Transcriber's Note:
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2. Greek text is transliterated and bracketed [Greek: ].
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COLLECTION
OF
GERMAN AUTHORS
TAUCHNITZ EDITION.
VOL. 35.
AN OLD STORY OF MY FARMING DAYS.
By FRITZ REUTER.
IN THREE VOLUMES.--VOL. II.
LEIPZIG: BERNHARD TAUCHNITZ.
LONDON: SAMPSON LOW, MARSTON & COMPANY, LIMITED. ST. DUNSTAN'S HOUSE, FETTER LANE, FLEET STREET E.C.
PARIS: LIBRAIRIE C. REINWALD, 15, RUE DES SAINTS-PÈRES; THE GALIGNANI LIBRARY, 224, RUE DE RIVOLI.
This Collection of German Authors may be introduced into England or any other country.
COLLECTION
OF
GERMAN AUTHORS.
VOL. 35.
AN OLD STORY OF MY FARMING DAYS BY FRITZ REUTER.
IN THREE VOLUMES.
VOL. II.
AN OLD STORY.
OF MY FARMING DAYS
(UT MINE STROMTID)
BY
FRITZ REUTER,
AUTHOR OF "IN THE YEAR '13:"
FROM THE GERMAN
BY
M. W. MACDOWALL.
IN THREE VOLUMES.
VOL. II.
Authorized Edition.
LEIPZIG 1878
BERNHARD TAUCHNITZ.
LONDON: SAMPSON LOW, MARSTON, SEARLE & RIVINGTON.
CROWN BUILDINGS, 188, FLEET STREET.
PARIS: C. REINWALD & CIE, 15, RUE DES SAINTS PÈRES.
AN OLD STORY
UT MINE STROMTID.
CHAPTER I.
On the 23rd of June 1843, the eldest son of David Däsel and the youngest daughter of John Degel were seated on a bench in the pleasure-grounds at Pümpelhagen. They had gone out to enjoy the beauty of the moonlight evening together. Sophia Degel said to her companion: "What made you look so foolish, Kit, when you came back from taking the horses over to meet the squire?"--"It was no wonder if I looked a little foolish. He took me into the sitting-room at the Inn and showed me his wife, and, says he, 'this is your new mistress.' Then she gave me a glass of wine, and made me drink it at once"--"What's she like?" asked the girl.--"Why," said Christian, "it's rather difficult to describe her. She's about your height; her hair is bright and fair like yours, and her colouring is red and white like yours. She has grey eyes like you, and she has just such another sweet little mouth."--Here he gave Sophia a hearty kiss on her pretty red lips.--"Lawk a daisy! Christian!" cried the girl, freeing herself from his embrace, "I suppose then that you gave her just such another kiss as you've given me?"--"Are you crazy?" asked Christian, and then went on soothingly. "No, that would have been impossible. That! sort have something about them that doesn't go with our sort. The lady might have sat here on the bench beside me till doom's day, and I'd never have thought of giving her a kiss."--"I see!" said Sophia Degel, rising and tossing her pretty head; "you think that I'm good enough for that sort of thing! Do you?"--"Sophia," said Christian, putting his arm round her waist again, in spite of her pretended resistance, "that kind of woman is far too small and weakly for us to admire; why if I wanted to put my arm round a creature like that--as I'm doing to you just now, Sophia--I'd be frightened of breaking or crushing her. Nay," he continued, stroking her hair, and beginning to walk home with her, "like mates with like."--When they parted Sophia was quite friends with Christian again. "I shall see the lady in the morning," she said, as she slipped away from his detaining arm, "the girls are all going to make wreaths of flowers to-morrow, and I'm going to help."
Every one at Pümpelhagen was busy weaving garlands, and setting up a triumphal arch across the avenue. Next morning Hawermann saw the last touches put to the arch, to which Mary Möller added a bunch of flowers here, and a bit of green there, as it seemed to be required, and Fred Triddelfitz fluttered about amongst the village-lads and lasses as a sort of volunteer-assistant, in all the grandeur of his green hunting-coat, white leather breeches, long boots with yellow tops, and blood-red neck-tie. While they were employed in this manner, uncle Bräsig joined them in his very best suit of clothes. He wore pale blue summer-trousers, and a brown coat which he must have bought in the year one. It was a very good fit at the back, and was so long in the tails that it nearly reached the middle of his calf, but it showed rather too great an expanse of yellow piqué waistcoat in front. As the coat was the same colour as the bark of a tree, he might be likened to a tree that had been struck by lightning, and which showed a broad stripe of yellow wood in front where the bark had been torn away. He also wore a black hat about three quarters of a yard high. "Good morning, Charles. How are you getting on? Aha! I see that the erection is nearly finished. It looks very nice, Charles--but still, I think that the arch might have been a little bit higher, and you might have had a couple of towers, one on the right hand and the other on the left. I once saw that done at Güstrow in the time of old Frederic Francis, when he came back in triumph! But where's the banner?"--"There's none," said Hawermann, "we hav'n't one."--"Do try to remember where we can get one, Charles. You can't possibly do without a flag of some kind. The lieutenant was in the army, and so he must have a flag flying in his honour. Möller," he called without turning round, "just fetch me two servant's sheets and sew them together lengthwise; Christian Päsel, bring me a smooth straight pole, and you, Triddelfitz, get me the brush you use for marking the sacks, and a bottle of ink."--"Bless me! Zachariah. What on earth are you going to do?" asked Hawermann, shaking his head.--"Charles," said Bräsig, "it's a great mercy that the lieutenant was in the Prussian army, for if he had been in a Mecklenburg regiment we should never have managed to get the right colours. Now it's quite easy to rig up a Prussian flag. Black ink and white sheets! we want nothing more."--Hawermann at first thought of dissuading his friend from making the flag, but on second thoughts he let him go on unchecked, for, thought he, the young squire will see that he meant it kindly.
