There had been, for some time past, a continual delivery and unpacking

of what Rendalen called school apparatus; the most wonderful specimens

were shown to the children. These purchases and his endless journeys

had cost no small sum. How had the money been provided? Quite by chance

Fru Rendalen had discovered that the woods had been sold from "The

Estate" on different terms; some before, and some after, the farms to

which they belonged had been disposed of. Some of these woods had been

merely sold for clearing, and the land itself thus still belonged to

"The Estate." But as it had lain long unused, the fact had been

forgotten, and the woods had been by degrees absorbed into the

surrounding properties. Fru Rendalen lost several lawsuits over this,

but she gained others, and it was therefore good Norse timber which had

paid for Karl's and Tomas's studies.

Tomas had taken up science, Karl theology; both of them going abroad.

Karl had come home again after two years' absence. Tomas had travelled.

During the few months that he had been at home he had given lectures to

the girls in the senior classes, especially on Natural Science. For

example, he explained to them the very newest discoveries in regard to

the activity of the brain, showing them large diagrams. When the

children repeated to their parents how these discoveries were made,

they began to wish to hear about them as well. And it was not rare to

see elder sisters, mothers, or sometimes even fathers, sitting squeezed

in among the children in the class-room, listening to him. It can thus

be easily understood why the gathering on the present occasion was so

large.

Tomas was an ugly, red-haired, freckled fellow, with a somewhat broad

nose, and grey screwed-up eyes, with no eyebrows, or at all events no

visible ones, and with a thin-lipped mouth like his father's. Yet it

was said that the whole school was crazy about him! People wanted to

see and hear what on earth it was all about; three ladies to one

gentleman assembled up at "The Estate."

A path had been made to the right from the great steps, past the front

of the house, and further round the wing, to the courtyard at the back,

which was the usual school road. The new gymnasium was in the courtyard

as well. There was a man stationed at its entrance to-day, and a crowd

of people stood before it who had been refused admittance, and who

protested loudly against this treatment.

It was Andreas Berg who was on the watch that only "parents" came in.

This had been clearly stated in the invitation, but it had been

overlooked or misunderstood, or else people thought they might as well

try all the same, and they were now making a disturbance over it.

They were, of course, mostly young.

There was great merriment when some elder person, who was not

recognised as a parent, was refused admission. Anton Doesen, called also

"French Doesen" because he had lived several years in France, and who

now had a shop for French fancy goods, almost exactly opposite the

Froekener Jensens at Bommem, presented himself as a "father," and wished

to enter--he had never been married, this same French Doesen. Immense

amusement!

The solemn, unmoved Andreas Berg turned him back, and French Doesen

asked what the deuce was wanted before he could get in! Must he go to

the town, and get the clergyman's attestation that he was a father?

French Doesen had always had the privilege of trumpeting forth his

peccadilloes. It amused people to hear of them. His shop was much

frequented, notwithstanding his light morals and talk. His competition

with the two crooked Froekener Jensens, as regarded millinery, was not

hazardous. But see, there actually are the Froekener Jensens, and they

have got in! Enormous delight in the assembled company. For there could

be no doubt that neither Froeken Jensen had had a child. Heavens

forfend!

Andreas Berg explained that that was because they had a niece at

school. The reason they had no children? No! that they were admitted.

They stood in the place of parents.

"But," observed Doesen, "it must be more to be a father, than to stand

in a father's place." Great applause! Beside, did he not stand in the

place of a father to all those to whom he gave food and wages? Did he

not now? Andreas Berg would admit nothing.

At this moment arrived the town bailiff and his wife. Berg would not

allow them to pass, any more than the others, for they were not

parents, nor had they any adopted children at school. Doesen cried

"Bravo," and clapped his hands, and a number of others with him.

There was a storm of laughter, for the town bailiff was well known and

little liked. So they looked forward to some fun.

He was so furious for the moment that he could not speak, but stuttered

and gesticulated. He was a tall thin fellow, with spectacles, and a

smile--not of good-humour or anything of that kind--no, there was a

sourness about it which was impressed on his whole countenance.

At last he found his tongue, and asked Andreas Berg if he were mad. And

his wife, who dearly loved on such occasions to push herself forward,

remarked that no meeting in the town could be closed to the town

bailiff.

This did not make the very smallest impression on Andreas Berg. He

busied himself in opening to some others who came up, and who really

were parents, and shut the door again.

Doesen now took up the town bailiff's cause. Andreas Berg ought to

understand that if the town bailiff had no children, that was not his

fault, nor his wife's either. Terrific applause! "The paradise of

parents could not be closed against the bailiff on that account, as

long as ...;" he could go no further. For the bailiff asked if he were

mad. "Yes, in your cause, sir," answered Doesen. What peals of laughter!

At the same moment shoemaker Nils Hansen came up with his little wife.

Hundreds of times in his life the bailiff had asked him if he were mad,

so Nils Hansen laughed as soon as he heard the words.

"Who is mad now?" he asked.

"Andreas Berg," answered the town bailiff.

"No, I," shouted Doesen.

"It's the town bailiff himself," cried out several in the crowd.

"Imagine," said the bailiff to Nils Hansen, "Andreas Berg has had the

impudence to--to--to--prevent my wife and me from--from--going in----"

One saw that Nils Hansen found this amusing, but Laura, on the other

hand, was astonished, and questioned Berg, "Dear me, how is this?"

But if she thought she would induce Berg to answer, she was very much

mistaken. He opened the door for them. "_Vaers'go_," he said, and they

felt obliged to go in, but they heard Doesen call after them: "The

bailiff and his wife may not go in, because they have no children."

This was also heard inside the hall; a sound of laughter from a hundred

voices came rippling out; and another wave of boisterous mirth rolled

towards the door as it was closed after Nils Hansen. While conversation

went on in the hall, a new excitement arose outside. The sheriff had

come. His wife had brought a lady, a stranger, with her, whom Berg

would not admit; only "parents" were invited, he repeated firmly. He

knew this lady was called "_Froeken_[2] Krieger"; she had bought some

flowers from him.

The sheriff, often nicknamed "the ladies' man," a fair-haired man with

a sharp waggish face, looked up at the two dismayed ladies; they were

both standing at the top of the steps, very red in the face. His wife

had always supposed that any lady _she_ brought would of course not be

refused admittance, and yet this had occurred; they were fairly "caught

out," both she and her friend--a butt for the laughter of Doesen and his

companions, and stared at pityingly by a number of people whom she did

not know, for she was but newly come to the town. She was a handsome

woman, with an intellectual face, tall and slender, but she looked

quite terrified now; her eyes wandered helplessly from one to another,

and at last they fixed themselves imploringly upon her husband, who

stood down below with the others and laughed at them. "Is it so

_dangerous_ for Froeken Krieger to come in?" she asked. Roars of

laughter. Apparently this annoyed Berg, he came up without warning and

pushed the lady gently to one side in order to open the door for some

more people. A number of ladies, all married and with children at

school, now came up and passed in; the unlucky wife of the sheriff

tripped down the steps, her friend following her, looking rather

embarrassed; there was a short exchange of words which ended in the

departure of the friend; she would go alone, and ran off when the

gallant sheriff offered to accompany her; the sheriff himself being

nearly run over by a carriage with two large Danish horses, driven by a

coachman in grey livery.

It was Consul Engel and his wife who were arriving. They drove right up

into the courtyard because Fru Engel was delicate. Nothing could have

been more careful, more tender, more charming than the manner in which

the consul helped his wife from the phaeton; he almost carried her in.

He was a handsome man, with a noble face; his well-known smile was more

friendly than ever as he passed through the crowd with his gentle

burden. She was handsome too, the expression of her eyes wise and

painful, or rather perhaps painfully wise; the same expression lay in

the lines of the mouth and in the thin cheeks. Through the whole of her

slow progress from the carriage to the steps, and her toilsome ascent

to the door, she was followed by the startled, bird-like eyes of the

sheriff's wife. They hovered over the invalid till they seemed to fill

the air with interrogation. From her they passed on to the consul, from

his eyes back again to those of his wife.

What in the world did they want? They filled with tears, she wiped them

hurriedly with a shy glance round. At the same moment the sheriff came

up to take her in. She was startled, coloured, smiled--nay, laughed.

Lord knows what at.

Fru Emmy Wingaard, young and blooming, passed at the moment. The

sheriff whispered something to her which made her laugh. He asked if

they should not all sit together. Fru Emmy Wingaard's maiden name had

been Fuerst; she had curly fair hair and lively eyes; she gave several

glances across to Doesen, the special friend of her brother, the naval

lieutenant. Doesen made a despairing face and hung his head. She

understood that he could not come in, and crossed her well-gloved

fingers mockingly at him; she passed on. How pretty and merry she was;

she was so like her brother Niels Fuerst, the lion of this and all the

neighbouring coast towns. If any one doubted that Niels Fuerst was the

lion of the neighbourhood, let them ask the lady who followed Fru Emmy;

let them ask Kaja Groendal, the wife of the engineer who is never at

home. Ask her whether Niels Fuerst, who is very often at home, is not

the favourite cavalier in all the towns round, and the vigorous lady

will look at you without a blush and ask again if any one doubted it?

The gallant sheriff let all the ladies pass in first, saying a few

friendly words to Andreas Berg, who made no reply. At the same moment

Berg saw Fru Rendalen, escorted by her son, but behind them were the

town bailiff and his wife; they all four came out from the pupils'

entrance in the principal building--the one through the tower. So the

town bailiff must have forced himself in to Fru Rendalen to complain!

