An Old Story of My Farming Days Volume Iii Part 3

Hawermann knew the nature of the people amongst whom he had worked for so many years. A feeling of uneasiness was spreading like a fever throughout the land. Reasonable complaints together with the most unreasonable and insane demands flew from mouth to mouth; what at first had been only whispered, was soon to be spoken of openly. The landowners were most to blame for that. They had lost their heads. Each of them acted as it seemed good to him, selfishly worked for his own safety regardless of others, and as long as he was at peace with his own people cared nought for his neighbour's fate. Instead of meeting their people honestly and straightforwardly, and showing them the real state of the case, some of the squires granted every demand their labourers chose to make in their folly and ignorance, while others, getting on horseback, wanted to reduce their labourers to order with swords and pistols, and I know several landowners who never went out to drive in their own grounds without taking a couple of loaded muskets in the carriage with them. And why was this? Because their conscience p.r.i.c.ked them for their former conduct, and because there was no kindly human sympathy between them and their dependents. Of course that was not the case with all the masters.

Alick was one of those landowners who had never ill-treated his people.

He was not hard on them generally speaking, but he could be hard if he thought his position was becoming insecure. During that time of political and social excitement the hidden qualities of all men were clearly revealed, and he who could look calmly on the march of events, and do what had to be done with quiet circ.u.mspection, who could distinguish good from evil, and steer his s.h.i.+p through the breakers which threatened to engulf it, was a wise and far-seeing man. That was not Alick's character. He was surrounded by his discontented va.s.sals, and tried now this way, and now that way, of stemming the rising tide of insubordination, so it came to pa.s.s that he made two of the mistakes we have before alluded to; at one time he would foolishly submit to the villagers' demands, and at another, he would return to the ideas of a cavalry-officer and threaten his people with fire and sword. The peasantry also were changed, and it was his own fault that this was the case. He had taken from them little customs to which they were attached from use and wont, and at other times he had, in his good-nature, given them all kinds of injudicious liberties, that had only made them greedy of more, for he did not understand human nature as a whole, nor did he understand the peasantry at his gates. He had praised the people when they were idle, and he had scolded them when they were working hard, for he didn't know their capabilities. In short his actions were not guided by right and justice, but by his impulses, and as he had been rather low spirited of late, the discontent of the labourers was increasing, and threatened soon to break out into a blaze.

There was a hotbed of disaffection close to where Alick lived, and that was Gurlitz. It had once been as quiet and well doing a place as any in the country side, but in spite of the efforts parson Behrens had made for many years to keep it so, matters had gradually been growing worse and worse. Each of the new owners into whose hands it had pa.s.sed had helped to bring about this state of things, and that old wretch Pomuchelskopp rejoiced when he saw it, for--dreadful as it is to say--there are some people who would rather see their labourers badly off than happy and comfortable, for they think that when their people are suffering from want, they will be the better able to rule them autocratically. Pomuchelskopp did not remember that when revolutions are the order of the day a half starved peasantry may be easily induced to revolt altogether, while those who are well off have not the same inducement to go so far. The neighbouring gentry who had long seen that the Gurlitz labourers were growing disaffected, never thought that the fire which Pomuchelskopp had fanned--without understanding its force--for his own ends, might spread throughout the district. The Gurlitz labourers had become accustomed to the taste of brandy, for there was a brandy-distillery up at the manor, and what they drank there was deducted from their wages. So in course of time they became beggars, and every penny they made, over and above what they spent at the still, was expended in the Rahnstadt public houses, where they soon learnt how the world was wagging. The waiters at the spirit shops told them what was going on throughout the country, and when they came home with their heads muddled with the brandy they had been drinking, they began 111 their besotted ignorance to add their unreasonable desires to the tale of their real wrongs, and so added to the miserable complication. Their starving wives and children stood about them looking like ghosts; the only way they could get a morsel of food was by begging; thus they carried story of their wretchedness through the country-side written on their famished faces, and sparks of the revolutionary fire were kindled everywhere.

Nothing was as yet ripe for revolt, there was still too much to be made in other ways, and the people were also restrained by the well meant advice of kindly souls, who understood and felt for them. Another thing that kept them from open revolt was the old feeling of loyalty to their masters, and the remembrance of former benefits received from them, to say nothing of the eternal sense of right and law which survives wonderfully long even in men who are led astray. These things all combined to keep the fire from bursting forth, even with the Gurlitz villagers. If they had been able to read what was going on in the heart of their master, they would perhaps have risen at once, for hardness and cowardice were striving for the mastery in his soul. His conscience had died long ago, and he had no need to accuse himself of any kindly action to an inferior. At one moment he would exclaim in a rage: "Oh those wretches! If I only.... The law must be changed! What's the use of a government which possesses soldiers, and yet doesn't march them out? Why, my property's in danger; and it's the duty of my government to protect my property." Next moment he would perhaps call Gustavus to come to him out of the yard, and would say: "What a fool you are Gus, why are you running after the threshers; let them thresh what they like, I won't have a row with my people." On one such occasion he turned to his wife immediately after saying this, and seeing her sitting on her chair as stiff and unbending as a poker, looking at him contemptuously with her pointed nose and sharp eyes, he added: "I know what you're thinking, Henny. You want me to go out and show myself a man; but that would never do. It really wouldn't do, Chuck. We must temporise, we must temporise, and we may perhaps get the better of them by judicious temperamentation." Henny expressed no opinion upon this proposal of her husband's, but she looked as if she had no intention of acting in accordance with it, and Pomuchelskopp then said to Mally and Sally: "Children, let me beg you not to repeat what I have just said.

Especially take care not to tell any of the servants. Be as kind to them as you can, and try to induce your dear Mama to be kind to them also. I am always in favour of kindness, for my own part." Then Mally and Sally went to their mother, and said: "You don't know what dreadful things have happened Mama. John Joseph told the servants this morning that the work-women of the X. estate have whipped squire Z. with nettles. We must give way, Mama, we must give way, there's no help for it."--"How silly you all are," cried Henny, rising to leave the room.

