A fortunate man, p.87
A Fortunate Man, page 87
The road dropped in a wide arc down to Bøstrup village and Per’s face suddenly brightened. There behind the garden gate of the rectory he had caught sight of Inger, who was standing with a scarf covering her head and was obviously keeping watch for him.
“You big lazybones!” she cried in greeting. “Where have you been all morning?”
“Ah, sorry Inger. Have you been waiting long?”
“Per, I’m frozen stiff standing here this long.”
“Ah—my poor darling Inger!”
He had now come quite close to the garden and steered the gig so near to her that their mouths—concealed from the house by a rose-hip bush—could meet across the low fence.
“Good morning my own sweet angel!”
“Good morning yourself! And what expedition are you going on today, my only dearest man?”
“Ah, Inger, I’ve a million things to do. In fact, I’d better get going.”
“Per, darling. You are impossible. How am I going to keep up with you? Always busy and no time for poor Inger. Well, off with you then! Are you coming to see me this evening?”
“How could I stay away, sweet thing!”
There was another kiss, and then another. And then another, “just for the hell of it”—as Per put it.
“Ah, you bold boy! Well, off with you then, before I chain you!”
“Bye my darling!”
“Bye bye . . . and come back to me as quick as you can!”
“I will of course!”
“Goodbye then darling. You go first!”
“Bye bye.”
“See you this evening, Per.”
The light brown horse had already begun to pull away with a toss of its head, but they continued holding hands until they were almost literally torn apart. And there were more and goodbyes and “see you soon sweetheart” and then more waving, until the carriage disappeared behind the building of a neighboring farm.
Towards dinner time, and after having spent several hours out in the meadows with his theodolite and tripod, Per drove down to Borup rectory.
Pastor Fjaltring was at home and received him in his study. This was a large room, almost of hall proportions. It was also set in half darkness—partly because the only source of daylight came from two small windows. The size of the room also made what furnishing there was appear even more miserable and forlorn. The first thing Per saw was an open book that lay on a desk situated between the two windows. It was from here that this strange lair dweller had emerged and stepped towards him as soon as he had walked through the door.
There was in this priest’s demeanor that same unsettling mixture of shyness, curiosity and arrogance which had struck Per on the day he had seen him in church. Pastor Fjaltring pulled up a few steps from him and greeted him with undoubted graciousness, but in almost complete silence, and with his hands behind his back. Per could not ascertain whether the pastor recognized him or not. Once Per had introduced himself, Pastor Fjaltring indicated towards the sofa with his hand and then sat down in an armchair a distance away. He then asked Per how he might be of service.
Per began by asking questions regarding the proposed excavation of some ditches in parcels of meadowland adjacent to the rectory. Pastor Fjaltring answered that, by rights, he had no authority to make personal decisions regarding glebe land, but given that the proposed work was minimal, it was probably safe to give his blessing. The only thing he would ask is that a short written presentation of the required land alterations be provided for possible future consultation and Per gladly assented to this.
The whole interview lasted no more than a few minutes and was followed by a lengthy silence. Pastor Fjaltring sat, bent forward slightly, over his clasped hands and was obviously waiting for Per to leave. But when Per gave sign that he actually was about to depart, his host seemed to become anxious at having been impolite. Pastor Fjaltring quickly asked Per what he thought of the area and when he heard that he had set up a home near the railway station, the priest remarked that “Hr. Engineer would not want for company.” He went on to state that a minor market town had been established down there by Rimalt. Then he mentioned Per’s neighbors—the school principal, the chemist, and a number of other people in the area. On the other hand, neither Per’s father-in-law, nor his home at Bøstrup rectory, were mentioned at all.
Per, who had retained quite a strong impression of Pastor Fjaltring’s personality and character from their encounter in the lightning storm, was slightly disappointed by his bland platitudes. He was also offended by the fact that the priest lumped him in with the so-called Toddy Club down at the inn by the station—especially as it was clear that Pastor Fjaltring—judging by his tone—had very little respect for these people. Thus, Per said, with some emphasis, that he did not make it his business to look for “company” in Rimalt. In fact, quite the opposite—he preferred to live alone and spend his time reading.
Pastor Fjaltring raised his head slightly. He still refrained from looking directly at Per, but an attentive almost listening expression appeared in his small, pale yellow face.
“Well, yes,” the pastor said. “The reclusive life in the world of pure thought can have certain attractions. And, indeed, also has its comforts. One might almost say blessings.”
His face then broadened into a smile as he added that it could sometimes even offer companionship. For it was often the case, he continued, that inward speculation led to the disturbing feeling that a stranger had taken up residence in one’s own personality.
Per, who now felt slighted by this remark, sought to return the comparison by averring that such strangers unfortunately often proved to be very difficult guests who provoked distress, anxiety, and strange behavior.
Once again, that startled and almost attentive expression flickered across Pastor Fjaltring’s face. However, he did not pursue the subject, only adding by way of a final comment that it was also true that one turned to the thoughts of others in order to chase away one’s own. Books could be a great diversion. But the views people published in books were rarely meant to frighten or provoke real thought.
