# Emanuel, or Children of the Soil/Book 1, Chapter 2

On the same evening a young stranger was sitting in the study with the Provst, he had arrived the day before, when the snowstorm was at its height.
He was a tall slightly built man in a long black coat and white tie. His light blue eyes looked out with an open glance, from a pale childlike face. Over his forehead, which was high and arched, waved a quantity of slightly curling hair, and a fine growth of pale down was visible on his chin and down the sides of his cheeks.
Provst Tönnesen sat opposite to him in a large old fashioned porter's chair with earpieces and a neck cushion. He was a handsome man of giant build, with the bearing of a church dignitary; his head was massive, and, covered with short bristling white hair. Behind long, ​overhanging, and still quite black eyebrows gleamed dark grey eyes, which together with the full curves of the nose and lips gave to the clean shaven face a somewhat southern appearance. His clothing, from the spotless cambric tie to his brocaded vest and shining boots, disclosed an unusual degree of attention to outward appearance in a village pastor. His bearing, and the way in which in the course of conversation he took whiffs from a long-stemmed pipe all revealed the self-confident man of the world.
Folding doors at his side stood open to the drawing-room, a large handsomely furnished room where his daughter, a pale, auburn haired girl, sat working by a tall lamp with a green shade. Silence reigned around. All sound seemed drowned in the waste of snow without. Besides the Provst's deep bass voice only the crackling of the stove was to be heard and the monotonous chatter of a parrot in a cage by the young lady.
The young stranger was the Provst's new curate whose arrival had been awaited with much interest, not only at the Parsonage but throughout the parish. Directly after the midday meal the two priests had withdrawn to the subdued light of the study; and for the last four hours had discussed all kinds of things concerning their mutually responsible office.
The conversation was almost entirely carried ​on by the Provst. The curate was a very young man of six-and-twenty, and he had only a few days ago been solemnly ordained by the Bishop to the cure of souls. It was evident that he was still somewhat oppressed by his new dignity. He coloured up every time the Provst addressed him as "Herr Pastor," and looked down shyly.
The Provst began his discourse in a quiet instructive tone, dwelling somewhat on the words, as if he secretly enjoyed the unusual pleasantness of his voice, and the polish of his phrases. It did not often fall to his lot to have such an intelligent listener, and he could not resist the temptation to allow his fluency a somewhat wide range. As he came to a closer discussion of the church to-day, and when he touched upon the many controversial elements within the church his voice lost its calmness, and his language was less controlled. Finally he bent forward and said with a strong emphasis and looking straight into the curate's eyes:
"What I particularly want to impress upon you Mr Hansted is—that it is not only the priest's right, but his sacred and inalienable duty to his Master whose Kingdom on earth he administers, I say it is the undeniable duty of the priest, on every occasion to maintain the undoubted authority of the church. The beautiful old patriarchal feeling which formerly existed between the shepherd of souls and his flock ​will soon, unfortunately, be no more than a Saga. And whose is the blame? Who are those that for years have systematically undermined the authority of the church, and broken down the traditional respect of the people for their duly constituted ministers of religion. Are they the so-called Freethinkers, the open and audacious Atheists? It may be said that it is so, but don't believe it! No, it is within the church's own doors that the corruption has been nourished. It is those movements pregnant with disaster, which, under the name of 'democratic liberty,' and 'equality,' have risen from the dregs of the people, and which now have found their way even into the sacred precincts of the church—not only by means of hot-headed youths here and there, but—unfortunately—latterly even through some of the most trusted men in the church. I need not explain myself further, no doubt you know to what I refer. Who and what are these so-called followers of Grundtvig,—with their 'Friendly Meetings,' and their High schools, which have latterly received state support? And this 'Colporteur' nuisance, these preaching shoemakers and tailors—ignorant persons, who—mark you—are sent out by the priests themselves into the land, and empowered to bear witness in the name of the Holy Church? I cannot understand the blindness of certain of our colleagues, who do not see how destructive is such a proceeding to the dignity and authority which we (there is no ​use denying it among ourselves) cannot afford to be without in the presence of the common people, who are not in a position to value true superiority, or to judge rightly of spiritual qualifications. And what are the consequences? Do we not already see the fruits? These shoemaker and tailor apostles—are they not marvellous orators, almost prophets in the eyes of the populace? Their phrases and catchwords demoralize the people to such an extent, that they will hardly listen to a proper well thought out sermon, and they lose all taste for the solemnities of a church service.—It is only a few days since one of these presumptuous individuals presented himself to me as a 'colleague;' and even had the insolence to ask permission to use the church for his ministrations! This is what we have come to! Tramps in the pulpit, criminals at the altar. In this manner is the Church's brilliance tarnished. This is what its importance has sunk to!—I ask you, Pastor Hansted, when is it to end?" He had talked himself into an ever-increasing violence of passion. His face was pale and he trembled in every limb, and at his last words he rose to his full height, straightening his giant frame as if ready for the fray at once.
The curate looked at him in astonishment and even the young lady turned her head, while the parrot screamed and flapped its wings.
Quite beside himself with excitement, the Provst tramped up and down the floor with ​steps which echoed through the room. In a few minutes he came back to his place, and stopping in front of the curate, looked at him with a searching glance which blazed under the dark eyebrows like lightning in a storm cloud, said, in a voice which still trembled, "I hope, Pastor Hansted, that you understand my anxiety in the case I have just mentioned; and I hope you share the doubts which every conscientious priest must entertain in the face of these movements … I won't conceal from you that even in this parish I see traces of agitation. A certain weaver named Hansen, as ignorant as he is audacious, one of the sad products of this High school movement, has been trying, for the last year or two, to form a revolutionary party among the congregation; this party of braggarts and ignoramuses dares openly to defy me. But I won't stand it! I feel it is my duty to crush this spirit of revolt with inexorable severity, and I hope I may depend on your support in the future, Mr Hansted. I hope in all matters of importance we shall work together for the glory of God and the good of the congregation."
"I have no higher wish," answered the young man quietly, looking at the floor.
"I am quite sure of that," continued the Provst, evidently pleased by the curate's answer. "At the same time, I am glad to have it confirmed by your own lips. I do not doubt that we shall get on very well together."
​At this moment a softly-chiming clock in the drawing-room struck eight. At the sound the Provst's daughter appeared in the doorway, and invited the gentlemen to come in to tea.
"Well then we must obey," said the Provst in a lively voice, and rose. Laying his hand on the curate's shoulder he added jocularly, "as you have perhaps perceived, Pastor Hansted, my daughter rules the house—— and I may tell you that she is a strict commander. We can continue the conversation another time. Come in, you must put up with a countrified supper table."