Would Berg perhaps be put in the wrong before all these ill-behaved

young people because he had strictly obeyed orders?

They came straight towards the principal entrance, instead of going to

the other door, which led into the ante-room where the pupils'

gymnastic dresses hung. It could be for no other reason than to obtain

admittance for the town bailiff that they came this way.

Fru Rendalen and her son were saluted by those who were nearest; Berg

opened the door, she mounted the steps, but then stood back and

actually did let the town bailiff and his wife pass in, her son

following them. She remained standing. She was a large woman now, the

hair under her cap iron-grey, her face brown and stern, the eyes behind

her spectacles brightening its expression. She had done some good work,

and was convinced that she ought to be shown respect.

"All of you who do not belong here will be so kind as to go; we must

have perfect quiet here now."

She had hardly spoken before one or two began to move; when the

farthest away had disappeared round the corner, the others followed

their example; there was a little tittering, a few whispered

witticisms, but they went. Andreas Berg was the only one who was

inclined to grumble; it had been hard about the town bailiff. "No more

will come now, you can go in too, Berg; many thanks!" and it was all

settled.

She went in herself, those nearest rose and bowed, for they were for

the most part her former pupils, and this was the old custom. But when

they did so the whole assemblage rose, too, by degrees. She bowed right

and left, and then took her seat by the side of the tribune which stood

on the platform. She looked across at the audience. Every place was

occupied; some few men were standing in the gangway; these now had

chairs given to them; they were brought in by an old woman.

Tomas Rendalen was standing by the window talking to Dr. Holmsen. This

gentleman was somewhat fat and florid. His large prominent eyes had a

mixed expression of sarcasm and slyness; he stood there, half smiling,

half embarrassed, with one hand playing with his brown, slightly

grizzled beard as he listened to Rendalen.

Tomas Rendalen was his complete opposite--decided, fiery, eloquent.

The school children had been eager to tell that he used scent, and

truly--it wafted from him as from some fine lady. There was something

precise, too, about his linen, and about the way in which his grey

coat, of the most enviably new cut, fitted him. He was well-built and

very elastic in all his movements. While he whispered to the doctor he

had a nervous, impressive manner, as though every moment were of the

greatest importance.

Suddenly he broke off and hurried across the room, for the door had

opened once more, and those entered for whom apparently he had been

waiting--old Green, led by Karl Vangen.

Yes, now he was _old_ Green; a bowed old man who walked cautiously

forward, led by tall Pastor Vangen. Karl's face was one of those which

do not easily alter; the large forehead, the honest eyes, the deep

eye-sockets, and the wide mouth with its slight smile, which Tomas had

in his time made such fun of, were all just the same as before, only on

a taller body. Tomas came forward to salute the old man, and walked

respectfully beside him to where an armchair had been placed for him,

beside Fru Rendalen, upon the platform. Karl Vangen sat down beside

him, and Tomas Rendalen mounted the tribune.

He pushed his nervous, freckled hands through his red hair, making it

stand still higher up; felt for his pocket-handkerchief, took hold of

the water bottle, then moved some things off the desk; he was a

dreadfully restless fellow.

He peered through his half-closed grey eyes, now here, now there,

finally at his mother and old Green, smiled at Karl and began. His

voice was a tenor, full, mellow, and practised, so that it sounded

pleasantly.

To the utter astonishment of the assembled company, he said that it was

principally on the subject of morality that he wished to speak; it was

principally for a moral object that this hall had been built.

The whole course of education in the school would, still more than

before, have morality for its aim.

In order that he might speak freely on the subject, it had been

necessary to restrict the audience entirely to parents, or those who

stood in their stead, and who might be expected, for that reason, to

treat a serious matter in a serious spirit.

There was a seriousness about himself which was combined with but

little acuteness: he almost threatened them. He did not in the least

perceive how horrified this meeting of provincial townspeople at once

became; he took their embarrassment for a kind of awe, for something of

the solemn feeling of a meeting in church. He continued:

"Not alone for woman's sake must this subject be seriously approached,

but for man's sake as well. All take care of themselves, men as well as

women, but women had the incentive to watch over her own interests, so

she stood higher as a companion and in society.

"It was in this that the school ought, better than before, to aid her.

"The venerable man who sat on his right once said to him, that only

those families succumbed to drunkenness whose nerves had first been

thoroughly weakened by a dissolute life. In such families the habit of

drunkenness very easily becomes hereditary; I think that more than this

can be traced to the same cause. Addiction to pleasure--that

undoubtedly often grows in vigorous soil; but a man may appear vigorous

enough and still be excessively enervated. That characterlessness which

is incapable of overcoming opposition is, as a rule, the result of the

forefathers' sensuality with the addition of his own; every kind of

moral and intellectual looseness and dulness, when it spreads in a

family which has at one time taken a foremost place, can, for the most

part, be traced back to this cause. At all events, it is the strongest

among several. Our passion, our hastiness, our impatience, our

exaggeration, our irritability--unless, indeed, they can be traced to

some accident in our bringing up, some purely accidental state of

health--find their strongest cause here.

"All such are weaknesses contracted in the course of several

generations; perhaps increased in the later ones.

"The investigations on this subject are so recent that we cannot yet

bring forward such strong proofs as we believe to exist; it is only

lately that the work of seriously minded men and women has been

concentrated on this object, as the most important possible. But those

who realise that this is the case are still few. Therefore schools are

not by any means able to cope with the subject; especially girls'

schools, which are absolutely bad.

"The girls' school which we are now in is, as a place of education, as

good as any in the country. I have satisfied myself on that point, but

it has been the greatest regret of the principal, during the whole

course of her labours, that the aim which she originally set before

herself, that of giving a _larger_ share to moral than to general

education, has not been attained to. It is on this point that my mother

has conferred with me more than on any other, so that at last it became

my daily thought.

"My parentage, my education, my career have, in more ways than one

prepared this work for me."

[His voice trembled a little, and he was obliged to pause, his mother

was affected: general wonderment.]

"'Woman's moral training'? most of you will object, 'is there anything

amiss with it? Among the lower orders perhaps, but in the refined

classes of the town is it not excellent? Protected by religion, in the

pure atmosphere of home, in the regular work of school, in a guarded

life passed among those of the same age and sex.' Yes, and what results

from all this?

"Let me merely in passing take the pure atmosphere of home. In a

seaport town--all will admit it--the strongest current is by no means a

moral one. Traders and sailors, as is unavoidable from their mode of

life, are among the worst in respect to morality. No one dare deny it.

An early wandering life takes the morals on to very slippery ground,

and a merchant's business, where the percentage of profit fluctuates as

it is honestly, or dishonestly gained, does not strengthen the moral

life. His cultivation is, as a rule, very slight, his reading confined

to a few newspapers, or perhaps novels; his intercourse, outside his

own occupation and family, next to nothing, so that here there is

little counterpoise. A sailor's life is, as a rule, one without ties,

passed in every sort of country, in all parts of the world; in nine

cases out of ten the master is an uncultivated man, perhaps a rough

one, often tyrannised over by his 'owners,' and almost always

tyrannical himself when opportunity offers. As things stand with us at

present, when the skipper has learned to filch a percentage from the

freight, as well as from everything he buys for the use of the ship,

even to the very water--I know such cases!--systematic robbery, one may

say--we can understand that high principles will not be cultivated in

such a life. And but a rough example is given, as a rule, to the

subordinates.

"The return of men such as these by no means strengthens the desire for

morality in the town, or increases its stock of character. As regards

the homes, those of the skippers especially, we can conceive that the

children's bringing-up must have received a strong bias; or, if every

one cannot imagine it, I will lay it out before you."

[I wish that my readers could have seen the horror, the confusion, the

shamefacedness of the assembly, the rage of some, of three sunburnt

skippers, for example! Others gazed uneasily into their hats, or at the

backs of those before them. Some there were, however, who delighted in

the scandal! They alone ventured to look up, their eyes turned eagerly

towards the smiling Engel, the skippers, the tradesmen, the sheriff,

and their wives--towards all, indeed, who on one account or another

must sit on the stool of repentance. There were women ready to cry with

shame, anger, and vexation at being there; they were prepared to fly at

any moment, but dared not actually do so. There were men who thought,

"If this goes half an inch further--by all the devils I shall be off."

But they did not move. When the doctor blew his nose, they were all as

startled as though it had lightened.]

"Many people firmly believe that if a child sees nothing indecent at

home, and hears no doubtful stories, everything has been done which can

be done, especially if they are heedful that the child himself does

nothing improper. I contend that if no more than this is done, a child

is exposed to every possible evil. Here people rave about the innocence

of ignorance; there is something concerning that subject which I cannot

now speak about--I shall take an opportunity of doing so later; I

confine myself at present to saying that that innocence which knows

what the danger is, and has fought against it from youth up, that

innocence _alone is strong_. All education which tends to further this

object must have, as an absolute condition, _full confidence between

the child and its parents_--at any rate, between the child and its

mother; or, to carry out the whole of my idea, between the child and

that parent who is most fitted to gain its confidence; for this is, in

itself, a special gift, and if neither of the parents has it, which may

easily happen, then find some one who has. Use all means to accomplish

this.

"If the child's father be a man who has not honourably fought the fight

(it must come to him sooner or later), he is then, not only the fifth

wheel in the coach, which would go all the same, but, as a rule, an

actual hindrance. For there is often something in his manner, his

speech, his ways which wounds or tempts; those subjects which should be

seriously and firmly dealt with become with him almost amusing; they

are treated as things to be lightly touched upon.

