The farm, which was owned in common by a number of the leading
Haugians, was of a considerable size. In addition to the farm, they
also carried on various industries.
Those, therefore, who had to superintend the business were fully
occupied, and Fennefos undertook the duty with a zeal and vigour
unusual even for him.
On the other hand, during the first weeks of his stay, he was unable
to lead the devotions among the labourers, who, after the custom of
the Haugians, assembled for meals and for family worship in a great
room, where they all ate in common at a long table.
Hans Nilsen confined his energies to the manual work of the farm, and
at the meetings he was silent and oppressed. But after a couple of
months had passed in this way, he began to lift up his head again.
In the hard bodily labour, and in all the responsibility which rested
upon him as superintendent, his strong, sound nature recovered its
equilibrium.
Although he continually deplored his one moment of weakness, and
although he condemned himself, he yet began to understand that such
might happen even to the best; and as this occurrence had revealed to
him his own frailty, and had sorely shaken his self-confidence, so it
also brought with it doubts as to whether he was right in expecting
so much from mortal man as had been his wont.
He bethought him of the poor anxious inquirers whom he had left up in
the North, and it seemed to him a sin to impose such heavy burdens on
them. Then he thought of the well-to-do, easy Haugians, and it seemed
a sin to remain among them. Sometimes, again, in his hopelessness he
thought that it was as bad for him to be in the one place as in the
other, and he longed for something entirely different.
Having got thus far, it became necessary to consider his future life.
Stay here, he could not. He was not uneasy on his own account,
although after this he could not be sure of himself. For her sake,
however, it was imperative that he should depart.
Separated they must be, that was clear; this he repeated to himself,
but still he continued to stay on. Here there was work which would
last over the harvest; and besides, whither in the world should he
go?
When he left that place, there would be no spot in the wide world
that could hold out any attraction to him, which could offer either
home or friends. He would rather see no one, and live alone.
His heart was deeply wounded, and he often thought of Henrietta. He,
too, was bound for life and death by an affection into which no evil
thoughts should intrude. As for Sarah, he would pray for her.
In the meantime the elders regarded Hans Nilsen with concern. The
address in Sivert Jespersen's house had done much harm; an impression
went abroad that the Haugians were divided among themselves, and that
Fennefos had separated from them.
There was a want of confidence among the Brethren themselves; those
who had not been present wished to know what he had said, while those
who had, gave evasive answers. There was much inquisitiveness and a
great desire both among friends and foes to learn if there was really
anything against so respected and well-known a man as Hans Nilsen.
Besides, since the meeting a change had taken place in his
appearance. Something must have happened. Everybody had his own
opinion, and the elders met to consult.
"I think," said Sivert Jespersen, looking round, "we are all agreed
upon this, that there must be women at the bottom of the affair."
"I have heard it mentioned," said Endre Egeland, "that he has been
very much in the company of Henrietta, Madame Torvestad's daughter."
"With Henrietta!" said Sivert Jespersen, in a somewhat incredulous
tone.
The astonishment which this announcement produced led to a short
pause.
"No, no," said the old dyer at last; "it is impossible to believe
such a scandal."
"At any rate," said Sivert Jespersen, mildly, "we ought to consider
how best to help Brother Hans Nilsen in all difficulties and
temptations. I have thought, if it seems good to you, that we might
meet up at the farm on Saturday afternoon, and, after having examined
the accounts, we might have a little conversation with him."
"Let us be careful what we do," said the old man; "we know nothing
for certain."
"No; I never meant that we should act indiscreetly--"
"I know that you are very prudent, Sivert Jespersen; but let us not
forget that he is the most considerable man in our community, and
that we must not lose him."
The Saturday when they met at the farm, according to agreement, was
the last day of September. They had, therefore, to go into all the
accounts of the farm, the dye-house, and the mill.
The accounts were in good order, and everything had been well
managed. They thanked Hans Nilsen with the utmost friendliness.
When the books were closed and arrangements had been made for the
future, they seated themselves round the room. Fennefos, who sat in
the middle by the table with the account-books, raised his head, and
looked calmly from one to the other.
No one failed to remark that his old expression had returned; the
downcast, unsettled look which at one time they had observed was
entirely gone. Sunburnt and vigorous, as he stood there among the
pale-faced townsmen, he seemed more than ever full of power.