"Do you think that I'm afraid of such people?" she asked scornfully as she closed the door. But she was alone in her unnatural heroism, and got no sympathy from anyone, for Muchel was not to be sneered out of his fear of stormy weather, and the other members of that "quiet family" for once agreed with their father. "Children," cried Pomuchelskopp, "treat everyone kindly. The confounded rascals! Who would have thought of this three months ago? Now Phil and Tony remember this. I won't have you beat the village children or paint an a.s.s' head on the back of old Brinkmann's smock-frock. The ragam.u.f.fins! I'm sure that they're egged on by the Reform club at Rahnstadt, and by the Jews and shopmen. Just wait a bit ...!"--"Yes, father," said Sally, "did you know that Ruhrdanz the weaver has become a member of the Reform club and that the other villagers want to join it also? It's a bad look out, isn't it?"--"Bless me! you don't mean to say so! But wait, I must join it too. I'll get myself elected."--"_You!_" cried both his daughters in a breath, looking as much astonished as if their father had just announced his intention of setting fire to his own house. "I must, I must. It'll make the artisans like me, and will prevent them setting my people against me. I'll pay up all my bills, at once, that's the first step--it's a horrid thing to do, but it's necessary in order to check-mate my labourers."--Mally and Sally were frightened, they had never before seen their father in such a state; but they were still more startled when he added: "I've got another thing to say to you, and that is, be sure that you're polite to the parson and his wife--for mercy sake remember that--your mother won't--Oh Henny, Henny what misery you cause me! The parsonage people may be very useful to us or very hurtful as the case may be. A squire and a parson can do what they like, if they only hold together! We must invite Mr. and Mrs. G.o.dfrey Baldrian to dine here some day, and then afterwards when times are better, we can break off the acquaintance if we find them unpleasant people."

This was done! A few days after this conversation parson G.o.dfrey and his wife received a note of invitation from Mr. and Mrs.

Pomuchelskopp,--for good old Henny had given in to her husband in this point--, they presented their compliments and hoped to have the pleasure of their company at dinner, and concluded by saying that the maid was waiting for an answer. Brasig had just arrived at the parsonage to see how everything was going on. When G.o.dfrey had read the note of invitation, he looked as thunderstruck as if he had just received a summons to attend a meeting of Consistory because of teaching false doctrine, or leading an immoral life. "Well!" he exclaimed. "Here's an invitation to dine at the squire's! Where's Lina?

Lina," he shouted putting his head out at the parlour door. Lina came.

She read the letter and stared at G.o.dfrey, who stood before her not knowing what to do. She looked at Brasig, who was sitting in the sofa corner grinning at her like a fox at Whitsuntide. "No," she said at last, "we wont go there."--"Dear wife," said parson G.o.dfrey, for he always called her "dear wife" when he was going to put his clerical dignity in the scales against her opinion, at other times he contented himself by saying "Lina," "dear wife, it is wrong to thrust away the hand one of our brethren extends to us in kindness."--"But G.o.dfrey,"

answered Lina, "this isn't a hand, it's a dinner, and besides that, this brother's name is Pomuchelskopp. Am I not right, Brasig?" Brasig made no reply except by a grin. He sat there like David the son of Moses when he was engaged in weighing a Louis d'or, for he wanted to see which would turn the scale, G.o.dfrey's clerical dignity or Lina's sound common sense. "Dear wife," said G.o.dfrey, "it is written: 'Let not the sun go down upon your wrath,' and 'if any man strike thee on thy right cheek ....'"--"That's got nothing to do with it, G.o.dfrey. We are'n't angry, and as for the slap on the face, I agree with Brasig about that. May G.o.d forgive me if it's a sin! It may have been different in those old times; but I know that if it were the fas.h.i.+on to do that now-a-days, there would be a great deal more fighting than there is, and all the world would be running about with swelled faces."--"But, dear wife ..."--"You know, G.o.dfrey that I never interfere with your management of clerical affairs, but a dinner-party is a worldly matter, and when it's at the Pomuchelskopps it's even more than that. And then you forget that we have a visitor. Isn't uncle Brasig here? And wouldn't you much rather eat pea soup and pig's ears here with uncle Brasig, than dine at the Pomuchelskopps? Besides that they hav'n't invited Mina," she added as her sister came into the room, "and yet they know that Mina is staying with us." All this had a great effect upon G.o.dfrey. He was very fond of pea soup, and pig's ears pickled at home were his favourite dish; then I may add that he had a real affection for uncle Brasig, and was very grateful to him for the help he had given him; indeed one of his greatest puzzles was how a man like Brasig, who was so honest and true in all his dealings could be so poor a Christian and churchman. He therefore excused himself and his wife from dining at the manor. But unfortunately whilst they were at dinner, Brasig was so far left to himself as to mention that he had really become a member of the Reform club in Rahnstadt, and G.o.dfrey, pig's ears or no pig's ears, sprang to his feet, and spoke strongly of the evil influence exercised by that society. Lina tried to pull him back into his chair by his coat tails several times, for the soup was growing cold, but G.o.dfrey would not stop. "Yes," he cried, "the scourge of the Lord has come upon the world; but woe to the man whom G.o.d shall choose as His scourge!" As he was not in church this time, Brasig interrupted the clergyman, and asked who was the scourge to be chosen by G.o.d. "That is in the hands of the Lord," cried G.o.dfrey, "He may choose me, or Lina, or you."--"Neither Lina nor I will be chosen,"