So Bräsig set to work, and painted a great "vivat!!!" on the sheets. "Hold tight!" he shouted to Mary Möller and Fred Triddelfitz who were helping him, "I want to get 'Lieutenant and Mrs. Lieutenant' properly written on the banner."--He had decided, after much thought, on putting "Lieutenant and Mrs. Lieutenant" after the "vivat", instead of "A. von Rambow and F. von Satrop" as he had at first intended, for von Rambow and von Satrop are merely the names of two noble families, and he had all his
When the flag was finished he trotted across the court with it, and stuck it up on the highest step of the manor-house, and then hastened down stairs again to see how it looked from below. After that, he tried hanging it out at the granary-window, and again from the loft above the stable where the sheep were wintered; but none of these places met with his approval. "It won't do at all, Charles," he said at last; but after a long pause he added: "I have it now!" and pointing at the arch he continued, "That's the very place for it."--"Ah, but," said Hawermann, "don't you see that if you put it there, it'll hide our arch completely. The great poplar over there prevents any wind getting at your banner, and so it's hanging to the pole like an immense icicle that hasn't melted since last winter."--"I'll soon put that right, Charles," cried Bräsig, pulling a quantity of twine out of his pocket, and tying one bit to the upper and another bit to the lower end of his banner. "Gustavus Kegel," he called to the boy who fed the pigs, "are you a good climber?"--"Yes, Sir," answered Gustavus.--"Very well then, my dear pig's Marcary," said Bräsig, laughing heartily at his own joke, and all the grooms, and farm-lads, and lasses laughed because he did, "take the ends of these strings, climb the poplar with them, and then draw tight."--Gustavus did as he was desired, and drew the banner as tight and firm as if he had been setting a main-sail in preparation for Pümpelhagen leaving her moorings and sailing away. Bräsig meanwhile stood by the pole or mast like a captain during a sea-fight, and looked as if he were commanding the whole ship's company: "He may come now as soon as he likes, Charles. I'm quite ready for him."
But Fred Triddelfitz was not ready yet, for he had constituted himself commander-in-chief of the land-forces, and wanted to arrange his army in two lines, one on each side of the road. The first of these lines was formed of the old labourers, the grooms, and the farm-lads. The other of the married women, the maid-servants, and the girls who worked on the farm. After a good deal of trouble he partially succeeded in arranging the men to his mind; but it was otherwise with the women; he could not manage them at all. The married women were each armed with one of their little olive-branches, for, as they said, Josy and Harry ought to see all that was going on at such a time; but unfortunately the said olive-branches required so much dancing and talking to, to keep them quiet, that it spoilt the look of the whole line. The maid-servants refused to acknowledge Fred's authority, and Sophia Degel even went so far as to say that he had better not attempt to order her about, for she would obey no one but Mamselle Möller.[1] As for the light infantry of farm-girls, they were never in the same spot for two minutes at a time! There was no managing them, for they seemed to be under the impression that the enemy was in sight, and that it was their bounden duty to take some dapper young foe prisoner on the spot. Fred Triddelfitz struck the crook-stick he had intended to use as his marshal's baton on the ground before them, and said that they were not worth all the trouble he was taking with them. He then went to Hawermann and told him: He would have nothing more to do with it, and as the bailiff did not entreat him to persevere, he asked if he might have the use of his horse to ride out, and see whether the young squire and his wife were coming. Hawermann was rather unwilling to allow him to do so, out of regard for his old horse, but Bräsig whispered: "Let him go, Charles, for our preparations will have a much more imposing effect when we get rid of the grey-hound."
Fred rode off towards Gürlitz; but no sooner was he gone than Bräsig had a new cause of displeasure in the conduct of Strull, the schoolmaster, who now came up followed by all the youthful descendants of the Äsels and Egels who were of an age to go to school, each with his or her hymn-book open. The order which Fred had vainly endeavoured to introduce amongst his forces was effected in a moment with the new-comers, for Master Strull was always accustomed to maintain discipline amongst his scholars. He divided his followers into two parties; one of which was formed of Äsels, for he could count on their singing properly, and the other was composed of Egels, who--as he knew by sad experience--had very peculiar ideas regarding time and tune.
"Bless me, Charles! What does this mean?" asked Bräsig when he saw the schoolmaster arrive on the scene of action.--"Why, Bräsig, Master Strull wants to pay his respects to the squire along with the rest of us, and I don't see any reason why the school-children shouldn't sing what he has taught them as well as they can."--"Much too 'clesiastical for the lieutenant, much too 'clesiastical! Do you happen to have a drum or a trumpet about the place?"--"No," laughed Hawermann, "we hav'n't any instruments of that kind."--"I'm very sorry to hear it," said Bräsig.--"But stop! Christian Däsel come and hold the flag-staff for me, will you? It's all right, Charles," he added as he went away. But if Hawermann had known what he was going to do, he would have made him give up his plan. Bräsig signed to the night-watchman David Däsel to come and speak to him apart, and then asked him if he had brought his instrument with him. David thought for a moment in silence; at last he said: "Here!" and held up the stick which he like all the other workmen had brought by Fred Triddelfitz's orders that they might be waved in honour of the lieutenant. "You stupid old dunder-head!" cried Bräsig impatiently, "I mean your musical-instrument."--"Do you mean my horn? It's at home."--"Can you blow a tune upon it?"--Yes, David said, he could blow one.--"No man can do more than he is able!" said Bräsig. "Now go and get your horn and come behind the cattle-shed, and let me hear what it's like."
When they were alone in the meeting place appointed by Bräsig, David put the horn to his lips and blew as loud as if he wanted to announce that the cattle-shed was on fire: "The Prussians have taken Paris," &c., for he was very musical. "Stop!" cried Bräsig, "you must blow gently just now, for I want to surprise Hawermann; but when the lieutenant comes you may do it as loud as ever you like. Now, listen. When the schoolmaster has got through all his 'clesiastical nonsense, keep your eye on me, and when you see me wave the flag-staff three times, be sure you blaze away."--"Very well, Sir; but we must see first of all that the old watch-dog is safely on the chain, for he and I are not quite friends just now, and if he sees me with the horn he'll be sure to fly upon me."--"I'll see to that," said Bräsig, and then he went back with Däsel to join the others near the triumphal arch, and when he got there, he resumed his former place as supporter of the flag-staff. They were just in time to see Fred Triddelfitz riding up the hill as fast as the old horse could go, when he was near enough for his voice to be heard, he called out: "They're coming, they're coming! They're at Gürlitz now."
