The Prophets of Eternal Fjord

by Aitken, Martin, Leine, Kim

  The house is half of peat, half of timber. Its arrangement is much as I recall the communal dwelling houses of the natives, albeit without the long crawlspace by which to enter. There is much life and noise from early until late, crying children and a chatter of men and women talking all at once. The older children amuse themselves by challenging each other to leap over the soup cauldron, on occasion upturning it and spilling its contents onto the floor, whereby much food goes to waste. And yet on such account there is no corporal discipline nor verbal reproach. Education as to proper behaviour is a phenomenon unknown to these people, though nonetheless their children are often charming and inof­fensive, quite without the foul language a city rambler must hear from the street urchins of Copenhagen or even the offspring of well-situated citizens.

  Habakuk has returned from his excursion. He is a good-humoured man, as it transpires, quite tall and well built, clad in tunic and cap and hardly to be distinguished from such servants as are employed by the Trade. And yet he is a man of proper pride and confidence, a self-esteem somewhat less natural than his wife’s, and his attitude to me is that of a fine gentleman to a tolerated though quite despicable guest. I find this arrogance and the attendant atmosphere of ill-feeling to be oppressive, and would rather speak to him man to man. However, he seldom deigns to look at me, and when he does it seems only to be with disgust. He is popular with the women of the household, who hang upon his every word and pantingly concur with any utterance that passes his lips.

  This communal house is quite colossal, in my estimation thirty ells in length and ten in breadth. A sleeping bench running the length of the long wall opposite my own alcove is inhabited by members of Habakuk’s and Maria’s families, in all some twenty individuals, adults and children alike. The house is built so as to almost emerge from an earthen slope in the normal Eskimo manner, while its front is comprised of timber beams divided into five windows, so that when approaching from the shore the observer will find it resembles a European colony house, though with only one floor. This mixture may also be perceived in the people them­selves, who wear European garments, as well as traditional skins, and use harpoons, bow and arrow and flintlocks for their hunting. Some consid­erable trade must therefore take place, perhaps with foreign ships that have no qualms about flouting Danish jurisdiction and sovereignty.

  At one end of the room is Habakuk’s and Maria’s chamber, which is to say a large sleeping space separated from the rest of the dwelling by some reindeer skins hanging from a ceiling joist. If any quarrel should arise between the couple on account of his infidelity it must be settled elsewhere. Reindeer skin cannot safeguard the house’s occupants against sharing in the joys of marriage and the couple’s happiness at being reunited after a successful hunting excursion. This time, however, only a single animal was brought home, to be divided equally between a score of ravenous people hungry for meat, and hardly a week will pass before they must once again make do with the usual seal-blubber soup and spoon food. Nonetheless, they suffer no hardship, in contrast to other outposts of the district.

  How long must I remain here?

  A singular thought: the majority of the inhabitants of this house and this settlement never pause to ponder this question of how long they must remain here. This is their home, their entire life. A narrow band between the sea and the fell. Though often they will enquire as to conditions in Denmark and Copenhagen – especially curious are the women and older children – they feel not the slightest yearning for other places. To look ahead to a whole life within such a constricted framework: how very odd! And yet it must be happiness of a sort to be at such peace with one’s life.

  MM informs me that tomorrow I may attend their service.

  You mean your witches’ sabbath, Madame?

  Are you afraid, Magister Falck?

  No, I’m not afraid. But don’t expect me to take part in your unspeak­able indecencies.

  Magister Falck, you have my word that we shall behave properly. You have no cause for fear.

  I fear not! Be aware, however, that I shall write down everything I observe during your heathen ceremony.

  You shall be welcome, Magister. You are hereby appointed to write our chronicles for posterity.

  8 May

  This service I was obliged to attend was held outdoors in front of their church building while the sun was at its height. Since the snow still lies upon the high ground, the congregation of some one hundred souls had brought with them skins and blankets from their homes, which they placed on the ground and sat upon, young and old alike, slouched in the manner of children with legs stretched out in front of them. Maria Magdalene accompanied me to this battlefield, as I saw it, of heresy and witchcraft, and directed me to a place at which to sit amid the common multitude, albeit slightly aside.

  Then Habakuk stepped forth among us, as though conjured from the air, clad in his finest Sunday clothes, i. e. , black anorak, breeches of mottled sealskin and kamik boots. He preaches in his own tongue and yet I grasp quite a measure of it, his meaning being aided by gestures and grimaces. I sense my visitations to the savages of the colony now stand me in good stead and I understand more of the language than I had realized.

  Habakuk relates a long tale of his hunting excursion and the reason for the poor catch, which seems to have been an unusual occurrence in the wilderness, where he encountered the Devil himself. Already at this point I sensed some considerable unease arise among the congregation: sighs and whimpers passed between them, and one woman emitted a scream and fell into a swoon. Unperturbed, their spiritual leader continued his account of how he came into dispute with Satan and caused him to flee by invoking the weeping wounds of Christ and holding his crucifix in the face of the fiend.