The old dyer, therefore, made signs to Sivert Jespersen, and began to
move, as if he would depart.
But Sivert Jespersen had made up his mind to fathom Hans Nilsen's
secret, or, at all events, to secure, for himself and the elders some
hold upon the overbearing young man.
"We have been talking among ourselves," he began. "We have been
talking about you, dear Hans Nilsen; yes, we have, indeed. We are all
of opinion that you made use of very strong expressions that day--you
remember, no doubt--at my house."
"I spoke with warmth, and if my words were too severe, I beg of you
all to forgive me. I thought it necessary; but there was no want of
charity in my heart."
"There is not one of us who supposes that there was, Hans Nilsen,"
said the old dyer.
"No, that there was not," continued Sivert Jespersen; "but what makes
us anxious is the look of dejection which we have observed in you
ever since. You are still young, Hans Nilsen, and we are old--at all
events, we are all your seniors. We know full well to what
temptations young blood is exposed, and if you have met with a
downfall at the hands of Satan, we would willingly endeavour to raise
you up again."
Hans Nilsen Fennefos looked from one to the other with a piercing
glance, and it seemed to them that it rested for a painfully long
time upon Endre Egeland.
"I thank you all, but God has been merciful. I require no such aid as
that which you offer."
"How glad I am to hear it!" said Sivert Jespersen, with effusion.
"But--do not be angry with me, dear friend--if we are outwardly
preserved from falling, we should never forget what has been written
about thoughts, words, and passions."
"Will any of you, I wonder, cast the first stone?" said Hans Nilsen,
looking calmly round.
No one responded, and Sivert Jespersen's next neighbour touched him
with his foot as a hint to stop. But it was too late. Fennefos had
made up his mind, and, rising quickly, spoke thus--
"Dear brothers and friends, I did indeed use hard words the last time
I addressed you. I came from scenes of poverty and found prosperity.
I came from affliction, and found ease. I came from hunger and want,
and I found myself at the rich man's table.
"I therefore remembered the rule which Hauge had left for our
guidance:
"'The elders must not connive at any depravity among themselves, but
must duly rebuke it. Those who have acquired the respect of the
believers, and would be exemplary Christians, must take heed lest
they accustom themselves to flattery and luxury; they must even
submit to sharp admonitions and to hard fare.'
"I spoke to you as my duty constrained me; but since that day the
Lord's hand has fallen heavily on me, and, in my grievous sinfulness,
I thought I should never again dare to stand forth and speak a word
of rebuke to any one.
"That was the time when you saw me wandering amongst you, bowed down
and forsaken. But God be praised, who has lifted me up. I will dare
to hope that He will not cast me entirely aside as an unworthy
instrument; but, dear friends, among you I can no longer tarry."
All looked uneasily at him.
"Surely you will not separate from the Brethren?" said the old man.
"No, that I will not do; but I must leave this place, both on account
of my own infirmity, and because I fear that after this I cannot warn
and admonish you with sufficient power; for, dear friends, I am of
opinion that in many respects you go sadly astray."
"Will you travel northward again?" inquired one. "Or, perchance, the
Lord has turned your heart towards the poor heathen in Africa?" said
another.
Hans Nilsen looked up at him, and said: "I am grateful to you for the
suggestion. I will think over it, and will pray the Spirit to guide
me aright."
This seemed to bring relief to everybody. The mission was their own,
originated and established by the Herrnhutters and Haugians. If Hans
Nilsen entered upon the mission, he would remain with them, and they
would not lose him. They now felt, for the first time, how great a
support he was to their cause.
Sivert Jespersen began at once to exhort him to allow himself to be
sent on a mission to the heathen lands lying in darkness.
Whether it was the expression, "allow himself to be sent," or whether
Hans Nilsen could not on this occasion tolerate Sivert, it is
sufficient to say that he answered him rather sharply. "If I do go,
there is but one who will send me forth--the Lord."
"Take great heed to your missions, dear friends; you should remember
how the unbelievers, and not less the clergy, derided you when you
began them.