Yes, they were coming. Alick von Rambow and his fair young wife were driving slowly towards their home on that lovely summer-morning. They were in an open carriage, and Alick pointed beyond Gürlitz to the wide green meadows bathed in sunshine and to the shady woods of Pümpelhagen, and said: "Look, dearest Frida, there it is; that is our home."--These words were few and simple, but they did as well as any others to express the pride and happiness he felt in being able to provide such a beautiful home for his young wife, and she
Her appearance was much as Christian Däsel had described it, but he had not seen her cheeks flush with pleasant excitement as they were now doing, while she looked in the direction in which Alick was pointing; nor had he seen her grey eyes swimming with happy tears as she turned them on her husband.
"Ah!" she exclaimed, slipping her hand into Alick's: "How beautiful it is! I never saw such a rich land! Just look at those corn-fields over there!"--"Yes," said Alick, who was much pleased with her delight, "the soil here is a great deal richer than in your province." It was a pity that he did not stop there, but she had alluded to his pet hobby, farming, so he went on: "But there is much room for improvement in our farming operations; sufficient intelligence has never yet been brought to bear on the subject, and so we don't make half as much out of the land as we might. Look there at that wheat-field on the other side of the hill! It is part of the Pümpelhagen estate, and I hope, in a couple of years' time, to have a crop of plants of great mercantile value in that field, and then you'll see that it will bring me in three times as much money as it does now."--Then he launched forth on the commercial value of flax, hops, oil producing plants, carraway and anise-seed, with which, in alternate years, he, as a good farmer, would sow clover and esparcet, "to keep his cattle in good condition, and to make manure." After that he went on to explain what plants were used for dyes, and told his wife that red was extracted from the madder, blue from woad and yellow from weld, and said that he was certain to get a good price for crops of that kind. Just as he had reached this point and was riding his hobby much to his own satisfaction, he was startled by a horse passing the carriage at full gallop. It was Fred Triddelfitz who appeared in all the brilliance of a rainbow, and disappeared with the velocity of a falling star.
"What was that?" cried Frida, and Alick shouted: "Heigh! Heigh!" But Fred took no notice, for he had to bring the news to the people at the triumphal arch, and had only time as he galloped past Gürlitz manor to call out to Pomuchelskopp whom he saw standing at the gate, that they were coming, and would be at the village in five minutes.--"Come, Mally and Sally, it's high time for you to come!" shouted Pomuchelskopp over the garden-hedge, and Mally and Sally threw the bit of worsted work they were doing; down amongst the nettles beside the arbour, put on their Leghorn hats, and took their stand one on each side of their father. Then father Pomuchelskopp said to them: "Don't look round, girls, whatever you do, for we must seem as if we had come out for no other reason than to have a walk this beautiful morning."
But he was doomed to meet with disappointment.--The Pümpelhagen carriage was driving slowly through the village, when Mrs. von Rambow suddenly asked her husband: "Who is that lovely girl who bowed to us just now?" He answered that it was Louisa Hawermann, his bailiff's only daughter, and that the house beside which she was standing was the parsonage. Meanwhile Muchel and his two daughters were going out at their gate as if for a walk, when as ill-luck would have it, our old friend Henny was driven by the demon of housekeeping to go out and feed the chickens. She had on a white cotton cap trimmed with frills round the face, and the inevitable black merino gown which she still considered good enough for morning wear. When she saw Pomuchelskopp and the two girls passing out at the gate, she was very angry with her husband for going without her, and so she rubbed the chickens food off her hands on the old black skirt, and followed them. Her stiff unbending figure clothed in white and black looked exactly like a tombstone going out for a walk.
"Muchel!" she called after her husband.--"Don't look round," said Muchel, "our being here must seem to be accidental."--"Kopp!" she shouted. "Ar'n't you going to wait for me? Do you want me to run myself out of breath?"--"I'm sure I don't care whether you do or not," growled Pomuchelskopp. "Don't look round, girls, I hear the carriage now. It'll be here immediately."--"But, father," remonstrated Sally, "that's mother calling."--"Pshaw! Mother here, mother there!" cried Pomuchelskopp in a rage. "She'll spoil everything. But, my dear children," he continued after a short pause, "don't repeat what I've just said to your mother."--Henny now came up with them, very much out of breath with her run: "Kopp!" she began, but got no further in her speech, for the carriage had now reached them, and Pomuchelskopp stood still, and making a low bow, exclaimed: "A-ah!--I wish you joy, I wish you joy!" and Mally and Sally curtsied at the same time as their father spoke. Alick desired the coachman to stop, and said he was glad to see Mr. Pomuchelskopp and his family looking so well. Whilst this was going on, Muchel was pulling his wife's dress secretly as a sign to her to greet the von Rambows also, but she remained standing as stiff and straight as before, only puffing and blowing a little after her late exertions. Frida leant back in the carriage, and looked as if she had nothing to do with what was going on. Muchel then proceeded to speak of the happy chance which had led to the unexpected pleasure of this meeting, and told how he and his two daughters were taking a walk, and had never .... here he stopped short, for at the same moment he received a sharp pinch from Henny, and heard her whisper savagely: "You're treating your wife with very little respect!"--As soon as Pomuchelskopp came to this abrupt conclusion of his address, Alick signed to the coachman to drive on, saying at the same time that he hoped soon to have the pleasure of seeing his neighbour again.
Pomuchelskopp stood still with a very hang-dog look, and Mally and Sally took their former places at his side, but instead of pursuing their walk as they had intended, they turned their steps homeward, Henny following them, and leading her recalcitrant husband back to his duty after her usual gentle fashion. Never, as long as he lived, did Pomuchelskopp forget the events of that morning, or the admonitions with which his wife overwhelmed him.
