The Fish Can Sing (6 page)

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Authors: Halldor Laxness

BOOK: The Fish Can Sing
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“It is nowhere found written in this Holy Book,” he cried, thumping the book. “Not by so much as a word or a letter or a dash or a dot is it found written in the Holy Book that innocent children should be baptized. Whosoever maintains that it stands anywhere written in Holy Scripture that innocent children have to be baptized does so on his own responsibility – and must take the consequences.”

When old Thór
ur the Baptist had done his baptistical duty out here in Iceland, it was his mission to go next to Norway and preach there for a time; and it is considered conclusive proof of the great difference between Norwegians and Icelanders that no sooner had Thór
ur the evangelist set foot on land in Bergen than hosts of people were crowding round him to hear his message, so that the police and even the army had to be called out frequently to protect the old and infirm from being trampled underfoot, or to prevent partisan groups who were for or against this messenger of the Lord from rioting and inflicting mortal injuries upon one another.

Apart from the meagre income which old Thór
ur may have had from the Scots and the Canadians for turning the Icelanders and Norwegians from the practice of child-baptism, I think that the Baptist had no other belongings than those Bibles he carried in a gunny sack on his back from country to country; at least, no one knew him to have any other valuables in his possession.

The day now dawned when the Baptist was to leave Iceland and travel to Norway to preach fire and brimstone to all those who practised child-baptism in that country.

Each time he had previously stayed at Brekkukot for a month or six weeks on his summer travels he had invariably tried to repay the hospitality with a Bible, but my grandfather Björn had always excused himself from accepting such a gift on the ground that it was not the custom at Brekkukot to take precious belongings from people just for letting them sleep. On the other hand, my grandfather on previous occasions had not refused some trifling Christian pamphlets as token gifts from Thór
ur the Baptist. But Thór
ur was now tired of giving small presents, and refused even to contemplate leaving any gift smaller than a Bible on his departure.

“If you do not accept a Bible from me this autumn, Björn,” he said, “I shall take it that you no longer consider yourself my friend; and besides, I could then never let it be known that I had stayed at your house again.”

“I don’t know how genuine your Bibles may be, my lad,” said Björn of Brekkukot. “But in my time it was not known for Bibles to be printed in tiny letters on sheets of toilet-paper.”

“My Christian conscience is my pledge that this Bible I have brought with me is good and genuine, lawfully printed and faithfully translated from the original languages by the Bible Society in London.”

“In
what?”
said my grandfather.

“London,” said the Baptist.

“What’s that?” asked my grandfather.

“It is the capital of the British Empire,” said the Baptist.

“Well, that may be so,” said my grandfather. “I know nothing about that. The proper Bible here in Iceland was translated and printed by the late Right Reverend Gu
brandur at Hólar in the north. I have seen that Bible with my own eyes in the Cathedral here. It says in it that it costs a cow. That is our Bible.”

Thór
ur the Baptist said, “I refuse to retract one word from my claim that my London Bible is a genuine Bible, even though it costs no more than seventy-five
aurar.”

“Do you think that the Right Reverend Gu
brandur was trying to rob us Icelanders when he put the price of the Bible at one cow?” said my grandfather. “No, my lad, the Bible which the Right Reverend Gu
brandur published was at the right price. And if the Bible was worth an early-calving cow in the past, then it is so still. A Bible that costs half a hen! Pshaw!”

“And my salvation, which stands as a pledge for my Bible – is that worth no more than dirt, perhaps?” said Thór
ur the Baptist.

“I’m not concerning myself with that,” said my grandfather. “You’ll have to wangle yourself out of that one yourself, my good man. And we shall be just as good friends whether you go up or down.”

Thór
ur the Baptist was intending to leave on the steamship the
following morning. But during the evening, when grandfather went to wind the clock for the week, what did he happen to find but one of Thór
ur’s cheap Bibles hidden inside the clock?

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