; but the dean had no power over them here, and they ought to compensate Danjel for this insult—they ought to ask him to perform the Sacrament of Holy Baptism for their last-born son.

  Kristina was much devoted to her uncle and thought as highly of him as Karl Oskar, but she worried about his earlier heresy and wondered if he weren’t still a little confused in religious matters. And she had always felt that the rites of Holy Baptism should be performed by an ordained minister in frock and collar.

  Karl Oskar argued: If Danjel read the ritual according to their own Swedish psalmbook, following every word, then it must be valid; they themselves had been baptized in accordance with these instructions.

  Kristina asked if a baptism by an American minister wouldn’t have the same effect as a baptism by the Swedish clergy. She had thought of Pastor Jackson in Stillwater, who had been so kind to them last summer when they landed from the steamboat. She turned to Swedish Anna: Was there anything wrong in having a child baptized in English? Wouldn’t Jesus accept it equally well? Weren’t all tongues the same to the Lord?

  Swedish Anna looked at her in consternation: “You must be out of your mind! Do you want your child to be a Baptist?”

  “Baptist?”

  “Pastor Jackson is a Baptist! I thought you knew!”

  “No, I didn’t know that. But Anna—are you sure?”

  “Ask anyone in Taylors Falls!”

  Yes, it was true, insisted Swedish Anna: Pastor Jackson was minister of the Baptist Church in Stillwater. He was a sectarian, an Anabaptist, a heretic, an Antichrist preacher. Of all sectarians, the Baptists were the most dangerous, because they rebaptized grown people and robbed them of their Christian grace, bringing them eternal damnation.

  And Swedish Anna paled in terror, hovering over the cradle of the unbaptized baby as if trying to protect him against evil powers. “If you let Pastor Jackson baptize the child, you hand him over to the devil instead of to Jesus!”

  By now Kristina’s concern was as great as Swedish Anna’s. But she was also confused: How could the pastor in Stillwater be a false teacher, baptizing people to eternal damnation, eternal fire? Of all the Americans she had met he was the kindest and most helpful; there had been no end to his thoughtfulness for their comfort last summer. And now she related how good he had been to her and the children and all of them. How could he be an evil person, an Anabaptist, sent by Satan?

  “That is exactly what he is!” Swedish Anna assured her with inflexible determination. “All Baptists are tools of the devil!”

  And this Kristina ought to have realized: That time last summer, he had only tried to snare the newcomers with his false religion, so that he might baptize them and snatch them from Jesus. That was why he had given them food and lodging! That was why he had pretended kindness, while the devil sat in his heart and roared with laughter at the easily lured Swedish souls. That was how the Baptists gained their adherents—through deceit and falsity! And Kristina ought to know that devilish evil powers always decked themselves in sheep’s clothing while stealing souls! Had she looked closer, she might have seen the cloven hoof of Pastor Jackson, hidden in his boot!

  Swedish Anna picked up the unbaptized child from its crib and held it firmly and protectingly in her arms: Before this child were turned over to a false priest, she herself would steal it from the parents!

  Moreover, the Baptists only baptized grown people.

  Still Kristina could not entirely understand; she grew more confused. She felt in her heart that she had not heard the whole truth about the minister in Stillwater, even if it were true he preached a false religion: he too might have been led astray; perhaps in his honest simplicity he believed what he taught.

  After this there was no further talk between Karl Oskar and Kristina about taking their son to Stillwater. But they were not concerned only about the child—it was high time they found a minister for themselves as well; thei
r souls needed a nourishing sermon. And Kristina ought to be churched after childbirth; she felt the need of entering a temple to thank God for His grace in giving her a child; she needed His blessing, His comfort, she wished to seek Him in His temple. When a woman was touched by the minister’s hand, she was cleansed and purified after her childbed. And all of them needed the sacrament of communion after the long journey from the home church. She tried to tell herself that the Lord would overlook their delay and not consider it an unforgivable sin, since they were settled in this wilderness and unable to reach His table—but often, nevertheless, she prayed for forgiveness, worrying over their inability to partake of the Sacrament: though God must look kindly on her, she sometimes said to herself, else He wouldn’t have entrusted a new life to her care.