answered Brasig, wiping his mouth, "for Lina fed the poor in the year '47, and last week I voted for equality and fraternity at the Reform club. I am not a scourge, for I do no one any harm; but if I could only get hold of Samuel Pomuchelskopp for one moment--then ...." G.o.dfrey was too much taken up with the importance of what he had been saying to allow Brasig to finish his sentence: "Oh!" he said. "The devil is going about the world like a roaring lion, and every platform erected at these Reform meetings is an altar on which men offer him sacrifice. I will oppose all such altars by another. I will preach in G.o.d's house against these burnt offerings made to the Devil, against these reform meetings, against these false G.o.ds and their altars." He then sat down and eat a couple of spoonfuls of pea soup. Brasig watched him for some time in silence, and as soon as he saw that the reverend gentleman had got over his excitement, and was beginning to enjoy the pig's ears, he said: "You're quite right in one respect, parson, the place where the speeches are made at our Rahnstadt meeting looks just like one of the devil's altars, that's to say, it's shaped like a vat such as are used in a brandy-distillery. Still I can't say that any one sacrifices to the devil at our meetings. If any one does, it must be Wimmersdorf, the tailor, or Kurz, or perhaps your own father, for he makes the longest speeches of the whole--now hush--I only want to say that from my knowledge of the devil, and I've been acquainted with him for many a long year, I'll answer for it that he'll have nothing to do with the Rahnstadt Reform club, he isn't such a fool."--"You know G.o.dfrey," said Lina, "that I never interfere with your management of clerical matters, but surely you will never mention such a secular thing as a Reform club in the pulpit." G.o.dfrey answered that that was just what he intended to do. "All right then, do," said Brasig, "but it'll only prove that people are wrong in saying that the clergy understand their own advantage better than any other cla.s.s of men, for instead of preaching your church _full_, you'll preach out everyone who goes to hear you."--Uncle Brasig was right, for after G.o.dfrey had preached one Sunday with great zeal and fervour against the spirit of the times--which, let it be remarked in pa.s.sing, he understood as little as a new born child--and, against all reform meetings, concluding by saying that he would finish what he had to say on that subject on the following Sunday, he found that Lina, Mina and the beadle were his only audience when he got into the pulpit, for he did not count a few old women who had only come to church for the soup Lina always gave them after service. So he went home with his sermon and his womankind, followed by the old women with their soup cans, and the beadle locked up the church. G.o.dfrey felt like a soldier who, carried away by military ardour, has gone too far, and finds himself surrounded by the enemy.

Everything was going wrong throughout the land, and every man's hand was against his neighbour. The world had been turned topsy-turvy, and those men who had formerly made themselves of much account were now unheeded, while those who had nothing, thrust themselves forward. The men who used to be accounted wise, were now looked upon as foolish, and those who had been called foolish, were supposed to have grown wise in the course of a single night. The great were abased; the n.o.bles gave up their t.i.tles, and the labourers wanted to be called Mr. so and so. But two threads ran straight through the maze of cowardice and impudent self-a.s.sertion, and served to comfort and cheer humanity. The first of these was parti-coloured, and anyone who could free himself from the general fear, and general greed of moneymaking, sufficiently to follow its course, might enjoy many a quiet laugh at the oddity of human nature. The second thread was of a rosy hue, and on it depended all that made the happiness of mankind; pity and compa.s.sion, sound judgment and reason, honest service and self-sacrifice, and the name of this thread was love, pure human love, which made its way right through the tangled web of selfishness, showing the truth of G.o.d's decree that love is to remain unimpaired by misery, so that it may in the end change even the dull grey of the web of selfishness into its own rose colour, for--G.o.d be thanked!--that thread is never cut.

CHAPTER VI.

All was quiet at Rexow. That is to say amongst the labourers, Mrs.

Nussler and Rudolph; but young Joseph and young Bolster were not quite so easy in their minds. Young Bolster had gone into the cow-house one day and had there seen a little puppy under the charge of Fla.s.skopp the cow-man. Now this puppy was the very image of himself, and what was more, it was also called Bolster. He remembered his own youth perfectly and how he had succeeded Bolster "the sixth" on the throne of Rexow, and so after much gloomy thought he came to the conclusion that this small image of himself, which Joseph Fla.s.skopp was rearing so carefully on nice sweet milk, might possibly succeed him under the name of "Bolster the eighth"; indeed that was very likely in the present state of affairs. He was miserable, but did not know what ought to be done.

Should he divide his power with Bolster the eighth, or should he treat him as a pretender to the throne, drink up the sweet milk in the dish before his very eyes, pick a quarrel with him and send him off on a long journey on the other side of the Rexow territory; in short, get rid of him altogether. He looked up at young Joseph for advice, but young Joseph had enough to do attending to his own affairs. The times were so bad that even these two old friends ceased to share each other's thoughts; both of them were restless and anxious, but from opposite causes. Bolster shuddered at the thought of an heir to his throne, while nothing would serve Joseph but instant abdication of his rights. Bolster, after having tasted the pleasures of power, hated the idea of retiring into private life and getting bones without any meat on them, while Joseph regarded private life as a golden cup which Mina should fill with coffee every morning, which his wife should fill with beer at dinner and with chocolate in the evening, and which should contain punch every time that Brasig came to stay with them. He was determined to give up the reins of government, especially at the present moment when his pipe might be put out by keeping them. He continued to read the Rostock newspaper, but would often throw it aside, and say crossly: "They've never taken any notice of the geese yet, mother." He imagined that everyone looked upon him as a hard master, because he had, by Rudolph's advice, bought up his labourers'

right of keeping geese for a round sum, and as he had subscribed to the Rostock paper for forty years, he looked upon it as the duty of the paper to take his part about the geese. The Rostock paper might have done this quite easily I think, for Joseph was as innocent of doing wrong as a new born child, but perhaps the editor may have forgotten to notice the circ.u.mstance, or he may even never have heard of it at all.

Joseph could not get it out of his head. If he saw two farm la.s.ses talking together about their cap ribbons, he thought they were saying that no goose's eggs were to be set that year at Rexow; and if two labourers thres.h.i.+ng out the oats stopped their work for a minute and talked about the oats, he thought they were complaining of having no geese to eat some of the grain they were thres.h.i.+ng. He felt lost in these new times and could not understand the new arrangements introduced into the farm. He would not consent to rule any longer, he was determined to abdicate, and as Bolster was of a different opinion the bond uniting them burst.