"Already the fire you kindled has spread over the land, and help and
funds pour in abundantly. See how these same clergy hasten like
ravens attracted by the scent of prey. They will not suffer laymen to
keep such Christian work in their control, whilst there is life and
vigour in it; but would subject it to the rule of the Church, as they
call it; that is to say, they will spoil your work and introduce
their pride, strife, and intolerance. So long as all goes well, they
will thrust themselves forward, exclaiming 'Behold us!' but if
anything should go amiss, they will draw back, protesting that it
must always be so when the people act upon their own judgment."
The old fire now came over him, and the elders looked round sadly one
at another, grieving that they should lose such a brother. At last
one said:
"But where will you go, if you do not accept the mission at our
hands?"
"I imagine," said Hans Nilsen, "that I shall have little difficulty
in finding heathens everywhere. But let us now separate for the
present, and may the God who enlightened our forefathers be with us
all, so that we may do His will."
Upon this he gave his hand to them all, one by one, and took his
departure.
It was a still, oppressive autumn afternoon, and the little gathering
broke up, the Brethren strolling across the fields towards the town.
The Haugian farm, as it was called, looked well in the evening light,
with its solid, well-kept buildings.
The soil was poor, but well cultivated; and small groups of trees
stood here and there, by the well-ordered stone fences.
When the little company of elders reached the gateway in the road
leading to the town, the old dyer stopped, and burst into tears; the
others gathered round him.
"Here stood I," said he, "in the spring of 1804, with my father and
Hans Nilsen Hauge; at that time, wherever you looked, it was all
heather and broken ground.
"My father and Hauge had been talking of purchasing the moorland
here, as was soon done. Hauge had given his advice and instructions
as to the improvements and the work he considered necessary, very
much those that have since been carried out.
"When we were about to return home, my father said: 'Yes, if God will
but give His blessing to it.' I suppose he thought most of the things
of this world, did father.
"It was a hazardous undertaking, and the Haugians had but little
capital at that time.
"Hauge smiled, and said, cheerfully: 'I am not in the least anxious
on that score, Ingebret, if you are alluding to worldly prosperity. I
would rather pray that those who come after us may be protected
against too great success and facility in the business of this world.
You must bear in mind,' said he, 'you who are still young, that it
requires a strong back to bear prosperity.'
"I can picture him now before me, standing just there. He was young
himself in those days, and not so very much older than myself.
Nevertheless, I was conscious that I stood in the exalted presence of
one who was worthy of all honour, before whom I would fain bow
myself.
"Something of the same feeling came over me to-day, when he
spoke--young Hans Nilsen Fennefos. It is of no use denying it; it is
he who is in the right, and it is we who are backsliders and
lukewarm."
The old man, shaking his head sadly, turned towards the town, the
others accompanying him in silence.
Madame Torvestad aged very much under the vexations which now beset
her. The Brethren had taken Hans Nilsen from her, and continued to
act without consulting her. Moreover, the Gnadau system of treatment
seemed to bear no fruit.
Henrietta, indeed, grew pale and thin, owing to much fasting and
confinement; but, on the other hand, a defiant look appeared in her
eyes.
One day her mother heard her singing a popular nautical ballad, on
the devotion of a sailor's bride to her betrothed. Upon this, Madame
Torvestad's patience broke down, and, losing her usual self-control,
she went into the room, and gave Henrietta a box on each ear, saying:
"I will soon teach you a very different song."
Henrietta sat as if petrified. She had often seen her mother in a
state of irritation, and had received many a sharp blow in her
younger days, but she had never seen her like this before. She did
not expect much forbearance, but it never occurred to her that things
could come to such a terrible pass.
In the course of an hour, Henrietta was called down into the
sitting-room, where she found Madame Endre Egeland. The stout
sallow-complexioned dame kissed her, and it was now broken to her
that she was betrothed to Erik Pontoppidan Egeland, the most
objectionable person under the sun.
When Sarah heard of this engagement, she went across to her mother.
They shut themselves up in the parlour, but the interview was of
brief duration. Madame Torvestad soon got the better of her daughter,
and when it came to the point, and Sarah found herself seated
opposite to her mother in the old room, she could not muster courage
enough for a decisive attack.
Besides, what could she say? Could she divulge her own shame and
sorrow?
Sarah went upstairs to Henrietta, who made no answer to what she
said, except, "I will not, I will not. I have sworn it." She was ill
and feverish.