  The boy was now so old the parents could no longer keep him unbaptized with a clear conscience. It was their duty to give the child to their Lord and Saviour. They therefore agreed to let Danjel perform the ritual in their home on New Year’s Eve. Kristina wished to invite Ulrika of Västergöhl as godmother, to hold the child at the baptism. After some hesitation, Karl Oskar gave his consent.

  The father made a neat little bowl of ash wood for the baptismal water. The christening robe Kristina sewed from leftover pieces of her bridal petticoat, which she washed and starched in potato water until it shone. A child should wear a snow-white robe when the Saviour received him at baptism.

  They had never before had a christening performed at home, and now they felt as though they were going to church in their own house. They dressed themselves in their best clothes. The floor was swept and the cabin put in order. They could not afford a feast this time; no guests were invited except the officiant and the godmother. Besides, it was difficult now in the middle of the winter to get from one house to another. This time they would have only a simple christening ale; the important thing was that the child be baptized according to the clear Lutheran confession.

  And on New Year’s Eve in late afternoon the christening took place in the log house. Parents, christening officiant, and godmother stood gathered around the new table, on which was spread their only linen cloth, brought from their old home. Before the holy act Kristina had given the breast to the baby; she held him a long while and let him suck out every drop of milk she had so that he would keep silent while receiving the Sacrament. He was now satisfied and content as she handed him to the godmother, and he lay goodnaturedly in Ulrika’s comfortable arms.

  Ulrika herself realized fully the importance of her function here; she stood solemn and silent and let Danjel do the talking today.

  Kristina had asked her uncle to perform the christening word for word as it was printed in the psalmbook on the page About Baptism. And Danjel did as he had been asked to do—he used only the printed words of the book, not a single one of his own. He read Our Father and the Christian doctrine into which the child was to be baptized, he read every one of the Tenets of the Faith, from beginning to end. And with his hand laid gently on the little one’s head, he asked according to the book: “Child! Do you wish to be baptized in this faith?”

  The babe in Ulrika’s arms was so filled with his mother’s milk that part of his last meal began to run out of his mouth in little runnels. Down his chin it dripped—he spluttered all over his godmother’s blouse. And to the officiant’s question he answered only with a satisfied belching.

  But Ulrika answered for the baby in the psalmbook’s own words, which she had learned by heart in advance: Yes, he wanted to be baptized in this faith! Then Danjel Andreasson picked up the boy from the godmother, three times he dipped his hand into the water in the wooden bowl and sprinkled it over the downy head: He was baptizing a human soul in the name of the Holy Trinity.

  The child suddenly began to yell, annoyed at this wetting, even though Kristina had been careful to warm the water so it would be neither too hot nor too cold for his delicate scalp. But Ulrika, with motherly care, stuck her thumb into the baby’s mouth and the little one sucked and kept his silence.

  According to the ritual, Danjel now turned to Ulrika: In case of the parents’ inability or absence, it was the godmother’s duty to watch over the child, to see that it faithfully kept the promise it had today given in baptism. And she answered her “Yes” in a loud voice and promised to obey all God asked of her. And the parents observed all was performed to the very last word as was written in the psalmbook. Everything at this baptism was done right.

  Thus the christening was accomplished: the pure Evangelical-Lutheran Church had one more adherent in the St. Croix Valley.

  The budding American citizen in the settlement on Lake Ki-Chi-Saga had been given the name Nils Oskar Danjel. He was to be called Danjel. He had one name from his father, one from his grandfather, and one from the man who had baptized him. All three were good Swedish names. Ulrika had wished to add a fourth, an American name, because he was born in America; but the parents thought they would wait to use such a name until they had another child to christen. The boy, after all, had had his beginning in Sweden.