  Whether Habakuk really did encounter the Devil is not for me to judge. However, I made note of the fact that Monsieur Lucifer shared an uncanny number of characteristics with my own humble person. The man thus clearly still harbours a grudge against me due to our former controversy in the church, even though it was he whose honour remained intact, a matter he ought rather to recall with contentment.

  Fortunately I sensed no ill-feeling towards me on account of these malicious insinuations, all present being far too absorbed in their leader’s tale. While I recognized that his narrative was intended to be a parable, it was apparent that his audience took it quite literally. Those seated around him were strongly affected; some began to spring up and down on their posteriors while remaining cross-legged, a quite hazardous activity as they projected themselves almost one ell into the air. Several succumbed to weeping like small children, others mumbled the Lord’s Prayer; a young lad chattered in a foreign tongue reminiscent of French. For my own part, I felt a certain commotion of sentiment, due not to Habakuk’s sermonizing, but rather to the general mood, and cannot deny that I struggled to restrain my tears. I still feel a lump in my throat while writing this account, but I am not alone, eyes are upon me: I am watched intently from the bench and am ashamed to give in to such an urge.

  No matter, after this sermon and an intensity of prayer, likewise led by Habakuk, who it must be said possesses a true gift with words, the crowd rose to its feet and wandered up to the place where a churchyard has been made. Here they stood around the graves, of which there were at least two score, and sang two pretty hymns, one by Pastor Kingo, the other unfamiliar to me, but perhaps penned by Habakuk himself or else his wife.

  After these ceremonies were concluded and the congregation dis ­persed I could not help but notice how smiling and contented they all appeared as they accompanied each other, arm in arm and hand in hand, down to the dwellings. Seldom have I seen such a peaceful and harmo­nious assembly. Only I walked alone, as if shunned. Perhaps Habakuk’s insinuations had been heard and understood, after all. And yet they were nothing but friendly upon my return to the big house. I was astonished to realize that the entire day had passed. Where all these hours had gone, I
know not, and I believe I did not sleep.

  Perhaps these prophets have not received the truth in its purest Christian form and what is practised here is undoubtedly a mixture of Pietism and heathenism. Yet the Lord may also be among sinners. And He was here today. I sensed Him.

  Prayer and asceticism this evening. I decline the soup, although I’m rather tempted by it.

  Much farting and laughter among my fellow inhabitants. I feel almost carried back to my passage to this land with the good ship Der Frühling.

  9 May, morning, the Feast of the Ascension

  Not without trepidation do I commit this account. I, Morten Pedersen Falck, do hereby declare that I am of sound mind and that the follow- ing is a truthful description of what I saw, in the name of Jesus Christ the Lord.

  Upon retiring to bed I promptly fell asleep, though the household about me was quite awake and cheerful and participated merrily in the games put on by Habakuk and his wife for their amusement, such as spillikins and a dance involving all manner of capers and leaping over lamps. I soon slept away from it, only to partake in escapades of my own in dreams, my nightmare presenting me to the Devil, who questioned me upon this and that matter and made obscene and shameless gestures before my face. When I turned away to be free of his dastardly torments he stood immediately before me again and continued his lecherous taunts.

  I was awakened abruptly by a tugging at my arm and someone addressing me. It was Habakuk, bent over me and commanding in a loud and fiery voice: Wake up, Priest! Cease your shouting! You’re delirious!

  I sat up and looked around me at the many faces illuminated by the flickering light of the lamps. I excused my restless sleep with reference to suffering a toothache, which indeed is true.

  If you’ve a bad tooth, then knock it out, said Habakuk.

  I thanked him for his advice and said I wished to step outside and get some fresh air.

  He stood and watched me as I dressed, whereupon I went out into the night.

  Despite Habakuk’s animosity, I felt quite light-hearted as I wandered up the slopes behind the settlement. Soon I had gained quite a bit of height and began to sense the cleansing effect of cold air upon my spirit and body.

  The churchyard is situated upon a plateau above the church itself, on a ridge that protrudes at right angles from the fell. Here I sat down on a rock to catch my breath and enjoy the still of the night. The sun was up, though hidden behind the high peaks to the north, and the scene was so very much like the earliest dawn at my home of origin, where all as yet were sleeping, even the grouse in the forest and the animals in their stalls, and where the air is as clear and sweet as spring water. I was contented, thereby, and quite awake, not in any way somnolent, and I saw the rippling waves that travelled upon the ford and the rope that hung down from the little bell in front of the church swayed gently in the breeze.

  The settlement of the prophets is situated at a junction of two sepa­rate fords, the Eternal Fjord itself and another which is minor. The peak behind the settlement and the promontory on the other side of this ford are quite high and pointed, the first approximately a thousand ells tall, judged by my own eye, the other more than double this measure.

  I saw a multitude of people, a procession, wandering from a place less than fifty ells up the fell behind me and proceeding as though by a bridge in the air, diagonally upwards towards the high promontory on the other side. They who were close to the ground were still in shade, while those who had reached further up were bathed in the light of the morning sun. All were quite distinct and appeared in no way to be transparent or spec­tral. It was a procession of tangible individuals. And yet all were dead. Indeed, I knew this to be so, although they in no way appeared to be such, but were vital, cheerful and much as people appear in everyday life.