"Those seemed to be very disagreeable people," said Frida as they drove away.--"You are quite right in your supposition," answered Alick, "but they are very rich."--"Ah!" cried Frida, "mere riches don't make pleasant companions."--"True, dearest Frida, but the man is an excellent farmer, and for that reason, as well as because he is a near neighbour, we must admit him and his family to our acquaintance."--"Are you in earnest, Alick?"--"Certainly," he replied.--After a little thought, she asked: "What sort of man is the clergyman?"--"I know him very slightly, but my father had a high opinion of him, and my bailiff has a great love and respect for him.--But," he added after a pause, "that is only natural, for the parson has brought up his only child almost from her infancy."--"Oh; the beautiful girl we saw at the parsonage door; but of course the clergyman's wife had more to do with that than he had. Do you know her?"--"Yes--that is to say, I've seen her. She appeared to be a cheery old lady."--"They must be very good people," said Frida decidedly.--"Dear Frida," said Alick settling himself more comfortably in his
CHAPTER II.
At last they drove up to the assembled villagers, and Hawermann approaching the carriage said a few words of welcome that came straight from his heart, and as Alick, in spite of his knowledge of human nature, had nothing ready to say on the spur of the moment, the young lady bent forward and gave the old man her hand with a friendly smile. As she did so, she read in his face as he did in hers, truth, honesty and uprightness. Alick now shook hands in his turn. Then the schoolmaster came forward followed by the line of Äsel, and gave out the key-note of one of the "Hymns of thanksgiving for peculiar mercies." The one chosen was No. 245 in the Mecklenburg hymn-book, and was intended to be used "after a severe thunder-storm." Very wisely, however, Master Strull began at the second verse because he thought it most suited to his squire: "Lord, we praise thy might."--Bräsig now wanted to wave his flag, but Gustavus Kegel held on tight: "Will you let the string go, you young rascal!" he cried.--"We know thy dreadful wrath!" sang the schoolmaster.--"Let the string go; d'ye hear me, boy?" said Bräsig impatiently.--"Yea, in thee do we trust, nor find thee to fail," sang the schoolmaster.--"Wait till I get hold of you, boy, and I'll give you such a thrashing," cried Bräsig.--"Thy kindness how tender, how firm to the end," sang the schoolmaster.--"I say, Sir, the strings have caught in the poplar," cried Gustavus. So Bräsig pulled and tugged at the banner, and in setting it free dragged off some of the small branches and leaves round which the string was entangled. The schoolmaster sang: "Hark, the crash of the storm." Fred Triddelfitz, who had meanwhile taken possession of the dinner-bell that was kept in the passage, rang a violent alarum. Bräsig waved his banner, and all the men and women, young men and maidens, boys and girls shouted at the top of their voices: "Hurrah! Hurrah!" And David Däsel blew on his horn: "The Prussians have taken Paris, &c." so solemnly that it was enough to touch the heart of even a dog. At the last toot of the horn, at the end of the first line, the old watch-dog, which Gustavus Kegel had let loose for fun, rushed at David Däsel's legs, and at the same moment the two brown horses began to dance and snort so much, that it was lucky that Degel the coachman was prepared for something of the kind happening, and at once drove on to the front-door. Alick got out of the carriage, and then helped his young wife out. The house was as grandly decorated within as without, and Mary Möller bustled about amongst the garlands of leaves and flowers in her new red jackonet gown, with a flushed face and red arms. As soon as she had grown a little cooler amongst the flowers, she rushed back to the kitchen to see how the cook was getting on with the dinner, just as if she were an iron heater and must be put in the oven again every time she got cool. As Mrs. von Rambow crossed the threshold, Mary came forward to meet her with her red arms extended as if she were a daughter of Moloch, and placed a wreath of blush-roses on her mistress' head. Then stepping back a few paces, and kneading her arms as if she wanted to make them flash fire, she repeated the following address, which she and Bräsig had been three months in composing:
"Hail to thee our queen and lady dear!
I swear to do all my duty here,
To be of thine ev'ry wish observant,
And to remain thy most obedient,
Ever faithful, humble servant."
She threw open the dining-room door when she had concluded her address, and showed the table ready spread for dinner. Nothing could have been better timed, for it was long past the usual hour. Alick whispered a few words to his wife, who nodded assent, and then turning to the old bailiff with a smile, told him that he must be her guest that day, and asked him to invite the schoolmaster and the young gentleman, who was learning farming, to dine with them also; adding that she hoped the good old gentleman, who had waved the banner, would likewise give her the pleasure of his company. After that she left the room and went to thank Mary Möller for her address, and for the excellent way in which she had managed the household during their absence, and said that now that she had come home, she would herself help Mary to continue as she had begun. Mary Möller blushed so red with pleasure, that she might be said to resemble a baker's oven filled with glowing red-hot coals.
The guests soon afterwards assembled. Hawermann brought Bräsig into the dining-room with him, and introduced him to the squire and his wife as a very dear old friend of his, adding, that he had known the late squire well, and that he had always taken a warm interest in the joys and sorrows at Pümpelhagen. Then Bräsig went up to Alick, and seizing his hand whether he would or not, shook it heartily and assured him with many an emphatic nod, of his eternal friendship, saying in conclusion: "I'm delighted to see you looking so well, Sir. And as I was just saying to Charles, I hope and trust that you will follow in the footsteps of your worthy father."--He now went up to Mrs. von Rambow, and taking her hand, said: "Honoured Mrs. Lieutenant von Rambow," here he was on the point of kissing her hand, but suddenly changing his mind, went on: "No, I will not. I was always expected to kiss the Countess' hand as a sort of courtly duty; I should never be able to bring myself to do it again if I were to treat you in the same way, you look so good and kind. But remember if ever you want anyone to do you a service--my name is Zachariah Bräsig--send for me--I live a short five miles from here at Haunerwiem--and I promise that the day shall not be too hot, nor the night too dark for me to help you."
This sort of talk is either understood or misunderstood according to the character of the hearer. Bräsig, like an honest man spoke out of the fulness of his heart without fear of misconception, but Alick did not take his speech to him as it was meant. He thought it very impertinent of a man like old Bräsig to hold up any one--even his own father who had always been so good to him--as an example for him to follow, so he remained silent and displeased.--Frida, on the contrary, had the gift of reading character, and saw the real kindness of heart below the eccentricity of diction, and so laying her hand again in that of the old gentleman she made him sit beside her at table.
