The noise of carriage wheels increased. The carriage drove up before
the door, and all the people of the parsonage sprang up in joy. Ragna
however reddened somewhat. A minute after, both Hans Vangen and
Eystein Hauk stood in the room. Hans embraced his parents and his
sister, and on the surface was happy; Hauk greeted them kindly and
warmly like an acquaintance of the family, and bowed deep before
Ragna.
"A good evening to you, and a merry Christmas-time!" called out Hans.
"Here is the great foreign traveler and wise man Eystein Hauk, and
here"--he pointed to the chaplain--"is the strict man of God, Balle;
chaplain now, pastor later on, finally bishop; a well-founded
theologian and a true support to the Church in these distracted times.
It will be well with you if you do not fall into a quarrel about
belief."
There was talking and laughing; the pastor's wife poured out wine; the
new-comers sat down; the table was quickly set, and then they went
into the dining-room, where Christmas grits and Christmas fish stood
smoking in a great dish and "awaited the help of the people." The
pastor read a blessing, which was not listened to with any further
devoutness. Ragna and Balle sat for the most part and looked at Hauk,
but Hauk looked at Ragna, and the pastor's wife said of Hans how he
had grown during the past year, and how his good looks and his
affability had improved.
The one who talked most at the table was Hans. Hauk was rather silent.
The pastor asked him in a few words about his travels abroad; he
answered promptly but shortly, and often in such a cleverly turned way
of speaking that it was difficult to find out his real meaning.
The chaplain, too, would have liked to hear about foreign lands. What
was the state of the Christian religion in France?--Well, it was
various. It was there as here: there were people of all sorts.--But
was not the great majority unchristian?--Well, of enlightened and
learned people it was, to be sure, the smallest part who strictly
could be called Christians.--But with morals? Was there not a great
deal of social viciousness and impropriety?--Well, if it were only
considered under certain conditions, in certain cities, it was
probably there as in other places.--Indeed!--Balle, rebuffed, looked
away from Hauk, and did not talk with him afterward.
When they left the table there was set out dessert, with wine, and
pipes were also brought. The conversation went on as before, but it
was none the less Hans who talked most. He was a fresh, happy fellow.
His mother sat and found pleasure in looking at him. The pastor and
Balle sat and smoked; glanced now and then at Hauk, who was a little
way off at a smaller table, talking small-talk with Ragna. The pastor
had become more silent, and Balle looked as if he little liked the
state of things, although he tried to control himself. Hans understood
this, and laughed.
"Do not bother yourself about Hauk," said he. "He has been in Paris
and has learned French manners, and consequently he likes women's
society best; but even if he is a little grand, he will quickly become
Norse again, keep to his pipe and his glass, and let the women take
care of themselves."
Balle bit his lips; the pastor smiled a little. "Young people are more
bashful here in Norway," said he. "That is true," he continued. "You
have read the new novel 'Virginia,' that the people have waited so
long for?"
"'Virginia'?--pfh! that is a vile book," answered Hans, and smiled.
"Vile?" said the chaplain questioningly.
"It is a scandalous book! says Christiania. It has set the whole town
on end. It works destruction upon marriage, they say; upon morals,
upon society. I have never seen Christiania so moral as in these
days."
"H'm!" said Balle; "Christiania is on the whole a moral town."
"It is at this time! The young poets are happy for all the days of
their life. The men forbid the women to read the book, and the women
forbid their daughters--"
"And so they all read it together?" said the pastor.
"Certainly! The women read it and say, 'Paugh! the poets do not know
life.' The daughters, the poor dear angels, they read it and say,
'Dear me, is that anything? Have we not read worse books than that?'"
"But tell us, then, what the book is about?" said the pastor.
"It is about--that married people shall love each other," said Hans
stoutly.
"Oho! free love!" called out the chaplain.
"Certainly! Free love! 'All true love is free,' says the fool-hardy
fellow of a poet."
"Do you hear that, pastor?" said Balle.
"If our own poets also take it up, let us have a care! Then he
recognizes 'free thought'; and what then?" asked the chaplain.
"That is true," replied Hans. "'All thoughts are free,' he says, 'and
not merely duty free.'"
"Of course he does not believe in God?"
"I doubt it; but even that is not the worst."