"In this town, such as I know it, and indeed as you know it who have

grown up in the place and become sharp-sighted in regard to it--in this

town, I think, most houses are weak in this respect. The fathers give

no help, the attempts of the mothers to keep up a thorough confidence

as between comrades, are certainly great, but they rarely succeed, they

do not understand how to do it. Till this is altered, the work at

school for the cause of morality will prove deceptive, for it can

easily place a child between noble teaching and evil practice; a

knowledge of evil unsupported by watchful confidence may easily itself

become a temptation. St. Paul has pointed this out.

"I forewarn you for this reason: our work at first will often rise up

in witness against us, but for all that there is no other course open

to us--no, no other. Do we not know that there is one particular epoch

of life for which, more than for any other time, it is necessary to

provide and to secure means of helping? How to do this is the question.

Ask any doctor, ask any experienced teacher, if this is not the case.

"My mother, whom I am justified in calling an experienced teacher, can

bear witness that at this period of change most girls deteriorate in

that they lose their openness, and much of, or all their industry and

sense of order; something strange and of a mixed nature seems to enter

into their composition--very different, however, with different

individuals. Remember, she says, 'that this is the case with the

majority; there are exceptions, but this is the rule.'"

[Looking at the audience, you would have thought that these remarks

applied only to women, and not to men. For the men looked openly and

unblushingly at the women, which only made the moment more painful for

the latter, especially for those who were known to all the world as

having been pupils of Fru Rendalen.]

"Therefore it is precisely on this point that our work must be brought

to bear, it must be completely prepared to meet this physical change,

and everything must be directed to this end.

"For it is no use denying that this exists, or shutting one's eyes to

it. It is the most important thing that a teacher can be concerned

with. What, compared to this, which really means the preservation of

body and soul, are, say, a knowledge of languages, instruction in the

piano or in feminine neatness, but mere luxuries. History, geography,

arithmetic, writing, are of rather more value, but even they are of

secondary or even third-rate importance.

"Well, but religion, you will say, does not that often help? Ah! what

do you understand by that word? Knowledge of God and of the moral laws

is, of course, a most needful knowledge, but it is only when such

knowledge influences the conduct that it becomes effective. _It is very

rarely_ that it does this. Do not build too much on a faith that may be

lost. It is only a minority on whom religious belief has a lasting

effect. We do not realise this, because with us religion is almost the

only thing which holds its own--outside, that is, of our large towns.

Religion appears to us to be powerful, because we have not yet acquired

the habit of looking about us, and because most of us are a good deal

given to deceiving ourselves.

"Children, in matters of this sort, do not really stand on a different

level from adults; do not imagine that they do so. They can, it is

true, be very easily led, but they can be brought with even more ease

and more completely to forget one thing and take up another. It takes

very little to make them believe, but it takes still less to make them

doubt, so that the ratio between belief and unbelief remains the same.

Those whose religious belief forms a lasting restraint on their moral

character are, among children as among adults, but few.

"There are four clergymen present. I ask them if they can rise and

contradict me? I do not believe that they feel any inclination to do

so."

[A short pause. All eyes were fixed upon such of the clergymen as they

could see. The four reverend gentlemen sat as unmovable as graven

images.]

"Do I hold then, you ask, that religion is of no importance in a

school? Much the contrary? But there should be no class of religious

instruction which does not partake of the thorough earnestness of a

religious lecture. Let it as often as possible be given by the person

who will have the preparation of the child for confirmation--that is to

say, generally by the clergyman. I would say entirely by him, if that

could be arranged. Thus the relation of the clergyman to the teacher

would be that of a support to the latter.

"I cannot go further into this question: I will only add that this is

the arrangement adopted for our school. The friend of my youth, my

brother, Pastor Karl Vangen, will take the children between six and

sixteen every morning for religions instruction and edification, and

the intention is that he shall conduct their whole religious training

until their confirmation. But it follows from what I have said that he

can only hope to make the relationship of deep and lasting value _for a

very few_. It is only right that this fact should be realised in

schools."

"Lately," continued the speaker after another very short pause, "an

attempt has been made to set up the study of history and of general

literature as branches of knowledge which have an influence in the

formation of character. When these studies have been more fully adapted

as subjects of instruction than they have yet been, they will have more

importance in this respect.

"Undoubted assistance was, of course," he went on, "always to be gained

from these studies. The child learned to know of good, great, and noble

thoughts, and obtained a grasp, if only a slight one, of the course of

human history, as well as the history of single peoples or great men.

But it can never be a matter of the _first_ importance to hear about

others."

[The audience now became curious. Where would he get to at last? They

felt that something important was coming.]

He leaned forward over the tribune and said slowly:

"'The most important form of knowledge which a man can acquire, is the

knowledge how to regulate his own life; the next, how to regulate the

lives of those who come after him.'

"These words of Herbert Spencer may be taken as a rule of life for the

whole world. Until this also is made the thing of most importance in

schools, other subjects will not fall into their right places in the

whole scheme of instruction or the arrangements subsidiary thereto. But

the task of learning self-restraint, of learning to guide our

offspring, this is the moral aim and the only stable ground of all

instruction.

"If at an early age you obtain adequate knowledge of how your body is

constructed and how it works, and if you also learn to know how you can

benefit or injure it, and through yourself those who will be born to

you, or who may be dependent on you, this knowledge not only becomes

your greatest safeguard if you _will_ use it, but as a rule it gives

you a desire to do so.

"A feeling of self-respect is aroused more strongly by knowledge than

in any other way, but that this may be the result, the knowledge must

not be imparted too late. I need not say that ordinary schools give far

too little instruction of this kind, and that little not as it should

be given. The pupils must understand why it is given; the teacher must

be open, thorough, with no concealments, for the very things which are

usually kept out of sight _are the most important_.

"I speak of that period of life to which I have before alluded. Is the

child ever told what that is which is beginning? I mean, has it full,

absolute knowledge? does it know what temptations will come, or why

they will come? Has it learned how they are to be met? or how at that

time it can create conditions for health, and through its health its

character, good-humour, happiness?--that on that time hangs its future

life, nay, that of its offspring? Is that taught in such a way as to be

branded, so to say, into the child's will? Have the subjects of which I

spoke been raised to a level of one which here, and now, might guide

the scholar's fancy by noble incentive, strong purpose, enthusiasm? for

children, especially young girls, can be made enthusiastic.

"Or, to come down to what every one is capable of forming a judgment

about, do the parents at home know that at that age certain sorts of

food, certain seasonings, are baneful to some natures? That for some a

special diet is necessary? What sort of diet that should be? Is it

known in schools that a special course of gymnastics may be of great

assistance? Children are not all alike in respect to the amount of

watchfulness and management which they require; some few require no

special attention. But that most do need it, is a fact upon which I

confidently appeal to the experience of this meeting, whose members

have all been young once and have had young companions."

[He made a pause and looked round the room; a little bird could be

heard twittering in the distance.]

"A further question: Is it not at that period of life that those, who

had not learned to do so before, now learn to deceive? To act secretly,

with a bashfulness which wounds the sense of honour and thus injures

the character? If one thing can be admitted, another cannot--to the

destruction of the character. Quietly, and as a rule quite unsuspected,

at that age the powers of self-destruction begin to work in body and

character; no one will dare to contradict me."

[The terrible pauses which he made were almost worse than anything he

said; here he made one again. But he now passed on to something else.]

"But is there no place in the world," he asked, "where the schools are

arranged as these experiences demand?"

[He answered this question by fully describing several schools in

America and England: some for girls alone, some for girls and boys

together. He also described several colleges for young women alone, and

some for young men and women; he did not consider that any one of them,

singly, offered all that he wished, but each one had something, many a

great deal. He spoke at some length on a medical college at Boston,

where an unmarried woman was professor of anatomy, and that, for

students of both sexes; he mentioned that she further endeavoured to

get her female pupils appointed as teachers in the girls' schools in

the city. This lady professor was of opinion that every school should

have a doctor as a teacher, and that he, or some other person, well

instructed in Natural Science, should overlook the whole of the

children's studies on this subject; the lessons must always be given so

as to make a deep impression.]

"Already children can learn by the aid of microscopes how plants, for

example, are formed of cells, how the different parts are developed

from one common origin; they can observe how they breathe, see their

division into cells, the growth of the upper parts, the fructification;

can have their imagination seized, nay, even regulated, by Nature's

work and harmony. The child should early obtain a holy admiration for

all that is healthy, fresh, natural, as well as compassion for all that

is injured or sickly, a horror of anything unnatural, though this must

be blended with compassion as well.

"Microscopes, analysis, and such a variety of diagrams and apparatus

must be used, that there can be no possibility of a false impression

being conveyed on any of the principal subjects, nor must the

instruction become merely a wearisome lesson or a lecture over which

they would go to sleep; it must be real personal work, developing the

powers under the teachers' guidance.

"Schools would naturally become much more expensive than at present;

the providing of appliances, if that were properly done, would

constitute an especially serious outlay." He told them what the price

of a single microscope would be, and each school ought to have a large

number; beside which, the teachers must have larger salaries. "But the

war estimates are paid," he said cheerfully, "a race, strong both

morally and physically, would be ample compensation."

"To obtain more time, not only must the complete apparatus be used,

which itself immensely facilitates the course of instruction, but other

subjects must be taught on quite a different method from that at

present in use, and all lessons must be done at school under the

guidance of the teacher. School must therefore, of course, be held both

morning and afternoon, and a dinner of sufficient and nourishing food

be provided on the spot. When the child left the school it should be

completely free, should have nothing on its mind for the next day.