Fred Triddelfitz arrived soon after Hawermann. He was dressed like a young squire in a blue coat and brass buttons, that looked exactly like a child of Pomuchelskopp's best blue coat. The schoolmaster came next. He was a tall muscular man, who appeared to be better fitted by nature for hewing wood, than for thrashing children. With his round black head and seedy black clothes he resembled nothing so much as a huge nail that fate had stuck
These two last guests were received with more cordiality by Alick than the two first; he made them sit one on each side of him at dinner, and was much pleased when he heard that Fred's father was the apothecary at Rahnstädt, and that he understood chemical analysis. When uncle Bräsig heard the word analysis, he said in a low voice to Hawermann: "Annalissis! Annalissis! What in all the world is that? Is it an insect?" Then, without waiting for an answer, he turned to Alick, and said: "For that sort of thing, my dear Sir, you should get the apothecary's son to bring you a pot of 'urgent Napoleon' (unguentum Neapolitanum)."--Naturally enough Alick did not understand what he meant, and even if he had understood he had not time to explain, for by this time they were all seated and dinner had begun. The schoolmaster looked rather uncomfortable, for he was seated on the extreme edge of his chair.--Alick now introduced his favourite subject of conversation, farming as it ought to be at Pümpelhagen. He told his guests that he intended to manure the land with bone-dust, nitre and guano, and to make a large hop-garden in the field below the flower-garden. Poor old Hawermann listened to all these plans in silence, saying to himself that he had never imagined that the new squire had such strange views of agriculture, and that he wondered how Bräsig could laugh as he was doing. But it was only natural that Bräsig should laugh, he regarded the whole thing as a joke, and a very good joke too; it never occurred to him that Alick could possibly be in earnest, and when he said in conclusion: "But of course the ground must be thoroughly prepared first," Bräsig answered with a hearty laugh: "Yes--and when we've had a good crop of hops, we'll plant raisins and almonds there to feed the pigs. And then, Madam," turning to Mrs. von Rambow, "you'll see what capital pork a pig fattened on raising and almonds will produce."
Of course Alick did not like that; he looked straight at his plate, and drew his eye-brows together, but he was riding his hobby too gallantly to give in for so slight a check, and went on to explain his views about agricultural machines. He described the plough and clod-breaker in one, which he was trying to invent, addressing his remarks chiefly to Triddelfitz, who replied in such learned terms that Mary Möller listened with open mouth, and beat upon her breast, murmuring: "God be merciful to me a sinner! And I really, fool that I was, thought myself a fit wife for a man like that! Nay, one might as soon, expect a goose and an eagle to set up house together."--As soon as dinner was finished, Mrs. von Rambow rose to leave the dining-room, saying to Hawermann as she did so, that she and Alick had agreed to walk over the farm on the next morning, and that she hoped Hawermann would go with them. He was only too delighted to do as she asked. When she had left the room the wine was passed round, and Daniel Sadenwater--whom Alick had retained in his service at his wife's request--was desired to bring cigars.
Bräsig helped himself to a "ceegar" as he called it, and told Mr. von Rambow that he smoked such things now and then, but not one of those that Bröker, the sexton, had in his shop; no, they were too strong, and besides that, they didn't look nice, and some people even went so far as to say that Bröker rubbed them up in the same way as the old women at the apple-stalls do their apples, to make them look fresh, which to say the least was very nasty. Alick made no reply to this remark, for--somehow or other--he did not like Bräsig. The old man was too satirical when other people's notions of farming did not agree with his own. Fred Triddelfitz was a very different sort of person; he had nodded and shaken his head, had looked astonished, had Oh'd and A'd at the proper times, and had altogether seemed so much impressed by the wisdom of what he had heard, that Alick began to look upon himself as a good useful tallow-candle, stuck in a tall candle-stick, and set where it could give light to Pümpelhagen and the neighbouring villages--and perhaps even to the whole world. But in spite of his foibles, Alick was really a good-hearted man, he only wanted to enlighten the world at large, and to make the little world over which he reigned happy and comfortable in his own way. He called Hawermann to join him in the window, and asked him how Fred was getting on. Hawermann replied that he was pretty well satisfied with him, and that he hoped he would be a reasonably good farmer in course of time. That was sufficient to confirm Alick in his good opinion of the young man, and he next enquired what salary he received, and whether a horse was kept for his use. No, Hawermann said, he hadn't a horse, and he neither paid nor received any money.
Alick then went to Fred, and said to him: "I'm very much pleased, Triddelfitz, to hear from Mr. Hawermann that he is perfectly satisfied with the progress you are making, I, therefore, intend to offer you a small salary of ten pounds a year, and the keep of a horse."--Fred hardly knew whether he was standing on his heels or his head: Hawermann so much pleased with him! Could it be possible? Ten pounds a year of pocket-money! That was very delightful, but a horse! His breath was so taken away with surprise and pleasure, that he could only stammer out a few words of thanks. Alick did not give him time to recover his presence of mind, but retired once more to the window with Hawermann. Fred could think of nothing but his good fortune. His head was as full of all the horses in the neighbourhood, black and brown, chestnut and bay as if the Mecklenburg government had suddenly determined that the Rahnstädt horse-market should be held in it. Bräsig sat opposite, watching him with a smile of amusement. At last Fred exclaimed: "Oh, Mr. Bräsig, I must have her before the Grand-Duke comes to Rahnstädt next month, for it has been arranged that his Royal Highness is to be received and conducted into the town by a company of young farmers."--"Who must you have?" asked Bräsig.---"Augustus Prebberow's sorrel-mare, Whalebone."--"I know her," said Bräsig indifferently.--"She's a beauty!"--"An old r ...." radical, he was going to have called her, but stopped himself because he thought it too vulgar an expression to be used in the aristocratic mansion in which he then was. "She's an old democrat, and won't be of any use to you when the Grand-Duke makes his entrance into Rahnstädt, for she'll never hear the people cheering him."--That was a pity, because there would be a great deal of shouting and hurrahing at such a time, but then Fred knew how fond Bräsig was of opposing everything he did too well to let his ridicule turn him from his fixed intentions.