"Not the--"
"No, for there are many people in Christiania who do not believe in
God. But these poets do not even believe in the Devil!" Hans laughed
like a child at the face that the chaplain made; the pastor looked
severely at Hans, who cast down his eyes and was silent.
"Worthless fruit," sighed the chaplain. "Our poets have hitherto kept
themselves free from these godless thoughts, even if they have not
always had the right opinion of Christianity, and particularly have
taken up with the confusions of Grundtvigianism; but now, now it has
taken another path. Do you see the spirit of revolt, pastor? Do you
hear how they rise and tear asunder all its bonds; how opposition
arises against all that is high and holy, and they storm even against
the foundations of society?"
"May God help us!" sighed the pastor. "It does not look right. Is
there anything new in the newspapers?" he asked, as if to get away
from a conversation that plainly oppressed him.
Hans ran out, and came quickly in again with the newspapers. Such of
these as were French he took for himself, the rest he gave to Balle.
"Do you see, father?" said Hans with the mien of a schoolmaster. "If
you will have politics, you must turn to France. All other politics
are merely an echo of theirs. France is Europe. France is the world!"
"Do you hear, pastor?" said Balle. "Do you hear how the French spirit
spreads and increases in power? the French spirit, which has always
been one and the same with rationalism and revolution?"
"Here is an article that will do Balle good!" called out Hans. "It
does not assume the good tone or prattle tediously like our Norse
newspaper articles. There is fire and burning in it; you recognize
something like a clenched fist back of the words, prepared for
everything upon which it may hit. That is what I call politics!"
"Oh, you are a foolish fellow," said the pastor. "Come, out with it!"
Hans read an article against the priestly party or clericals, and the
piece was severely radical. It was particularly to the effect that the
clergy and Christianity must be ousted from the public schools, if
thinkers were to be really for a genuine and sound popular education.
Christianity had already done what it could do; hereafter it lay
merely in the way. "Freedom and self-government" was the war-cry now,
for this generation. They might be fair enough, many of the dreams
which the new time compelled us to abandon; but light and life and
truth were ten times fairer than all dreams.
The chaplain sat and sulked, and looked into one of the Norse papers.
"Here stands the same," said he. "No, but--? Yes, the same, and yet
not the same. The Norse paper has cut out or changed all that treats
directly of Christianity; the rest is the same."
"Ha, ha, ha!" laughed Hans.
"Yes, they are as wise as serpents," sighed the chaplain. "Here may
plainly be seen how the matter stands. It is hidden away in politics,
but the spirit they cannot conceal; it is precisely the same French
spirit of hell, the spirit of revolt, the spirit of the Devil, which
lifts itself against even the living God. Do you see that, pastor? Do
you see how wholly these 'freedom politics,' as they are called, are
held up and impregnated with this godless spirit of revolt? In truth,
it becomes more and more clear that it is the part of us, the watchmen
of Zion,--more now than ever before,--to watch and pray."
The pastor sat and meditated. He looked oppressed and sorrowful. It
was too quiet for Hans: he moved away to Hauk and Ragna. The chaplain
appeared to like this, and became more calm.
"Dear pastor," said he after a while, "just as surely as there is
truth in our work,--yes, this question presses itself more and more in
upon me,--as surely as there is truth in our work: that we shall watch
over God's house and people,--we _cannot_ remain silent and be calm
when we see a spirit like this coming bearing in upon us--a spirit
which is directly founded upon heathenism, and so plainly shows its
Satanic origin. Shall it be? Can we answer for that before our Lord
and God?"
The pastor was silent. He was in great doubt and uncertainty of mind.
"I do not believe that it is right to bring politics into the house of
God," said he at last.
"Politics, no! But this is not politics; this is a spirit of the
times, a view of life which takes the outward garb of politics, but at
the bottom is merely a new outbreak of the same old heathenism that
the Church at all times has had to contend with. I, for my part, do
not believe that I can keep silent with a quiet conscience."
The pastor held his peace and thought. "This is a hard question," he
said finally. "May our Lord give us wisdom!"
"Amen," said the chaplain....
That night the old pastor did not sleep well. He walked up and down
his chamber and thought. "When it comes to the point," said he to
himself, "Balle is right; there _is_ something bad and evil in the
spirit of the time; there _is_ something devilish. Merely look, now,
at this Eystein Hauk, this clever fine fellow: he is not to be got at.