Once again a silence ensued. It was clear that Pastor Fjaltring had touched on something that he did not wish to investigate further. Per understood that the pastor was on his guard against him and there was no prospect of a real conversation. Thus he rose from his seat and, this time, Pastor Fjaltring made no attempt to delay his departure. But again he was the height of good manners. In fact, at the point of departure, the pastor even held out his hand—a strangely dry and hot hand—and courteously requested Per’s forbearance in not following him to his carriage, for fear of the draft in the hallway.
As short and seemingly insignificant as this meeting had been, enough interest had been stirred in Per’s mind for him to raise the matter at Bøstrup rectory during their evening meal. His in-laws were clearly not happy with the way he spoke so animatedly on the issue. He stopped talking as soon as he picked this up, at which point his father-in-law sought to smooth things over by resorting to a statement he often used when his neighboring priest came up in conversation: “That poor unfortunate man! I really do feel so sorry for him. If only he had never become a priest!”
As early as the very next day, Per set about preparing the report that Pastor Fjaltring had requested. He took great care over its several drafts and then carefully transcribed the final version onto a large sheet of paper. As a final flourish, he drew up an addendum that comprised a very precise ground plan of all the meadowlands that adjoined Pastor Fjaltring’s rectory.
A week later, when Per’s work in the district led him in the direction of Borup once again, he drove into the rectory in order to deliver the document. Pastor Fjaltring, who was so unused to anyone showing him a kindness, became embarrassed on seeing Per’s finely crafted work and thanked him sincerely; and when Per then made immediate moves to leave, he became quite agitated and begged Per’s forgiveness if on the previous occasion he had been somewhat out of sorts. In order to get Per to stay, Pastor Fjaltring almost dragged him to the sofa and before long a conversation ensued that was quite open and frank in nature.
It was the document Per had brought with him that paved the way for what was to come. For Per informed the pastor that he had found a layer of peat bog in the rectory meadow, and that it was a substantial deposit. It lay quite deeply in the soil, and there would possibly be some difficulty in getting to it, but, for that very reason, it was likely to be of high quality for turf burning. Thus, Per continued, he was convinced that investment in a modest pumping unit that would keep the excavation dry was worthwhile so that the beds could be dug out for fuel processing.
Pastor Fjaltring, who had remained standing directly in front of Per on a narrow carpet runner in the middle of an otherwise bare floor, shook his head and gave a somber smile that smacked of defeat. That kind of thing would have to be left in the hands of his successor, he said. His health and general constitution was not such that he could make any real plans for the future.
“Besides, Hr. Engineer, even if the grim reaper spares me for a while yet, I’m not sure how much longer the church authorities and my diligent clerical brothers in Christ will allow me to preach to empty pews.”
Per reddened at this and made a polite attempt at an objection; but the pastor cut him off.
“Oh please, I’m under no illusions. Our so-called New Age has turned religion into a commodity, and it’s quite understandable that people will seek out those market booths where they believe they can procure their redemption at the cheapest price.”
Per looked away. It was not that he found the accusation unjust but, for Inger’s sake, he felt duty bound to defend his father-in-law. He pointed out that, regardless of how banal and superficial modern religious movements seemed to be, they at least performed the function of raising awareness of spiritual matters and, therefore, were preparing a new cultural period in history. Where spiritual life and the receptiveness to same was concerned, Per continued, the conclusion he had drawn on his travels abroad was that Danish farmers and smallholders were far superior to their rural equals, particularly in Catholic countries. But Pastor Fjaltring’s immediate reply to this was that a well-meaning or a religion “just in case” attitude, or even just a curious interest in life’s great mysteries, was, in his eyes, far worse than having no interest whatsoever. Faith was a passion, and where this was absent, the “believer” was mocking God himself. Trying to raise spiritual consciousness amongst the people by planting artificial roots was so far removed from preparing the ground for a truly sincere and serious faith—or even sincere doubt—that, on the contrary, it actually strangled the genuine empathy with God that every human soul possessed innately.
Pastor Fjaltring had begun walking up and down the carpet as he spoke; but now he suddenly stopped at the other end of the room. It was as if he was trying to remind himself not to venture too far in his oration. But it was too late. The urge to profess had been aroused in his breast. All the thoughts he had wrestled with in all those long lonely hours now burst forth in an unstoppable torrent of words.
He told Per that modern technicians and engineers had to share some of the blame for the lack of reflection and superficiality—the twin curse afflicting the people of today. The ceaseless agitation of the machine age had infected religious and spiritual life. As could be seen in all areas of life, people had become accustomed to acquiring the necessities of life via as little personal endeavor as possible. Now this attitude had spread to religious belief, where it was hoped that faith could be obtained without much need for commitment in terms of time and energy. And as far as the Church’s evangelists were concerned—be they men of the cloth or lay folk—they made every effort to satisfy this demand. We pointed with no little pride here in this country, the pastor said, at our folk high schools, which as you know have developed into a whole establishment in their own right—an establishment, moreover, where a modeled and guaranteed life philosophy is stamped onto its students in the run of three or four months. It looked like a miracle, but was actually one huge swindle. For in order to achieve that same simplification and reduced cost—why they found it more expedient to simply replace religion with poetry, give the travails of existence a more poetic gloss. Of course, the whole thing is a depressing and false veneer.