Meanwhile Alick had been giving his old bailiff a short lecture on the immense advance that had been lately made in the science of agriculture, and when he had finished what he had to say, he pressed a book into Hawermann's hand, saying: "I hope you will like this book, which I have much pleasure in giving you, and which, I firmly believe, will henceforth be the only recognised authority in agricultural matters."--Hawermann thanked him for his gift, and then as it was beginning to grow dusk, he and his companions took leave of Mr. von Rambow. Bräsig and Master Strull accepted the bailiff's invitation to accompany him home. And Fred went to the stables.
Why he went there no one knew, not even he himself. He went there by instinct to look at the horses; he wanted to bring his inward feelings into more conformity with his outward circumstances, and so he
The three old gentlemen on arriving at the bailiff's house, seated themselves comfortably in the parlour, and then Bräsig asked: "Is that book a no-vell, Charles, to amuse you on winter evenings?"--"I hardly know what it is, Zachariah, but I'll light the lamp and look."--When the lamp was lighted, Hawermann was going to look at the title of the book, but Bräsig took it out of his hand, saying: "Nay, Charles, we have a learned man here, Strull must read it to us."--The schoolmaster drew a long breath, and began to read as if it were Sunday and he were reading the gospel for the day; and whenever he paused for breath, it was when he came to a word he did not know. "'Printing and Paper from Frederic Vieweg & Son in Brunswick Chemistry in relation to A-gri-culture and Phy-si-ology.'"--"Stop!" cried Bräsig. "That's not the word, it's fisionomy."--"No," said Stroll, "it's pronounced 'phy-si-ology' here."--"Well, it doesn't much matter," said Bräsig. "Foreign words are rather peculiar, one man pronounces them in this way, and another in that.--Please go on!"--"'By Justus Liebig Drrr of Medicine and Philosophy Professor of Chemistry in the Ludwig University at Giessen Knight of the Ludwig-order of the Grand-duchy of Hesse and of the third class of the order of S-t-Anne of the Russian Empire Foreign member of the Royal Society of Science at Stockholm of the'--there's something in Latin that I can't read--'in London Honorary member of the Dublin Academy--cor-res-pon-d .....'"--"Stop!" cried Bräsig. "Preserve us all, Charles! What a lot of things that fellow is."--"But that isn't nearly all," said the schoolmaster, "there's as much again to come yet."--"Then we'll skip all that. Go on!"--"'Fifth revised and enlarged edition Published by Vieweg & Son Brunswick 1843.' Now comes a preface."--"We'll skip that too," said Bräsig, "begin where the book begins."--"There's a heading 'Subject' and it has got a stroke under it"--"All right!" said Bräsig. "Fire away!"--"'The task of organic chemistry is to investigate the chemical conditions of life and the completed development of all organisms.' End of the sentence."--"What did you say?" asked Bräsig.--"'Of all organisms,'" repeated the schoolmaster.--"Well!" exclaimed Bräsig. "I've heard many an outlandish word, but Organism, Organ ..... Stay! Charles, do you remember the bit of Gellert we had to learn by heart for parson Behrens: 'Mr. Orgon went to the door.' Perhaps this Orgon has something to do with that one."--"Do let the schoolmaster read on, Bräsig, otherwise we'll never understand."--"Why, Charles, talking of a thing is great use in teaching us what it means. You'll see that this book is just like those I tried to read about the water-cure, and begins with all kinds of incompr'ensible things. Now go on!"--"'The duration of all living things is dependent upon their reception of certain materials which we call food and which are necessary for the development and reproduction of every organism.' End of the sentence."--"The man's right enough there," said Bräsig. "All living creatures require food, and"--here he took the book from Strull---"'it is necessary for every organism.' I know what he means by organism now, it's the stomach."--"Yes," assented the schoolmaster, "but you forget that he uses the word 'reproduction' also."--"Ah!" said Bräsig, with a wave of his hand. "'Production.' That's a thing that has only been known in the last few years. When I was a child no one ever heard of production, and now they call every bushel of wheat and every ox a production. I'll tell you what it is, Master Strull, they only use these words as a flower of speech and to show how learned they are."--When they had read a little more of the book the schoolmaster rose to go home, and then the two old friends were left alone together, for Bräsig was to spend the night at Pümpelhagen.--At last Hawermann said with a deep sigh: "I'm very much afraid, Zachariah, that bad times are beginning for me."--"Why, what do you mean? Your young squire is a merry light-hearted sort of man, and is fond of a joke too. Didn't you notice that in the way he was talking about farming at dinner to-day?"--"What you thought a joke, Bräsig, he meant in earnest"--"In earnest!"--"Most certainly. He has studied farming; in new-fashioned books which don't at all approve of our old-fashioned ways, and I can't undertake the management of these new ways of farming at my age, for I don't understand them well enough."--"You're right there, Charles. People who have been accustomed to climb high towers from the time they were little children, don't get dizzy when they are called upon to do it in their old age, and people who have been brought up to learn science in their childhood find it quite easy to dance on a scientific tight rope when they are old. Do you understand me?"--"Perfectly. And, Bräsig,"--pointing to the book--"we were never taught to dance on that rope when we were young, and now my old bones are too stiff to attempt it. I've nothing to say against the new ways, I don't understand them, and if Mr. von Rambow will tell me how he wants things to be done, I'll carry out his views as well as I can; but I'm afraid that that kind of farming will require a great deal of money if it is to be done properly, and our purse is not a very heavy one. I thought at first that he would get something with his wife, but he didn't.[2] He had to get all new things in Rahnstädt himself, and they're not paid for yet"--"Don't distress yourself about
CHAPTER III.
Next morning Fred Triddelfitz swam about the farm-yard at Pümpelhagen like a pickerel in a fish-pond, for he had put on his green hunting-coat and grey breeches, in order that--as he said to himself--Mrs. von Rambow might have something pleasant to look at. His eyes which used to glance ever and anon at Hawermann's window when he was at work in the yard, were now turned often and curiously in the direction of the manor-house, and when the squire opened his window and called him, he shot across the yard as if he were indeed a pickerel and Alick were the bait he wanted to catch.
