Vilhelm Moberg - The Settlers

Undisturbed by the din of loud child voices, Harald went on reading his lesson, the same piece over and over:

“All things are made by God. He has made me. I am only a child but I know I am more than a dog or a horse. What has a child above a dog or a horse? A horse or a dog can stand and walk as well as a child. Horses and dogs have sight, smell, and taste like me. But I have a soul. I can see my body. But my soul I can’t see. My body will die. But my soul will never die. It ascends to God when my body dies.

“God is with you in good and evil days. He is your comfort in sorrow, he is your support in need, if you only pray to him. He wants to be your help. .”

Now and then a burned-out log broke and the pile of firewood caved in a little. The crackling of the fire, the screeching from Kristina’s wool combs, and the buzz of the spinning wheel mingled with the boy’s singsong reading.

But not one word of the lesson escaped Kristina’s ears. It was truly astonishing how much those short simple words contained.

Harald resumed: “He is your comfort in sorrow, he is your support in need, if you only pray. .”

The words rang in her ears, piercing like a sword in her heart: “He wants to be your help.” No — she didn’t understand it, it didn’t agree, it had not turned out as she felt it must. It was not as these words promised; she had known this for some time now.

On the evening last summer when she had prayed under the huge oaks up on the hill, she had felt confident her prayer had been heard. This confidence had grown in strength for four months. Now it was completely shattered; for two weeks she had known she was again with child.

The Kristina who sat here this evening combing wool for her children’s stockings was for the eighth time a blessed woman. And the lesson in the First Reader with its short words seemed to her a raw and inhuman parody on the prayer she had prayed last summer.

“Listen, Mother!” It was Johan, who had discovered something in the paper.

“A report from New York says that engineer Elias Howe’s sewing machine with shuttle sold to the number of twenty-five thousand last year within the United States. Wouldn’t you like to have a sewing machine, Mother?”

She continued her carding without a reply. The boy repeated his question: Didn’t she want a sewing machine?

“Why. . Yes. . Yes, of course!”

A machine with hands that could sew, thereby saving one’s own hands. Well, that was really something.

Johan looked askance at her and wondered what was the matter with Mother lately. Often she was so slow in answering that he must repeat his questions. Mother seemed to be losing her hearing. And she was so silent these days — she hardly spoke to anyone unless she had to. Was she sad about something?

Johan went back to read to himself about the comet with the growing tail which the Italian stargazer Giambattista Donati had discovered last summer and which had caused great consternation throughout the world. In June the comet had no tail at all, but by August it was a million miles long, by September four million, and now in November six million miles long. Soon the tail of that comet, it was said, would stretch across the whole firmament. Johan had been out looking for it on several evenings but it had been cloudy and he hadn’t discovered the smallest tail spark of the terrifying heavenly body.

Kristina could not stop listening to Harald: “. . if you only pray. .”

Who could have prayed more fervently than she? But God had not heard her. He had remained deaf to her prayer. He had given her neither reply nor sign — unless her new pregnancy was the reply? During the very moment of prayer she had felt the Almighty’s mild hand upon her forehead, but she had made a miserable mistake. He was unmoved, unresponsive. It was not the fatherly hand she had felt stroking her brow during the prayer last summer — it must have been nothing but the wind.

“He wants to be your help.”

But now she knew the truth: God did not wish to help her.

She must go through it all again, all she had prayed to be relieved of: first the sick and miserable feeling for a few months, then carrying the increased burden of her body, shuffling about on heavy feet, and at last the terrifying labor, her strength spent, and the great weakness and fatigue afterward with her limbs heavy and aching. And just at the time when most was required of her, she would have to get up nights to give the breast to the baby, stay up till all hours when it was sick or fretted, caring constantly for the tender life day and night. All this she must go through again; for the eighth time since her twentieth year it was demanded of her. And this time she met the pregnancy with less strength than at any of the other seven times. Her weariness was great when she went to bed in the evening, it was almost as great when she arose in the morning.

God was omniscient; he knew that her strength was barely sufficient for all her chores, for the care of the children she had already borne. He knew she was worn out, young in years though she still was. He knew she would not be able to stand another birth, another child, and to make sure, she had told him so in her prayer last summer. Yet he was creating a new life in her. Why did he do this to her? Why hadn’t he heard her prayer?

She had waited as long as she could to tell Karl Oskar. She had told herself she might be mistaken. Her period had been late before. No need to hurry with this information — she must be sure. And now she was sure. And this morning before he left for St. Paul she had told him. It was her time again; she must go through it once more.

No one could expect him to be happy over it. When Frank was born he had said, “Now it is about right.” Six had not seemed too much for Karl Oskar, but a seventh would be. And then the seventh was announced. What would he say now when it was more than about right, when moderation was exceeded?

He said just about nothing. He stood silent for a moment at first. If he was disappointed, he didn’t show it. Never had he shown any disappointment at this sort of news. Already? he used to say in the old days, his joy perhaps a little forced. But this time he just said nothing.

“Well, hmm, time again? Well — if we can feed six brats, I guess we can feed seven! As long as you can take it.”

That was all he had said this morning, and it was about what she had expected him to say.

In Korpamoen in Sweden she had been afraid to bear too many children lest she couldn’t feed them. Then she had said to Karl Oskar, “If we could leave each other alone, then we wouldn’t have any more.” Now she felt this had been a childish suggestion; in a true Christian marriage the mates belonged to each other physically also. And this physical need for her husband had grown stronger with the years, that was the strange thing about it. To Karl Oskar it had been a necessity from the very beginning.

“All things are made by God.”

But Kristina couldn’t endure hearing Harald read the piece any more tonight. There was one way to silence the studious youngster.

“Get to bed now! All of you!”

The children were a little surprised at Mother’s sudden and firm command and obeyed hesitantly. She gave each a lump of sugar to urge them on. For little Frank was already in bed and for him Kristina warmed a cup of milk, stirred some honey in it, and fed it to him with a spoon. Yellow mucus still came from his infected throat and this mixture eased the soreness.

Frank was a lively and keen boy. His soft, flaxen hair curled all over his head and his eyes were a clearer blue than those of any of the other children. But he would not remain the little one much longer — only till midsummer next year. By midsummer a new childbed would be awaiting a blessed woman.