With this harsh critique of the Church in mind, the pastor then went on to assert that this was precisely why the alleged benefits of the so-called religious folk revival here at home had been nothing more than a well-glossed form of materialism.
The provocative tone in Pastor Fjaltring’s address to Per left him with a feeling of quiet dejection—not least because this priest was only saying things that he actually agreed with. But still there was no stopping the man.
Yes—he continued—it was true that, with regards to the soul of man and the best conditions for its nurturing and development, very little was unfortunately known about it. However, it seemed fairly certain from the evidence of history, and also the testimony of many individuals, that, just like everything else of worth in the world, the soul required time and a certain element of resistance in order to grow. It was also widely admitted that a surfeit of happiness and good fortune in worldly affairs left a man empty and gelded.
The soul’s natural sphere was sorrow, suffering, sacrifice. Joy was an animal remnant that had been left within us—and it was no doubt for this reason that, in prosperous and successful times, people were able to commit all kinds of idiocies and carry on like strutting peacocks; while in harsher times, when they reached deep inside themselves and found the divine source of their essential humanity, they would suddenly take on a completely blissful and transfigured demeanor. Yes it was true that Christianity came into the world proclaiming the Good News, but if this phrase was to be taken literally one became stuck in an irreconcilable contradiction. And this was that a creed professing tranquillity, peace of mind, and joy clogged up the very sources of nourishment required by the soul—extinguished all spiritual and intellectual life, in fact, healed the sick by actually killing the patient.
“Even the actual idea of a paradise on the other side of death, as a place of utter perfection, is difficult to reconcile with our present religious insights. It seems to me that the term ‘Abandon hope, all ye who enter here,’ which Dante told us was inscribed on the gateway to hell, could just as appropriately—and with far more terrible significance—be emblazoned above the gateway to the kind of heaven where things were supposedly so perfect that further personal development would not be an option. Indeed, for our limited human sensibilities, it would seem that, in the long run, it is the unredeemed amongst us—those who are either permanently or temporarily damned—that one will find the truly purged and purified souls and genuine blessedness. For is it not these souls that profess a genuine religious conviction and confession?
“But it is possible, Hr. Engineer, that we have completely misunderstood what God’s Evangelium is all about. And if that is the case, this might explain the bald fact that after two thousand years, and despite all the high-minded words and promises, Christianity has still not managed to achieve much progress with regard to mankind’s moral standing. Certain theologians even deny that Christ’s birth was a divine act, and it has to be said that it is difficult to detect a family resemblance between him and the God of the Old Testament. Do we wildly exaggerate if we say that the one is the complete contradiction of the other—yes, actually a travesty of the other? Of course, Christ was also an abomination to the Jews. But if the man called Jesus was not the son of God, who then can guarantee that Our Lord did not in fact place him amongst us, and allow him to be tortured and suffer an ignominious death, so as to serve as a terrifying example of what true faith requires?”
Pastor Fjaltring once more stopped abruptly in his progress up and down the carpet—as if he himself was shocked by his own words. As his speech had progressed, his forehead had become enflamed with a red aura. A subtle but clearly visible nervous twitch also ran incessantly from his shoulder and across his face.
“Well, I trust that Hr. Sidenius understands that it is not my intention to mock the Lord with what I am discussing. All I am saying is that if the figure of Christ and its mission here in this world is to really become the subject of critical debate—and there is no doubt that we have now reached that point—well, let us have that debate to the very core of the issue and without fear or favor. Even if our very salvation is placed in jeopardy by so doing!”
Per was at a loss to know how to respond to this torrent of thoughts; and it was clear that Pastor Fjaltring was not conscious of how far he had traveled from their initial talking point. Nor did the pastor notice that the door behind him had been opened and his wife had come into the room. Only when Per stood up and gave a short bow of his head did he turn towards his wife. He then fell silent.
Privately, Per admitted that the gossip amongst the local populace was not exaggerated where her looks were concerned. She was enormously fat and her face boasted the florid copper tones of a lifelong sot. Her livid face gave her torpid eyes a blind whiteness against the color of her skin. Her slovenliness was all the more noticeable because she had obviously made efforts to beautify herself. She had flattened the front of her hair down with water and had put on a quite presentable dress; but under her skewed bonnet, the rest of her hair was making efforts to burst out like the filling in a ripped pillow. A glance at her footwear below her long dress, meanwhile, revealed a pair of worn-out and filthy shoes.
When her husband had introduced Per to her, she gave a most expansive smile.
“Would Hr. Sidenius do us the honor of sharing some lunch with us? The food is on the table.”
For the second time, Per was stuck for words. His pity for poor Pastor Fjaltring crushed his heart. His preference would have been to say no, but he dreaded the offense he might cause, and so accepted the invitation.