  After the Sacrament was over, the godmother prayed a silent prayer to the Lord of Heaven for her foster son: Would the Almighty ever keep His hands over him, so that no disadvantage might come to him and no evil befall him, even though he was begotten in Sweden.

  So ended the year of our Lord 1850. It had been the most unusual year yet in the lives of the immigrants.

  —3—

  The new year 1851 opened with blizzards, followed by heavy snowfalls over the Territory. The snow piled so high around the cabin that they could not see through the windows; it reached to the eaves. Karl Oskar Nilsson’s log cabin lay there at the edge of the forest like a tall snowdrift, little resembling a human habitation. Inside, the cabin’s owners lived as in a mine, deep in the ground.

  They had heard the story of one settler who had hung his cabin door swinging outward; after a heavy snowfall he had been unable to open it; for three weeks he had been locked inside his house and had almost starved to death before the snow melted and he managed to get out. At home all entrance doors swung inward; the locked-in settler could not have been a Swede.

  After the heavy snowfall the men had a new chore—to shovel the snow from the door, make paths to the shanty, the lake, the water hole at the brook. They also cleared away the snow from the windows, but the tall drifts against the walls were left undisturbed, as they were a protection against winds and helped to keep the warmth inside.

  After the blizzards followed a time of even, strong winter. The air was crystal clear and like hoarfrost to breathe. The cold dug and tore with its sharp frost claws; the hard snow crust, strong enough to carry full-grown men on its glittering back, now made the wilderness easily accessible. During the stillness of the nights, cracking sounds could be heard as the frost sharpened under a starlit sky.

  They must ever be on guard against freezing to death. In the cabin the fire was kept alive day and night. If the embers should die down for a few hours toward morning they would feel the cold when awakening. The children were not very anxious to crawl out of their beds until the fire was burning brightly. All of them—big and little—huddled around the hearth with its blessed fire.

  Outside, all animals had sought invisible hideouts. The lake birds had long ago disappeared, and so had the rabbits, the squirrels, and the gophers. The crickets no longer drove their ungreased wagon wheels; the screechhopper had been heard in the grass until late in November but now it was silenced. And the settlers at the lake wondered how any of the delicate forest creatures could survive such a winter, such unmerciful cold; here even able-bodied people found it hard to survive.

  —4—

  The almanac had come to an end with the old year, and with it Swedish time had ended for the immigrants. They had no guide for days and weeks, nothing to indicate name days and holidays.

  Now an idea came to Robert: He could take the old almanac for 1850 and from this figure the days of the new year. He could wr
ite a new almanac for the whole year 1851. In Sweden it was forbidden by law to use any almanac except the one printed and sold by the government, but North America had a friendly government; here people could live according to their own almanac, free from persecution or punishment. And once Robert had written one almanac he might make copies of it and sell them to other Swedes who might be equally lost in time.

  Karl Oskar gave his brother a few sheets of paper which he had bought when he wrote the last letter to Sweden. Robert folded each sheet twice, cut it up and sewed the pages together into a small book about the size of the old almanac. Then he filled each page with his writing in ink; this work helped him while away the long winter evenings.

  Within a week Robert had his almanac ready, an almanac that would last for a whole year. He labored long on the letters of the front page to make them look like those of the old almanac.

  All almanacs were prefaced with a chapter on some subject of interest to the reader; for Anno 1850, this chapter was entitled: “Watering of Meadows and Fertilizing Same.” Robert also began his almanac with a chapter of general interest and information; he wrote a description of North America which he had long had in mind and for which he had gathered notes. In his description he had changed and corrected all earlier, false descriptions of the New World.

  ALMANAC

  FOR THE YEAR

  AFTER OUR LORD’S BIRTH

  1851

  Which Year is Considered to be the Fivethousandeighthundredfiftythird from the Creation.

  At Stockholm Horizon

  59 degr. 20½ min Lat.

  Without

  His Royal Maj.’s Permission or Instruction