As I said before, Mrs. Nussler was herself quiet and calm, but Joseph's condition began to make her anxious, and she continually hoped that Brasig would come. "I wonder," she said to Rudolph one day, "why Brasig hasn't come to see us. He has nothing earthly to do, and yet he never looks near me."--"Ah, mother," answered Rudolph, "you know him; when he has nothing to do, he always makes himself work. But he's coming to-morrow all the same."--"How do you know that?" asked Mrs.

Nussler.--"Well, you see, mother," said Rudolph rather shyly, "I was over at our rye field by the Gurlitz march this morning, and as I was there at any rate, I--I just ran into the parsonage for a moment.

Brasig was there, and he told me he was coming here to-morrow."--"Now, Rudolph, I won't have it. Remember that I don't allow you to be running over there. It's quite different when I can go with you on Sundays. You go and chatter to each other, and you put all kinds of nonsense into Mina's head about marriage and such like things, and yet you know that that can't be yet awhile."--"Why, mother, if we don't marry soon we'll be growing too old and cold for such a thing."--"Rudolph," said Mrs.

Nussler, as she left the room, "what's to become of Joseph and me if you do. We are still young and have plenty of work in us. Are we to be shelved before our time?"--"Nay," answered Rudolph after she was gone, "you're not so very young now. Old people should rest. Uncle Joseph would be only too thankful to retire, but my aunt has work enough in her to kill off three young women. Well, Brasig's coming to-morrow, and I'll prompt him a bit."

Next day Brasig arrived. "Good morning," he said. "Sit still, Joseph.

Well, have you got a small rebellion here too?"--"Ah," said Joseph smoking like a chimney, "what's to be done now--Bolster?" He pretended to be speaking to Bolster, for Brasig had left the room before he had had time to finish his sentence, and was now calling Mrs. Nussler in the pa.s.sage.--"Good gracious, Brasig," she said, drying her hands on her ap.r.o.n, for she had been was.h.i.+ng them when she was called away, as she had been busy baking and did not wish to give her old friend a floury hand to shake. "Good gracious, Brasig, why don't you come to see us in these bad times? How's my brother Charles?"--"'Bonus', as lawyer Rein would say, or 'Bong', as the grey-hound would put it, or 'he's in very good case', as I should say myself. The only pity is that he _will_ go on thinking about the loss of his good name, and of the separation of little Louisa and Frank. These inward sorrows prevent him interesting himself in the doings of the Reform-club, of parliament, and in great political thoughts."--"Thank G.o.d!" replied Mrs. Nussler.

"I know my brother Charles too well to think that he'd even mix himself up with such folly."--"Mrs. Nussler," returned Brasig drawing himself up and looking his old love full in the face, "you have unintentionally said a great thing, as rector Baldrian said the other day when the potato-ground of the labourers was spoken about; but in these times one must take care what one says--They turned Kurz out the other day--and as I am a member of the Reform-club I can't allow the word 'folly' to be applied to our doings."--"Mercy me!" cried Mrs. Nussler putting her arms akimbo, "I really believe that you'll want to turn me out of my own kitchen next."--"Did I ever say so?" asked Brasig. "They've turned out Louis Philippe, and the Bavarian Louis, and Louis Kurz; is _your_ name 'Louis'? No, I came here to see that you were all right. If the revolution should break out here I'll come to your a.s.sistance with the Rahnstadt club, and the civic guard--we've all got ourselves pikes as well as muskets: I'll protect you, never fear."--"You shan't come here with your pikes and muskets," cried Mrs. Nussler, "tell your wretched rabble from me that they'd better provide themselves with an extra set of legs and arms before they venture into my farm-yard, for if they come here they shall lose those they have," so saying Mrs.

Nussler turned round and going into her larder, shut and locked the door.--Those were sad times when the devil sowed the seeds of dispeace between old friends. Brasig waited as long as Bolster had often done before, expecting the larder door to open every minute, and when it did not, he returned to Joseph in the parlour with his ears hanging like Bolster's under the same circ.u.mstances. "Yes," he said to Joseph, "these are dreadful times, and yet there you sit moving neither hand nor foot, although rebellion has broken out in your own house."--"Ah, Brasig, I know that, it's because of the geese," said young Joseph; "but what can be done? I say, Brasig, help yourself to a little k.u.mmel," pointing with his foot at the lowest shelf of the wine-cupboard, "you'll find the bottle there."

Brasig thought a good deal of a little k.u.mmel! He went to the window and looked out at the weather. The wind was driving sharp spring showers over the sky, and these as they pa.s.sed away were succeeded by bursts of suns.h.i.+ne. In like manner one sad gloomy thought after another came into his head: "What?" he said to himself, "and _this_ is to be the end of it? She thrusts me from her side when I am trying to help her!" Then the sun's rays once more penetrated his heart, but with a clear cold light which did not soften him, and he added with a scornful smile: "Ha! ha! I wish I could see her fighting against the whole of the Rahnstadt civic guard, headed of course by Wimmersdorf, the tailor, and the wise old dyer 'For my part'!"--At this moment Rudolph crossed the yard, and seeing Brasig at the window, came in, as he wanted to speak to him. "How-d'ye-do, uncle Brasig."--"How-d'ye-do, Rudolph. How are you getting on? I mean the labourers? Is all quiet?"--"Yes, quite.

There has been no difficulty as yet."--"Ah, but you'll see that this affair of the geese ...." interrupted young Joseph.--"Never mind the geese, father," said Rudolph.--"What's all this about the confounded geese?" asked Brasig.--"Nothing," said Rudolph. "You see I had such a deal of trouble about those geese, they destroyed the edges of the ditches, they eat up our young cabbages and did a lot of damage to the corn, so I called all the labourers together and promised them twelve s.h.i.+llings each at harvest time if they'd give up keeping geese. They agreed readily to my proposal, but my uncle has taken it into his head that the villagers all look upon him as a monster, and that there will be a rebellion about the geese."--"Goodness gracious me!" cried Mrs.