"Triddelfitz," said Mr. von Rambow, "I have determined to make a short address to my people this morning, will you tell them to come up to the house at nine o'clock."--"Aye, aye, Sir," said Fred, who thought that answer more respectful than any other he could have used.--"Where is the bailiff? I want to speak to him; but there's no hurry."--"He has just gone out at the back gate with Mr. Bräsig."--"Very well. When he comes back will do perfectly."--Fred made as grand a bow as he could, and turned to go, but after walking away a few steps, he went back and asked: "Pray, Sir, do you want to see the women as well as the men?"--"No, only the men. But wait a moment--yes, you can tell the married women to come too."--"Aye, aye, Sir," said Fred, who then set off round the village, and desired all the married women, and the men who worked on the farm to go up to the manor-house in their Sunday-clothes.--It was now eight o'clock, and if the ploughmen who were at work in the more distant fields were to get up to Pümpelhagen in time, they must be called at once, so he set off to fetch them.
Hawermann had accompanied his old friend a little bit of the way towards Rexow, and then crossing the fields, he went to see how the ploughmen were getting on with their work. Whilst he was there, Fred came over the hill and made towards him in as straight a line as he could, considering his way of walking and the roughness of the ploughed land. "Mr. Hawermann," he said, "the men must unyoke their horses at once, for the squire wants all the workmen to be up at the manor-house at nine. He is going to make them a speech."--"What is he going to do?" asked Hawermann surprised.--"Make a speech," was the answer. "All the other men and the married women have received orders to be ready. He had forgotten the women, but I reminded him of them."--"You'd better," ....--"have left it alone," Hawermann was going to have said, but he stopped himself in time and added quietly: "Go and give the men your message."--"But you're wanted too."--"Very well," answered the old man turning to go home with a heavy heart.--That bit of land ought to have been finished that morning, and now nothing to speak of could be done till the afternoon.--And there was another thing. His master had made this arrangement on the very first day without telling him of his intention. He had consulted Triddelfitz, not him, and yet there was no such desperate need of hurry.--Still that did not grieve him so much as the thought of the speech. What on earth was he going to say? Was he going to lecture them about their duty? If he was it was unnecessary to do so. The people went to their work as naturally as to their dinner ..... they did not think about their duty, they just did it. It would be a great pity to speak to them either in praise or blame upon the subject. Too much talk did more harm than good. Labourers were like children, if they were praised for doing their duty, they began to think that they had done more than their duty.--Or was he going to give them some proof of his generosity? He was quite good-natured enough for that.--But what could he give them?--They had all they needed. He could give them nothing tangible, for he knew too little of their position to do so, he would, therefore, be obliged to content himself with vague figures of speech and meaningless promises, which everyone would of course interpret according to his own hopes and wishes, and which it would be impossible ever to realize.
These were Hawermann's thoughts as he went to join his master in his study. Mrs. von Rambow was in the room ready dressed for her walk over the farm. She went forward to meet him as he came in and said: "We must wait for a little, Mr. Hawermann, Alick wants to speak to the people before we go."--"That won't take long," said Alick who was turning over some papers.--There was a knock at the door.--"Come in."--And Fred entered with a letter in his hand: "From Gürlitz," he said.--Alick broke the seal and read the letter. It was from attorney Slus'uhr to say that when David and he happened to be passing Gürlitz that morning they had gone in to see Mr. Pomuchelskopp, from whom they had accidentally heard of Mr. von Rainbow's return home, and as they wished to speak to him on particular business, they would do themselves the pleasure, &c. &c. There was also a postscript to say that the business was very pressing. Alick was in a very painful position, for he could not refuse to receive the two men however much he might wish to do so. He went out to the door, and told the messenger that he would be glad to see the gentlemen, but when he returned to the study he looked so grave and anxious that his wife asked him what was the matter. "Oh, nothing," he answered. "I'm thinking about my speech. I'm afraid that it will last longer than I thought at first, and so perhaps it would be better if you and Mr. Hawermann were to set out at once without waiting for me."--"Oh, Alick, without you! I had been looking forward ...."--"But you see, my dear child, I can't help it. I know the whole place perfectly, and--and I will follow you as soon as I possibly can."--It seemed to Hawermann that the squire was nervously anxious to get rid of them both, so he came forward and asked Mrs. von Rambow if she would go with him now. She consented and followed him somewhat gravely.
Soon after they were gone Alick addressed the assembled villagers, but his whole pleasure in making his speech from the throne was destroyed by the remembrance of the disagreeable letter in his pocket. The speech was much what Hawermann had imagined it would be. It was made up of good advice and promises couched in such long words and high-flown language, that the villagers were quite puzzled as to what it all meant; the only thing they understood was that the squire had promised them all sorts of good things, and had said that any one who had a favour to ask was to go at once to him, and his request would meet with fatherly consideration.--"Ah!" said Päsel to Näsel. "That's a good look out for us. He'll do that, will he? I'll go to him to-morrow, and ask if I may bring up a calf this year."--"You got one last year."--"That doesn't matter, I can sell it to the weaver at Gürlitz."--"Well," said Kegel to Degel, "I'll go to him to-morrow, and ask him to give me another bit of potato-ground next spring, and tell him that my piece isn't big enough to supply my family."--"That was because you didn't hoe your potatoes at the right time; the bailiff gave you a bit of his mind about it you remember."--"What does that matter? The devil a bit he knows about that, and he's our master now, and not the bailiff."--So the people went away restless and discontented with their present condition, and Alick himself was anxious and unhappy because of the visit that was hanging over him that morning. The only person at Pümpelhagen who was perfectly contented was Fred Triddelfitz, so the young squire had not cast the pearls of his speech
Slus'uhr and David arrived, and what can I say about their visit? They sang the same song as before, and Alick had to renew his bills again. From long practice he had grown quite expert at this. Borrowing money is a dreadful thing, nothing comes up to it except perhaps being beheaded or hung, neither of which is precisely a pleasant experience; still I have known people who never rested till they had borrowed from all the Jews and Christians they could persuade to lend them money. Alick was not as bad as that, but yet he thought it as well to make use of the present opportunity, and get a new loan from David of sufficient money to pay for the refurnishing of the house. His excuse was that it was better "to have to do with one usurer than with several," and it never seemed to occur to him that that one was as bad as a dozen.
