Annie Proulx - Barkskins

Dieter shied away from transcendental disputation but he was interested in the American shift from hatred of the forest to something approaching veneration, a feeling he had known since his German childhood. After the deaths of his parents his grandmother had taken him to see the Heede Riesenlinde.

“A Lindwurm —dragon tree,” she said in a low intense voice, her heavily beringed hand drawing him close to it. As they stood under the great carbuncled tree, its splayed trunk thick with emerald moss, she said, “This noble and ancient tree is a justice tree and much more.” She told him the story of Siegfried, adapted for her own purposes, Siegfried the Bark-Skinned, who had acquired his horny covering after felling Fafnir, the dragon who lived in the lime tree. After swabbing himself with dragon’s blood, Siegfried was armored, safe from harm except for a little place on his back where a lime leaf had stuck.

“This tree? The dragon lived in this lime tree?” asked Dieter, his eyes clenching the dark hollow in the roots, half-afraid the great serpent would appear.

“Yes, but it was a very long time ago. The dragon is dead, thanks be to Siegfried. And now you must think of yourself as Siegfried. The sadness you feel over the death of your mama and papa is a kind of dragon— Sie müssen zurück schlagen —you must quell this sorrow-dragon. You must harden yourself, overcome grief and form a protection of will against superfluous love. Then nothing can hurt you.”

But Lavinia had found his lime leaf and pulled it away.

• • •

He wrote many letters to the Vermonter. Marsh was the best kind of farmer, for he noticed everything that happened in his world, the fall of tree branches, the depth of leaf mold in the woods and how rain was slowed by and caught in tree roots, tempered by the absorbent sponge of moss and decaying leaves. He saw what happened to soil when the trees were gone, how the birds disappeared when the pond was drained. When he traveled he compared landscapes and formed opinions. Dieter still hoped to visit him and see what the farmer had seen. As their correspondence went on he realized that George Perkins Marsh was considerably more than an observant Green Mountain farmer — linguist, congressman, diplomat, a traveler to foreign parts — one of the geniuses the young country seemed to throw out like seed grain.

• • •

The new wing would be added to Lavinia’s house while they were on their honeymoon journey to New Zealand. When they returned all would be finished.

“A great deal of money,” said Lavinia to herself. Still, one had to keep up appearances and Dieter must have his library and greenhouse. She put aside her black clothing and took up new fashions, form-hugging dresses with perky little bustles. And Goosey, that homely grey-haired matron who had been saving her stipend for years, had suddenly appeared in dresses of rich colors, unsparing of ruffles. Her hair was artfully plaited and wrapped into a crown.

At breakfast Goosey poured melted butter and maple syrup on her griddle cake. “Lavinia, I have meant to tell you for many a day but—”

“What is it, Goosey?” Lavinia preferred silence in the morning but this was not in Goosey’s nature. She glanced at her distant cousin, saw her pink face and knotted brows. Goosey gave off a faint scent of orris root.

“I have accepted to marry Mr. Axel Cowes.”

“But how do you come to know him?” Lavinia was greatly surprised. Goosey flared red and hunched her shoulders. It all came out. The day she had walked into the forest to cut a few pine twigs for Dieter she had encountered Mr. Cowes strolling with his dogs. They had chatted, they began to walk together, and over successive months they became daily walking companions, close friends and finally, betrothed. “He needs someone,” said Goosey. Ah, thought Lavinia, so does everyone.

“I wish you every happiness, dear Goosey,” she said, immediately planning to cut Goosey’s bequest from her will.

• • •

Lavinia went early to the office and returned late. There was very much to do, two or three businessmen callers every day and the correspondence such a daily flood Annag Duncan and Miss Heinrich could not handle all of it. Though Annag looked like a prosperous and successful businesswoman, Miss Heinrich had changed little; she remained timid, hiding in the paper supply room when strangers came to the office.

“For heaven’s sake,” said Annag, “they won’t bite you. It’s just businessmen.”

“I don’t like that Mr. Wirehouse. He looks at me.”

“He looks at everyone. You may look back at him, for a cat may look at a king.” Lawyer Flense had presented her with an amusing book— Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland. And this remark sent Miss Heinrich into tears. “I am not a cat!”

• • •

On one of Chicago’s blowy old days Annag, trim in navy blue with a modest hem frill, came into Lavinia’s office, her lips moving, rehearsing what she wanted to say.

“Miss Duke, the success of the company has made a great deal of work in the office. I feel we must hire two more clerks. The volume of mail is great. I suggest promoting Miss Heinrich to assistant director and getting two or even three new people to sort through and handle the letters, which she has done so far.”

Lavinia said, “You are free to advertise for and hire new office people. We must train good people. And you know that Dieter and I will be abroad for nearly two years. I must have regular intelligence of everything, detailed weekly cables, and I believe all will go well. It does mean extra work for you. As for Miss Heinrich’s promotion, do send her in to me and I will speak with her.”

Only a few days earlier Miss Heinrich, the model of a man-fearing spinster, had come to Annag nervously rolling some papers in her hands.

“Mrs. Duncan, as you asked me to do I have reexamined the proposals from last summer’s Inventor’s Day and there is one that is particularly — interesting. But we did not proceed with it. I do not know if Miss Duke thought it promising…” Her voice trailed away.

“What proposal is that?”

“It is one from Maine, from a Mr. Stirrup. Illness kept him from the exhibit but he is trying anew. He was a rag merchant and now he has a paper mill in Maine on the Mattawannscot River. He once used only rags to make paper, but he says he has experimented in pulping some wood and blending the fibers with the rags. With great success, he says. And also he tried making paper with different wood pulps. Alone. No rags.”

“That is interesting. I did not know of this proposal. Is there more to it than this?”

“Yes. He sent samples. Of the wood-pulp paper. He says he has made many experiments to find the best woods and the best processes. He writes of sulfite and sulfate processes. What does that mean?”

“I’m sure I don’t know. Let me see the samples.”

Annag Duncan examined the paper sheets, scratched a few inky words on several, folded and bent the pages. She handed everything back to Miss Heinrich then sat in her chair looking out the window onto the construction site of a museum, the gift of one of Chicago’s many millionaires. At last she sighed, turned around and looked at her assistant. The poor thing was so nervous she was trembling.

“Miss Heinrich. I think you had better take this proposal in to Miss Duke and tell her that it caught your eye. She may not have read all the way through when it was first presented last year. I agree with you that there may be value here.” She escorted her to Lavinia’s office door, opened it and said, “Miss Duke, here is Miss Heinrich.”

• • •

While Miss Heinrich stood like a snowwoman on the turkey carpet in front of the desk, Lavinia read the pages and examined the samples. “Very interesting. Miss Heinrich, I commend you. You shall have a promotion and a salary rise.” Her mind was jumping ahead. Stirrup had mentioned that small logs, slash and otherwise unusable wood could be used for paper pulp — inexpensive paper made from waste wood. This, she thought, could open a lucrative market. Come to that, could not Duke & Breitsprecher build its own paper mill? “Take a letter, Miss Heinrich,” she said. “Dear Mr. Stirrup. I have today read your proposal…” It was a move that would take Duke & Breitsprecher into the next century.