Nussler coming in, "the geese again!" and throwing her ap.r.o.n over her face, she burst into tears.--"Why, mother," exclaimed Rudolph springing to her side, "what's the matter? What has gone wrong?"--"What's to be done now?" asked Joseph rising.--Brasig would also have spoken if he had not guessed that he knew more of what was pa.s.sing in Mrs. Nussler's heart than any of the others, so he turned away to the window and stood there gazing hard at the April weather with his eyebrows raised as high as they would go.--Mrs. Nussler at last got up, dried her eyes, put aside both Rudolph and Joseph--rather hastily too--went up to Brasig, and throwing her arms round his neck, exclaimed: "I know that you meant me well, Brasig, and I won't hack off anyone's arms or legs."--"Oh, Mrs. Nussler," said Brasig with a very April face, for he was smiling with tears in his eyes, "you have my full permission to treat Wimmersdorf, the tailor, and the would-be wise old dyer 'For my part' as you like."--"What _is_ the meaning of all this?" asked Rudolph.--"I'll tell you," said Brasig, freeing himself gently from Mrs. Nussler's embrace, and taking her by the hand, "and it's this.

You've got a real angel for a mother-in-law. Not a so-called angel such as you meet at b.a.l.l.s and in the promenade at Rahnstadt, but the grand old kind we read about in the Old Testament; a warlike good angel, who doesn't fear the devil in a good cause, and is worth three of you any day." With that he turned upon Rudolph as though he had done Mrs.

Nussler some great wrong.--"Preserve us!" cried Rudolph. "I've done nothing that I know of," and he looked at Joseph, who looked at Bolster, but neither could help him, so Rudolph added: "I really don't know what ....."--"It isn't necessary," said Brasig, then turning to Joseph: "and as for you, young Joseph, if you don't look out there'll be a revolution in the house, and all because of your stupidity about the geese. The best thing you can do is to sit there quietly. Now then, Rudolph, come away with me, I want to look over the farm and see what you have learnt from Hilgendorf."

Sitting still was what Joseph liked better than anything else, and going out with Brasig gave Rudolph the very opportunity he wanted to egg his old friend on to arrange that his marriage should soon take place. So neither of them made any objection to Brasig's decree.

Fred Triddelfitz came to the farm that afternoon as he was out riding at any rate. He was mounted on a horse with a very extraordinary action, for it walked like a human being with its fore feet, and never thought it inc.u.mbent on it to use more than three legs at a time, thus showing that nature sometimes puts herself to unnecessary trouble by creating a superfluous limb, for instance the tail of a Dandie Dinmont, the ears of a pug and the left hind leg of a horse that finds three legs sufficient for its wants. Fred's steed was by no means beautiful, especially when in motion; but he was a very courteous animal and kept on bowing the whole way along the public road. In this respect he suited Fred very well, for the lad had grown to have extremely good manners from his intercourse with Mr. von Rambow. When anyone made game of his horse Fred used to smile and say to himself: "You fools! I've always made by my horses. I was paid in ready money when I exchanged the sorrel-mare for the black, the black for the brown, and then the brown for this horse." The horse bowed itself politely into the farm-yard at Rexow where Fred dismounted politely, went into the house politely, and said: "How-d'ye-do" politely.--"Mother," said young Joseph, "give Mr. Triddelfitz something to drink," for they happened to be at coffee at the time.--"Bless me!" thought Brasig. "He's called _Mr_. Triddelfitz now, is he?"--Meanwhile Fred divested himself of his waterproof coat, took something out of his pocket, and sitting down, placed a pistol to the right and left of his coffee cup.--"Sir," cried Brasig, "the devil take you and your pistols! What makes you put these infernal implements on the coffee table amongst our cups?"--Then Mrs.

Nussler rose quietly, and taking the fire-arms in one hand, lifted the tea kettle with the other and poured hot water down the muzzles of the pistols, saying calmly: "There now, they can't go off."--"Oh, dear!"

cried Fred, "that was the last shot we had ....."--"Sir," interrupted Brasig, "do you think that you're in a robber's cave when you come to see young Joseph?"--"The whole world is a robber's den just now," replied Fred, "Mr. von Rambow proved that clearly in his speech to the labourers yesterday, and so I went to Rahnstadt and bought these two pistols--one of them for him--we are going to defend ourselves to the death."--Mrs.

Nussler looked at Brasig with a half ashamed smile, and Brasig burst into a roar of laughter: "And so you and Mr. von Rambow think you'll be able to stop the labourer's mouths with a speech and a pair of pistols!"--"Yes, the squire told the people plainly that he would rule them mildly but strictly, and that they must do as they were desired."--"Ah well, it all depends upon circ.u.mstances," interposed Joseph.--"You may be right this time, young Joseph," said Brasig, "for every man must cut his coat according to his cloth, but Mr. von Rambow is not the man to conduct a case like this properly. He'll be sure to treat impudent pretentions mildly, and timidity with sternness."--"So he has made another speech?" said young Joseph.--"A splendid one," cried Fred enthusiastically. "I don't know how he managed it."--"It doesn't matter," replied Brasig. "But, tell me, what did the labourers say to the explanation made them?"--"The rabble,"

answered Fred, who had learnt something besides politeness from his master, "wasn't worth the trouble he took. When I was going about the farm-yard afterwards I heard different groups of labourers talking of 'equality' and of what they called the 'gee hup and gee wo' style of farming."--"It was you they meant, of course," said Brasig with a grin.--"Yes," said Fred honestly, "but only think what happened. Five of them came to the squire in the afternoon; they were some of those I had always thought the most sensible of the lot. Old Flegel, the carpenter, was the spokesman, and he said he had heard that Mr.