Meanwhile Hawermann and Mrs. von Rambow were walking over the farm. The beauty of the summer-morning soon chased away the slight shadow of displeasure from the lady's fair face, and she began to look about her, and try with right good will to learn something about farming in Mecklenburg. Hawermann soon discovered to his great delight that she was by no means so ignorant of agricultural matters as she thought herself. She had been brought up in the country, and had always taken an intelligent interest in what was going on around her. She liked to know why this or that was done, a mere superficial knowledge did not content her. So it was that she already knew enough about farming to understand the reasons for the differences she noticed between the crops at Pümpelhagen and those at her old home. The soil on her father's estate was light and sandy, while here it was a rich clay, well suited for the cultivation of wheat. The old bailiff gave her many simple little hints which helped her very much. They were both delighted with their walk, and a friendly confidence in each other was the result of their common enjoyment of the same subjects.
When they reached the Gürlitz march, Hawermann showed her the glebe-lands, and told her that the late squire had taken a lease of them.--"And the barley over there," asked Mrs. von Rambow. "That's part the Gürlitz estate, and it belongs to Mr. Pomuchelskopp."--"Ah, that was the gentleman who met us yesterday with his family," cried Frida. "What sort of man is he?"--"I never see anything of him," said Hawermann, rather confused.--"Don't you know him?" asked Mrs. von Rambow.--"Yes--no--that is, I used to know him; but we hav'n't seen anything of each other since he came here," replied the old man, and then he introduced another subject of conversation, but Frida laid her hand upon his arm, and asked: "Mr. Hawermann, you know that I am a stranger in this neighbourhood, and Alick seems to know very little about these people. Tell me, are they proper acquaintances for us?"--"No," said Hawermann shortly.--They walked on silently, at last Mrs. von Rambow stood still, and asked: "Can you, and will you tell me the reason why you broke off your old acquaintance with that man?"--Hawermann looked at her long and earnestly. "Yes," he said at length, but more as if he were speaking to himself than to her. "And if you believe me as the late squire did, it will perhaps be better for you to know it."--He then told her his story plainly and quietly, hiding nothing and exaggerating nothing. Mrs. von Rambow listened attentively and without interrupting him. When he had finished she merely said: "I didn't like what I saw of these people yesterday, and now I dislike them."--They had been walking through the glebe-lands for some time, and had reached the hedge at the end of the parsonage-garden; suddenly they heard a sweet young voice at the other side of the hedge exclaim: "Good-morning, father, good-morning," and at the same moment the lovely girl that Mrs. von Rambow had seen at the parsonage-door on the preceding day sprang through the garden-gate towards her father. But on seeing who was with him she blushed deeply and stopped short, so that if Hawermann wanted to have his good-morning-kiss, he would have to go and help himself to it.
The old man introduced his daughter to Mrs. von Rambow with much loving pride, and the squire's young wife, after a few kindly words of greeting, asked her to come up to Pümpelhagen to see her father and herself. When Hawermann had charged his daughter with messages to Mr. and Mrs. Behrens, they took leave of Louisa, and continued their walk.--"The clergyman and his wife are very good people, are they not?" asked Frida.--"Madam," said Hawermann, "I can't give you an impartial answer to that question. They have saved all that remained to me after my misfortunes. They have brought up my only child with loving care, and have taught her all the good she knows. I can never think of them without the greatest reverence and the deepest gratitude. But if you want to know more about them, ask any one you like in the parish. Rich and poor, high and low will all speak of them with affection."--"Mr. Pomuchelskopp too?" asked the lady.--"If he were to speak honestly and without prejudice, he would bear the same testimony," answered the old man; "but unfortunately he had a disagreement with the parson when he first came here about the glebe. It was not Mr. Behrens' fault. I was the real cause of it, for it was I who persuaded the late squire to take a lease of the land. And, Madam," he continued after a pause, "Pümpelhagen can never pay so well without the glebe; having the lease of it is an advantage that cannot be given up without great loss."--Frida made the bailiff explain to her in what this advantage consisted, and as soon as she understood the whole case, she determined that she would do her best to keep the glebe for Pümpelhagen.
When they got home, they saw attorney Slus'uhr and David driving away from the door, and Alick bowing and smiling as much as if Slus'uhr had been his colonel, and David had been a young count.--"Who is that?" Frida asked of Hawermann.--He told her.--When she came up to her husband, she said: "What have you to do with these people, Alick, and why were you so extraordinarily polite to them?"--"Polite?" repeated Alick rather confused. "Why not? I am polite to every body," glancing at Hawermann as he spoke.--"Of course you are," said his young wife, slipping her hand within his arm, "but these were common Jew traders, and ...."--"My dear child," interrupted Alick, who did not wish her to finish her sentence, "the man is a wool-stapler, and I've no doubt I shall often have to do business with him."--"And the other?" she asked,--"Oh, he is--he only happened to come with his friend. I've nothing to do with him."--"Good-bye, Mr. Hawermann," said Frida, shaking hands with the old man, "and thank you so very much for having gone with me this morning." She then went into the house, and Alick followed her; but he looked round again when he had reached the door-way, and saw that the old bailiff's eyes were fixed on him sorrowfully. He could not meet that sad gaze, and turning away he followed his wife into the house.
In that look of honest sorrow lay the future of the three people who had just parted. Alick had told a lie, he had betrayed the confidence of his young wife for the first time, and Hawermann knew it; and Alick knew that Hawermann knew it. A stone was now lying in the way, over which any one passing by that road might easily stumble, for the way had grown dark through untruth and deceit, and none could warn the traveller of the hidden danger. Frida as yet walked on in innocent fearlessness, but sooner or later her foot would strike against that stone. Alick, moreover, deceived himself, he thought he could guide Frida safely past the stone that lay in her path without her ever being aware of its existence, and he knew that the road was clear on the other side of it. Hawermann saw the danger distinctly that menaced the family at Pümpelhagen, and he would willingly have done what he could to help