  Alas, what pain for me to see them – and yet such comfort at the same time! I saw my dear mother and several of my deceased relatives, whom I have not seen since childhood. Moreover, which matter struck deeply into my heart, my sister Kirstine, who must therefore have passed away during this last year. Yet the vision is not sorrowful, rather it is a solace and her blessedness shone into my eyes. Furthermore, I saw a number of other acquaintances, among them the cooper Dorph and the carpenter Thomas Møller, whose death I caused, all seemingly in vigour, agile and in good spirits; and also the widow’s little girl and Bertel’s young son, the studious boy of whom I was so fond. Into the sun wandered Captain Valløe and all his crew, by which I surmise that the Frühling has gone down on the return voyage; and in front of them, as though their leader, my friend the ship’s boy, who jumped in the sea and drowned. Sad it was to see Miss Schultz’s father, the book printer, among them. May the Lord have mercy upon his soul. Yet Miss Schultz herself seemed to be absent. Numerous others I saw, too, who are unfamiliar to me, including a young man in a wig, whose face was gentle and good-humoured; his red cape was of the German cut, and, if I’m not mistaken, it was the Privy Councillor Moltke! It was a quiet procession and the people – that is to say, my mother – appeared not to hear my calling out, no matter how insistent and piercing my voice must have sounded among the fells. I could have gone to the place from which the bridge seemed to emerge, but courage failed me. My father was not among them, though I am unlikely to see him again in this life.

  How long I stood and stared at this heavenly procession I know not.

  It seems to me that perhaps an hour passed. All the time I noticed further acquaintances, old friends from childhood, student comrades, among them my friend Laust; and Mr Egede, who made such effort, albeit in vain, to teach me the Greenlandic affixes. None of this surprised me. I must have been prepared for it without knowing, and merely stood with my arms hanging at my sides and tears running freely down my cheeks without my caring to wipe them away. With peace of mind I left the place and returned to my accommodation in the alcove.

  I write these words some few hours after this vision and am as yet highly affected by it, although the sentiment to which it has given rise within me, a feeling of peace and a portent of my own salvation, fulfils me and affords me serenity. However, I must repeatedly turn away from the page and quietly allow my tears to flow. The strangest aspect of it is that I do not feel to have witnessed any supernatural occurrence, nor was the vision in any way distressing. Deeply touched by the sight of my sister once more. But she is dead and blessed, I saw it myself!

  Dearest Kirstine, I am no longer fearful of my own demise. May the time be short until we see each other again in the hereafter, where I may greet you with kisses and fond caresses and we may wander together along the shore of Elysium to the gentle whisper of the waves.

  15 May

  O laughter, this great heathen joy!

  Habakuk and Maria Magdalene are my new teachers. Where she is reason, he is practice. He possesses a gift to engender enthusiasm and to jump forward in leaps of religious insight, as I have witnessed on numerous occasions during these days.

  No less important is the fact that this great prophet has finally discarded his hostile countenance and has begun to afford me, as priest and Dane, a modicum of gracious kindness. I speculate that his wife has spoken with him, and that he, who like myself is much devoted to her, has resolved to heed her intercession. I sense this relief of the fear by which I was gripped formerly has now sent me to the opposite extreme, causing me to be somewhat obsequious in my behaviour towards him. And yet I have no objection to cowering like a dog, for it is a useful lesson for an old academicus and rationalist such as myself to defer to a man I previ­ously would have considered one of the basest creatures under the sun.

  But enough of this!

  While I am well aware that a description of the devotions in which Habakuk directs his congregation may appear mirth-provoking, perhaps even repellent to the casual and detached reader, I shall nonetheless commit my observations to this journal and thereby fix in writing these metaphysical ceremonies
as I have witnessed them.

  It is she who receives the messages from the Lord, for the most part in dreams in which she is placed before Him and He speaks to her. Whatever she is told in these instances she then passes on to her husband, who in turn relates the words to his congregation in the form of sermons. These devotions are held in the early and late hours, on normal days as well as Sundays, depending on the occurrence of the Madame’s dreams. People sit close together on the sleeping benches and listen; others soon come milling from without; all are more or less naked as he elaborates to them the joys of Paradise, a place that has much resemblance to this country, with a wealth of seals and reindeer and other prey, yet quite purged of Danes – a primeval Greenland as once it was. Many of the womenfolk are thereby brought to ecstasy and bounce on the spot while seated cross-legged, attaining increasing elevation. At the culmination of this state, the room echoes with squelching breasts and a clamour of rattling voices. There is weeping and laughter, and mucus is slung and spat against the wall of the house to run thickly towards the floor. Thereafter a calmness descends upon the congregation, which Habakuk exploits to bid one of the women to his bed, such behest being without exception happily obeyed, often with the most beatific of smiles. It is then heard that he joins together in flesh with the chosen woman, while his wife remains seated on the bench with her house-dwellers, apparently content and unaffected. She and I are the only ones present who have not removed our clothing and differ thereby from the rest of the congrega­tion. On this account I feel some mutual connection with her, as well as pity, since it must undoubtedly be trying for her to maintain a dignified expression under such circumstances.