Pomuchelskopp had advanced money to all his people, had promised them more potato-land and various other things, but they would say nothing more on that head, for they were by no means so badly off as the Gurlitz villagers, indeed they were quite satisfied with what they had; but they didn't like the way in which they were treated. They were often scolded when they had done nothing wrong, were knocked about when they didn't deserve it, and were hunted from yard to field and back again without knowing what they were expected to do. They thought Mr.

von Rambow would do well to get rid of me, for I was not up to the work, and was too young to have the management of so large an estate and so many labourers. There was one other request they wanted to make, and that was, that they entreated the squire to get old bailiff Hawermann back again. Just imagine! What a people!"--"Hm!" said Brasig with a broad grin. "And what did the squire say to that?"--"Oh, he soon showed them what he thought of them. He said that if he was satisfied with me--here he pointed to me, and I made a polite bow--these gentlemen, the labourers, might be satisfied too. Then an old white-haired fellow, John Egel, came forward--you know him, he's one of the oldest of them all--and said, that they were not 'gentlemen,' no one knew that better than they did, and they had only come to speak to him, their master, out of the goodness of their hearts, and not to exchange sharp words. Mr. von Rambow was master, and could do as he liked."--"What an infernal old rascal," said Brasig still on the broad grin.--"Ah, but listen. That wasn't nearly all. The thick end of the wedge came last. Towards evening I noticed that one of the labourers after the other went to the stable where the riding horses are kept, and as I knew that Christian Dasel, the groom, doesn't quite like me, I thought some mischief might perhaps be going on, so I went into the stable next to that where the men were, and in which there is a hole that goes through to the other, and then I heard what Christian Dasel was putting the labourers up to."--"That's to say," interrupted Brasig, "that you listened."--"Well--yes," answered Fred.--"All right then,"

said Brasig, "go on."--"I must begin by telling you that Christian Dasel announced that he had made up his mind to marry Sophie Degel with whom he has been 'keeping company' for several years, and the squire won't have a married groom on any account, for he thinks a married man will be more careful over his children than the foals, and I've no doubt he's right in that. But he won't part with Christian because he thinks him a good servant and attentive to the horses--however I can't say that I agree with him there, he isn't as particular as he might be.

Now Christian Dasel went on to say that he would be allowed to marry Sophie if it were not for the paddocks, he was certain of that, so he wanted the labourers to demand that the paddocks should be given them for potato-ground."--"Of course you went straight to Mr. von Rambow and repeated what you had heard?" asked Brasig.--"Naturally," said Fred, "it was necessary that he should know, in order that he might be prepared. At last they came and asked for the paddocks, saying that their wives and children were every bit as good as the squire's mares and foals, and yet the latter were better off than the former. Then Mr.

von Rambow sent them away double quick with a flee in their ear. I need not add that Christian Dasel's wages were at once paid up and that he was turned off on the spot."--"And what does Mrs. von Rambow say to it?" asked uncle Brasig.--"H'm," replied Fred, shrugging his shoulders, "how am I to know? She says nothing. I don't know what's the matter with her. She always used to notice me--courteously, but perhaps rather stiffly--and ever since that stupid mistake of Mary Moller about the farm-book, she has never even looked at me. Mary went long ago, I'm happy to say, for she was really growing very foolish, and Mrs. von Rambow is now her own housekeeper. I must confess that she keeps everything in splendid order, though she takes no notice of me.

Caroline Kegel says she only works so hard to prevent herself thinking, that she often writes long letters and then tears them up again, lets her hands fall in her lap and sits still watching the baby sadly.

Caroline says that it goes to her heart to see her. Mrs. von Rambow manages the housekeeping very quietly; she never scolds or rushes about; she only desires that a thing should be done, and she's obeyed at once. Caroline Kegel wishes she had a friend to speak to--I'm no longer to be called that--and the squire has no friend either."--"That's enough for me," cried Mrs. Nussler, starting to her feet, "I'll go and see her tomorrow. And as for you, Joseph, I think you ought to go to that poor misguided young fellow and bring him to hear reason. In times like these neighbours should stand by one another."--"Ah, mother, what can I do? And then there's our own sc.r.a.pe about the geese. But G.o.dfrey and Lina ....."--"True, true," cried Mrs.

Nussler, "the von Rambows helped to set them up in life, and we ought never to forget that."--"But," interposed Brasig with a sly roguish look, "Mr. von Rambow has a friend! What would Mr. Samuel Pomuchelskopp say if he had heard what you said a minute ago?"--"Pomuchelskopp?"

asked Fred. "We have nothing more to do with him," he added contemptuously; then bending towards Brasig, he whispered: "He has demanded his money, princ.i.p.al and interest. I heard it from Zebedee, Moses' coachman Zebedee. So you see that there's no longer any friends.h.i.+p between the two. Slus'uhr either comes or writes daily, but we have also engaged a lawyer to help us, Mr. Rein. Do you know him?"--"Yes," whispered Brasig, "I know him through the North-pole and the Faroe islands."--"Isn't he a very clever fellow?"--"Certainly. He can lead most people by the nose. But," he said aloud, "what is your master going to do about the labourers?"--"I'll tell you," answered Fred, "we've both determined to defend ourselves to the death, and so I had to go to Rahnstadt and buy these pistols."--"And if the labourers come back?"--"Then we'll shoot," said Fred.--"Right," said Brasig taking up one of the pistols and playing with it carelessly, "but, Mrs.

Nussler," he went on, "you've made it quite wet and perhaps it'll rust." Then he proceeded to rub it up on the outside with the skirt of his coat, and while Fred explained the use and management of the other to Joseph Nussler, he took it to the window as if to examine it better.

"Where's your tool-box, Joseph?" he asked. Mr. Nussler pointed to a cupboard with his foot. Fred heard a great knocking and hammering going on behind him and then a sharp sound as if something had cracked.

When he turned round to look what it was, Brasig held the pistol out to him, but without its dog head which he had just succeeded in twisting off with a pair of pincers. "There!"--"Confound it," cried Fred, jumping up. "Now," said Brasig, "there's no fear of your shooting in the people's faces."--"How dared you destroy my pistols.