"About all this and about arrangements as to instruction on the new

plan, he would speak at the same time and place next Saturday; he

invited all the parents to attend.

"He would not conceal his belief that in no short time teaching all

over the world would be arranged in the way he had indicated; all at

the cost of the State, of the Community. This was society's most

important cause.

"But, uninfluenced by what might come, or what now existed, his school

for the development of the powers and characters of women would follow

the lines which _he_ thought to be right. There is no precept so strong

as example.

"He asked earnestly for the parents' help; He hoped to make it an

honour for this town to have taken the lead in this cause, but it would

be an expensive enterprise. What expense would not be incurred merely

for the lady doctor, who was coming over from America, to undertake the

teaching which he considered as the most important for the school?"

[Movement, murmurings, excitement among the audience for the first time

during the lecture.]

"Yes, in Boston I met a Norwegian lady who went over there when still

very young, and who had passed her examination at the medical college

several years ago. She is called Miss Cornelia Hall; this lady is

already an experienced teacher in girls' schools, and has also a

practice; in coming here she makes a sacrifice for her native land, but

we cannot entirely accept this, we cannot allow her to relinquish a

salary of three thousand dollars a year to receive the ordinary pay of

a Norwegian teacher. She would not be able to practise here except

under the conditions of the law with respect to Quacks, a law as

unworthy of a doctor, as of the people who had made it.

"Beside this, although the collection of school apparatus is no doubt

very considerable, it can hardly be too much so. The labour in teaching

is lessened in exact proportion as these apparatus are augmented.

"I am not ashamed to declare that my mother, who has spent a fortune on

this, is unable to go any further. I have, perhaps, already overtaxed

her resources. I therefore confidently turn to all at this meeting,

especially to the women, and say to them: If you know by experience the

value of a highly cultivated woman who has learned to control herself,

and rely on herself, then come to my help! Do so for your children's

sake, do it for the sake of a good example! For myself, I will live and

die for the cause in our native town."

He spoke these last words with a suddenly rising emotion, it came over

him with such overwhelming force that he forgot about the opening of

the gymnasium. He had to leave the tribune without even a bow; he

disappeared through the door of the little ante-room, and from thence

ran across the courtyard into the house. The audience remained seated

as though he had not finished, the end came so suddenly upon them, was

so startling, and his agitation had such an electrical force about it,

that it touched them. They must have time to reflect. Some of ruder

nature down by the door rose meanwhile, the rest following their

example. And now a moment came for Fru Rendalen full of the greatest

surprise.

She did not see well, not far even with her spectacles, and besides

during the whole time she had looked at no one but her son. The muscles

of the right side of her neck ached from sitting with her head turned

in his direction; when the lecture was half over, therefore, she moved

her chair and sat completely turned towards him.

The subject itself was known to her clause by clause, but his energetic

delivery, his personal power, his boldness, were entirely new to her;

they did not cause her any apprehension, but rather the contrary; she

was naturally courageous, and she knew that if openness were necessary

on any subject, this was the one. She knew the actual state of things

and the indifference displayed. She wanted them to be made to listen

_for once in their lives_. And he did it so nobly, it seemed to her.

She followed and felt all his inward agitation; she knew that if he did

not keep a watch on himself he would be overcome.

When, therefore, the three or four words to the meeting suddenly fired

it, she was as much upset as he. Those closing words dimmed her

spectacles, she was obliged to dry them, and while doing so saw nothing

and thought of nothing outside herself. But she roused herself and

hastily prepared to rise when the others did so; she wished to be ready

to receive any who might desire to congratulate her, and perhaps send a

message to her son.

And after all no one came. Ah yes, the two Froekener Jensens came, the

two crooked little milliners--quiet, cordial, and smiling as they

always were; they expressed their thanks and sent so many messages to

the "School Director;" if they had been allowed they would have liked

to have gone in to thank him themselves. But the Froekener Jensens were

the only ones. Nils Hansen did not come, nor Laura; not one of her old

pupils, not even Emilie Engel, poor dear Emilie of whom she had been

thinking the whole time; no one came. If any one had come up to Fru

Rendalen, and in the name of the meeting given her a box on the ear,

the worthy lady could not have been more astonished. Gracious Powers!

What did it mean? For her his lecture expressed their mutual life,

thought for thought, what they had learned and experienced, and had

confirmed from each other's lives. But it was more, it was her whole

work with him first and last, from his birth till now, when he stood

there bright, cultivated, eager, full of one great aim; the lecture was

the expression of this work, this development in full flower, which was

now about to bear fruit.

How she loved him, how she admired him; _she_ knew what he had fought

through and effected, in these eight-and-twenty years. She knew what

was woven into every thought to which he now gave utterance.

She had had visions of all this, but with no clearness; it was he who

had brought _that_; she could never have expressed it clearly, but _he_

did. Was it not like a fairy tale, in spite of all their work?

The dim idea she had had at first of ousting the Kurt inheritance by

her own, and that she had afterwards daringly begun when she renovated

the gloomy ancestral house, and made it clean and bright, devoting

herself to bringing "confiding childish laughter" into it, was now

complete. She had begun it confused, stupid, but stouthearted; and now

it was accomplished by him, the child: was it not a fairy tale?

How more than happy she was! She could have knelt down before the whole

assemblage to thank God--yes, joyfully with a song, though she did not

possess a single true note.

She felt that if all these people came up to thank her she would not be

able to control herself, but what would that matter, for he had done it

all so well. And not one single person came! Yes, by-the-by, the

Froekener Jensens came, but no one else; they were all going. But the

old Dean? Yes, he sat there still pondering; a decided desire to speak

to her might have made him rise--yes, to say something on the part of

the others. It was only now, when almost every one was gone, that he

began to move; he raised his eyes, looked inquiringly at her for a few

moments, got up heavily, and came towards her at last.

"Yes, dear Frue, it was cleverly done."

"Yes, was it not?"

"Very cleverly done indeed, but I would give a great deal that it had

not been done."

"But, Dean?"

"No, I cannot talk about it; there is too much noise here and I am

tired--another time; remember me to him; good-bye, Frue." He took

Karl's arm and turned to descend.

There was only one who was as moved, nay, overcome, as Fru Rendalen,

and that was Karl Vangen. Like her, at the beginning, he had only been

intent on the lecture and the lecturer. In his innocence he had never

grasped the possibility of any one's feeling otherwise than that this

was the right thing, spoken by the right man; but later, chancing to

notice the audience at a moment when some question was addressed to

them, he began to doubt; this doubt increased until at last he sat

there with a beating heart. But that no one should come to Fru

Rendalen, no, not one, even, of her former pupils! He knew her face, he

saw how she was pained. And now the Dean as well! He let go his arm and

seized her hand in both his, he would have liked to hug her; but there

were still too many people in the room. He looked at her till the tears

sprang to his eyes, and so, notwithstanding, he hugged and kissed

her--any one might look who liked. Then he gave his arm a little

awkwardly to the Dean, and helped him down.

This made the worthy Fru Rendalen herself again; she hurried, with a

lighter step than one could have thought possible, out of the door to

the little ante-room, and from there across the courtyard to the house.

She looked for her son there, he had just taken off his coat and

waistcoat and was going to have a bath; but she could not wait until he

had finished, she threw herself on to him, pressing him to her breast,

and crying as she exclaimed: "Tomas, dear Tomas, my own Tomas!"

He also had at last realised that something was amiss, and now her

look, her manner, confirmed it; besides, she said nothing, gave him no

message, although she had remained behind.

He felt, now that the strain was over, a gloomy anxiety, a stab at his

heart; but he did not wish to talk about it, neither did she, so she

left him to take his bath.

Andreas Berg remained behind in the gymnasium, and after the last

person had gone he locked the door and walked in a dignified manner to

a corner near the principal entrance. The different gymnastic apparatus

were piled up there and covered with a large sail. He seized hold of

the sail, dragging it noisily down on to the floor. Upon this two heads

came into view, four arms, which hastily twined themselves together,

two skirts, and four laced boots; two fiery red faces, bathed in

perspiration, were pressed close together; a tangled mass of fair hair

was mixed with a dark one in the same condition. Berg stood there,

looking severe.

"I see several times as the sail moved," he said; "I could not think

whatever it could be; at last, thinks I, as it was two of the little

girls, and it's two grown young women; aren't you ashamed o'

yourselves?" One of the girls began to cry, the other laughed. "And the

children of worthy men; the sheriff's daughter," he continued to the

one who was laughing, "a grown girl, confirmed and in the senior class,

and you there as well; do you think I don't know you? Nils Hansen's

daughter; your mother was here, she should ha' seen you under the sail,

and your father as well; there's a power o' difference between you and

your sister Augusta; she was always pretty behaved. Take yourselves

off. I'm going now to tell the mistress."

He was not out of the door before they jumped up. Good heavens! what

did they look like? their clothes, their hair, their faces--especially

their faces--exactly like a little child who has been crying and has

rubbed the tears all over its face with grimy hands; their hands had

been dirtied by all the implements among which they lay, and they had

used them to brush away the perspiration which ran into their eyes; and

how stiff and wretched they were; though they had had plenty of

opportunity to prepare a comfortable place for themselves, they had

remained so very long in the same position. At least an hour before the

lecture began they had been under the sail, never feeling secure the

whole time. One cried and scolded the other, who laughed; but when they

both got a good view of each other and told one another how they

looked, they burst into peals of laughter, and rushed into the little

room at the other end of the building, where they knew that there was

toilette apparatus. After that they were to go across to tell the

boarders all about it.