Sarah undressed her and put her to bed, but her mother wished to
nurse her herself, and Sarah was obliged to leave, even more
depressed and unhappy than before.
As the weeks passed on, her heart became more and more hardened.
Fennefos recovered his clear, pure looks, and, when in her company,
seemed to ignore her presence.
One day it was rumoured that he was about to become a missionary.
Sarah heard of it, and she grew more and more gloomy. She hated her
mother, and detested her husband, comporting herself, however, with
such calmness that no one could have imagined what thoughts were
surging through her brain.
Jacob Worse had now entered upon an earnest struggle with the devil.
By degrees it became evident to him that the evil one was always at
work, both inside and outside his innermost heart.
They strove together, the devil and Worse, from morning until
evening, and at night when he dreamt. Generally the captain got the
worst of it.
When he became aware of his snares in time, he occasionally outwitted
the crafty fiend. Thus it occurred one day, when he was with Skipper
Randulf, who had induced him to take a turn through the town, talking
and leading him farther and farther towards the wharves, that he
suddenly discovered his danger. He heard a couple of boys who passed
him say that a ship was about to be launched, and it was easy to
perceive in this a stratagem of the evil one. It was an old trick of
the devil to lead his thoughts to the sins of his early life, by
means of things pertaining to ships and the sea.
He had, therefore, long since laid aside the half-finished model of
the _Hope_ up in the garret; and when he saw that the devil tempted
him through Thomas Randulf, he turned round suddenly, and hastened
home to Sarah. Randulf grieved over his friend, and, in the evening
at the club, said "It is all up with Jacob Worse; take my word for
it, he is not long for this world. I saw it to-day."
"I don't think so," said another; "he looks a little pale and poorly,
but--"
"Yes, I tell you I saw it to-day, by his trousers."
"What rubbish you talk, Randulf!" said the chief pilot, who was
seated at the card-table.
"Rubbish!" said Randulf, pugnaciously. "Your word is better than
mine, is it? I tell you that when a man is doomed, his trousers hang
loosely about him."
They all laughed, and some one suggested that when people are ill
they grow thin.
"No, no," cried Randulf, with much warmth; "what I allude to has its
own peculiar appearance. The trousers look so heavy, so empty, and so
long, that they seem as if they would slip down, and three heavy
folds rest upon the feet. When I see this, I know that a man has not
long to live. You may take this as a fact."
When the bad weather began in October, Jacob Worse went out but
seldom; he had grown chilly, and kept much to his room.
He read the small books as much as he could, but they did not avail
to bring him that spiritual comfort for which he strove so hard.
At the meeting it was strange to see, amidst the peaceful, benignant
faces, this woe-begone old man, with his thick white hair and his
deeply furrowed placid cheeks, looking wistfully from one to the
other, and listening anxiously, hoping some day to hear the words
which should bring peace to his soul.
But from old times the devil had too secure a hold upon him, placing
oaths upon his tongue and evil thoughts in his heart.
At the meeting, when Sivert Jespersen was reading out a sermon, the
devil would lug in those two hundred barrels of salt, or so distorted
his vision that Endre Egeland would seem to be staring at the girls
with his small green eyes.
At night, when the wind howled around his house, it seemed to him
that the devil would take him out on the sea on board the _Hope_; and
he experienced a pleasure in lying and thinking how well he used to
sail the good ship, and how grand she looked in a heavy sea.
Sometimes Satan tempted him to pride when Garman and Worse did a good
stroke of business, or to wrath and indignation when Romarino came
and asked for money or endorsements.
The devil even made use of Thomas Randulf to corrupt him. One day,
when Worse met him in the market-place, opposite his street door, he
hurried back into his house; for it seemed to him as if Randulf had
long, crooked claws.
It was best to be at home, especially if Sarah was there. There, if
he was very vigilant, he was able to keep the devil at arms' length.
All this time, however, his malady was gaining ground; he slept
badly, and his appetite failed him. The only thing he relished was
pea-soup and salt pork, such as he had been accustomed to at sea, and
he brightened up every morning when he smelt the peas in the kitchen.
One day, however, it occurred to him that this, too, might be one of
the temptations of the evil one, leading his thoughts away from the
one thing needful, and back to the sinful recollections of his past
life.
The next time the pea-soup was placed on the table, he could scarcely
touch it.
The devil was in the peas, too.