Sir?"--"Because you're a foolish boy, and children oughtn't to play with fire-arms."--"You're an old ...."--"'a.s.s.' I suppose that was what you were going to say, and perhaps I am an a.s.s for interfering with you; but, Sir, I am here in your aunt's stead, and I did what I did for her sake."--"My master told me to buy the pistols and I always do as he desires me."--"That's right. Here's the one for your master. Let him shoot with it if he likes. He has shot before now--but you ...." and suddenly thinking of Hawermann, he continued: "Wretched boy, hav'n't you done mischief enough already?"--Mrs. Nussler exclaimed: "Hush, Brasig. Not a word on _that_ subject. But, Triddelfitz, you ought to be ashamed of yourself for talking so lightly of taking human life."--"What?" cried Joseph, springing to his feet, "he wasn't going to have shot at the people? Was he, mother?" Bolster was also affected by the excitement, and expressed his horror by giving utterance to one or two sharp barks, and Fred was so much confused by what he heard, that, forgetting all his former courtesy, he s.n.a.t.c.hed up his waterproof, thrust the remaining pistol into his pocket and rushed away, only turning when he had reached the door to say with great emphasis that ten horses should never drag him over that threshold again. "It isn't at all necessary," replied Brasig calmly. But if he had heard what Fred was muttering as he went along the road towards Pumpelhagen gazing blankly at his broken pistol, he might not have taken things so quietly. For Fred bestowed so many t.i.tles of honour on him that those of the emperor of Austria were few in comparison.

Fortunately he did not hear, and he thought and cared little that Fred should have put the Nussler's house under the ban. That very morning he had seen how easily even old friends.h.i.+ps are dissolved in troublous times, and he had promised solemnly, that under no circ.u.mstances whatsoever should he lead the Rahnstadt civic guard to Rexow. His quick temper often carried him further than he intended, but his good heart always conquered in the end. He wanted joy and peace to be everywhere, although his way of trying to bring them about often caused noise and strife instead.

In the dusk of evening when Joseph and Bolster were sleeping by the fire-side, uncle Brasig thought there could not be a better time for him to say a few words about Rudolph and Mina, so he began: "Mrs.

Nussler, do you remember the saying: Long love, makes old love, and long ...."--"Have done with your stupid old proverbs, Brasig. They don't suit either you or me. I know what you're going to say, and I agree with you that things can't go on much longer as they are, but what's to become of him and me?"--"Mrs. Nussler, you mean young Joseph ...."--"Hush, Brasig. Name no names I beg of you. If it were only him," pointing to Joseph, "you might do so as much as you liked, but he," pointing to Bolster, "is sharper than all of us put together, so take care what you say before him. Just look how he's p.r.i.c.king his ears."--"H'm!" said Brasig, peering under Joseph's arm chair, "so he is, but that doesn't matter. Well, Mrs. Nussler, this business must come to a happy end."--"Yes, Brasig, that's just what I tell myself every day. But tell me, what's to become of me, and what's to become of him?" here she pointed at Joseph once more. "If Mina and Rudolph are to have the management of everything, what am I to do? and what is he to do?"--"Why, Mrs. Nussler, you will have rest and quiet, and can rejoice in the happy life of your posterity."--"That's all very well, Brasig, and I know that people can get used to anything, can even get used to idleness. But look at me. You see how stout I am in spite of my active life, and you know that if I were to sit still and do nothing, I'd grow so fat and unwieldy that I'd become a perfect monster."--"No, no, Mrs.

Nussler," replied uncle Brasig, rising and standing before her, his heart full of the memory of their youth, "you have always been beautiful, and you will be beautiful as long as you live," and he bent over her and seized her hand. "Don't be silly," said Mrs. Nussler, drawing away her hand, "just look at the old dog, he understands all that's going on. But it do'sn't so much matter about me, as about _him_. What's to become of him? I can always find something to do, but he--what sort of life will he have when he has no work?"--"He'll smoke and sleep," answered Brasig. "Ah," she said, "he can do so now. But he is changed, very much changed lately. I won't speak of the silly affair of the geese, for I'll be able to talk him out of that, I know,--but he has grown so contradictious, and opposes everything that's done; when he has nothing to do I'm sure he'll get into some frightful sc.r.a.pe."--"_Joseph_?" cried Brasig in amazement. "Yes, but it's no use going on now. Look!" On turning round, Brasig saw Bolster get up and rub his tail twice under Joseph's nose, whereupon Mr. Nussler stretched himself and asked in a very wakeful voice: "What o'clock is it, mother?" Then he stretched himself again, and becoming aware of Brasig's presence, said: "What a clever fellow Mr. von Rambow is to have made another speech."

Rudolph came in, lights were brought, and Brasig made a grimace at Rudolph across the table. He did not mean the young man any harm, he only intended to say: "Hold your tongue and trust in me. Your affair is progressing favourably." The evening pa.s.sed very slowly, for each of the party was busied with his own thoughts, and when they all went to bed, Brasig was the only one who fell asleep at once. Rudolph was thinking of Mina, and his marriage; Mrs. Nussler, of the terribly idle life that lay before her; and Joseph, of the geese and Mr. von Rambow's speech.

This last thought kept him from sleeping all night, and when Mrs.

Nussler turned on the other side towards morning in hopes of getting a little nap, she saw Joseph leaving the room fully dressed with Bolster at his heels. She could not make it out. The devil might know what he was about, she did not.

CHAPTER VII.

Young Joseph walked up and down the yard followed by Bolster. He often stood still during his walk and rubbed his forehead as if he did not know what to do next. Whenever he did so, Bolster also stood still, wagged his tail, and then immediately lost himself in sad consideration of the divided sovereignty that lay before him, Rudolph came out: "Why father," he said, "up already!"--"Yes, Rudolph, and it's all because of the geese;" he was going to have said something more, but the words did not come to him, and Rudolph exclaimed: "Don't bother your head about that, father, it's an old story now; but I'm very glad you're up, for you can give the overseer his orders, and I'll go and see how the field's getting on that I was at yesterday on the Pumpelhagen march. We must do the same as yesterday, cart manure to the potato land."--"Yes, Rudolph but ...."-"That's all you've to do, father; now I must be off,"

and he hastened away. Joseph resumed his walk up and down the yard till at last Kalsow, the overseer came to him: "Kalsow," said Joseph, "send all the workpeople here to me," and having given this order he went into the house accompanied by Bolster. The labourers, labourer's wives, and work-people crowded into the court and asked each other: "What are we to do?"--"I don't know," answered Kalsow, the overseer. "Ah then, just go and ask him, will you?"--Kalsow went into the parlour where he found young Joseph pacing up and down, followed by Bolster, for as Joseph had not taken off his cap. Bolster thought his company was required. "The villagers are all here, sir," said Kalsow.--"Good,"

replied young Joseph. "What are we to do now?" asked Kalsow.--"Wait,"

said Joseph.--Kalsow then went out and told the people, so they waited.