For it was not for themselves alone that they had hidden under the sail

for two hours; no, they had been chosen for it by the senior class;

they had all come and pulled the sail over them. The girls had had some

food with them, and some beer to drink as well, but they had disposed

of that long before the lecture began. Over the way, in the boarders'

sitting-room, the senior class was assembled. Something which only the

parents were to hear about must be so very extraordinary; and those two

knew all about it now.

The two girls only allowed themselves time to wipe away the worst of

the dirt, and to smooth their hair so far that they need not be ashamed

to run across the courtyard. But hurry as they would, the impatience of

the others stole a march upon them. The whole class tore across the

courtyard to the gymnasium. They had waited to see Andreas Berg shut up

and disappear; he had taken his time over it, but at last he had gone

into the kitchen. The two had been chosen on account of their good

memories, and, incredible as it may seem, they remembered almost all

the lecture, at all events all the portions which were most telling,

the best delivered and the newest.

And if Tomas Rendalen had lectured to an ungrateful audience, here was

one which was responsive enough; young girls love courage; when they

have not to be in the front themselves they glow with admiration.

The tall, fair, slender one with the large eyes, is the sheriff's

daughter--look at her; she has her mother's birdlike face, but instead

of its expression, hers was held high as if for a bold flight. It was

framed by a mass of disordered fair hair which now, when her eyes, her

whole face glowed, seemed to glow with them. She did not remember the

different heads of the lecture in their exact order, the most

important, the most interesting, came first; from their school-life and

association with Tomas, Fru Rendalen and the teachers, they were all

better qualified to seize his meaning than the audience in general had

been. But as Nora was in full flow she stopped, grew crimson, then

white: Fru Rendalen stood there on the steps!

Andreas Berg had kept his word, and they had forgotten him.

When Andreas had come to her, Fru Rendalen had been so upset, that it

was an absolute delight to her to find anything upon which to vent her

displeasure; she marched out down the great steps; she wished to catch

the girls in the very act, and therefore went the whole way round the

wing and along the gymnasium, so as to come in behind them.

But just at the ante-room door, which the others had of course

forgotten to shut, she heard Nora, helped out by her friend, delivering

the lecture--Tomas's lecture--with Tomas's tone of voice, his delivery,

his fire, with really noble eloquence. Yes, there was one who had

listened! The stately Fru Rendalen would in pure self-forgetfulness

have held back just for the sake of hearing and being with them, but it

was not construed in that way; Nora's terror, the cry of the others, as

they turned and saw this all-powerful lady, was worth remembering. Fru

Rendalen was schoolmistress enough to look for this token of respect;

she raised her voice and said, "I ought to be excessively angry, and

that to some purpose! I see you _understand_ this! But anything so

marvellous as Nora's memory I have never heard."

"Never heard anything so marvellous"--it was well that it was not

school time. But when Nora heard that it was not to cost her her life,

and saw that Fru Rendalen was really pleased, she flung herself upon

her neck with all the impetuosity of sixteen and burst into tears.

It pleased Fru Rendalen. "You are a wild, sweet girl," she said.

"Listen, child; when you have finished here, come over to me and we

will have some regular fun."

IV

THE STAFF

This, thinks the intelligent reader, will be

an account of a school, and I quite agree

that so it ought to be. But life's logic is

not always ours, and we are going to keep

to that of life.

CHAPTER I

A GREAT LECTURE AND A LITTLE TOWN

That same evening Tomas knew what Dean Green thought of the lecture.

Karl was the bearer of this information. Tomas went out to him when he

saw him in the avenue, and they went for a long walk into the country

to the left of "The Estate."

Dean Green had assumed that when Tomas proposed to explain his design

for the school, it really was that design he meant, and not something

quite different; he had not for a moment imagined the possibility of

its being a scheme on a large scale in which the plan for the school

was merely hinted at. Such a lecture, on such a subject, might be given

in this country, but it must be in one of the large towns; in a small

one it might be possible to do so with impunity ten years hence, and at

all events it should be given by a man in an independent position; but

a man who wished to found a school on it ... a more ill-judged lecture

the old gentleman could not imagine. It was incumbent on Karl to tell

this to Tomas, word for word, for he must have no illusions as to what

would follow. If the school went on after this it would be exclusively

owing to the respect which his mother had inspired. After such a

challenge, it was sure to be condemned. Not by what it taught--no, but

if any girl who left school during even the present year made a false

step, the school would bear the blame. The Dean had gathered from the

lecture that Tomas himself had feared this. Why in the world, then, had

he not held his tongue? Now a single chance might destroy the school.

It is impossible to describe how this took hold upon Tomas; he felt

that in repeating this Karl agreed with the Dean; he felt that his

mother would go over to them as well, that every one would. He had been

guilty of egregious folly. They did not return before midnight. They

could not talk to his mother that evening, everything was quiet when

they entered their rooms.

Tomas had his old one, next to the bath-room, but it had all been done

up for his home-coming. Karl had the one next it, the corner room; like

all those in the house, it was so long that the curtains which divided

the bed from the rest of the room were hardly noticeable. Their supper

was set for them, but they were cast down to such a degree that they

did not touch it. After Karl had gone to bed, Tomas sat beside him, nor

was it only on this night that he did so.

Early the next morning--it was Sunday--Fru Rendalen was down at Nils

Hansen's; she wished to act according to her usual ways. She came up

again just at the time people were going to church. Karl saw her from

his window, which faced the avenue, and told Tomas; he himself was

going to church. Tomas went out with him to his mother; she looked

worried.

"So not even Nils Hansen?"

"No, Nils Hansen himself had said he did not like to be called names in

church."

"What had he meant by that?"

"That he went to a public lecture to learn something, or to hear

something pleasant, not to be abused himself, or to hear others

abused."

Fru Rendalen had answered that a lecture must point out people's

faults.

"No, you must not _invite_ people to hear about their faults."

"But Fru Hansen?"

Laura did not think his lecture wise. "Children must not know

everything."

On the contrary, the shoemaker had objected that his peasant experience

taught him quite the opposite; in the country, children knew everything

from the time they were quite little, and although there was much

immorality in the country, it was not for that reason, but because the

whole subject was neglected there. He himself had been brought up in a

thickly populated district, where both sexes went to the same school

and played the same games until they were grown up; they knew

everything, but he looked back to that time with confidence.

Nils Hansen had said this so often before that Tomas was puzzled why

his mother should repeat it now. She did it merely to gain time.

The fact was that Fru Emilie Engel was ill; she had been carried

straight to bed from the carriage, the doctor had been there yesterday,

again during the night, and had just now come away: Fru Rendalen had

met him; she began to cry.

If Emilie succumbed to this it would be her fault, she might have

understood that Emilie could not bear that men's infidelity should be

spoken about while her husband was beside her; so, weak and delicate as

Emilie was, Fru Rendalen ought, at any cost, to have prevented Tomas

from doing such a thing.

Instead, she had rejoiced over what he had done. That was because both

she and others always agreed with Tomas when they were in his company,

whether they would or no. For of course he had gone too far. The doctor

had said so too. What had he said? "He said that it was those cursed

nerves--Kurt excess--in another form." She began to cry again.

And as though Tomas wished on the spot to show her that the doctor and

she were right, he flew into a violent passion. "It was really dreadful

to have come home to such a miserable position, to be obliged to work

among indifferent and poor-spirited people, who fled right and left as

soon as ever a reform was brought forward."

"It was not the reform itself but the way--"

The way? A reform cannot be effected by stealth, it must show itself

for what it is. Yesterday evening, when he was tired, he had felt this

icy coldness as well, it made him shiver; but now it really was all too

mad; if every one deserted, he would hold his ground; he certainly had

thought that his mother would have been better than that; for in

reality it was mostly her experiences which he had brought forward

yesterday.

This passed, out in the garden, on Sunday morning. On Thursday at

midday the local newspaper--the _Spectator_--was delivered to its

subscribers. Under a large note of interrogation by way of heading a

correspondent wished to know if it really were true that in a large

school in the town the greater number of the pupils had fallen into

immorality? Although it was the principal himself who had said this to

several hundred people, one must still permit oneself to doubt it. That

he had not been misunderstood would be proved by the following

quotation: "This (namely, immorality) _was the rule_, he said; _the

contrary was the exception_."

This contribution was not signed. It fanned the smouldering feeling to

an open flame. No one spoke of anything else. There was an abject

terror among all the school-girls the next day; they came up to morning

prayers, pupils and teachers as well, as though they were about to be

punished, and Karl Vangen was so much agitated, that he could scarcely

pray. The day's work was dull and spiritless. Rendalen did not show

himself.

He responded in his own name in the next number (Thursday's). He said

that if this misunderstanding were intentional, it was paltry; if

unintentional, explanation ought at least to have been sought

privately. Nothing had been said that in the least resembled this; all

that was said was that the transition from childhood to maturity was so

difficult a time for most that it became dangerous, and it therefore

needed watchfulness.

What the principal of the school had noticed was that the characters of

children of that age altered, that they lost their industry, their

sense of order; "that this was the rule, the contrary the exception."

Could any one discover in this any such frightful suggestions as had

been made?

The answer was good, but it did not avail, the excitement was so great

that no words could set things straight. "Why was this transition

dangerous?" they wished to know, if not for the reason he now tried to

evade?