He is frozen to ice and hardened to steel, slippery and smooth as a
serpent. There came such an uncanny spirit from him that he made me
downright sick: no respect, no veneration even for his own father; God
knows how he can hold fast to his Christian faith. They call it
freedom, humanity; but it is not that. It is hate, venom, bad blood.
They will tear from them all bonds, as Balle says, raise a
revolt--revolt against all that is beautiful and good, against God,
against belief. H'm! Build the State, this whole earthly life, upon a
heathen foundation! Sever connection with Christianity, cast the
Church away from them like old trash. That is terrible! And free love,
free thought--the Christian religion out of the schools--no! that is
Satan himself who rages. Free thoughts in my time were not so: they
were warm and beautiful; there was heart in them; they made us good
and happy." He shook himself, as if to throw off a chill. Should one
be silent at such things? Should one look quietly on while this evil
spirit eats itself in among the people? or should one, like a disciple
of God, lift up the sword of the Word and the Spirit against this
poisonous basilisk?
He read in the Bible and in Luther. Then he got up again and walked.
The clock struck hour after hour, but the old man did not hear it. He
thought only of the heavy responsibility. Was it not to profane the
house of God and the holy office, to drag the struggle and strife of
the day into it? Was he not set to watch over word and teaching, but
not to be a judge in the world's disputes? But of his flock, the
people of the Church, the Bride of Christ, whom he should watch, but
who stood in the midst of a wicked world, and whose souls were harmed
when such evil gusts blew? Would not every soul at the Judgment Day be
demanded at his hands? And was he a good shepherd, who indeed kept
watch against the wolf when the wolf came having on his right garb,
but looked on and was silent when he came clothed in sheep's garments
and pretended to belong among the good? He read anew in Luther. At
last he knelt down and prayed for a long time, and ended with a
fervent and heartfelt "Our Father."
Then he arose as if freed from doubt, looked meekly up to heaven, and
said, "As thou wilt, O Lord!" He seated himself in his arm-chair,
weary but happy, and fell asleep for a while. Presently, however, the
day grew gray in the east and he awoke. He read the morning prayers to
himself, chose his text, and thought about the sermon. When the bell
began to ring he went to church. He was pale, but calm and kindly. The
farmers looked at him and greeted him more warmly than usual. The
pastor's wife and Ragna came shortly after; Hans and Eystein did not
arrive at the church until the pastor stood in the pulpit.
The Christmas sermon was fervid and good. He spoke about the angels'
song, "Peace on earth." They had seldom heard the old man preach so
well. But at the end came a turn in the thought that caused some
astonishment. It was about politics.
"Dear Christians," he said, "how is it in our days with 'peace on
earth'? Ah, my brothers, we know that all too well. Peace has gone
from us. It has vanished like a beautiful evening cloud. Evil powers
rise up in these hours. The Devil is abroad, and tempts anew mankind
to eat of the tree of knowledge and to tear themselves loose from God.
Take heed, take heed, dear brothers! Take heed of the false prophets,
who proclaim a new gospel and promise you 'freedom' and
'enlightenment,' and all that is good,--yes, promise you righteousness
and power, if you will eat of the forbidden tree. They give themselves
out for sheep, but inwardly they are ravening wolves. They promise you
freedom, but they give you thraldom, the thraldom of sin, which is the
worst of all. They promise you blessings and joy, but they steal you
away from Him who alone has blessings and freedom for our poor race.
They promise you security and defense against all tyranny and
oppression, but they give you gladly into his power who is the father
of all tyranny and of all evil; he who is the destroyer of man from
the beginning. Dear Christians, let us watch and pray! Let us prove
the spirit, whether it is from God! Let us harden our ears and our
hearts against false voices and magic songs that deceive, which come
to us out of the dark chasms and abysses in this wicked world! Let us
be fearful of this wild and sinful thought of freedom, that from Adam
down has been the deep and true source of all our woe! Let us pray for
'peace on earth,' for only then can our Lord God have consideration
for mankind." With this he ended his sermon.
Translated for 'A Library of the World's Best Literature,'
by William H. Carpenter