In a short time he returned to his master: "They're waiting, sir," he said.--"Good," answered Joseph, "tell them to wait a little longer, for I'm going to make them a speech." Kalsow went out again and desired the people to wait, adding that Mr. Nussler was going to make them a speech. They waited for a long time, but nothing came of it, and at last Christian the coachman, said: "I know him Kalsow. Go back and wake him up." So Kalsow went in again and asked: "Well, sir, how about the speech?"--"Confound you!" stormed Joseph, "do you think that my thoughts are growing on my back ready to be plucked when I want them."

The overseer retired and said to the people: "It was of no use, it only made the master angry, so we must wait."--"Goodness gracious me!" cried Mrs. Nussler, when she had finished tidying up the larder, "what's the meaning of this? Why are the people all standing in front of the house doing nothing?" and opening the window, she called out: "What are you doing there?"--"We're only waiting, mistress."--"What are you waiting for?"--"We don't know mistress, but the master's going to make us a speech."--"_Who?_" asked Mrs. Nussler. "The master," said Kalsow. "What did you say he was going to make?"--"A speech," said Kalsow.--"A nice state of affairs this!" muttered Mrs. Nussler as she slammed down the window. Then hastening to her husband, she seized him by the arm, and shook him as if she wanted to bring him back to his senses: "What are you going to do? You're going to make a speech? What sort of a speech are you going to make? Is it to be about me? or about Rudolph and Mina?"--"Mother," said Joseph firmly, "it's to be about the geese."--"May G.o.d have mercy upon you," said Mrs. Nussler angrily, "if you ever dare to speak to me about the geese again."--"What?" cried Joseph, rising in open rebellion against his wife for the first time.

"Mayn't I make a speech? Everyone does it; Mr. von Rambow does it; Brasig speaks in the Reform-club, and you don't think me good enough to follow their example." Then striking the table with his fist: "I am _master_ here, woman, and will speak about my own geese if I choose!"

Mrs. Nussler turned very pale, and stared at Joseph silently. After waiting a minute, she pressed one hand over her heart, and groped for the door handle, which having found she turned slowly, and then left the room backwards, her eyes still fixed on Joseph--in like manner as a lion tamer treats a wild beast which has defied his authority. As soon as she was safely out in the pa.s.sage, she threw herself down on a bench and began to cry. Ah yes, the year 1848 was a terrible time. Lawful government was no longer held of any account, and open rebellion was the order of the day.

Brasig came down stairs whistling merrily, but stopped short when he caught sight of his old sweetheart weeping bitterly. "As sure as your nose is in the middle of your face, tell me what's the matter? What makes you cry at _this_ time of day, Mrs. Nussler? it's only half past six." So saying he threw himself on the bench beside her, and tried to pull the ap.r.o.n away from her face, but she signed to him to let her alone. "Mrs. Nussler," he exclaimed, "for G.o.d's sake tell me what has happened." After a long time she managed to e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.e: "Joseph."--"Good G.o.d!" cried Brasig. "He was quite well yesterday. Is he dead?"--"Dead?

not he!" she exclaimed, throwing down her ap.r.o.n and showing her red eyes, "but he has gone quite mad!"--"G.o.d have mercy upon me!" cried Brasig, springing to his feet, "what's he about?"--"He's going to make a speech."--"What? Young Joseph? A speech? that's a very bad sign!"--"Oh me, me!" groaned Mrs. Nussler. "The labourers are all waiting for him to begin, and he almost turned me out of the room, indeed I hardly know how I got out."--"Well, I never thought of such a thing in my wildest conjecturation!" exclaimed Brasig. "But keep your mind easy, Mrs. Nussler, I'm not afraid, I'll venture into the parlour." And he immediately went away.

Joseph was walking up and down the room, and rubbing his forehead every now and then. Brasig seated himself on a chair near the door and followed his every movement with his eyes, but did not say a word, and Bolster sat at the opposite side of the room silently watching his master. It was an anxious moment, at least to Joseph and Brasig; Bolster took the state of affairs pretty quietly upon the whole. At last Brasig asked very gently: "How are you, Joseph?"--"I don't know,"

answered Joseph, "I have rather a buzzing in my head, and my thoughts are jumping about as if some one had poured a bushel of wild oats into my brain."--"I believe you, Joseph, I believe you," said Brasig, still watching him as he went up and down the room. At length Joseph suddenly stopped and exclaimed indignantly: "Who the devil can make up a speech when you two are staring like that?"--"Oh you're going to make a speech, are you? What's it to be about?"--"Am I worse than any other man Brasig? Are my labourers worse than other people's labourers? In these bad times they must be pleased like the workmen on other estates, but I'm not good at it, it's too hard a task for me; you are quicker-witted than I, so please make the speech for me."--"Why not?"

said Brasig, "if it will really be a relief to you. But now don't disturb me." And Brasig in his turn began to pace the room while Joseph sat down and watched him. Suddenly the bailiff opened the window and shouted: "Come here, all of you!" and the labourers did as they were desired. "Fellow citizens!" began Brasig; but--bang--he shut the window, exclaiming: "Hang it! That won't do at all, these people are labourers, so one can't call them 'fellow-citizens.' Now you see Joseph what a difficult thing it is to make a speech, and yet you wanted to meddle with a thing that even I cannot manage."--"Ah, Brasig, but ...."--"Hold your tongue, Joseph, I know what you're going to say."