Just below Rendalen's answer appeared in the same number another

question, signed "A Mother:" "Why was it of such great importance

that little children should learn how the race is propagated?" This

inquiry gave expression to a _second_ side of the scandal, which

filled the town. Under this question was still another address to Herr

_Real-Kandidat_, School Director Rendalen; it begged "most

respectfully" to ask, if he would not allow the lecture, which he had

delivered last Saturday at the new gymnasium of the girls' school to be

printed. Those who had heard it might thus enjoy it again, and those

who had not been so fortunate ought not to lose the opportunity of

obtaining some information on so remarkable a subject: signed "A friend

of sound and safe enlightenment."

In the next number (Saturday's) an answer from Rendalen: "Children

already learned natural history, and therefore of course the terms for

propagation of the species. Why they must learn this, any head-master

or principal of a school could answer as well as he; this formed no

part of the new side of his proposal, and only so far affected small

schools as regarded the scope and method of teaching the subject." To

the other question he replied, that a lecture to which only parents had

had admission was evidently not fitted for general circulation.

Few found this answer satisfactory; he simply evaded the question; at

least three hundred people had heard the lecture, so that it might

quite properly be discussed in the press.

Three more contributions in the same number. The first expressed

pleasure in the promptness of the reply; would Herr Rendalen now

further explain how the sinful inclinations of young people could be

checked by microscopes? This witticism was at once recognised as

Doesen's. The second was signed "_Arithmeticus_" and reckoned up what it

would cost the country if, in the future, every school were to have a

doctor as a teacher; he calculated that a sum of one million kroner a

year would be necessary for this item alone; if every school were to

have a chaplain as well, this would require an equal sum; a rough

estimate of the cost of the apparatus, necessitated by Rendalen's plan,

would, reckoned as income, be hardly less than one hundred thousand

kroner a year. Therefore the school budget of the country would be

burdened with an addition of about two million one hundred thousand

kroner a year. He asked if this were reasonable?

After this came a communication addressed to Herr Tomas Kurt, otherwise

Rendalen. A child of the town, it said, had fouled its own nest. If

this town were worse than others, which the writer begged leave to

doubt, then the ancestors of the lecturer were certainly most to blame

for it, and that both in ancient and modern times, he was certainly

therefore the last who ought to talk? This contributor signed himself

"_Suum cuique_."

On the same day that these appeared Rendalen gave his second lecture,

and at this, which was announced as being exclusively a technical one,

twenty people, including the teachers, were present; beside these, ten

came in during the course of the lecture.

One could see that those eight days had pressed hardly upon Thomas, Fru

Rendalen, and Karl. Tomas's opening to-day was another man's--tame,

flat, hesitating; his nervousness had increased twenty per cent., his

handkerchief was out of his pocket and in again, the water-bottle was

emptied, his hair pushed up; he fidgeted with his hands, and his feet

moved about as though he were blowing the bellows of an organ. But when

he began to speak of the school plan, exhibiting and explaining

appliances and apparatus, he caught fire and was soon his old self

again, his superior power of making things plain and of awakening

interest in them was recovered. A microscope with a leaf under it was

passed round while he spoke; he showed them a succession of new things,

either entire collections, or large coloured pictures, or highly

finished models which could be taken to pieces and studied in the most

minute details; for example, a man's chest, stomach, neck, head, some

of the finer parts being on an enlarged scale. Such a collection of

apparatus, he said, could never have been made in their own country.

"We are indebted to the interest of the world at large that we, remote

and small as we are, are able to see such a one; and, moreover, that I

should have been able to procure it." Some of it, however, he said, had

been given to him.

The few who were present at the lecture were extremely pleased; they

thought the school might still do well even if he had given an

unfortunate lecture.

But these favourable views were carried away by too few to create a

counter-current. In Thursday's number a contributor asked the man who

had signed himself "_Suum cuique_," if it meant "For every pig." If

this question were on behalf of Rendalen it was absolutely the worst

which had yet been advanced against him. The contributor began by

saying how audacious it was that a young man, and one, moreover, who

had scarcely been at home since he was grown up, should descant upon

the morals of this town with a boastful superiority. Not only that, but

he had spoken as though he knew every skipper in the country, as though

he had followed them round the world and instituted inquiries about

them; and in order to fill up the measure of shamelessness, he had

talked as though he knew the whole trading community of the world. A

man with such great effrontery, and so inconsiderate a mode of

expression, ought not to be a teacher in an educational institution,

least of all its principal. Under these circumstances, proposals ought

at once to be made for the formation of another school. It was already

known that a well-meant application to the former principal to continue

her work as before, without Herr Rendalen's help, had been fruitless.

Well then, the writer would call upon men of position to come to the

front with a view to the formation of a new school. Such a call would

receive universal response. Every one in the town wondered who this

contributor could be; that very evening the suggestion was canvassed in

the club, but neither then did he make himself known. All agreed to

wait for Consul Engel's sake; they did not in the least doubt that he

would be on their side; every one knew only too well what had been the

result of Rendalen's lecture in Engel's home, but it would not do to

talk about plans to him now. Fru Engel was dangerously ill.

Although the deliberations lasted only a few minutes, every one agreed

to this at once. When it was over it was not more than nine o'clock, so

Dr. Holmsen, who had been a passive listener, went straight from the

club, which was on the market-place, up the avenue to "The Estate," and

repeated all to Tomas Rendalen; "the sooner he learns it the better,"

Holmsen considered.

"Leave this wretched hole to the devil," was his advice. Tomas took the

doctor in with him to his mother and repeated to her what he had been

told, adding at once that he should certainly go away.

Karl came home at that moment; it was all told to him and he agreed

that it was useless to go on after what he had heard that day in the

town. But Fru Rendalen would not on any account consent that they

should give way; better embody the whole school plan and its grounds in

a book, and appeal from the town to the country at large. There must

surely be enough sensible parents in the whole of Norway to enable them

to have a full school. It had not, she said, been her plan but Tomas's,

and he must therefore carry it through.

She understood Tomas; it was only necessary to overcome the first

painful impression and he would be himself again. They did not separate

that night until twelve o'clock, and then they were all agreed in the

determination to continue the plan.

It was the school work which gave Tomas strength for this; he was an

unequalled schoolmaster and found his greatest happiness in it, and now

he brought all his powers to the task. He showed the pupils the most

amusing experiments that he knew, and described, explained, and

lectured. He still assembled the senior class, as he had done ever

since his return, one evening a week in Fru Rendalen's room, for a

special meeting. He Had given them some idea of the great question of

the position of women, as it affected the minds of the whole civilised

world; he read to them, he played to them; at this time, of course,

these meetings had a special importance for him.

He never, by a single word, touched on the present strife, but in his

choice of subjects for reading and conversation, nay, even of music, he

involuntarily gave them an impression of his faith in a great cause, of

his sufferings when his susceptible mind had received a blow.

The senior class believed unswervingly in him, and this had a great

influence on the others: very soon he took over the instruction in

singing for the whole school; they practised elaborate choruses and

amusing plays; and this was conducive to good-fellowship as well.

But notwithstanding all this, signs of rebellion showed themselves, and

that they every time disappeared again, was mostly due to Karl Vangen's

morning religious instruction to the pupils and teachers. Karl was not

a highly gifted genius, but he had one quality which outweighed genius,

he had never said what was untrue; he always said a thing exactly as he

felt it, nothing could alter him in this respect; and as his life had

been, at one time, deeply imbued with sorrow, which had at a later

time, been turned to happiness, the impression made by both remained

with him, even in the tones of his voice; this was taking. He prayed so

earnestly to God for peace in the school; the strife outside must never

be allowed to pass the steps. "We here, all of us, wish nothing but

good to each other, do we?" This was sufficient to bring some of them

to tears. On one occasion he added, that he was empowered to say that

any who had the least doubt about the school could leave at any time,

the usual notice of withdrawal would not be enforced. They must tell

this to their parents--tell them this, whether they were happy or not,

_exactly as it was_.

Had the foes of the school discovered what power Karl Vangen possessed

up there? For the assault was now directed against him. The _Spectator_

contained a paragraph, headed "To private chaplain Karl Vangen." Every

one had a regard for his character as well as for his good intentions,

therefore they were surprised in the highest degree that he could

countenance views such as had been expressed. "Only one with too little

intelligence or too much credulity (_sic_), could fail to see that this

really meant the putting of religion on one side and the substituting

of natural science for it."

This elicited a perfect avalanche of letters; we will give one of them:

"The writer cannot forbear to express his sorrow for what he has lived

to see--namely, that when an audacious voice asked from the tribune of

the gymnasium at the girls' school if it were not true that only

excessively few are permanently affected by a religious life, _four of

the clergy had kept their seats_. Did they in their hearts assent to

such a scoffing speech?

"Was not the message of Jesus given to all men? (see Mathew xxviii. 19,

Mark xvi. 15, Luke xxiv. 47, Acts x. 42, 43, Colossians i. 23). To that

degree it was given to all that first and foremost it was understood of

the simple (see Matthew xi. 25, Luke x. 21, 1 Corinthians i. 19-27;

Romans i. 21, 22).

"If, then, absolutely every one cannot be permanently affected by the

Divine truth, what fearful deductions might not be drawn from this!

Nay, could the Bible itself be a Divine truth?

"The man who asked this so presumptuously lives among teachers of the

Church, nay, is one of their friends. Therefore I may venture to say

that the Voice of Unbelief is gone forth into our midst (see 1 John ii.

19, Acts xv. 24 and xx. 30, Galatians ii. 4). Where were the four

watchmen of Zion? I was on the point of rising, but I waited for them.

I ask again and with sorrow, where were they? _Surely they did not

sleep?_ (see Matthew xxiv. 42, 43 and xxv. 5, Mark xiii. 33, Luke xxi.

36, 1 Corinthians xv. 33, 34, Thessalonians v. 6, Ephesians v. 14).

"If I were to put my name to this it would give no food for reflection;

therefore I put the following holy words and numbers, 80th Psalm of

David, 7th verse."

The whole town looked up the 80th Psalm and read: "Thou makest us a

strife unto our neighbours, and our enemies laugh among themselves."

This quotation gave expression to the anger which all felt, that

through their quarrels, the town had become the laughing-stock of their

neighbours.

For the rival papers of the neighbouring towns were holding festival

over this scandal. Sarcastic reports and revelations hailed down; the

town had never been famous for its godliness, and as little of its

morality and general virtue, but rather for wealth, extravagance, and

enterprise. The most unblushing expressions of admiration for the

sudden change, the astonishing moral gravity, absolutely and altogether

miraculous, which had come to "The little Babylon," were constantly to

be read in the newspapers of the "paltry towns."

A few days later one of these yelpers began a _feuilleton_, obviously

written in the town itself. It was entitled "Kurt's Cove," and the

_cronique scandaleuse_ of the town was most wittily set forth in it,

naturally with feigned names, but every one recognised the stories; the

_feuilleton_ closed with the remark that one quite understood that it

remained a sacred duty for Kurt's Cove to hinder a reform of morals in

the town. As this was the first thing which had appeared on the side of

Rendalen's new school, every one believed (a proof of how prejudiced

they had become) that if Rendalen had not himself written the story, he

had at least helped to do so.

A notice was now issued, printed in large letters, convening a meeting

of the Sailors' Association, "in consequence of the insults against our

noble seafaring community, which have been flung at us from a certain

quarter."

The meeting had this remarkable feature, that hardly three sailors were

present. It was presided over by the owner of a wharf, who had never

been to sea at all; the principal speaker was the harbour master, who

had of course at one time commanded a vessel, but a very long time ago.

He thundered forth tremendously. It was he who had composed the written

protest which expressed "the scorn" of the sailors for all such talk.

A copy of the protest had been sent on the spot to Tomas Rendalen.

Thus far everything had been all that could be wished, but when the

punch was brought out and they had taken off the first edge, they

became a little too warm. It then pleased the only captain present,

Kasper Johannesen, to declare that "Tomas Rendalen was--devil take

me--right enough." What a wild tumult ensued! The harbour master at

last moved that this new slanderer should be turned out. Kasper

Johannesen would never let himself be turned out by a fellow who "_had

taken percentage himself_." He knew plenty of people who had dealt with

him! The wharfinger would have put the matter aside in a dignified

manner, but Kasper Johannesen merely told him to "go to H--l." Did they

not all know that he had become rich over unseaworthy vessels, had not

Lloyd's agent himself said so? Yes, that was a pretty sort of way of

showing kindness to sailors, &c. &c. It ended in a fight out in the

street. Ended? It did not end all that summer and autumn!

There was no more talk of the school in the town for weeks, no one

spoke about anything but their business, and which of the captains were

honest and which "percentage thieves;" still about business, and which

of the captains were out-and-out thieves, and which only thieves in a

small way. And again, who among the captains were absolutely honest.

Business again, and about captain N. N., who, every one knew, could

retire and set up a business for himself. When the ships came in at the

end of autumn, the captains themselves took part in it. Some were

dismissed, and then informed against others who were not. The mates and

seamen did not wish to come forward as witnesses, but were forced to do

so. The most violent hatreds were founded or were fought out on the

spot; the "skippers' war" saved the school.

The town was not large enough to have two burning questions going at

once, and naturally that which concerned gain was far the most

important.

But if the "skippers' war" temporarily saved the school, it did not

save Rendalen himself; he might expect that the first opportunity would

be taken for a reckoning. He never willingly went into the town--at all

events, not in the evening.

He received a reminder of the state of things when, shortly after "the

war" had broken out, he had to go down quite early one Sunday morning,

with a carriage, to the custom-house to meet Miss Hall, who was to

arrive by the English boat. That day the choral society and the

athletic club were starting on an expedition, a couple of hundred young

men therefore had assembled there, notwithstanding the earliness of the

hour. Rendalen did not feel himself safe among them; he was hardly

allowed to pass in peace, angry looks and threatening hints followed

him, and, as he got into the boat, the rope was cast off in such a way

that it knocked off his hat and splashed him--of course entirely by

accident.

They understood what he was come for, it must be to meet the new

guardian of the town's virtue, the American lady-doctor. The heavy bows

of the English steamer could be seen standing in--they postponed their

own departure until they had seen the young lady. Rendalen had got her

and her luggage into the boat; she was the only passenger. They must

have a look at something so extraordinary.

After all, she looked quite a child! a little, slight, active creature,

who declined all help as she came up the steps; she was down again in a

moment, because the people in the boat turned one of her boxes upside

down and she could not explain herself in Norse. She was quickly up

again with it, then off to the carriage, into it in a trice--one, two,

three--active and smiling; but only when she was seated did she look

round with surprise at the gloomy suspicious crowd; a long inquiring

look from two large eyes was cast upon them. In the meantime Rendalen

gave orders about the luggage, and put something to rights with the

reins, before he got up. Her woman's eyes made use of the time. They

possessed a clear, cool power of observation; they did not wander over

the whole crowd, but picked out several faces here and there from among

the young people, quickly, certainly.

Those who received a look felt it at the bottom of their hearts, and

there was not one of these two hundred young men on the quay who had

any doubt but that those eyes could discover several things.

A little later in the course of the "skippers' war"--that is to say,

just at the end of the holidays--the news spread round the town that

lovable Emilie Engel, the friend of the poor, the friend of every one,

had been given up by the doctors.

Fru Rendalen, in addition to everything else, had had increasing

prickings of conscience as regarded Fru Engel, and now the news came to

her as a stunning blow.

Of all her pupils since Augusta Hansen, no one had been like Emilie

Engel, so pretty, so clever, and so good; she had attached herself to

Fru Rendalen as to a mother, and had given her, and her alone, her

confidence when she became unhappy because she loved the man who

deceived her.

All the world had known for a long time, what she had only learned in

the last year or two. It was Emilie's sufferings which, more than

anything else, had made Fru Rendalen glad that Tomas "took it all up,"

as she expressed it. And now? Neither she nor her son doubted for a

moment that every one would be convinced that Tomas Rendalen had killed

her by his roughness.

The bitterness would all be aroused again with increased strength.

Fru Rendalen had not obtained leave from the doctor to see Emilie; Dr.

Holmsen had said in his rough way that she was too nearly related to

the lecture; this remark had got about.

Emilie Engel died early one morning, and in the afternoon her spiritual

counsellor, old Green, drove up to "The Estate." He brought a last

greeting from her, and gave Fru Rendalen her savings-bank book; in it

she had written, in large trembling characters, "For the school--yours,

E."

The Dean informed Fru Rendalen that this had been done with the consent

of her husband. The amount was five thousand kroner.

Fru Rendalen's agitation and happiness, her grief and thankfulness were

so great, that she was obliged to leave the room and did not show

herself again. Tomas came home just at the moment, and met the Dean as

he was being helped by a servant down the great steps. The old man

asked him to go to his mother, he knew she wanted to speak to him.

Tomas was startled, but he controlled himself and helped the Dean into

the carriage.

Fru Rendalen was in her bedroom, walking up and down, crying bitterly;

when she saw Tomas she threw herself upon his neck, while he implored

her for God's sake to tell him what was the matter.

She could only look towards the book; he saw it and took it up. He felt

at once that this was salvation. What he had suffered now became

evident; he, too, burst into tears.

The next morning a message was sent round to the parents of the pupils

by Fru Rendalen, asking if they might be allowed, in the name of the

school, to pay a tribute to Fru Engel's memory; if so, they must all

assemble, dressed in white, at the churchyard gate on the day of the

funeral and walk before the coffin, the younger ones strewing flowers,

the others singing a hymn, to be followed by a chorus at the side of

the grave.

All who obtained leave were to assemble at the school that day at

twelve o'clock.

As only a few days intervened before the opening of the school, nearly

all the pupils were in the town; the rest returned by twos and threes,

not one was absent.

It really was incredible what Tomas Rendalen accomplished in seven or

eight days; he felt that a battle was to be delivered.

The next number of the _Spectator_ announced the decease, with a few

words on Fru Engel's many good works, and the addition: "We understand

that she has left a sum of money to an institution in the town." What

this announcement lacked in plainness, was remedied in the paper. That

day there was not a single attack on the school.

Under these circumstances Fru Engel's funeral became an exceptional

event. This was shown both by the preparations which were made and the

reports which circulated.

The schools asked for, and obtained a holiday; it was decided to close

all the shops, to strew the streets along which the procession was to

pass with fir branches, and to have minute guns fired from a flag-ship.

It was reported that the band from the nearest garrison town had been

engaged and had obtained leave to be present. The principal merchants

of this, and the neighbouring towns, were to take the coffin from the

hearse at the churchyard gate and carry it to the grave.

Several steamers brought people, from both up and down the coast, who

wished to see and hear.

When the church-bells began to toll on the day of the funeral, the

streets were quite full, and there was soon no space to be had either

inside or outside the churchyard; if the crush had not been foreseen,

and a number of men stationed to strengthen the police force, ladies

would not have dared to venture there. As it was, the school had plenty

of room, as well as the mothers and sisters of the scholars.

Nevertheless, when the minute guns began and the music was heard, still

more when the procession came in sight, the crush became excessive;

some screams were heard, and a number of people became alarmed; but

things soon became quiet again, excepting that the excitement

increased.

The band came up to the gate, stood there and continued playing before

it, while the hearse drew up and the merchants came forward and raised

the coffin. The numberless flowers for which no room could be found

were gathered up and carried after it.

In the meantime Rendalen had worked his way out from the procession,

and marshalled his white-robed flock within the gate. The coffin was

carried in, but they remained quiet until the hearse had driven away

and the procession was formed. The music ceased, the school children

began to sing strongly and charmingly, and this change from brass

instruments to girls' voices was striking.

From this solemn moment, as the funeral train moved forward, the little

white-robed flower-strewers before, followed by the singers with the

coffin next to them--from that moment the character of the funeral

changed. Here was a festal procession, sorrow was converted into

beauty, the loss into a full-handed demonstration of honour. The

pageant of riches had paused before the gate of the dead. All presented

themselves as an offering. Fru Emilie Engel was buried like a princess.

As the hymn ascended from the girls in front, and all the little hands

began to feel in their baskets for the flowers, all eyes turned towards

them; all thoughts followed this white line as it wound up the slope

among the crowd of black-robed women, for these streamed along with

them. The war which had lately raged was remembered at once, the

thought seemed to hover in the threatening atmosphere, above them and

over the black train which followed. Fru Engel's pale face rose to

their memories as they heard the hymn. It was poor, poor Emilie, who

was being buried, the hundredfold deceived Emilie, whom all of those

present, who were her elders, had known from childhood, and had seen

every Sunday in church, pale and melancholy.

Was it not as though these little white-clad girls had come forward to

take her from those who had come with her? By her legacy she had given

herself to these little ones. And afterwards, when the long white train

streamed on to the planked floor which had been prepared, with a

railing on the side next the grave, it again seemed as though they, and

they alone, had a right in her.

Rendalen stepped up among them, with his hat in his hand. The little

flower-strewers had had their baskets replenished, and arranged

themselves before him. The coffin was lowered, there was silence;

Rendalen gave the sign, subdued music began and the chorus joined in.

He conducted with a slight movement of his hand, otherwise he was

perfectly still, filled with emotion and overcome by the moment. All

these voices gave answer for him, they sang thanks for the new school

over the grave. The women were much affected. Karl Vangen's anxious eye

sought Fru Rendalen, he saw how much she was shaken, and worked his way

towards her. But as soon as she had taken his arm she wished to cross

to the side where they were singing; she must see the grave. He led her

forward. But after she had come, there was a sense that something was

there which belonged to that other phase; it was only dimly perceived

perhaps, but it became quite clear when, the singing being ended, old

Green was helped up beside the girls and began to speak. He repeated

words which Emilie had spoken on different occasions; collectively they

formed a picture. Everything was expressed in these words, and yet

nothing was actually told, every one understood without offence being

given.

The one who was the most moved was Engel, for her deep devotion to him

was expressed in one or two of these utterances, and against his will

these words made him burst into violent sobbing which he could not

restrain.

Green now ceased speaking, he concluded with some words of hers, which

had followed her gift to the school. "There are two parties in this

question ... She had chosen hers," he added.

The music began again, and with it the chorus; the old man was helped

down while the little ones leant over the railing to strew their last

flowers. At the same moment it thundered out in the west; far out the

sea looked black; a rain-storm was coming, a heavy one.

Towards the town one saw how the flags drooped against the dark sky,

all foretold violent rain; again a crash of thunder, much louder and

nearer; the mourners began to move about, some pressed forward to look

into the grave or to speak to the family. A short time afterwards,

groups of white-clad girls passed down the road in strong relief

against the heavy sky and the dark green trees; some of them began to

run about, and others followed their example; some, to Fru Rendalen's

horror, began to laugh and shout.

They were at dinner at "The Estate," when Fru Rendalen received two

small anonymous contributions, with the motto, "There are two parties"

During the afternoon they received several more, all anonymous, but

none of them considerable. Still, it showed that the school had friends

as well as enemies.

They had not time to dwell long on this, for that evening they were to

have a little memorial feast at the school, to which Fru Engel's

friends were invited, and both the senior classes. Fru Rendalen was to

tell them about her companionship with the departed; old Green had

promised to come as well, and perhaps narrate something. There would be

music, the chorus would be repeated, and so forth.

The whole day had been spent in preparing the place where the feast was

to be held, but even so, they were hardly ready. Once more they were

interrupted by a letter, this time from Dr. Holmsen; his servant

brought it up. The doctor's name was not put to it, but his handwriting

was as well known as his servant. And who besides would have signed it,

"An Old Pig."

The letter ran:

"Dear Rendalen,

"'There are two parties.' That is certainly most true, although I

consider that one of them has acted devilish stupidly, and I do not in

the least feel able to join myself to it. Enclosed is a cheque for

three microscopes, as you have taken it into your preposterous Kurt

skull that it can be done by microscopes. I don't believe a doit in it.

The power of knowledge will do no more here than the power of religion;

it will all remain just where it was. But something white, something of

a song, passed through the air today; that might do something perhaps.

Here is the money, any way."

The senior class was already gathering in the boarders' sitting-room.

The young ladies were to be in mourning as far as taste and opportunity

would allow, and this was something so new and interesting that they

were sure to come before their time.

The feast was to be held in the laboratory--that is to say, the

Knights' Hall; it had of course cost some trouble to prepare it for a

funeral feast, but as the first ladies arrived it was finished--only

Emilie's portrait was still to come.

The carriage with the two Danish horses and the man in grey livery on

the box, came slowly up the avenue. Fru Rendalen and Tomas met it at

the foot of the steps. Tomas opened the door for a young lady in deep

mourning, who flung herself on to Fru Rendalen's neck; she was Fru

Engel's only daughter, she was called Emilie also. She was to remain at

school a year longer.

She was an unusually pretty girl, set off as her slender figure and

delicate complexion now were by her mourning. Over her hair, the

hereditary Engel hair, neither red nor yellow, she had a black veil,

and nothing else. She mounted the steps on Fru Rendalen's arm, crying;

Tomas followed with the portrait, which was covered with a cloth, for

it was raining.

All rose as they came in, the girl herself wept still more piteously

and sought a corner, where she hid her face behind her veil and

pocket-handkerchief. The portrait was put up on to the chimney-piece of

the laboratory, which was covered with black; Norwegian flags were

arranged on each side of it, and garlands were now hung round it.

The ceremony began with a duet, a funeral march, played by Tomas

Rendalen, and the girl who had sung a short contralto solo up at the

churchyard that day; Augusta Hansen's sister, who had hidden under the

sail on the day of the lecture.

After this followed some speeches, then the chorus; all went off

excellently; there was much feeling, at times agitation. At the close

there was a hymn as an introduction to a few words from Karl Vangen. He

had lately read that life is not a closed road, but an open one; he

spoke on this.

In the meantime, simple refreshments, such as were usually served at

the school parties, with the addition of dessert and wine, had been

spread in Fru Rendalen's sitting-room; for Tomas wished, in conclusion,

to take the opportunity of proposing the healths of the senior classes

and to thank them, and with them all those who had helped that day to

celebrate a beautiful memory. All who had sung to-day at the

churchyard, with the town below them, and a large number of its

inhabitants before them, must have felt something which resembled a

covenant with the school.

The pure memory of the dead had smiled upon it. "That covenant shall be

kept," he concluded. "Shall it not?"

"Yes, yes," came from the whole group; they all pressed towards him

with their glasses, the young eyes sparkled; but the first was Emilie's

daughter, the others made way for her; she coloured with agitation and

gratitude as she touched his glass with hers.

By ten o'clock they were alone. Tomas said to his mother as he was

going to his room, "It was not so mad after all to give that lecture in

the gymnasium--what do you say?"

"Ah, do you know, Tomas, I really begin to think too that--No, no. It

_was_ mad. Pray do not let me be befooled again."

A maid-servant came in with a note which had been forgotten; it had

arrived during the evening.

"Do you see? do you see?" he laughed, and opened it. It ran:

"Yes, you think you have conquered, you slanderer. I saw your conceit

to-day, as you stood there among all the little girls whom you had

befooled into doing you a good turn. Selfishness stood out from your

freckled, grey-eyed face, as well as from your Judas hair. Fie for

shame! But you will be struck when you least expect it, you beast."

_Veritas_.

FOOTNOTES:

[Footnote 1: As with Carl Brandenburg, on the Market Place. He had a

daughter Christina, who was of a proud mind, but very fair. When Master

Max's first wife died he straightway asked to have Christina in

marriage, but she would not, and her father humoured her, albeit he was

afraid. And at once Carl was charged of dealing in contraband wares,

then for giving false weights and measures, and at last for having

scoffed at God. From this last Death freed him. Then came his son home

from France, and he was sent to serve as a soldier, and no man ever

heard more of him. At the time those in Authority first made indictment

against Carl Brandenburg, he was the richest man in the Town, but when

he died his daughter had only what might allow her to dwell at the

house of a peasant, and there she still abides. Many such things

happened, so that none dare go against his will.]

[Footnote 2: Miss.]

END OF VOL. I

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